1/4/07

The background and the settings for this story are the sole property of Square-Enix. The principal characters are mine. They sprang from my mind like so many Athenas from the brow of Zeus - fully formed and ready for action.

By Chance

Aquelev breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the goods he had shepherded to this busy outpost safely stowed away. He was getting too old for this courier duty even if it did provide an excellent cover for his real job as an observer and reporter of the state of affairs across the continent. The past dozen years had been fascinating and just a little treacherous. After the death of the final Sin and the destruction of Vegnagun, Spira had settled down to the less dramatic but more exacting task of remaking itself. The world had realized that in order to survive without a periodic enemy to unite the citizens, it would be necessary to create a system in which all sentient beings - human and otherwise would be equally valued and assured justice.

It had not been difficult to bring together most of the races, although some had quibbled about the basic humanity of the Ronso. In the end, all those who had participated in the wars against Sin and Vegnagun - even the remnants of the once mighty Guardo as well as the humble Hypello - were folded into citizenship under the new laws and a measure of peace prevailed across the land.

The Al Bhed had entered into the body of world governance without much grumbling although they had been forced to largely abandon their own language ito the necessity of establishing a single tongue to ease communication. Some of the older ones still spoke it in private gatherings but the young no longer bothered to learn it and it would be gone in a matter of two generations. Intermarriage was rapidly solving the problem of physical differences between the other purely humans and the Al Bhed. The swirling pupils proved to be a regressive trait which did not persist and the yellow hair was moderated in most of the children born to mixed couples. Soon, it would no longer be possible to pick out an Al Bhed in a crowd.

Aquelev, as he approached his fiftieth year, could already pass as pure Spiran when he wore dark glasses. His once flamboyant hair was now frosted with so much grey as to look ashen rather than glitter like wheat in the sun. He was not at all sure how he felt about all the changes, both in himself and in the world. It was good not to be discriminated against but he missed the feeling of belonging to a specific tribe and speaking a private language. His current job which kept him on the road for weeks on end was exhausting but worth the doing. He, in the guise of a traveling merchant for mechanicals and other goods, took note of how the integration of the peoples was proceeding and identified any hot spots so that small wars could be suppressed before they became big ones. Since he had done something of this sort from his early twenties, he was good at it and it fulfilled him.

He had remained a bachelor, but not a monk as he would often say with a laugh. Somehow the right woman had never crossed his course. For a while he had thought he might make a try for Rikku, who was of his race and whose sprightly personality suited his notion of what the ideal woman would be. However, she had only smiled kindly at his clumsy suggestions and found a better match, one who was nearer her own age, and they had gone on to produce a crop of golden children who might be some of the last pure-bred Al Bhed. None of the other women he had encountered during his eligible days was quite right, so he remained alone, doing his job and practicing his hobby of healing on the side. Over the years, he had become an excellent physician and found it an effective way to penetrate into some of the more secretive groups he uncovered. Life was still more of a sweetness than a burden to him.

After a much needed long, soaking bath, Aquelev was wakened from a light nap by a brisk knock on the door of his room. He thanked and tipped the Hypello page and prepared to begin his real job. He would sit in the common room for the next several hours, nursing as few drinks as he could manage and listening for any news which might interest his masters.

The common room was not yet crowded so Aquelev was able to choose a seat which afforded him an easy view of the entire space. He settled down, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, and began his surreptitious survey of those present.

There was the usual heterogeneous collection of men and women likely to be found in one of Rin's Travel Agencies. (The franchise had become a generic term for such places providing supplies and accomocations.) Traveling salesmen shared tales of their oddest customers, single women and men tried to catch the eye of the more prosperous looking of the drinkers, old men sat by the fire, young men stood by the windows ... There! by the far window! Aquelev's breath caught in his throat when he saw the shape of the man who was silhouetted against the glass, his back to the room.

