Tale 3: For the Hunter is not always the Clever One

It took about three days to get to Warjilis by boat. Even going with the wind didn't help in the least. When Jocelyn and Vic arrived, the ship Riot had apparently taken was already relieved of cargo and its men confused at the fact that their captain had been found back in Valnain's docks. Furthermore, they hadn't seen hide or hair of the other captain or Ezekiel and the girl. Ashley Riot was indeed like the wind.

Vic was currently in a nearby inn, sifting through the folder she had been given back at headquarters. Jocelyn had gone to the embassy hoping to get some information as doing so with civilians had proven less than stellar. Vic sighed, not sure why in blazes they had chased a man all the way to a place like Ivalice. This, surely, was madness.

"Get your head out of the clouds."

Vic jumped at Jocelyn's voice coming from the door. As usual, his sword was at his side and his expression was dull. His black hair practically sucked all the light from the surroundings.

"It looks like Ashley is around, and we have trouble."

"What's the trouble?"

"There are several ships bearing the banner of Saint Iocus that arrived in port hours before we came. It's said a white-haired man with freakishly pale skin was leading them."

"The Blades, worst of all Othello Macbeth's lot."

"Yes, so in the worst case scenario I may have to cross swords with them." Jocelyn was checking his pistol and slugs "However, a man fitting Ashley's description was seen at the Golgolloda Gallows. Hopefully I can get there before they can."

"Golgolloda…" Vic scratched her chin.

Jocelyn holstered his pistol and leaned against the doorjamb. His eyes gave an inquiring look to Vic.

"Tell me what you know of this….Ashley."

Vic, perhaps wanting to indulge herself as much as Jocelyn, practically flooded him with information.

"Ashley Riot is…well, a bit of a mystery. His age, ethnic background, or whether Ashley Riot is his real name is all unknown. He is a sort of prophet of the apocalypse, though not quite as preachy or pretentious."

"Why exactly would a prophet do something as severe as attacking the ducal manor and kidnapping Bardorba's daughter?"

"While the church may think differently, the VKP believes Riot and Bardorba are allies. Maybe they've had a falling out."

Vic stood and walked over to her room's window, gazing at the dull blue sky. Jocelyn's eyes followed her.

"Or maybe it's another one of the church's self-proclaimed "witch-hunts"." Jocelyn never was one for religion.

"Perhaps, but Riot's prophecies are unnaturally accurate. Furthermore, it's rumored he can tell the past of anyone. His charisma is such that his followers offer their entire beings to him."

"I suppose it is, considering how highly you speak of him." Jocelyn began walking down the hall.

"Agent Oaks!" followed after him "There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Jocelyn turned on his heel towards Vic. His eyes instantly went to the folder she had in her hand.

"What is that?"

"Chief Williams gave it to me. Honestly I was kicking myself when I remembered where I heard the name Oaks. It was a such big thing and-"

Vic was silenced at Jocelyn coming face to face with her and narrowing his eyes in a vicious, enraged manner

"Don't EVER mention that in my presence."

Jocelyn headed off down the stairs, not giving Vic as much as a farewell. Vic sighed at her stupidity. Of course he wasn't going to want to talk or hear about what had happened. It was no surprise at all that he was smoking narcotics and employed in a section of the VKP that read "early graves guaranteed". Hopefully this wouldn't make a huge roadblock down the future considering that she had no idea when this assignment was going to be over.

Just as Vic was entering her room she heard the bed rustling. Sitting right there was Ashley Riot, an unknown book in his hands that his eyes darted over. His reaction to Vic's arrival was almost delayed, waiting just a second before his brown orbs slowly eased into the corners of his sight. He didn't even change his expression or say his word, for Vic knew what his presence meant.

XXXXX

Near the edge of town, practically touching the grasslands was a pristine chapel. Strange for a church in Ivalice, it had no damage or wear of time on it. Ivalice was often called "the heretics' land" for its lack of any single religion due to the Church of Saint Ajora being revealed as a corrupt, ruthless sect. Indeed, such was the ire at the revelation that the common people and many nobles went as far as defacing and destroying many churches and temples, once beautiful establishments that had now been reduced to decrepit, vacant ruins.

This church in particular was of the Church of Saint Iocus, one of the various kinds of faiths that had equal right in the current, godless age. Sitting on a bench in the chapel's empty hall was Macbeth. His white hair stained a dull red from the light shining through the stained glass window next to him. Despite his stoic demeanor, he was far from relaxed. After failing to capture Riot or his lieutenant Ezekiel, Macbeth assembled all the manpower he could muster and made way for Ivalice. The Cardinal would not allow any more mistakes of that magnitude.

"Othello."

To Macbeth's right was a rather graceful woman with eyes of emerald and waist-length hair like that of the noon sun. While her elegant figure would make her a fitting lady of the court, her outfit and the schiavona at her belt told otherwise.

"Something the matter, Maria?"

"You should be careful of the sun; you burn far quicker than most."

"I've worse things to worry over than my skin getting a little redder. We've brought scores of men and yet that damned Riot eludes us somehow."

Maria sat next to Macbeth, crossing he legs and stroking his snowy hair.

"David's men went out several hours ago so they should turn something up."

As though to accentuate Maria's statement, she and Macbeth heard yelling just outside the chapel's doors. After a short while the doors burst open, a priest walking through. Beneath his dirty blond hair Macbeth could see the veins about ready to burst.

"Speak of the devil."

"Devil indeed, for he must be at work to make these dithering berks this incompetent."

"So Ashley still hasn't been found?"

"No, and apparently those two VKP dogs from back at the manor are here. We've also heard nothing from the squad we sent to the Gallows."

