A/N: So, I branch out again. You know how you do something, and right away you just have to write for it. Well, that was the case when I played Bravely Default. I didn't really intend to write another new story just yet. I wanted to focus on my old ones first. But then, I just had to put it down on paper my thoughts on part of chapter 1.
Now, there's one thing you need to know. Yes, I realize that when a character changes jobs, they change outfits. I even wrote this with the jobs I had for the four characters in mind. Agnès was a white mage, Tiz was a knight, Ringabel was a black mage, and Edea was still a freelancer. But I also imagined Agnès in the dress we often see her in for this piece. So, don't nail me on that.
And so, I present my latest work.
Tears of the Vestal
Chapter 1
Agnès Oblige stood at the gates of the temple of wind with resolve at her goal and destination at the forefront of her thoughts. Her fellow travelers likewise stood with her, though for the moment, all four of them stood hunched and bent taking in deep breaths of the still air. She did not think it fitting for her, the vestal of wind and keeper of its crystal, to assume such a position, but over the protests of all she had been taught since she was but a child, her body could not bear to stand straight.
She had intended to leave the temple to begin the next stage of her journey to revive the darkened crystal, once she knew she had need to visit the woods of Yulyana. She had no more taken a step when the sounds of heavy footsteps sounded in the halls. She had heard the voice of her first companion, Tiz, call out in warning and had looked up to see the giant form of some monster looming at the side of the party. They had already fought many battles to reach the temple and many more so that they might reach the crystal altar. With little strength left, they had chosen to flee rather than stand and fight. In the mad scramble to escape, they had managed to elude the beast.
Now, they stood with the nearly pitch halls behind them, bearing the signs of their flight and the prior battles.
Agnès felt her fingers unwillingly loosen their hold on her staff, and she heard it land with a thump on the stones under her boots. Her legs groaned at having run so quickly. Her right shoulder stung bitterly from having been struck against a loosened stone in the wall during one battle. Her lungs burned as they took in the air, both the reeking smell of the darkness inside the temple and the heated and dry air of the desert. Her mind, though aware of her resolve, felt in the midst of a thick fog at having cast so many spells in so short a time to aid and protect her comrades. Despite the coolness of the temple still lingering, she already felt her hair and clothing growing damp with her sweat.
At last, she found the strength to hold her back erect, though her knees still found reason to cry out against her. She would have enjoyed a cooling breeze, but she knew none would blow until she had awakened the crystal.
"Do you think we're safe now?" she heard Tiz ask. From where she stood, Agnès could see him leaning upon his long sword as a bladed cane. She was certain that his strength was nearly spent at having swung such a heavy weapon so many times.
"For the time being, I would imagine," came the voice of Ringabel. Despite his rakish ways, Agnès was glad for him. His fire spell had managed to distract the monster they had encountered, and without him, she was certain they would have perished. "All the same," he added, "I don't think we should linger for long. I would hate to see some other monster leave some mark on the skin of such lovely ladies."
"Will you ever stop, Ringabel?" Edea asked, rather irately. Oh, how she hated his talk. Agnes, herself, might have shaken her head in her own disgust at his words if not for her own fatigue. "But," Edea added, "you're right. We'd better go now before we run into another monster."
Agnès reached to retrieve her fallen staff. "Yes," she declared firmly, though her growing weariness was apparent in her voice. "We must get back to the ship and then reach Yulyana woods quickly."
"I don't think we'll be getting back to the ship today," said Tiz. Agnès noticed his eyes looked towards the western sky. "It'll be dark soon." Indeed, the sun's light was fading away, and night would soon fall upon the desert. "We should probably head back to Ancheim tonight."
"But what of the crystal?" Agnès objected. "I fear what will come of it if we don't reach the sage soon. The crystal has gone darker since the day I fled. Without the vestal's garb..."
"The garb won't do any good if we don't have the vestal to wear it," Edea protested, over the words of Agnès. "I'm tired, you're tired, and I don't want to be wandering the desert at night just to be food for some monster. I say we make for the inn."