It was a very tall man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He held himself with unself-conscious grace and pride, his head crowned with a complex arrangement of dark braids, carefully secured in loops and windings. One large comely hand held a glass containing a clear liquid topped with a silvery foam. As the agent watched, he turned so that his profile was clear to be seen.

Unaware of what he did, Aquelev whispered a single word in the old, dying language, "Taydrcaagan".

For a dizzying moment, he was transported back to a sunny clearing near this Mi'ihen Highroad where he had first begun a friendship with one of the pivotal figures in his life. But that was two decades ago. He glanced down at his own hands and saw that they were still the hands of an aging man, not a twenty-nine year old. He had not entirely lost his mind and this was no time travel dream. Then who was the young buck lounging by the window?

The Al Bhed continued to stare at the table before him. He was tired and getting less fit for this strenuous duty. It would not be surprising if a combination of things had conspired to project the image of a young, intact Nooj into the shadows of the room. After all, the day's travel had been through portions of the land he had traveled once with the Crusader back when they had first known one another and this very inn was a place Nooj had stayed once recovering from a poisoned stab wound and the place they had first met. All this territory was rich with memories of days now long in the past.

Yes, that had to be it. The figure was a shape projected from his memories. He wondered who would be next to appear - Squab, Ferata, maybe even old Gratta himself? Could it be that he had finally reached his dotage and now he could expect to be entertained by phantasms from his past full-juiced days? He lifted his eyes to look again, fully expecting the familiar form to be gone. It was still there, apparently not having moved even a hair.

Like a man in a trance, Aquelev pushed himself up from his chair and made his shaky way toward the mysterious youth. Each step made the likeness more exact. The texture and deep gleam of the hair was as it had been; the height and shape of the body, clad in hunters' motley instead of scarlet, was as familiar as his own reflection in the mirror. When he was within reach, the older man stretched out his hand to hesitantly tap the wide shoulder.

The young man turned and Aquelev gasped. He was looking into the very face of his friend, made young and whole. No, not quite. The eyes which met his were not dark but an incandescent green, glittering and almost suggesting a swirl in the pupils.

"Yes, can I help you?" It was the same voice, deep and melodious. The stillness of the face was the same, the delicately shaped nose, the full, firm lips.

"Pardon me. I thought I knew you. But you are too young ... still you look - like ..." Aquelev, to his embarressment, found himself stuttering like a fool.

A smile of singular sweetness curved the youth's lips. "I think I know who you mistook me for. You must have known my father; I am said to be very like him ... at least in my looks."

Aquelev stood and examined the speaker, surveying him from the coiled braids of his hair to the easy grace of his stance. "Yes. There is only one man on this planet who could have sired you. He was my dear friend. Will you join me in a drink in his honour?"

The lad gave a short laugh, which almost broke the heart of Aquelev, it was so similar to the ones he had heard from Nooj. "I will be glad to meet an old friend of my father's. Perhaps you can tell me about him. We never met. My name is Roehnoo."

"And I am Aquelev. Your father, Nooj, and I journeyed together during his days with the Crusaders and after." He led the way to his table. "What may I order for you?"

"I think I'll stick to this Hypello ale," Roehnoo said, gesturing with his half-empty glass. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Neither was your father; he hated to be out of control."

"So I've heard."

There was an awkward silence as the barmaid placed a pitcher of ale on the table and clattered down a pair of fresh glasses. The two men studiously looked past one another, then suddenly spoke at once.

"Who?..."

"When ..."

With a gesture of deference, Roehnoo murmured, "Sorry, sir. Go ahead."

Aquelev took a hearty swallow of his drink and asked, "I was just wondering how old you were. Nooj was in his early twenties when I met him and you look about that age."

"Good guess, sir. I'm twenty-two. And I know you're wondering why you never heard about me from my father. To the best of my knowledge, he never knew I existed." He hestitated then continued in a rush. "I was, I guess, a youthful accident. My mother was one of the Al Bhed women working at the Rin's in the Macalania Woods when they met. He was on maneuvers with the Crusaders and they were posted not far away for a while and ... nature took its course." He grinned shyly down at the table. "He was gone when mother discovered I was on the way and there was no way to reach him. Not that she would have anyway."

