The Skysteel Manufactory thrummed with aetheric energies, the ring of metal and the bellows of its workers. In one of the main halls the manacutters stood shining, polished to rival the sun by their proud father. The room was empty, the workers having left their creations for some well-earned repast following the rush to complete them in time for the upcoming battle.
Estinien's metal-capped boots rang loudly as the dragoon strode across the floor. He surveyed the machines, running one gauntleted hand over a prow in approval. His hand paused, however, and he narrowed his eyes, focusing his attuned warrior's senses upon the area of interest within one of the crafts. He showed no outward sign of surprise, but deliberated a moment before deciding on his chosen course of action.
Quietly coming to the second ship's side he bent down, mouth close to the ship's hind compartment.
"Remove yourself, before I do it for you, brat."
A suppressed yelp of surprise and chagrin was followed by a flurry of activity. Out from the impossibly small space behind the pilot's seat and the rear sails, scrambled a thin, young elf.
Alphinaud's usually pristine white hair was scruffy and clung to his sweat-damp skin, his blue coat was filthy with grease and engine soot, one smear of it on the boy's pink cheek. He was blushing furiously, clearly embarrassed to have been caught in such a ridiculous situation.
Estinian gave the boy no time to think. Turning upon his heel he called a brief "with me," before striding away across the hall. His long legs would ensure the boy had to trot to keep up with him, but he knew that Alphinaud would not dare to refuse his command after being discovered in such a compromising position.
He continued his fast pace as they exited the hall, through corridors and past open doorways that belched heat and noise from within; until they came to a quiet room. A banked forge sat to one side, a bench in the center suggesting some single person's workroom, currently empty.
Estinien shut he door behind Alphinaud, who was panting slightly at his exertion. He turned to face to boy, arms folded over his chest, saying nothing, a lone brow raised.
Alphinaud stood before him, wound tense and practically vibrating with energy.
"My apologies," he said finally, hanging his head. "It was a foolish act, poorly thought through."
"I dare say it was," Estinien said, his voice a low purr that he knew sent shivers up his enemy's spines. " You do not wish to plead your case? Perhaps you were simply conducting a final inspection of the crafts before I and the Warrior of Light made our departure."
Alphinaud winced at that, no doubt imagining the reaction the stoic Warrior would have to his misadventure. "You won't... you won't tell them, will you?"
"Should I not?" Estinien maintained his quirked brow. "You have done much to cause yourself embarrassment, it's no wonder you wish not to invite more."
"Please..." Alphinaud said, barely a whisper. He dropped his head, staring miserably at the floor. "It was a ridiculous impulse... I am thoroughly ashamed. Be assured I shall not attempt such a thing again."
"Indeed?" Estinien regarded the boy for a long moment. "Let us make sure of that, Master Leveilleur."
He strode forwards then, taking Alphinaud by the upper arm and hauling him to the workers bench. Sitting, he lifted the younger elf and laid him over his lap.
"My apologies," he said as the boy yelped and squirmed, "Removing my armour takes a deal of effort and time which we do not have. I am certain it is uncomfortable, but no more so than your recent hiding place, after all."
"Estinien," Alphinaud huffed and sputtered. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Ensuring that you learn your lesson." Estinien frowned. "I do not wish to see you come to harm, far from it, yet your attempt today to deceive us and join in a most deadly battle for which you are unprepared was unacceptably reckless."
Alphinaud snorted in an angry and thoroughly ungentlemanly fashion. He twisted as far as he could, glaring up into the dragoon's eyes.
"I am not unprepared! I could be of assistance to you and the Warrior of Light both! I thought only to aid you—AH!"
He was cut off, arching up as Estinien's hand fell on his rear.
"I do not wish to hurt you," Estinien repeated. He held the boy down with his forearm, his hand swiftly unbuckling his Gauntlet and letting it fall to his side. The boy wore long boots beneath his tunic coat: silly, impractical things that went to upper thigh, beneath which were a pair of simple leggings: a small window, but space enough to impart his message.
Estinien pulled the coat up to Alphinaud's lower back and then grasped the leggings, pulling them and his smalls down as far as his boots would allow. The boy's rear was exposed, along with the first few inches of thighs, but his dignity was otherwise intact. The crest of his bottom was already tinged a little pink from the first blow; the lad's fair skin would carry the marks of this lesson for some time to come.
