Here's a big thank you to my sole reviewer, Sage8675, for the most righteous review any amateur author could ask for, and a sizeable chunk of constructive criticism to boot. You rock, dude(dudette?). God bless, and lets let the lunacy commence! In other news, I'm bolding the Author's notes for simplicity's sake. I also realized that I had no disclaimer. So here it be. Lawyers take note.
I, Tomai, do not own any and all things related to final fantasy tactics advance, or Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy. These are owned by Square Enix and the late Douglas Adams, respectively. All original characters and places contained in this story are owned by me, however. So there. Suck it, you lawyer vampires.
And now let the lunacy (really) commence!
Though it may seem odd to people, the religion of the proud and warlike bangaa people is built very much on the ideas of humility and peace. One example of this is that monks of Saint Grigori the Wise must pray either at a holy site or out of the way of all people, in private.
Four orders reside in Ivalice. There is the burning heart of Saint Markus the Courageous, a warrior-monk whose bravery knew no bounds. He had fought every creature imaginable, defeated a dragon with nothing but his fists and a bar of soap, and as his last great deed, jumped in front of a tonberry who was about to kill a young girl. Though that tonberry took his life, Mark took its head to present to Adramalach. He even crossed the Great Abyss that lies between the living and the dead so that he could help his beloved order even in the afterlife.
Then there is the iron fist of Saint Stephan the Strong. Stephan was a templar strong enough to lift the corner of an inn building with one hand. He had only one fault, which was his arrogance, and he once challenged Adramalach himself to a fight. To humble him, Adramalach bit his left arm off to the elbow, but even with this terrible wound, Stephan was still the strongest being ever born in Ivalice, and became famous when he pushed an entire mountain in the way of a lava flow to save a town, and promptly died from overexertion.
The black eyes of Grigori the Wise was created by Grigori, an ascetic who knew much about everything, and who created his order so that knowledge could be spread to every corner of the world, as he believed that knowledge begets understanding, and through understanding, love. Though well versed in all subjects, Grigori excelled in engineering, and built the order's ancient fort/monastery far north in the Roda mountains that defended all of Ivalice from three invasions from foreign powers. In a bout of poetic justice, he ended up dying when one of his many bookshelves fell on him during a siege of the fort. He left as his legacy a library residing in the catacombs under his monastery of such size that to this day haven't been fully explored.
And finally, there is the shining sword of Saint Gordon the Great. Gordon was the oldest of the four saints. He wasn't as strong as Stephan, nor as smart as Grigori, and nowhere near as suicidal as Markus, but he was the only one amongst them to never once be bested in combat. Not once. He died of old age in the embrace of his loving wife.
As they were walking along the frozen streets of Sprohm, Beth started to elaborate on her personal history.
"I was born into a family of kupo mages. Almost all of us graduated from school in Cyril, heck, two of my uncles were my instructors. And I don't want to sound arrogant-,"
"But you will anyway," Arthur thought smiling to himself.
"But I was one of the best mages in the academy, kupo. I was sure that I would get a good job in one of the nicer clans with my credentials. But then the new conflict engagement laws set in."
Arthur nodded sympathetically. "I heard that those laws forced a lot of clans to disband."
"They were a kupo fucking abomination!!" Beth almost yelled. Actually, she did yell. At the top of her lungs. Even with Arthur subtly motioning for her to keep it down as lights were beginning to turn on in some buildings. But she carried on anyway. "They made the damned conflict laws so strict that most clans had to part ways because they couldn't pay bail charges, kupo! And my brother, who ran a small magic supply store in Baguba, had to shut down his business because new money stopped coming in, kupo. My family did pretty well though. Because we were an old family and had a lot of our money invested in palace bonds and stuff, we're still living well above the poverty line, kupo."
"Language, Beth," Arthur reprimanded while dodging a shoe from an angry tenant. "Still though, if these laws are throwing the entire economy so out of whack, why don't they just lift the laws?"
"For the same fu-" another stare from Arthur, "the same reason I'm out here cold and half starved talking to the biggest prude in Ivalice. Pride. That and they aren't suffering too much from this whole thing. The larger more powerful clans do all the work for them kupo, so they can sit on their fat a-" yet another stare, "so they can sit around and do nothing. Kupo, that's really annoying."
Arthur looked at her for a second. Now he was curious why a moogle of such status was being thrown out of Sprohm bars. But he didn't press it. "Well, here we are." They were once again at the Bitter Old Bug, and the melancholy antlion's face stared down at them.
Arthur stepped in to tell the bartender about his new tenant, but before he could even realize he didn't know his host's name, Beth burst in and practically hurled herself at the guy.
"Kupokupo! Leonard! I haven't seen you in a while. You're fatter than ever!"
"Ooof, and you're as annoying as ever you wee little spell mouse," he said, grabbing her none to gently by her collar and plopping her down onto one of the stools at the bar. "Now tell me what you're doing in the company of an upstanding young man like that guy? Actually, I'm not sure I wish to know what a holy man was doing with you Beth." He said, pointing to Arthur.
