Tale 8: Truth

Macbeth was quite amazed at how fast they managed to pick up Riot's trail. The coastline bordering Mullonde had always been a place that was rank with the odor of the Dark, but it seemed even more intense now that Riot had been fiddling around in the city. The very air seemed to crackle with an eldritch energy that had been bottled up for far too long. The ocean was a rather sickly red cast in the light of the fading sun, almost like it was preemptively preparing for a slaughter.

Macbeth scanned his men, seeing that they were apprehensive about the glowing white glyph on the ground in front of them. He honestly couldn't blame them, especially since they had lost a quarter of their forces since coming to this forsaken country called Ivalice.

"Maria," Macbeth called her over "where are Arya and Grieme?"

"No idea; hopefully they managed to survive even if they lost to that Riskbreaker."

"And yet I'm called a coward for fleeing when my sword was smashed."

Banquo was sitting on the cliff edge that was a sheer drop to the ocean. Ever since he failed to deal with Riot as Ziekden he had become a lot less jovial and his sarcastic attitude had a tone of bitterness to it. For the past few days he had just been managing his weapons and grumbling to himself.

"Arya and Grieme at least have never come back to me with several dead men." Macbeth's patience was at its limit.

"Yes, how very appropriate it would have been for me to die as well. You religious types are always quick to see people die as long as they say it's for the glory of a make-believe man in the clouds."

Macbeth had already drawn his rapier and had it tickling the side of Banquo's throat. In response Banquo had a pistol aimed at Macbeth's heart. They were stock-still for nearly a minute when Maria made Macbeth lower his sword.

"Enough, the last thing we need is for the Dark to use his rotten corpse."

"I thought you'd love the opportunity to kill me twice."

"Under normal circumstances, but your sword and gun are far more important than your satisfying death." Maria barely managed to get that sentence out from between her teeth.

"Alright then, but don't expect me to go in with the same fervor that you fanatics are. I'm here for Oaks, plain and simple."

"Do what you will, but you had better have the decency to at least maim him if you get yourself killed."

Despite the tension being no less severe the group continued through the portal one by one as fast as they could. The last, of course, was Banquo who sneered at the thought of going so willingly into a treacherous would-be coffin like Mullonde. The Blades could at least serve as a shield for him to survive, at least until he dealt with Oaks.

Stepping through the glyph Banquo's eyes were met with the horrific and awesome site of Mullonde. Buildings and towers that had stood for thousands of years reached upward like a forest of stone and metal. He had little time to admire the eerie yet beautiful site as the scores of undead in front of the Blades had now taken notice of them.

Within seconds the streets were a battlefield, rounds firing out of guns and weapons smashing through bone and rusted armor. The blades had no trouble with reducing the chalk-white remains into dust, letting not their fear take hold of them. However, the city didn't seem to have any shortage of remains to animate. As soon as one was down two more would spring up to replace it.

Macbeth was like some sort of white golem on the battlefield, picking up an old mace and shield off the ground and smashing through the hordes. He was precise and graceful, a man dancing a dance of death. However, the rusted mace eventually gave way and he was forced to pummel the offending hordes with his shield which also soon broke.

Banquo was comfortable with staying in the back. He wasn't like these zealots who risked their lives for an old man hundreds of leagues away; no, better to let them charge to their oblivion while he survived.

Drawing his sword, Banquo edged back from the fighting and disappeared down one of the ancient alleyways. He was a bit surprised that no one managed to see him or that one of the place's many denizens wasn't after him. He didn't let his mind dwell on the thought for long and ran as fast he could, heading ever deeper into Mullonde.

XXXXX

Ashley relaxed inside the centerpiece of the town, a church that was probably older than his homeland by a long stretch. He was disappointed that the Blades had arrived before Oaks, but there wasn't much he could about it at this point. This city hated those from the outside, especially those that entered by force.

Ashley sat up from his prone position and looked up at the mural painted on the damaged ceiling. It was a rather pretentious thing, showing elaborate battles and a sight of a glorious god. He thought that someone he knew would find it disgusting, though Ashley himself didn't so much as label as anything.

"Is this it then?"

Ezekiel looked nervous, fiddling with the hem of his jacket as he looked downward at the city. Ashley couldn't blame him with the Blades coming into town. As much as it angered him, Ashley had to admit that he wasn't the only "shepherd" in the world.

"Oaks will come, he has to."