"Estinien!" Alphinaud snapped, his voice carrying a tone of command that his grandfather would be proud of – though Estinien was sure the old man would have been as eager as he to see his grandson over a knee for the day's folly.
"Estinien, stop this nonsense at once!"
He did not reply, save to draw his hand up high, steadying the boy with a heavy arm across his back.
"Estinien, don't you dare!"
His hand fell, the sharp smack resonating around the chamber in tune with Alphinaud's high yelp. Crisp, fast blows followed, the hand falling without pause across the entirety of the boy's backside.
Alphinaud's protests we're loud and increasingly more breathless, his struggles in vain against a warrior whose strength lay primarily in his arms. Estinien did pause at one point to tuck the lad more securely to him, when his struggles threatened to topple him from the Dragoon's lap. Alphinaud's hands flew to Estinien's arm then, as it wrapped securely about his waist, and clutched desperately on as the older elf delivered a flurry of slaps to the exposed thighs.
"Do you think you can address me now with a little more civility, young brat?" Estinien asked, his hand travelling back to the boy's bottom and slowing to a less blistering pace.
Alphinaud gulped air. His backside positively glowed from the Dragoon's attentions, radiating heat and sending a jolt of lightning to his core with every blow.
"Yes!" He gasped. "Yes... yes Estinien! I'm s—I'm sorry!"
"Sorry for what, brat?"
"Sorry for being uncivil, sir!"
"Hmm," Estinien rested his palm upon the lad's aching rear – a threat of more to come.
"Not sorry then, for attempting to deceive us and steal away to fight the wyrm?"
Alphinaud pinched his lips together, glaring at the workbench below.
"As I thought," Estinien murmured. He straightened, resuming his attack upon the boy's near scarlet rear.
If Alphinaud could have leapt from the elf's lap he would have done so then. Being incapacitated, instead he lifted his head up and howled.
"Have a care, young sir," Estinien said with a quirked smile, "despite the sounds of the forge I am certain your voice may yet still carry to those outside this room."
That halted him. Without any other means to display his trapped misery, Alphinaud brought his arms forward, buried his head in them, and began to wail. They were not tears of repentance, not yet, but frustrated, angry tears. They would do well to exhaust the boy into a more reasonable state of mind, however.
"I thought this matter solved at our last meeting with Ser Aymeric," Estinien said by way of conversation as his hand rose and fell. "Not only had I need to discourage the Commander himself, but you also. Now that I consider it, your yielding without argument was strange, given your near constant desire to be within the fray. At the time I was full pleased that you showed more sense than the Commander, I see now that it was simply a cunning distraction, a devious tactic to draw me from the scent."
Alphinaud's head shot up, mouth opened to defend himself, but a flurry of wicked slaps to the sensitive undercurve of his bottom drove the air from his lungs. His face crumpled and he drove it once more into the crook of his arm, yelling and sobbing uncontrollably until Estinien lightened his pace and returned his attention to the fullness of his – now bright red – backside. In response, the boy collapsed, the tense lines of his body melting with relief.
"I just wanted to help," he whined, the soggy words muffled by his sleeve.
"You have been of considerable help," Estinien said, "and you shall be again. But your strengths do not lie in combat, little ambassador. You know this to be true."
"But—but you and the w—warrior of li—light..." Alphinaud snarled and kicked his legs. "What kind of coward leaves their friends to die alone?"
"You have poor faith in us indeed, if you believe such words."
Alphinaud sucked in a shocked breath, his body growing still. Estinien paused in his blows, letting the boy consider this new, horrible truth without distraction. Then Alphinaud crumpled, a long, thick sob of shame and misery wrenched from him.
Estinien resumed his spanking, though his hand only fell to accentuate each point as he made it.
"Let is consider the matter. To date you have braved countless new climes, treated with dangerous and hostile Beasts, parlayed with dragons and heretics, and negotiated peace between two races who have been at war for nigh on a millennia. Yet, for the sake of one battle, you believe your achievements to be inadequate. You, in fact, believe the only thing that you lack in this matter is not skill, nor experience, nor strength, but courage.
"To this end, you secreted upon an untested vessel, ready to dive into battle without our knowledge or consent. Had you considered what would have happened, had the craft failed? Additionally, did you not think that your sudden presence at our side during the battle might have caused in one of us a fatal lapse of concentration? After this also, we would have needs protect you in the fight, preventing us from unleashing the full potential of our might upon the dread wyrm."
