Teleport-Mea
"Teleport-Mea! Paying for a Teleport-Mea!"
A White Mage stepped up and curtsied. "I can take you," she said, curtsying again.
"Your turn to pay the telewhore, Arrik" laughed Torch.
"I'm not a telewhore," the young woman grumbled, looking askance at him.
"Sure you are. That's about all White Mages are good for."
Arrik had his coin bag out and counted out three thousand gil, but the woman did not take it. Instead she folded her hands over her chest. "What? Isn't that enough?" Arrik asked.
"Oh, she's one of those fancy telewhores. You gotta give her five thousand for her services."
The woman glared at Torch, her feathers well-ruffled by the insult. "I'll take you if he apologizes."
"Apologizes for what?" Torch whined.
Arrik shifted his weight from one foot to the other impatiently and held out the money. "Do you want it or not? We're in a hurry."
"Fine," she said and pocketed the gil.
They faded away, the walls of Aht Urghan disappearing in a wave of light, followed by a moment of darkness, and then light once again as they rematerialized.
Torch stepped off of the shimmering cragpoint into the snow, the sky of Xarcabard darkening as his eyes adjusted.
"What the..." Arrik gasped. "We're in the Northlands. The bitch took us to Vazhl!"
"No way!" Torch turned to her, anger blazing in his eyes. "You little Basuck'an slut!" he hissed.
"Look, I'm just trying to earn a bit of gil for scrolls by doing a needed job. And you start insulting me for no reason for doing it. You insulted me. You insulted my magic. And now you go and insult my nation. What did I do to deserve it? Why do you have to be so unkind!?" She took the gil back out of her pocket and threw it to the ground in disgust.
"You will take us to Mea," Torch growled as he unsheathed his daggers menacingly.
The Mithra, the third member of their party, who had been too busily chatting on her linkpearl until after landing to pay attention to the men, stepped quickly in front of Torch. "Put those away!" she snapped at him.
The White Mage's hands were up and her lips were chanting the spell that would warp her away.
Gently, Nochif reached up to interrupt her casting. "Wait. Don't go. We owe you an apology."
The casting ceased.
"I'm sorry for what these idiots said to you and I'm sorry I wasn't paying more attention. Things got out of hand before I realized it." She reached into her moneybag and took out an Aht Urghanian goldpiece, twirling it showily between her fingers. "Please take this with my sincere apologies," Nochif said, taking the slighted mage's hand and placing the heavy coin into it.
"Don't give..."
Quick as lightning the Mithra laid a stinging slap across Arrik's face. And then she turned back to the White Mage. "Now, would you please take us to Mea and we'll trouble you no more."
The woman smirked.
Moments later the party stood in Tahronghi Canyon.
* * *
"Goodness it's crowded in here tonight," exclaimed Nochif, but a host managed to find a table for the three of them.
"It's some linkshell," said the host. "They're having a big party."
They noticed that most of the patrons in the tavern were all gathered facing into one area, each wearing a bow of blue ribbon pinned to their shoulders. A head table had been set up, slightly elevated, at which a selection of people sat, presumably the linkshell leaders, each wearing the blue bow as well. Arrik suddenly straightened. "Hey, see that Galka? That's Crying Swan. He and I used to hang out together way back when. We became Paladins together."
"The Crying Swan?" Nochif and Torch turned to look at the man up at the head table. "That guy's a legend. You knew him?" And he looked the part of a hero, dressed in white enameled armor with a golden circlet resting upon his brow. Behind him on a peg in the wall hung a beautiful shield glinting with gold-leaf and a short cape of Bastokan blue velvet.
"You knew him?"
"Yeah, used to be kinda close. We were always trying to outdo each other...friends, but rivals. We went our separate ways eventually."
"You've got me for a friend now," snickered Torch.
"Hmmm...not much of a consolation prize."
Torch would have answered back snidely to Nochif's comment, had the waitress not suddenly arrived to take an order. Exiting to the kitchen, she shortly returned with a pitcher of dark Bastokan beer and a plate of sausages for them At the Steaming Sheep, the beer was always flowing and the sausages were always boiling, guaranteeing a fast, filling meal to their patrons. They tucked into the food quickly, stuffing themselves on the fresh iron bread and the savory meat, washing it down with plenty of drink. "Everything about Bastok sucks, except this," declared Torch. "They know how to brew a good beer and make real sausages. The rest of this city isn't worth a pile of chocobo bedding."
"Shhhhhh!" Nochif hissed. "Not so loud. I don't feel like fighting tonight."
Torch just grinned at her before drinking down the rest of the beer in his cup.