"I see. I am sure he would have done right by your mother had he known. Is she still alive?"

"Yes, she's living in Djose community now; she's more comfortable in a crowd of Al Bhed - being one of the old-fashioned ones." Roehnoo paused again then seemed to make up his mind and went on, the words pouring out of him as though they had been too long and too tightly confined. "She gave me this name - it's a blending of hers and his - to make sure I would never forget who my father was. To her, he was a great hero - Nooj the Undying." The last was said with a sort of defiant emphasis.

Aquelev nodded. "He was a very great hero. Without him, there would be no modern Spira and things would be very different for us all."

"You don't have to be so careful how you speak, sir. I know he's dead. I was ten when we heard the news and mother cried all day. She hadn't seen him since before I was born but she loved him as long as he lived and, I think, still does. I tried to comfort her but ..." He stopped as his voice roughened. "How did you know him, sir?"

The elder had to restrain himself from touching Roehnoo in a gesture of consolation. Only knowing that Nooj himself would have rejected such a move made him hold his emotions in check.

"I was sent to spy on him when he was cleaning out the nests of rogues along the Highroad. In those days, guns and other machinery weapons were not acceptable and I was supposed to worm my way into his confidence and persuade him to give them a try. He was too clever by half and figured out what I was up to before I could even get started. Did you hear the tale of how he took out three villains at one time using only a dagger? It happened not far from this very place."

"No!" The young man leaned forward. "Tell me!"

-X-

When the story had been told with all the embellishments and details demanded by Roehnoo and dredged up by Aquelev, there was a new sense of ease between the two men. It seemed that the reliving of a portion of a legendary history had bonded them in the surety that they were connected to one another through a common reverence for a fallen hero.

"Now you must tell me. What have you decided to do with your life?" Aquelev smiled as he leaned back and refilled his glass.

The younger stretched his long legs and thought for a moment. "I'm sort of in the family business, sir. When they opened the academies to Al Bhed and half-breeds, I went into the training camp in the Calm Lands. I finished a little over a year ago and am waiting for a position in the army to open up. You know they don't need as many troops as they used to so we graduates have to wait sometimes. In the meanwhile, I'm earning my keep by guarding supplies as they get shipped around to the Rin's. It's not steady work but it's interesting and I enjoy it."

"I can't think you would have to wait if the commanders knew who you were. Any officer would move mountains of paperwork to have the son of one of Spira's greatest Warriors in his unit. Didn't you tell them who your father was? Didn't they notice who you look like?"

"Well ... I wore my hair short while I was in training and did what I could to change my looks. You see, sir, I didn't want any special treatment and I wasn't sure if it would be an advantage to be compared to my father. So...", he looked down at his feet and blushed.

Aquelev had to shake his head, so like father like son. Nooj, too, had been likely to deny his many gifts as a soldier and stand away from the spotlight of glory whenever possible. He, too, had avoided anything he might have considered an unfair advantage. Impulsively, the Al Bhed threw his arm around the shoulders of his companion and drew him close. "Nooj would have been so proud of you. I wish you could have known him. And he you."

Roehnoo blushed harder and dropped his head further toward his chest. After a moment he pushed away from the embrace and looked solemnly at Aquelev. "Was my father all that they say he was? I hear some whispers that he was ... not quite what ..."

The other took a deep breath. He had hoped to avoid this topic. "Do you speak Al Bhed?"

"No. I can understand a few worlds but after I left home I let it drop."

"All right. Your father was what we in our tongue call 'Taydrcaagan'. He felt he owed a debt to existence and was committed to paying it. He actively sought for a way to give his life for Spira and, for that reason, some called him 'Deathseeker'. He had no fear and that was part of what made him such a formidable Warrior. He would place himself in the middle of the fiercest fight and dare Death to come get him." Aquelev hoped the answer would suffice.