Agnès shook her head, though the action hardly seemed firm, and she opened her mouth, "But..."
"I don't often disagree with a lady, especially if it involves a particularly lovely one, and I don't see any reason to change that practice now. Besides, we could all use a good meal and a bed before we set out again. It might just do you good, Agnès. After all, a little rest does wonders for the complexion."
"Unacceptable," Agnès declared, though even she was surprised to hear the lack of fervency in her words. "We must reach Yulyana woods. The crystal; without its light returned, this world will slowly die with it."
"Please, Agnès," said Tiz. "Who knows what's out there at night. Don't go risking your life any more than you need to. Think of the acolytes who protected you. I think they would understand."
At the mention of the women who had shielded her those days ago, Agnès found her voice silenced. And so the others began their trek across the desert, and she walked slowly alongside them.
The sun had nearly set when they saw the lights of Ancheim appearing before their eyes. Agnès had not spoken a word nor even made a single sound. She heard the grateful sighs of her companions, but she remained as silent as the air. From the corners of her eyes, she saw glad smiles appearing, but she could not bring such an expression to her own face, although she knew she had reason. Her legs were heavy from the shifting sands, and her shoulder continued to sting, though the pain had eased by now. Even though the wind had ceased to blow, the night air of the desert sent chills through her clothing. Her belly desired food, and her body and mind could scarcely fight off the growing fatigue. To make for the inn was surely the best course.
Yet Agnès still wished they had made for the ship to continue their quest.
Her thoughts continued to dwell upon the urgency of her mission. Despite the haze upon her mind, Agnès intended to keep her focus solely on what she knew she must do. Her one goal was to see the crystal restored, for that was the purpose to which she was born and raised. She reminded herself that this one thought was what she must hold. And yet, she found her hold on it weakening with every step she took.
She found herself recalling that day when the crystal grew dark, and the darkness lunged for her. She thought of the acolytes who had hurried to shield her with their own bodies. More than this, she remembered the hope she had held that some had managed to survive. As she saw again the ruined temple, the habits torn to pieces, the acolytes vanished, and the stones of the floor painted red with blood, each step she took only reminded her that she had held that hope in vain.
Agnès shivered, partially from the cold and partially, she knew, from fear. She did not wish her mind to wander to such dark places, and she found it doing so with ease. Again, she tried to fix her thoughts on the need of the vestal's garb and the restoration of the light of the crystal. It pained her head to maintain such focus, but she knew she must try.
Once more she wished that she could have persuaded her companions to brave the desert night and reach the ship. Once more, she wished that she were on her way to the sage of Yulyana woods rather than a bed in the city of Ancheim.
When the small company had finally reached the inn, Agnès heard a soft chorus of grateful sighs, though she did not add her own. The heat of the room fell upon her, though the cold on her skin still lingered. She noticed Edea rubbing her hands together, and Tiz still shivering. In the safety of the inn, she saw them grow loose, letting their shoulders sag. She did none of this, for she still fought to keep her mind and her will upon her quest, though Agnès felt her dedication slowly waning, now that it had found a moment to do so. She followed softly behind the three of them as they found an empty table and sat down.
Agnès bowed her head to stare at the wood of the table. She could briefly see Ringabel beckoning the innkeeper to serve them. She could hear Edea talking, though her words sounded far away, even though the blonde-haired girl sat beside her. If she had looked up, she would have seen Tiz fix his eyes upon her with a gaze filled with concern. All her thoughts clung to the crystal, not to the sense of loss and shattered hope trickling into her heart. She could feel it entering her very soul, slowly but unceasingly. Harder and harder, she strove to master her own will and keep it from venturing away from the task which she was to perform, yet she felt all the more wearied for her efforts.
A light pain in her side brought Agnès back into the moment, and all at once, every voice in the inn seemed louder. She looked to the side from which the small blow had come and saw Edea staring at her with an elbow poised to strike at her ribs.