"Kupo?!" Beth said indignantly, "I can't believe you'd insinuate I'd do anything with that, that, well, THAT!" she said, pointing emphatically at Arthur, who was sitting in one of the armchairs near the pub's fire reading, trying to ignore that they were talking about him.
"I doubt you would," Leonard said, "but I do love it when you get all huffy. That was for cannoning into me, now behave."
"Hmph," Beth huffed. "Just give me a bottle of Firebird and go away, kupo. And don't you dare water it down or you're getting my rod shoved up your-"
"As I was saying," Arthur said, breaking in, "Beth did help me find my way back here. So do you mind if she stays in my room? I'll sleep on one of the armchairs here in the lounge," he added quickly when he saw Leonard's eyebrows shoot up.
"Oh no you don't, young un," Leonard said. "This little tart's not done anything but raise ruckus since she came in from Cyril. I'll let her sleep in the attic. It's warm, and quite comfy. But the first time, anything," he leaned into Beth's face to emphasize the point, "and I mean anything happens, you're out on the streets. Do you ken?"
"Yes, now where's my wine?"
Leonard slammed a fat green bottle onto the bar. "Here's your headache juice, you little runt. That should keep you quiet for a while."
As Leonard trundled off, Beth just smirked and popped the cork off of the curious bottle in front of her. "Kupo, have you ever had Firebird before?"
"I'm afraid not," Arthur said, accepting the bottle. He took a sniff first. "Not much as far as a bouquet goes, bottoms up." He took a sip, then started hacking. The stuff felt like fire going down his throat.
Beth just laughed as she took back the bottle. "Good old Firebird, kupo. Cheap as dirt and an alcohol content kupo enough to power an airship."
"It tastes like gas at any rate," Arthur said. "Leonard, do you have any Kudik Peak draft? I need a little something to wash the taste of that out of my mouth."
"Good choice," Leonard said, knocking a tap on one of the barrels lining the bar's wall. "Do you know anything about spirits yourself?"
"No, I just know some people." He looked at the froth floating on top of the dark sweet liquid and took a deep breath. It smelled sweet, but the hops were still distinguishable. He took a hearty swig and smiled. This was a beer even a priest could get away with drinking.
"Let me try some of that, kupo," Beth said and snatched Arthur's tankard away before downing it all in one gulp. "Mmm, not much kick to it, but it is yummy. I think I'll stick to my wine."
"Beth," Arthur said, looking her in the eyes, "that is not wine. It did come from grapes, it may even have been wine at one point in time, but now it is just a vivid shade of bottled pain."
For some reason, this set Beth into hysterics. It might have been the fact that at this point she had consumed enough alcohol to drop any of the hardiest bar regulars at the Bug, but it was genuine laughter nonetheless. Arthur started to get in the spirit too, and started to laugh. It was interesting, but they had just met each other a few minutes ago, and here they were laughing together.
"Arthur?" Beth said, breaking into his thoughts.
"Yes Beth?"
"Do you know how flans mate, kupo?"
If Adramalach, the legendary boy from the other world Marche, and twelve midget dragons barged in singing Europa And The Pirate Twins by Thomas Dolby at that moment, Arthur's expression would not have changed at all. The question was just so random he had no idea how to respond. "Uhh, no?"
"Kupo, the female flan eats the male flan. His genetics are mixed into hers, then four baby flans bud off from the mother kupo. There elemental affinity is randomly chosen."
"That's," Arthur searched for a decent adjective. "Quite, um, enlightening. But where did that come from?"
"Where did what come from kupo?"
"That idea. What possessed you to explain to me how flans mate? We weren't talking about anything remotely near that. We weren't even talking. We were laughing. And before that we were drinking. Not once was anything mentioned having to do with flans, mating, or any combination of the two."
"Yer funny," she said. Then she giggled, said kupo, and fell off of the stool snoring.
You know how I said Arthur's expression couldn't have changed after that question? I lied. His poor conservative mind, which had been cloistered in a monk's cell at a monastery somewhere south of Sprohm since birth just couldn't comprehend this. He looked to Leonard, hoping he could give him some kind of rational idea to grasp onto.
"She does that every time. Just carry her up to the attic. Or if you're feeling mean, hoist her onto the roof. I won't tell, and I assure you she won't wake up until the crack of noon."
"I," Arthur started with quivering lips, "I'm going to bed."
He shakily got up and hobbled up to his room. This whole ordeal had firmly cemented the belief that outside the monastery lie nothing but insanity. In his state of shock, he forgot to carry Beth up, so she just laid there, happily snoring away, as innocent as a little angel.
"Well, looks like I get to hoist her on the roof," Leonard said, his voice perfectly neutral, but with his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "This'll make you think twice about not paying you're tab."
And there we have it. Things seem to be going swimmingly, though if I had a few more reviews, I'll be sure to work extra hard for you beautiful folks. Take care, and good night.