Disclaimer: Tales of Symphonia and anything associated with it is not mine. I'm not that smart.
Path of the Frenzied
"Excuse me? I'm looking for my aunt Flora." Sixteen-year-old Emil Castagnier bit his lip nervously. He wanted to be back in Palmacosta with Ingrid and her family, not on the other side of the continent to talk to relatives he hardly knew. Mom and Aunt Flora had never bothered to keep in contact when his parents were alive, so why bother now?
But Ingrid's father had insisted. Even after the attack on Palmacosta he could afford it: through the turmoil of the past few years the Volls had suffered relatively little bad fortune. Not that it meant too much when half of Palmacosta was gone, but Emil had regarded the family with a mixture of jealousy and awe for over a year because they seemed to have all the luck he didn't. Ingrid still had family, a great one willing to take Emil in after the Blood Purge; Emil only had an aunt and uncle left.
His mother's parents had perished when Luin was destroyed. His father's father had died of disease when Emil was four, and his other grandmother had been lost to the Great Kharlan Tree's rampage. And now Mom and Dad…Emil averted his eyes towards the items in the shop, trying to tear his mind away from Lloyd Irving's cold voice and the image of his parents' bodies on the ground, burned into his memory.
"Flora's nephew, eh?" The shopkeeper gave Emil a suspicious once-over. "I heard of you. They say you're big trouble. A Vanguard sympathizer."
"What? Me?" What had Aunt Flora been saying? She didn't know anything about him.
"Yeah, you. Still trying to spread all your hate of Lloyd Irving, aren't you?"
Still? Emil had just gotten here, and he hadn't said anything about Lloyd—though he wouldn't disagree with the idea that he hated Lloyd. A fist clenched at his side, out of view, as he fought to shove the memories away again. "I think you're confusing me for someone else, mister."
"Emil or something, isn't it? That won't work here, kid. Go back to Flora's place." The shopkeeper pointed outside and Emil left after deciding that trying to argue was not the better option.
Emil finally reached his aunt's house after two more conversations and several insults to him and his intelligence (was everyone in Luin this abusive?) and knocked on the door. The woman who answered resembled Mom enough: petite, brunette, and a little squinty-eyed, though she had a sour expression that Emil had rarely seen on his mother. The dark-haired man with the mustache could have been Uncle Alba. Emil guessed he'd found the right place, so he took a second to ready himself and plunged in. "Aunt Flora? It's me, Emil. Lana and Reysol's son."
"Emil? What do you mean?" The woman demanded. "You're not Emil. Frankly, I'm not sure why you'd want to be him."
"Of course I'm Emil! I'm…" Emil hesitated, not understanding all of what Flora meant, but continued. "Hey, I'm here for the day and then I'm going back to Palmacosta. I'm not dumping myself on you and Uncle Alba. I'm only here to tell you about Mom!"
Aunt Flora's voice was stiff and her words minced. "Lana's dead. I know. But if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny at all and it isn't convincing, either. Emil's right here." She turned to a room adjacent to the one they stood in and raised her voice. "Emil! Get out here, now!"
Head bowed, a miserable-looking boy of about Emil's age trudged into the room, avoiding meeting either Emil's or Aunt Flora's eyes directly. He was a good five inches taller than Emil, but he managed to make a pretty pathetic picture as he stared at the floor. "I'm Emil Castagnier." The boy raised his head and glared at Emil for somebody whose demeanor had screamed "I want to go back inside and hide" until a second ago. "Who are you, and why are you using Mom like that?" he demanded.
"I don't know who you are, but I'm Emil," Emil insisted, giving the boy a hard stare in return. "I should be asking you that!"
"Liar!"
"Quiet!" Uncle Alba spoke up; his voice cut into them harshly, and both boys flinched. "One of you must be lying. At least one of you. For all we know Emil died in Palmacosta with Lana and both of you are trying to take advantage of their deaths."
"But I'd never do that!" Emil protested. "Even if I weren't me! There are better things to do than to pretend to be somebody you're not. There are people taking in the refugees from Palmacosta, like the Lezareno Company! I have no idea why somebody would ever pretend to be another person like that, but I have better things to do!" He shot a glower at the other boy, who scowled in return.
"Well, that at least makes sense," Uncle Alba said to Aunt Flora with a pointed look at both boys. "Honestly, Emil—if he is Emil—has been nothing but trouble, going around and telling everybody Lloyd Irving killed Lana and Reysol. People are beginning to say he's a Vanguard sympathizer!"
"What? But that's actually true!" Emil balled his hands into fists at the memory with a growl. "Lloyd Irving really did kill Mom and Dad. I saw him with my own eyes! And there are plenty of others in Palmacosta who went through the same thing."