"Are you even listening?" said the blonde-haired girl. "I know you're the silent type, but even you're being too quiet now."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Agnès replied. "What was it you asked?"
"You weren't even listening. I asked you if the desert always got this cold at night. I've seen a lot of winters before, but I never thought the desert could be as cold."
"The temple was kept well to keep out the cold," answered Agnès. "It was only cool, even at night." Her voice wavered slightly, and she hoped that none of the others would hear it.
"Well, it must have been better than out there," Ringabel said. "I'd hate to see a lady have her skin turn blue in the cold. I prefer a little shade of peach, or even slightly pale, much like yourself, Agnès."
"Unacceptable," the vestal snapped, finding a little strength. "I am the vestal of wind, not some..." she could not find the word to use for the type of woman who would accept such words with ease. Right away, she noticed her words sounded far harsher than she intended, though she never could abide his manner of teasing. To her displeasure, Ringabel merely smiled.
"You know, you are rather lovely with that tint of red in your cheeks, though I'd much rather that tint along with something a little less...dressy," he said, pointing to her clothes, "nothing too suggestive at first, but..."
"Leave her alone, Ringabel," said Tiz, sounding tired of such words himself. "She just found out she's lost everyone she knew. So, don't keep on her like that."
Agnès winced at the words spoken for her. She felt a fracture, small but a fracture nevertheless, form across her heart. She knew Tiz had said those words with noble intentions, and yet she wished he had not said them at all. Deep within, she felt the fresh sting of grief, even as the aches and pains in her body had finally faded. His words, though said for her, seemed to renew the pain, as if she had torn open a wound. She did not hear the rest of the conversation, as she resumed the staring that she had done only earlier.
"Eat up," she heard the voice of Tiz bid them. With a light shake of her head, Agnès saw that a plate had been set before her. She briefly turned her eyes upward to see that each of them had been given a similar plate. While she saw the others begin to dine on some sort of meat that she did not know, she looked down to see an assortment of foods that she had once found enjoyable. The collection of sweet dates, plump desert figs, and white cheese seemed to stare back at her, and she recalled the same meal served to her at the temple. One acolyte in particular, she remembered, would do her best to gather such treats, for she had always known how Agnès enjoyed them.
The memory quickly turned dark, however, just as the crystal had done. Once more, Agnès thought of the hope she had held, a hope she had always known was held foolishly but one she could not have denied until now. Once more, she saw the darkness lunge for her and the lights of the temple candles move in front of her. Once more, she saw the darkness move undeterred, swallowing up the acolytes in her place. Once more, she saw the aftermath, the saddening scene that she had beheld that day.
Agnès fought back the urge to weep. She could not bear to take even a single bite, for she found the sight of food unappealing, even as her belly longed to be filled. She quietly rose, though the sound of her chair sliding away prompted the others to look away from their own meals.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Tiz asked.
"I...I don't...I don't have much of an appetite," she managed to say in reply.
"Agnès..." he said with concern.
"I'm fine," she stated quickly. "I'm just tired." She started to walk away. "I'm going on to bed," she added without looking back. Over her shoulder, she heard the sounds of Airy's wings beating as they always had, Tiz calling her name once more, and Ringabel calling the fairy back to the table and biding Tiz to remain silent. But she cared little for each of them at this moment.
Though the inn of Ancheim was much smaller than the inn in which they party had previously stayed while within the kingdom of Caldisla, a stairway still led to a second floor to the bedrooms. Agnès quickly began to climb, although each step pained her wearied legs. With each thump of her boots against the stone floor, she felt the tiny crack across her heart begin to grow. Once again, she reminded herself of the words she had spoken when she first beheld the awful sight within the walls of the temple.
"Yet I haven't the leisure to send them on, or to mourn them. I'm not allowed even the luxury of grief."