"Was that how he lost his limbs?"

"Part of the reason. When he as able to go back into battle, he was more determinded than ever to do what he could to free Spira from fear and danger. Nothing in his life can ever cast any stain on what he did and how he lived. Don't ever believe he was less than a complete hero. He died fighting; he did not meekly kill himself. He fell in the middle of a battle with the remaining Sin-spawn and took most of them with him. Roehnoo, your father was a very great man and you are a worthy son to him. Don't ever doubt that."

"You knew him well?" The youth sounded as if he pled for more assurance.

"I knew him both before and after he was so badly injured. I saw in him all the strength and courage he exhibited throughout his life. I watched him struggle to learn how to use the prostheses so that he could return to the service of his nation. Lad, you will never know what raw courage that took or what pain he suffered during the process. He never gave up, never even thought about it. Nothing anyone can say in their envy and hypocrisy can tarnish that. I was there."

Roehnoo drew a long shaky breath. "I never believed some of those stories anyway. He showed what he was made of."

Aquelev filled his glass again. The pitcher was almost empty. He knew Nooj's death had not been as straight forward as he had described it. But after all, there was no survivor to bear witness to what actually had happened that day, whether Nooj had died battling against too many fiends and had finally lost his gamble or whether he had walked alone and unarmed into that cave he knew to be teeming with monsters. Whatever the truth was, the man was free now from the darkness which had shadowed his life; he had found the destiny he had sought from the time he was a boy far younger than this breathing reflection of himself sitting in the adjacent chair. Nooj had done what he was driven to do. There was no need to dwell on those aspects of his character which might bring pain or disillusion to his son. Especially when the truth was not fully known. Aquelev shook himself; he knew the truth. In the deepest chambers of his self he knew Nooj had chosen to deliver himself to Death. He could not bear to envision what those last minutes must have been like for his tormented friend. Had he stood there, with an extreme exercise of will, and let himself be torn apart: or had his body, at the end, rebelled against his mind and fought back againt the overwhelming odds? There was no way to know and that sickened Aquelev, that doubt. He had not realized he had fallen into the oft-visited reverie until a motion from the adjoining chair brought him back to the present.

"Shall I order another pitcher?" He asked courteously.

"No thank you, sir. I have drunk more than I usually do already. Thank you for telling me about my father. I am in your debt." Roehnoo moved to push back his chair and rise.

"Hold for a moment. Didn't you say you were contracting to guard shipments along the roads? I have some more deliveries to make on my rounds and would be glad to have your strong arm at my side. Will you accompany me? I will pay well and we can continue to talk." Aquelev realized he was not yet ready to part with this reminder of his lost friend. Or perhaps he was only a little drunk and sentimental in his cups.

"Thank you sir. I was hunting a job today. It will be an honour to be your guard." The young man beamed at the thought. "It was a happy coincidence - at least for me - that we met."

"Yes, a chance encounter. But a good one. You won't believe how glad I am to know there is something of my old friend still here in Spira. You make me feel younger and that's a fair sized miracle. We'll leave midmorning tomorrow and head for Bevelle. They're expecting me to bring them some potions and labware. Then, if you will stick with me, we will set out for Guadosalam and drop by Djose and see how your mother is doing. You might as well count on staying in my service until the army summons you. I can use you and we can keep company at least until we get back to Luca, my home base."

Roehnoo leapt to his feet and saluted the older man. "Yes, sir. At your service, sir!" He laughed. "Mother will be glad to see I'm working for an Al Bhed and she will welcome you in Djose." He extended his arm to assist his new boss to his feet and the two, staggering slightly, made their way toward the sleeping sections of the inn.

"Do you suppose I have any half-brothers or sisters anywhere around?" Roehnoo wondered aloud. Aquelev sensibly pretended not to hear.

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