The linkshell party was loud and spirited, bards amongst them playing songs they sang along to, a Tarutaru dancer turning pirouettes on one of the tables. A waitress and a waiter kept busy filling their drinks and bringing out an endless parade of platters from the kitchen. And in time an older man, an Elvaan with graying hair and a scar across one cheek, stood up at the head table and quieted the gathered crowd. "I'm glad to see you all here, and so many of you too. Of course I knew you'd all come when it was decided that this party would be paid for out of the linkshell treasury. But now it is my honor and pleasure to make this important announcement, the announcement of a wedding."
Murmurs of anticipation and excitement ran through their linkshell.
"Tomorrow at dawn, in the chapel in the Metalworks, Crying Swan and Floria will be married.
Gasps of surprise mixed with a few whispers of "about time" filled the room, followed immediately by congratulatory applause.
Arrik choked on his drink. "Crying Swan? No way." He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"Oh wow! He's getting married," Nochif purred.
The group turned to see the Galka stand up amidst the praise of his linkshell. Beside him now stood a Hume woman with short blonde hair and dark, passionate eyes. The loving smile across her face marked her clearly as the bride.
"Someday I'll marry a guy like that—big and sweet and respected," Nochif sighed dreamily.
"You can marry me right now," Torch volunteered. "Why wait? I'm big too if you know what I mean."
"I said respected."
"Speech! Speech!" the linkshell was shouting.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell everyone how you met. Isn't that the usual on these occasions?" suggested the Elvaan man.
The Galka quieted the crowed again, and took a deep breath. "Well, how we met...hmmm." He looked to the Hume woman beside him, and a smile came over his face. "All right. How we met."
She took his arm supportively, quietly gazing up at her tall fiance.
Torch nudged Arrik. "Check it out! That's that White Mage we pissed off that one day by calling her a telewhore, and she took us to the Crag of Vazhl. Remember her? Damn. She's marrying Crying Swan."
"No way! That is her!"
Crying Swan cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together as if it would gather his thoughts. "Well, I was just messing around one day and decided to go out to the Dunes as a Black Mage, and she answered my call for a teleport. And she felt sorry for me for some reason and walked me all the way from the Crag of Dem to Valkurm, and then when I got a party invitation she stuck around to look after me."
"We've all seen you try to use Black Magic. She obviously felt sorry for your party," someone shouted.
"Yeah. How many times did she have to raise them?"
The white-robed bride spoke up. "I thought he was some neophyte out trying to prove himself. And yes I did feel sorry for him. He had hardly any armor and only a handful of cookies for food. And he was missing some fingers." She held up one of the Galka's massive hands, which he obligingly spread to display his three fingers and thumb...perfectly normal and healthy for a Galka. "And he had no ears," ...also perfectly normal for a Galka.
"Just wait until your wedding night and you find out what else he's missing," teased someone in the group. Everyone burst into wild laughter, save for the bride and groom, who were blushing fiercely.
Crying Swan resumed his tale when the mirth died down. "When she put her own mana ring on my finger, I knew that she was the one I wanted behind me through thick and thin, and you all know she's been right here with me all this time. I'd not be the person I am today without her. I'd probably still be back there messing around in Valkurm, picking my nose and trying to incinerate the puller if it hadn't been for her."
More laughter and applause.
Crying Swan's voice trembled and he took his bride's hand ever so tenderly. "I can't give her children," he confessed, "but I can give her my heart and my soul and my love for as long as Altana wills it." The pair kissed amidst tears and cheers.
"That's so sweet, " Nochif sniffled, blotting her eyes like most everyone else was.
"That's just sappy," Torch groaned.
"You wouldn't know true love if it showed up in your delivery box with a huge label on it," grimaced Nochif.
Torch looked over to Arrik. "Let's get out of here. All this sentiment is souring my beer."
Arrik nodded but said nothing, tangled in his own thoughts of frustration and jealousy. They departed quietly, leaving behind the excitement of the engagement party.
Standing outside, they breathed in the warm night air. The sky above was clear. A huge full moon glowed pink overhead. "Well you boys can do what you want, but I'm going fishing," said Nochif, and she went down to the water's edge, where they sat around for some time more, the men talking and Nochif casting her line into the harbor. After a while there was noise behind them, and they could see the big party from the Steaming Sheep emptying out into the street. Torches flared up, and then moved as a group eastwards toward Beligen Circle.
"Ooh! They're doing the bridge ceremony," Nochif said excitedly.
"What's that?"
"Its a Bastokan tradition that started with the first bridge they built across the harbor to the residential area. The wedding party walks to the bridge and they are blessed by a priest. The groom kisses his bride good night, and then she and her guardian attendants cross over and go to bed. It's the last time the groom sees her before the ceremony."
"So what about the groom?"