"Is this what you've been waiting for? For two hundred years you've been waiting for someone like him?"

"No, for two hundred years I was just a vagrant who came and went as he pleased. Meeting Oaks though has shown me what I must do, what we must do."

"Still caught up in Lea Monde then?" Ezekiel's comment made Ashley smirk.

"When you carry a weight that heavy you bear it until entire mountains are flattened."

Ashley turned his head to the city nonchalantly, though he was most certainly looking at something specific; the guest of honor, so to speak.

XXXXX

Jocelyn shook his head as he came out of the strange glyph into the dark, dank city of Mullonde. Vic's legs nearly came out from under her as she entered, hit by the thick feeling of the Dark that the city was practically made out of. Jocelyn on the other hand could feel some kind of hatred Mullonde itself had for him.

"Can you go on, Emer?"

"I think so; I just got caught off guard for a bit." Jocelyn reached his hand out for her.

"We can't waste any more time, not with Macbeth's men so close to Ashley."

Jocelyn had been in quite the hurry as he didn't notice the fresh corpses of some of the Blades beginning to rise. Their scuttling alerted Jocelyn to them who drew his sword as he turned. Despite one of the walking corpses lacking a head and the other an arm they charged at Jocelyn and Vic. Jocelyn wasn't slow to act though, sidestepping the headless one and then carving him in two. The one-armed one was brought down by Vic who made him completely armless before removing his head. The two of them hurried along quickly, knowing they had been out of time for far too long.

"To think Mullonde could be accessed like this." Vic prattled on, the scholar in her being impossible to keep out "The history, the conflicts that happened here, it's all so incredible."

"Emer, we have no time for some sort of endeavor into this place. Ashley is in here and we need to find him."

"It's definitely a pity. Any intellect would give his entire career to study a place like this. Well, maybe not with the walking dead and demons."

"Astute, Emer."

The signs of battle were apparent as they ran through the ancient alleys and streets. Practically everywhere there were corpses or smashed weapons, quite a few being at best only a few hours old. The place really did earn its name as now the Blades were helping to store its larders. Perhaps they should have been thankful for it as the obstacles they would have faced otherwise had been greatly lessened. However, lessened did not mean gone as a gunshot that missed Jocelyn's foot by a fraction of the inch had caused both him and Vic to stop in their tracks. Jocelyn didn't even need to guess who it was.

"Still stinging, Banquo?" Jocelyn's eyes darted around for any sign of his aggressor.

"Anyone would be stinging after learning what about what you have. You damned nobles get all the breaks."

"Are you going to just keep firing insults instead of bullets?"

"Oaks, we can't linger."

"Keep going, I'll handle this petty weasel."

Vic didn't even waste giving Jocelyn a curt nod, darting down the street while he drew his sword. Banquo stepped out from his hiding spot almost immediately as though he had been waiting for Vic to leave him and Jocelyn alone. His glare was trying to burn holes into Jocelyn and he gripped his saber so tight that one could hear the groan of his leather gloves. They just glared at each other, Banquo fiery and Jocelyn cold. There were no words needed, not with something like this.

After what seemed like an eternity the two of them charged each other at the same time. Their blows met perfectly, swords smashing against one another. They locked hilts for a bit with their blades grinding against each other so intensely that the friction might have been causing heat.

After the lock they stepped away from each other and circled around each other like a pair of lions. It didn't last long though as Banquo readied his saber and went for a sweep from below. It was no use though with Jocelyn deflecting it and then giving Banquo a kick to his side. Banquo scrambled rather inelegantly to avoid the retaliatory slash Jocelyn gave and backed away as quickly as he could to give himself some distance.

Jocelyn didn't pursue him, nor did he ready one of his techniques. He just stood there, looking at Banquo whose eyes were burning with a searing hate. He was boiling over with anger, anger at the one who had something any warrior would kill for. He went for the kill, saber held in both hands as he bolted straight for Jocelyn.

The next thing either of them knew was that the left side of Jocelyn's face was red with blood. Banquo's throat was spraying everywhere haphazardly, staining the ground and his shirt with blood. His throat slashed, he couldn't so much as make a coherent word as he stumbled toward Jocelyn.

"Ghrk! Slssk!"

Banquo's knees gave out as he reached for the hem of Jocelyn's jacket. His blood soaked the ground scarlet, Jocelyn gazing with no discernable expression on his face. He merely wiped the blood off his face and got moving, not giving Banquo's corpse a second glance.