"Enough!" Uncle Alba looked about ready to kill at this point, Emil thought with a gulp. Uncle Alba pointed outside, reminding Emil of the shopkeeper he'd first asked directions from. "Both of you. Out. now. If either of you is the real Emil, come back when you can prove to us that you're not some kind of twisted imposter and you've learned to watch your mouth. Not until then!"
And with nervous backward glances and a slammed door, the two Emils were effectively kicked out.
"I hope Mr. Voll's happy," Emil muttered as they walked into the street. "Hey, what're—" He glanced at the other Emil and cut himself off, seeing that the boy seemed downcast and his expression was thoroughly lost. Either he was a good actor, or Emil had just managed to boot a confused kid out of his current equivalent of a home.
"You really think you're Emil Castagnier, don't you?" he asked the boy, hearing a soft sympathy in his voice that surprised himself. "You believe Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba are really your aunt and uncle, and Lana and Reysol Castagnier are your parents."
"Y-you too." The words had no fight in them: the boy's former air of timidness had returned, and twofold now that Uncle Alba had banished them. "How is it that you and I believe we're the same person? We don't even look the same!" He had a point. Aside from the height difference, the other Emil had green eyes instead of Emil's blue and his hair was a more golden color than Emil's dirty blond. The best resemblance was in their less-than-stellar appearances, as Emil's were dusty and mussed after a few days' travel and the other Emil's clothes, while clean, seemed a little too loose on him.
Noting the dejection on the boy's face, Emil tried to envision things as he imagined them from the other way around. The idea that he himself might not be Emil Castagnier and instead some deluded kid who'd been uprooted from his life was not one he liked. Trying to consider it deeply started him questioning his own memories. If he returned to Palmacosta, would Ingrid be there or would she turn out to be a product of his imagination?
Suddenly anxious to return to Palmacosta, Emil eyed the other Emil again and sighed. He couldn't bring himself to leave the guy here. Even if he still had a place to go, he probably had been in Palmacosta, so somebody might figure out who the "fake" really was. And if he was just crazy, then he needed help anyway.
"Come on," Emil told him. "I'm going back to Palmacosta. There's room for one more." He decided not to mention yet that there he'd prove that he was the real Emil. It didn't feel right, and the other was shaken enough already. Pressing him any more would probably make him bolt like a deer.
"Are you sure? I thought…" Doubt flickered in the other's eyes.
"Would you rather stay here?" Emil gestured to the town around them. That did the trick: the other Emil accepted.
Ander, Ingrid's older brother, was waiting for them at the main entrance to Luin. When Emil tried to explain the situation in private and insisting on bringing him (not following through on his offer felt too much like breaking a promise for Emil's comfort), Ander sighed and threw up his hands, frowning as he ran one hand impatiently through dark hair. "If you're telling the truth and he's from Palmacosta, fine. Dad would kill me if I left him here. But you're the one who's gonna explain this one to him, not me."
"Fine," Emil agreed, and the look on the other Emil's face as they left Luin behind them was worth it.
It was a day east of Hakonesia Peak that they came across the girl.
"It's you!"
The girl planted herself in front of Other-Emil (as Emil had taken to thinking of him), watching him carefully without any apparent regard for the fact that she'd just intruded on three travelers who didn't recognize her at all as if she belonged with them.
Ander was less than impressed with her. "Friend of yours?"
"I-I don't think so." Other-Emil didn't take his eyes off the girl, though whether it was out of fear or fascination Emil couldn't tell. His posture said he was startled, even scared, but there was something in the way he regarded the girl that made Emil think twice. Could he really know this girl somehow?
Whether or not Other-Emil did, the girl seemed convinced. "You don't remember me?" she asked.
"No. I'm sorry." The boy hung his head. "Are you sure I'm the right person?"
The girl smiled, and Emil saw sincere admiration written all over her face. "I'd never forget the one who saved me."
That hadn't been the answer any of them had expected. "Save you? Him? From what?" Ander demanded.
"Never mind." The girl shook her head, breaking her gaze away. "I guess it was more memorable for me. A lot did happen that night." The mention of "that night" tugged at Emil, but she continued, "Hey, what's your name, anyway? I'm Marta."
"Um…" Both Emils exchanged glances. "Emil," he said, shrinking a little. "For now."
"For now?"
Emil took pity on him and interrupted as smoothly as he could. "It's nothing. You don't need to know the details. Come on, we have to check in. Let's go."
Of course, he'd forgotten that if she was at the same inn they were, logically she was staying there as well. That evening after dinner found Marta sitting next to Emil on his bed in their room while Ander was out, having been explained the details of their time in Luin after asking for Emil's name too.