She had spoken with truth then, yet now her own words sounded hollow and void of meaning within her mind. She whispered them, but again, they lacked the significance they had held only hours ago. And so, Agnès tried to recall the teachings she had been given when she was still but a child, groomed to take the place of the mother vestal. Though the acolytes were tasked with her welfare and upbringing, the mother vestal had seen to her preparation for the years to come, and Agnès hoped her words of wisdom would now bring her comfort.
"You are to be my successor, Agnès, and you must remember that at all times. When I am gone, your one purpose will be to watch over the crystal and to ensure that your prayers to it never cease."
And yet, with every remembrance of those words, Agnès found other words springing forth from the depths of the growing fissure within her own soul; words she did not dare to utter. With each step, she struggled to keep her teachings within her mind.
"A vestal has no time for the things that trouble those outside the temple walls. This is why we must seclude ourselves from the world, unless it is required of us. Your entire life must be devoted to the crystal, for your prayers will sustain it and in turn sustain this world."
Agnès clutched her chest as she continued to climb those stairs, recalling the sight of the red stains upon the floor; the stains of blood, young blood, blood that was not at all unlike her own.
"Do not let your heart be troubled at all. A vestal must keep to her purpose, in spite of all else. Do not let your heart be filled with passions, the luxuries that we cannot possess; anger, desire, love, or even grief."
She found her breathing growing rapid and unsteady as she found herself only halfway up the staircase. She fought to recall another of her teachings, given to her one day, long ago, when an acolyte had passed suddenly due to illness
"All things must die at some point, Agnès. That is the way of it. Even my life will end one day. Do not mourn for me. Do not grieve for me. Do not grieve for any, not even the acolytes who tend to you. You must devote every moment of your life to the task that is given to you, just as I have done."
Though the words came to her mind with ease, Agnès found no comfort in them. She breathed heavily as she reached the top step, still clutching the place where she could feel the pained beating of her heart, as though she were striving to keep it from shattering just as her hopes had done. She wished only to reach her room, but first she took one quick glance behind her and hoped to hear the sounds of activity. It was not long afterward that she heard the sounds of utensils lightly tapping the dishes, faint as it was. Satisfied, Agnès turned her eyes back towards the small hall before her.
She ran the rest of the way to her room.
Agnès closed the door quickly behind her as she hurried inside the small room she shared with Edea. The door struck its frame loudly, though she paid it no mind. Her legs burned at having once again fled, but she counted the pain as nothing next to the splintering of her heart. She wished once more that she was on board their airship and bound for Yulyana, for then it might have been easier to keep her mind fixed upon her quest. While she had earlier said that she had neither the leisure nor luxury to mourn, she now had both on this night.
She felt the first tear form in her eye, and it began to fall down her cheek. Then she felt a tear form in her other eye. Her shoulders began to tremble, and her eyes began to fill anew. With a sharp breath, she felt her heart finally shatter. Overcome with weariness and sorrow, she felt her legs give way, and she fell to her knees. She covered her face with her hands as the tears spilled forth from her eyes. She shook as sobs escaped her mouth. The words she had struggled to recall and apply were lost from her mind, as she could only think of the loss of so many lives, innocent lives.
For the first time since she was but a child under the care of the mother vestal, Agnès Oblige wept uncontrollably.
"Why?" she managed to say through her weeping. "Why did...why did they have to die?" Her words were lost as the tears came once more, and the sobbing choked what she wished to say. Her gloves grew wet, but she did not care to remove them. Her thoughts no longer drew themselves to the crystal or the need to restore the vestal's garb so that she might see the light return to the crystal and the wind return to the world. In place of all the things she knew she must do, her thoughts filled with faces, memories, and the realization of loss as the fabric of her gloves filled with the water and salt from her eyes.
When, at last, her tears began to fall more slowly and the sobs began to ease, she rose. She felt her knees groan as she stood. Slowly and sorely, she walked to her bed and without care or consideration, she threw herself down upon it. She turned her back to the door, lying upon her side, and drew her knees upward, as though she were a child frightened by the raging storm. Despite her age of twenty, Agnès felt as a child in her heart, a child who had only now learned of loss.