XXXXX

Vic was running with all the strength that could go to her legs. She was sure that Oaks was still alive and because of that she had to keep running. She knew the Blades were advancing like madman toward Ashley, not even hesitating to step over the corpses of their fallen comrades. She was quick to find the alleys that would veer her away from the fighting as she didn't want to get caught between the Blades and the city's terrifying denizens.

She was getting closer than she wanted to now, actually being able to hear gunshots from the fighting. God, why the hell why she here? Even in the VKP people still had the common sense to run when things were starting to get too out of control and she went in headfirst. Perhaps she too was drawn by the drive to find out the truth of this whole matter.

Slithering through a narrow alley, Vic came to the imposing, extravagant doors of the city cathedral. It was a massive thing, towering over every other building and showing off what could only be described as pretentious might. Vic stepped up to the doors and opened them, their hinges moving for the first time in an age.

The only sound made in the wide open hall was Vic's boots walking on the marble floor. If she were more of a religious folk she would have thought of the place as holy, though the scholar in her at least made her think of it as impressive. Still though, once pristine statues and pillars were mere shadows of their former selves.

Vic made her way up the nearby stairs to the next floor. Oddly there was nothing in the cathedral; no beasts of legend, no phantoms, no walking constructs, nothing. Did Ashley keep them away? She passed through the second floor with naught but her footsteps accompanying her. The walk through the third and fourth floors was the same, literally seeing nothing and no one.

The silence in the place was eerie, even for a place as dead as Mullonde. It wasn't until she reached the fifth floor that she could hear someone talking. She slowed her pace with her hand on her sword as she took the stretch step by step. She slinked as quietly as she could when moving toward a heavy oak door that was cracked open.

"You're seriously staying?" that was obviously Ezekiel's voice.

"Considering that everything would go up in smoke if I didn't, I think it's quite obvious."

"Him? Isn't that a bit strange considering that he should be the Dark's enemy?"

"The Dark and the Light will always exist alongside one another, even if they rarely touch."

"Bugger all, this is a mess." Vic could hear Ezekiel walking in the room "I should have known that you'd do this eventually."

Vic swore she could hear Ashley chuckle, if barely. She heard footsteps come towards her and readied her blade. The door swung inward to reveal Ezekiel and Ashley who were none too surprised at Vic's presence. She knew it was pointless to make a swing when she was at a disadvantage so she sighed and removed her hand from her side.

"Well, your attitude has changed." Ashley was obviously amused.

"At this point I doubt arresting you would make any difference. Besides, you owe Oaks answers."

"Oh if only I actually held them."

"Prattling on again, you old corpse?"

Ashley glanced at the ceiling and sighed. Vic leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and didn't avert her gaze from him.

"These old places have been around for too long, rotting and only around so solitary tyrants can try and enforce their false strength."

"The Cardinal, eh?" Vic wasn't one for poetics.

"Aye, the old coot can't keep his hold through actual preaching so instead he tries to wield the power he so condemns publicly. I can't say I'm surprised, having seen it over two centuries ago, though I would think the Church would have realized it probably doesn't work after that long."

"And Oaks, what about him?"

"A heretic, just like you!"

The only person who managed to react in time was Ezekiel, bowling over Vic as several shots rang out. Ashley took one in his arm but seem to barely feel it and Sidney, having been curled up into a ball until this point, rushed over to Vic and Ezekiel who were on the ground.

Ashley yanked the slug from his arm unceremoniously and looked at Macbeth and the few men he had left. His hair was somehow free of blood, but his clothes were almost to the point where he truly would fit as a Crimson Blade. Ashley stepped over slowly, getting between Macbeth and Vic.

"Blades? More like bloodhounds. Are you the church's latest pet?"

"Where is the key, Riot?" Macbeth pointed his rapier at Ashley, almost tickling his nose.

"Spare your prattle, boy; I've heard enough from the church to last me infinite lives."

"You will tell me what the key to this city is."

Ashley backed up from Macbeth, making sure not to leave his eyes off him.

"Ezekiel, what's your damage?"