"That must be tough," she mused, watching the other Emil. "Not being sure of who you are like that." She was quiet for a moment as Other-Emil tried to will himself invisible before her face lit up again. "But I'm sure you're that boy I met! Whoever you are, you're also him and I'll always love you for that."
Marta leaned over from her seat on the edge of Emil's bed and gave the other Emil a tight hug. Emil had to fight a snicker despite himself. One afternoon and she was already smitten. Was there any way to stop a force like that? For his part Other-Emil got flustered easily, and though his expression said he objected to Marta's displays of affections he didn't speak up about it much. Emil grinned. Girl troubles. Boy, was he glad he didn't have to deal with any of those.
Taking pity on the boy, Emil continued, "We're on our way back to Palmacosta. It shouldn't be much longer until we get there."
"Palmacosta?" Marta let go of the other Emil (to his relief) and turned her attention back at Emil, clearly bothered by something.
Aha, Emil thought. I was right. "Hey, Marta," he said, trying to sound casual. "When you mention him saving you, you mean Palmacosta, don't you? Two months ago?"
"Yes. I've been traveling around ever since that night. You're going back to Palmacosta?" Marta seemed conflicted, glancing to the side for a moment as if there were something interesting in the air, before she nodded and turned back with a smile. "If you don't mind, could I go with you?"
Emil had guessed this would come up. "As long as he and Ander don't have any complaints, I don't see why it should be a problem?" He glanced at the other Emil, who hesitated before nodding timidly.
"Really? Great! Oh, I'm so glad I met you!" Once more she clamped onto Other-Emil and this time Emil left the poor boy to his fate. Hey, at least he'd tried.
They reached Palmacosta four days after meeting Marta, after a few attempts to get Marta to ride the carriage they traveled in (each time demonstrating that yes, she did indeed get motion sickness) and many more halfhearted complaints from Ander about the pace of their journey and the tagalongs they'd acquired since Luin. Ingrid was waiting at the Volls' when they arrived, and when she saw the group they had her mouth twitched. "You don't have any long-lost cousins you forgot to mention, do you?" she asked.
Emil took a long second to just stare at her and make sure that she was who he remembered—after so much time on the road, he could see clear a resemblance with Ander in their dark hair and gray eyes, both atypical of most native Palmacosta residents, as well as their height; at sixteen Ingrid was seven years older than her brother, but at five-foot-eight she stood at only a few inches shorter than him.
Then, processing her question, he grimaced. If only she knew. "I wish it were that simple," he muttered to her.
"I'll bring these guys to Mrs. Dorr in the Governor-General's office," Ingrid's father volunteered. "You two have fun catching up!" As they left Emil sank into a sofa in the living room with a grateful sigh, drinking in the sight of the off-white walls he'd grown accustomed to in the past two months. This was familiar.
Ingrid plopped down beside him, crossing one leg over the other. "Long trip?"
"Worse than that." He began his account of what had happened in Luin and their encounter with Marta. He paused when he was done with that before adding, "Hey, Ingrid?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm me, right? Emil Castagnier? The real one?" He lowered his head—the notion had bothered him for the past week, nibbling at his mood whenever he looked at the other boy who claimed to be Emil Castagnier. When he raised it again Ingrid was giving him one of those stares that made him feel as if he'd gone and done something fantastically stupid.
"Is that what you were upset about? Come on, don't you ever use your brain? If you weren't the Emil Castagnier I grew up with I wouldn't be talking with you like this. And you had Ander along all that time, so you could have asked him if you were that worried!"
Sharp as ever, her words managed to make Emil feel better while dramatically increasing that feeling he'd been an idiot at the same time. "You're right." He laughed weakly. "I guess it was pretty dumb of me to wonder if I could be the…"
Fake.
Emil swore under his breath and smacked his forehead. That hadn't been the only time he'd been fantastically stupid.
"Emil?"
"Do you know when your dad will be back?"
"No, why?"
"Because I need to find the other Emil, the one who thinks he's me!"
He'd never talked with Other-Emil about resolving their little identity problem here, and for all he was withdrawn the other didn't appear to have thought much of it before they got here. The times he had spoken of what worried him, it was usually over Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba in Luin or some imagined offense he'd committed against Emil or Ander.
So if Emil had doubted his own identity until coming home to the people who knew him, what was it like for the one coming home to find out his entire life was fake?