"Gallows?" Macbeth wasn't quite up to speed with what some of the locals were talking about.

"A man resembling Ashley was said to be around the ruins of the Golgolloda Gallows. I sent a squad out there but I haven't heard a word from them since."

"If Ashley is indeed there we'd best prepare for ill news."

XXXXX

Jocelyn had saddled a horse and made his way toward the Gallows immediately after meeting with Vic. Needless to say, his mood was foul though his face gave no hints of it. That damned Chief, just what did he think bringing things like that up was going to accomplish? This mission was already stressful enough and now he had extremely bad memories haunting him once again.

The peace of the countryside gave Jocelyn's mind no peace either. Indeed, he preferred being in a drugged stupor or having roaring noise. When things were loud or muddled he didn't have any chance to let his mind wander unlike now where he could do nothing else.

As fate would have it, his horse gave a sudden whinny and reared up on its hind legs. Jocelyn, not wanting to be thrown off just yet, hung on with all he could. Eventually the horse calmed down, making Jocelyn wonder just what had caused it.

Apparently the Riskbreaker's destination hadn't been as far as he'd thought. In the distance he could see the crumbling ruins of what had once been a fort. Stepping off his horse, Jocelyn began making his way toward the Gallows. It was then that he noticed other horses nearby, each of them wearing the banner of Saint Iocus. Raising his brow, Jocelyn proceeded with caution as his hand did not stray far from his sword.

Foreboding came over Jocelyn rather quickly, something that would slow the advance and bravery of most men. The atmosphere of the area didn't feel right, like a silent voice was screaming "get out". Jocelyn had felt this many times before, but not quite of this intensity. Indeed, this was like thick, encompassing pitch

Nevertheless, Jocelyn's duty forbade any sort of hesitation and went on despite himself. Quite literally a stone's throw from the fort an all-too familiar smell hit Jocelyn's nose. At what had once been the fort's gate were several bodies, all of them clearly of the Crimson Blades. Jocelyn stepped further and examined the corpses.

Both had swords through their hearts, not each other's but their own. What exactly could have caused these men to pierce their chests with their own weapons? Jocelyn's curiosity would have to wait as there was no doubt if there were bodies belonging to the Blades then Ashley would be close by.

Jocelyn drew his sword and gun and inched into the relic of a fort. Quite frankly he was amazed that the Gallows themselves were still standing, even if the wooden execution stand was rotten and moss-ridden. Jocelyn saw nothing amidst the long grass and it was only when he turned on his heel that he saw a large form standing on the ramparts.

Yes, Ashley had definitely been here as the form was fantastical. Atop the body of a lion was the head of a goat and a tail with a snake's head. The twisted beast growled at Jocelyn from its perch and made a great leap down into the grass.

"Oh, bloody hell."

The beast was larger than a normal lion and, judging by the light emanating from between its fangs, far more dangerous. The monster prowled slowly, matching Jocelyn's sidesteps. It didn't take long for the beast to make its move, dashing towards Jocelyn with fangs and claws bared. The Riskbreaker barely dodged the claws of the chimera, not quite expecting a beast of such size to be so agile.

Jocelyn made a strike with his sword, but unfortunately the beast ducked. It gave Jocelyn a reminder that he was dealing with more than one head as the snake it had for a tail lunged at him. On reflex Jocelyn lashed out his right hand and heard something land to his left as blood splashed around. The beast wounded and aggravated now roared, flames spilling from between its fangs and spreading on the grass.

Jocelyn leapt back from the quickly propagating fire, though the smoke made him lose sight of his opponent. Had he been just a tad slower his head would have been knocked off his shoulders by the chimera's claws. Entirely on reflex Jocelyn shifted his body ever so slightly and then pulled the trigger of his pistol. The slug directly hit the beast in the eye, lodging itself in the skull. He took no chances and swung his sword three times, severing the head from the goat on the beast's back and then nearly removing the lion's head.

Jocelyn's knees hit the ground, breathing in heavily after the arduous ordeal. Before he could properly rest however, he heard the groan of leather. His query stood before him, one hand at his hip and the other stroking his chin.

"Well, this is most peculiar. It is indeed odd for a human to move this…elegantly."

"Ashley…"

"You're like a marionette, as though your soul and body had been separated somehow." The prophet pondered as he walked through the grass. "Tell me, Jocelyn, what made you shut your soul away?"

Suddenly Jocelyn was no longer at the Gallows, instead he was at his home. It was dark, mid-winter snow falling thick outside and the only light was from the moon outside which illuminated the prone forms of two men and a woman. Jocelyn's hands were wet and cooling rapidly. In his arms was a young girl, a fragile, dollish thing. Her lips were white and one of her frail, wispy hands stroked Jocelyn's face weakly. She then whispered a single word:

"Bro…ther."

"So, you killed them." Jocelyn's mind was snapped back to the Gallows, Ashley standing over him.

"They were taken by a manslayer, a beast."

"No, you failed a brother, as a knight, you failed to protect them."

"Ashley!!!!"

Jocelyn's sword missed Ashley, the criminal doing an impossible leap to the top of the ramparts.

"Oaks!"

Below Ashley was Ezekiel restraining Emer, her hands tied behind her back. Jocelyn cursed at the fire between him and the criminals.

"Chase me, Jocelyn Oaks, and perhaps then you may understand what you are."

In a flash Ashley and Ezekiel were gone, the scorching flames providing them the wall they needed. By the time Jocelyn left the Gallows the grass was scorched black and Jocelyn could only hear Ashley's challenge ringing in his head.