"He's hit in the abdomen! It's bad!" Vic was almost hysterical

Ashley, still looking at Macbeth began muttering something under his breath. To Vic it was a bunch of rubbish, but Macbeth's pale eyes lit up with worry and he made his move. He drew his rapier and gave a thrust that would have killed a man without Ashley's unique condition. Ashley didn't try to dodge; in fact he grabbed Macbeth's hand to keep him from moving while he finished what he was muttering.

With a burst of light Vic, Sidney, and Ezekiel vanished. Ashley was finally able to divert his full attention to Macbeth, though because he was impaled left him a bit disadvantaged. In a rare display, Macbeth inelegantly kicked Ashley off his blade and then stumbled backward, nearly falling. Blood spilling from the wound, Ashley was brought to one knee as he breathed heavily. The floor was soon red and Macbeth's anger was at its peak. The tip of his sword tickled Ashley's nose precariously.

"If you will not tell me what the key to this city is then I will fly it from your flesh."

Macbeth was given no answer other than a faint smirk on Ashley's lips. Macbeth's fury descended and was it ever harsh.

XXXXX

Jocelyn knew he had wasted far too much dealing with Banquo. By the time he had arrived at the cathedral his legs were shaking and his face was drenched. Grim as it might sound, he felt a bit glad that the Blades thinned out the numbers of the residents a bit. He slowed, catching his breath as he continued up the grand old building to the highest floor.

Before Jocelyn finished his ascent up the stairs he already knew there had been fighting. The pungent odor of blood hit his nose as he arrived. The floor of the room was completely red, forming a huge puddle and then a trail that went up a spiral staircase at the side of the room. Jocelyn knew that the end of this would be up there.

Coming into the dark attic at the top of the stairs, Jocelyn saw Ashley sitting with his back to the wall. There was blood all over him and the area next to him. In fact, the trail of blood ended at him. He merely stared at Jocelyn and he kneeled next to him.

"You're late, Oaks." Ashley's voice was hoarse.

"Where's Emer?"

"Worry not, she will be out of the city by the time this is over."

"Why in the hell did you do all this? Why go to all this trouble of bringing me here?"

I owed them

Jocelyn heard a faint voice not ten feet from him. To his side he could see a grayed out Ashley. It crossed its arms and looked at Jocelyn.

"So, she rubbed off on you." Ashley almost chuckled as his twin moved on.

I owed it to them. Merlose, Sydney, Hardin, I owed it to them to end the old world, to bring the age of the Dark to a close.

"And if I could not, at the very least I could keep it out of the hands of the foolish." Ashley reached for Jocelyn, grabbing tightly onto his shoulder "Stop Macbeth; those who crave can never control."

Jocelyn needed no more words said, opting to go outward onto the top of the cathedral. There he could already see a white-haired man with his torso unclothed cradling a blond woman in his arms. Blood trickled from her mouth and a stiletto was embedded firmly in her chest.

"Forgive me, my love, but I need your soul."

Macbeth set her down onto the parapets gently. As his back was turned Jocelyn could see what appeared flesh skinned off a human on Macbeth's back. He clearly saw an ancient, elaborate rood, a symbol known to many as the Blood-sin. Macbeth finally turned his attention to Jocelyn, perhaps knowing what this man was without having met him.

Macbeth then convulsed spontaneously, a great display of light shooting out of him like an aurora. His pure white skin became charred in an instant and his eyes glazed over into a most disgusting hue. What gazed at Jocelyn now was no longer the commander of the Crimson Blades, but a mindless monster.

"CoME, RisBREAkkeerrrrrrrr…"

Jocelyn didn't plan on giving Macbeth any edge. He brought his blade down, summoning a bolt of lightning from out of nowhere. Macbeth, despite his body having changed, reacted instantly to it, leaping like an animal to the side. His mouth was wide open like an animal, teeth bared and tongue flapping around sloppily.

Despite his sword being drawn Macbeth didn't seem inclined to use it or fight like an elegant man. Instead he leaped in a bestial manner, narrowly dodging Jocelyn's barrages. On all fours he crawled and flung himself at his opponent. Jocelyn swung his sword, but much to his surprise Macbeth made an impossible dodge in midair and landed behind Jocelyn. To Macbeth's surprise though, he didn't hear the hammer of Jocelyn's pistol being cocked back.

The slug landed right in Macbeth's forehead with a sickening crunch. The impact snapped his head back, but he still didn't fall despite leaning back to far he nearly touched the ground. He whipped forward, black, viscous liquid pouring from the wound in his head. From his mouth came the same fluid, making the stone black.