Her hand again clutched at her heart, but she found herself taking hold of the pendent around her neck, gripping the jewel at its end. She held it to her chest, hoping that it might bring her comfort as it often had since she was but a child. She slipped the band over her head and opened her hand, gazing at the stone of blue.
"They were family," she said to the jewel as new tears coursed hotly down her cheeks, "Not in blood, but they were all family to me. They were sisters and mothers when I came to them. And now...now they're gone; gone without a trace, except scraps of cloth and blood."
Her fingers slowly closed around the stone as she brought her eyes towards the ceiling, wishing they could see the sky instead of the cold walls wrought of metal. "Why did this have to happen? None of it makes any sense," she said in lament. "The crystal has never gone dark before." In her heart of hearts, Agnès felt a twinge of anger filling the fractures within. Unlike the winds she was charged with keeping, it did not have any direction. "Why?" she said again, wondering toward what might she direct this flame within her. Was it the crystal itself for going dark? Was it the darkness, the nameless, faceless thing that had consumed it? Was it the life to which she was born and raised? Was it her own lacking in her task? She did not know, nor could she rightly assign blame.
"If I were not the vestal," she whispered as her tears slowed once more, "would this not have happened or would I only have the luxury of ignorance? If the mother vestal were still alive, could she have stopped all this? Or would the acolytes have died just the same?"
Agnès said nothing more, for she could not find any words to say. She only continued to face the wall, sobbing softly, and moment by moment, she felt her strength waning. She felt her eyes growing heavy, and she rubbed them with her free hand. Before she could think to close them, she heard a knock at the door.
She moaned softly, wondering only who it could be. She remained quiet, hoping whoever her visitor was would simply leave. If it was the innkeeper, she did not wish to see him. If it was any of her company, she did not wish them to enter. The knocking came again.
"Agnès," came a voice she recognized as Tiz. "Are you all right?"
She did not bother to turn her face towards the door or rise to bid him entrance. She only continued to gaze sadly at the wall. "Yes," she managed to say, hoping her voice did not betray her sorrow. "I'm all right, Tiz."
"Are you sure?" she heard him ask. "Please let me in, Agnès. Maybe I can help."
For the briefest of moments, she held the thought of opening the door for him, and she raised her head slightly. If any of them could be of any comfort, it would surely be Tiz. However, like the winds themselves, the thought faded from her mind as quickly as it had come, and she laid her head back upon the pillow.
"No, I'm all right," she said, softly but loud enough for him to hear.
"Please, can I come in? I don't want you to be alone in there."
"I'm not dressed, Tiz." She felt her face grow hot, not just from the tracks of her tears, but from the lie she had spoken. She looked at herself as much as she could manage. Her dress still covered her, her bolero was still wrapped around her shoulders, her gloves still covered her arms. She had not even removed her boots or headband. "I'm tired," she added, knowing it was more truthful. "Please let me rest."
She did not hear his answer, for he had not given one. She listened closely for any sound of his leaving, and when she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, Agnès held her breath until she heard them no more. When again there was only silence, she sighed heavily. She clutched her small pendant with a firmer grasp as she felt her heart begin to ache at his departure, though her wearied mind could hardly muster a thought as to why she should miss him. Her eyes again grew heavy, and she could not bear to dwell any longer on her grief and loneliness.
When her eyes could no longer abide their weight, Agnès permitted them to close, and as blackness overtook her and a dreamless sleep consumed her, she found it a great relief to a saddened heart and a troubled mind.
A/N: When I first saw that scene where she says she doesn't have the luxury, I thought Agnès was kind of repressing her own emotions. I know she's so focused on her duty, but I also thought that if she had the chance to not think about it and if she were away from everyone, she might actually break down and cry. No one can be that strong all the time.
I'd also imagined this as a one shot at first. But then I thought I could keep going for a bit, so this is now a short story. Hope you enjoyed it.
A big shout-out goes to HaveAHeart0301, who has been my beta for many pieces, including this one. I couldn't do it without you.