Nochif laughed. "Well he's supposed to go to the place of the wedding and wait there praying until morning, but usually once the bride's out of sight his friends take him out to the taverns and get him Tarudrunk."
Torch snickered. "It's going to take a lot to get that guy wasted."
The torchlight procession paused at the bridge, too far away for anyone to hear what was being said. Arrik could vaguely make out the figure of his old friend and the white-robed woman beside him. Inside something was nagging at him, the pain of loneliness. And soon a smaller part of the procession broke away and continued across the bridge while the rest remained.
"There she goes," Nochif lilted, enchanted by the whole romantic event.
"Sure would be funny if the airship came in right now," Torch sneered, earning a bitter glare from the Mithra. "Hey, lets go back to the Steaming Sheep. It's safe to drink now."
* * *
"You were always such a good kid. I knew I'd find you here."
Crying Swan looked back and saw a face he recognized in the doorway of the Metalworks chapel. Quickly he bowed low to the altar and then stepped outside. "Arrik, it's been ages. How've you been?"
"Hey congratulations. I heard the news."
"Word travels fast, I guess. We only announced it tonight."
"It's not often a Galka gets married, especially one of your status."
"Hey, from what I hear you've made something of a name for yourself as well," Swan said modestly.
"Pfft. Hardly." He raised the bottle of wine he had bought and nodded toward the exit. If he had done even half of the courageous things Crying Swan had, that would be something to talk about at least.
The two Paladins sat on the edge of Firewater Fountain in Bastok Markets, where Arrik poured the wine into the cheap earthenware cups the merchant had given him. "So why marriage?"
"It seemed like the right thing to do."
"That's it?"
The huge man emptied his cup. "Well, it is more than that." He held the cup out for a refill. "When the linkshell would go out, she was usually my White Mage, just following behind me like a faithful servant, always there waiting to cure me or haste me or pull my sorry hide out of the fire. And one day we were out fighting something...I don't even remember what...and I took a bad blow and hit the ground. As she pulled me up I realized that I loved her more than anything else. Whenever I was angry or scared or upset, I just had to look over my shoulder and see her there, ready to take care of me. And if she caught me looking at her, she'd smile at me, and I just can't describe what I felt inside. It was like my heart was smiling back at her." He ran his gloved hand through his hair and hung his head. "I know they say Galkas don't fall in love, but I defy whoever 'they' are. I can't come up with anything else that would describe what I feel for her. She's everything to me..."
Arrik poured him a third cup, which emptied the bottle. "You're a lucky guy, and I know you'll be good to her."
"I hope so. I'd kinda hoped that she'd turn me down when I asked her to marry me, since I'm not Hume. But she didn't. She even had this ring..."
"Eh. You'll be fine." Arrik could feel that stab of frustration and loneliness again.
"But enough about me. What about you?"
They talked a while longer, and when Arrik offered to go get another bottle of wine, Crying Swan excused himself back to the chapel to resume his prayer vigil. "If you're still awake at dawn, you're welcome to come to the ceremony."
"I'll pass, but thanks."
"Then good luck, my friend. Don't be a stranger."
Arrik watched the Galka walk back toward the Metalworks. They had met the same girl in the same way, but how differently things had turned out for each of them. Inside he envied his old friend, but he had only himself to blame. How much better he could have done.
* * *
"Teleport-Mea! Paying for a Teleport-Mea!"
The call was quickly answered and a tiny Tarutaru boy stepped up.
For a moment, Arrik saw the angry Hume girl standing before him once again, and then the image of Crying Swan making a speech with tearful eyes in the tavern. He had not been able to escape those memories.
"You've paid me too much," the boy said, staring at the money that had been placed into his hands. "I only ask a thousand gil. You gave me ten."
"Keep it," Arrik said, smiling.
The boy's mouth fell open, and he quickly tucked the coins into his pocket.
Torch gave Arrik a dirty look. "Well aren't you Mr. Moneybags. It's just a tele."
"So?"
The Tarutaru's chanting whisked them away to Tahronghi Canyon, where he bowed deeply to Arrik twice, thanking him profusely before warping away. Disgusted, Torch hurried over to the Chocobo-girl and grabbed the closest bird available.
Arrik felt a hand on his arm. Nochif squeezed him in a little one-handed hug, smiling up at him. "Just ignore him. I like you better when you're nice, even if it's to a fault." And with that she sprang off the platform and ran over to the Chocobo-girl. "You've been a lot nicer lately—keep it up," she said, turning her hired bird and blowing Arrik a flirtatious kiss.
* * *
This fanfic has a sequel, to be posted within a couple months, by the title of "Madness." I enjoyed the characters of Crying Swan and Floria so much, their story continues.
FFXI and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of SquareEnix. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.