Mr. Voll didn't return with Marta and the other Emil two hours after dinner. "We've been invited back tomorrow," he told them. "Mrs. Dorr is no expert, but she believes our new guest might have suffered some kind of trauma, physical or otherwise, two months ago. And it just so happens that the president of the Lezareno Company will be paying a visit tomorrow to see how things are going in Palmacosta for himself, so she hopes he may be able to find some way to help him. We're taking him and Marta in at Mrs. Dorr's request, at least for the time being. Ingrid, Emil, the two of you don't mind sharing your rooms for a short while, do you?"
Neither raised any objections, and soon after that Other-Emil excused himself to retire to bed early. Emil followed suit about ten minutes later, worn out by the day and wondering just what he was going to say to his new roommate. To his surprise he could hear voices from inside the room as he approached, and out of curiosity he put his ear to the door and listened.
"Emil?" That was Marta. "Remember what I said when we first met? I meant it, honestly. I don't care if you're not who you think you are. You're still who I think you are." Silence. "Emil?"
Listening intently, Emil could hear a soft "Thanks, Marta." The words were half-hearted at best, and more silence passed before he spoke up again. "I think maybe I should find something else for people to call me. I-if I'm not Emil Castagnier…"
"Are you sure about that? No one would mind, especially right now."
"I don't know. I still feel like I'm Emil and this is all a bad dream. But that's not true, and I've already caused so much trouble. For the real Emil and Ander and the Volls, and the governor's wife, and for the both of you, too. I'm sorry." (Emil pressed his ear closer to the door at that, ignoring his pricks of guilt for the moment. "Both"?) "So if I do this, maybe it will make up a little for what I've done."
"Do you have a name yet, then?"
"Um…"
"If you are so set on renaming yourself, may I propose a name?" Emil gave a start: the speaker wasn't one he had heard before, and certainly not in this house.
"What is it, Tenebrae?"
"Odin. It was the name of someone who appealed to Lord Ratatosk thousands of years ago long before the worlds were split in two, before the shortage of mana became truly evident. He was not successful, but you might say he might one day almost be a predecessor of yours."
"Not successful?" Marta demanded. "What are you saying, Tenebrae?"
"Oh, nothing grim. Lord Ratatosk simply was not interested in sharing his power and allowing others to call upon him at whim when there was no clear need of it. Of course, the present situation is quite different." There was a hint of reproach in the strange voice, though over what Emil couldn't tell.
"Odin…" The boy's voice trailed off thoughtfully. "I guess that works. I'll tell everyone tomorrow, in the morning."
Their conversation was pretty much done at this point, Emil figured, so he stepped back and knocked. He could hear some muffled movements inside before Marta opened the door. "Oh, hi Emil! What are you doing here?"
"Going to bed. I'm exhausted." Emil decided to pretend that it wasn't strange to find girls coming out of his room when the only other inhabitant was supposed to be sleeping. It was easier on both of them. "What about you?"
"Me too. Well, good night, Emil! Sweet dreams!" Marta hurried out and away, and relieved that was over with Emil headed inside. Other-Emil—Odin—sat there watching him from under the covers in a set of slightly worn secondhand pajamas the Volls had gotten somewhere. The third voice he'd heard was nowhere to be found.
"Have fun talking?"
"What? Oh. Yeah." The other boy said nothing as Emil turned off the light, but as Emil climbed into the bed (big enough for two, luckily for them both) he said, "I decided on a different name for myself. Since I'm not you or anything."
Emil could tell he was going to be playing innocent for a while. "What do you mean?"
"It's weird having people talk to me because you think they're talking to you, right? Since now we know you're the real Emil Castagnier, it's not right that I keep using that name. So Tene—I mean, Marta and I decided on a new name I could use. Odin."
In a flash Emil realized how he could start making it up to this kid. "Odin, huh? You didn't need to do that, but as long as you are do you have a last name to go with that?"
"Not yet."
"Why don't you use my name—our name? Castagnier?"
"What?" The other fidgeted, fighting to sit up.
"Hey, hey, no need to get all excited! I'm not offering you a fortune in Gald or anything. But I bet all this is harder on you than you let on, right? The least I can do to help is give you a way to make sure the world doesn't turn completely upside-down. You can be the brother I never had or something." Pulling the covers further over himself, he murmured, "Now that Mom and Dad are gone, it's just Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba, and the two of us. And Ingrid's family, since they sort of adopted me after the Blood Purge."
"Thank you." Emil smiled to himself. At least he'd managed to achieve something.
"No problem."
"And, um, Emil?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you tell me more about Mom and Dad…about our parents?"
"Sure." Emil yawned, reminding him that aside from having that talk, he'd also come to get some sleep. "But leave it for tomorrow. I'm ready to sleep like a log."
"Okay. Good night."
"Night, Odin."