Alphinaud was sobbing wretchedly, barely flinching at each blow, though his scalded backside must have been aching terribly.
"You are a fine and noble soul," Estinien said, resting his hand once more on the boy's rear. "You are no warrior, but then, I am no politician. We each much play to our strengths. Would you expect your dear mistress Taru to join us in battle, instead of at a desk wherein her strengths lie?"
Unable to summon a verbal response, Alphinaud simply hiccupped and shook his head.
"And would you expect our warrior of light to gather the food we eat, or forge the armour we wear, whilst at the same time battling primals and the hordes of darkness?"
Alphinaud laughed wetly at the poor joke. "Of course not," he huffed.
"Of course not," Estinien said with a smile. "So I ask you, shall you make any further attempt to enjoin with us on this dangerous enterprise, for which you are perilously unsuited? Or must I needs place you under the guard of Lord Commander Aymeric until our return?"
For several long minutes Alphinaud could not summon a response. He wept and sniffled, his misery raw, but soothed by Estinien's hand as the Dragoon lightly rubbed his back. Estinien stroked the boy's hair, smoothing the long strands away from his tear-stained and ruddy face, content to wait for his answer.
"I…" Alphinaud sniffed, rubbing his eyes against his sleeve. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke it was with some of the authority which he had lost since his spanking began. "Ser Estinien, please forgive my arrogance… I promise you, I shall not attempt any such foolhardy mission ever again. Please… please forgive me."
Estinien smiled at that, though he ensured he wasn't seen. With care, he drew back the boy's smalls and leggings over his scorched behind, smoothing down his coat before lifting Alphinaud up and setting him onto his feet. He held him, a steadying hand on each shoulder, and tilted his helm so that his ice blue eyes could look directly into the boy's own.
"Listen to me, young one. I spoke truly before. You have shown much promise, and are not without talent. Given time and training I am certain that you shall make a fine warrior and leader of men. But that time is not now, and that training cannot be against the likes of Nidhogg. Should we fail you shall be needed here, and in the battles hereafter. That is where you are best placed, that is where you can be of greatest help. Believe in us, little brother, as I believe in you."
Alphinaud gaped, his eyes sore and face puffed with weeping, yet thoroughly stunned by Estinien's words. Then his lip trembled, and his face screwed up once more.
Before Estinien could react, the boy had thrown himself forwards, arms wrapped about his neck, head buried beneath his chin, hot tears spilling through the cracks in his armour to wet the linens beneath.
Estinien sighed. His hands – raised away initially as he struggled to react to this act of intimacy – came down to rest upon the boy's back in what was almost an embrace.
"Have a care lad," he admonished gently. "My armour is not an ally to comfort."
Alphinaud shook his head, muttering unintelligible sounds. For a while at least, Estinien was content to stay as he was.
oOo
"There you are," Cid hailed Estinien from the Skysteel doorway. "We were just about to bring the girls outside for their maiden flights."
"I came in good time then," Estinien said calmly. "Have you seen the Warrior of Light?"
"Not yet, though knowing my old friend they'll be along in short order," Cid said in an uncharacteristically jolly tone. Estinien could only assume it was the imminent prospect of testing his new creations that had the Garlean in such high spirits. "Best get back to the ships, before someone puts a scratch on—not like that Biggs! Do you want our heroes to crash into the ground before they're half way to the Arey?"
Estinien watched as the Ironworks chieftain strode over to the manacutters, his bellowed instructions lost amidst the ringing of the foundry.
"Shall you stay for the departure?" he asked.
Alphinaud slipped from his hiding place behind the doorway and glared at the scene of his folly with a jaded, still-red-shot eye. "I think I shall pass on that, ser," he said acerbically. He tried not to shift upon his feet, his hands clenched stubbornly at his sides, resisting the urge to rub at his stinging rear. "Besides…" he coughed, "I had already said my farewells to the Warrior of Light, it would be awkward to do so again."
"Indeed." Estinien allowed a small smile.
They watched as the manacutters were prepared and then manoeuvred out of the doorways. When out upon the docks, Cid pressed a complicated series of buttons and the wings unfolded – directly through the compartment in which Alphinaud had secreted himself not long ago.
"Well," Estinien said, gazing down sternly at the boy, whose face had taken on an unpleasantly green pallor, "I am certain that you shall have much to contemplate during our absence. I look forward to our next meeting, brat."