"GRaahagaknjahassashdyh!!!!"

Light burst once again from Macbeth, so bright that Jocelyn shielded his eyes from it. By the time his lids opened once more he was no longer on the cathedral roof, instead being in a pure white landscape. In the distance he could see a grayed doppelganger of himself.

Forget that which pains you it said That which is lost cannot be reclaimed, let go of your regret

The doppelganger vanished, but the voice still continued.

Does it truly matter if their lives were taken by your hands or another's? No matter what even God cannot bring back the dead

At his side Jocelyn saw Macbeth, not the beast he had become, but the graceful knight he had been. The voice emanated from him.

Your hands are stained red. False or true, your sins are eternal.

At his feet Jocelyn saw the body of Catherine, her beautiful white skin tarnished by red. Oh how he wished never to see that image again.

Forget the past, walk towards the future! Come home, Jocelyn, join us the voice came from nowhere and everywhere once again.

Over his shoulder Jocelyn could see his imitator once more. He closed his eyes thoughtfully and looked once again at his doppelganger before advancing toward it.

A foothold in the past is needed for the future, lest we be forever aimless Jocelyn stopped in front of the shade, voicing his answer aloud.

"Begone, Darkness!"

Jocelyn was no longer in that white void. He was home, surrounded by the flowers of the courtyard. At the fountain in the middle of the garden he saw Catherine and Elizabeth reading. He approached them slowly, but his light footsteps were enough to get Catherine's attention. Her face lit up like the midday sun and she rose quickly.

"Brother!"

Despite her frailty she ran over to Jocelyn and leapt into his arms. He embraced her in turn, though not squeezing the life out of her like she was doing to him. They spun joyously for a moment as Elizabeth smiled at the two of them. Setting her down finally, Jocelyn placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Catherine, you must have been lonely." She merely shook her head as Jocelyn saw their elder sister coming toward him "…Elizabeth."

"Welcome home, Jocelyn."

He heard footsteps behind him and saw his brothers, both without their elaborate coats. They grinned gleefully.

"I must say, I don't think I will ever meet a man who gives his brothers more grief, right, Edgar?"

"Indeed!"

"But I…this…" Jocelyn was stopped by Arthur rapping him on the head with his knuckles.

"You're not a child, little brother. I think you can tell what's the truth and what isn't."

Edgar ruffled Jocelyn's hair, getting his bangs in his face. He looked to the four of them, Arthur, Edgar, Elizabeth, and Catherine who all smiled. Catherine, smiling even wider, looked up at him with those beautiful amber eyes of hers. It had been so long since he had looked into those eyes. What she said next was like the greatest song in the world to him.

"Brother, we love you."

And then they vanished, breaking into beautiful, golden lights taken by the wind. He gazed on until they were gone from his sight. He felt relieved somehow, liberated. Once again, he heard that faint voice.

Come home, Agent Oaks, your tale is not yet over…

Jocelyn was snapped out of the vision he had. However, in those few minutes the world around him had drastically changed; a brilliant if unnatural light surrounded him, every color known and perhaps unknown for view. Beneath his feet was a strange, spinning glyph far above the cathedral.

From below he heard a bellow that no creature could produce. With stunning speed the creature once known as Othello Macbeth ascended. He no longer even resembled anything human, his limbs being elongated with serrated contusions coming from them, his jaw being unhinged to the point that his chin ended around his chest, and what appeared to be bony, grotesque mockeries of wings extending from his back. Yes, this horror was now what had bastardized Macbeth's shell.

Like his forebears Jocelyn raised his long sword at the abomination before him. He was no longer hesitant at these creatures, no longer apprehensive. No, this thing before him was just an empty shell that had once been a man. He would dare not fear this thing.

With a roar Jocelyn leapt at the thing, swinging his blade. The creature took the air, flying far above him and then raining down black orbs of darkness at him. Jocelyn scrambled for his life, dodging blast after blast from the thing. The monster, perhaps becoming infuriated with Jocelyn's persistence, slammed down onto the glyph with titanic force, making Jocelyn lose his footing for a split second.

This time it was the creature's turn to charge, flinging himself at Jocelyn with his clawed hands outstretched. Despite going for the neck all he was greeted with was Jocelyn's sword. While a normal blade would have done nothing, this one sliced through the monster's hand like just another beast. Screeching horribly the creature backed away, its wounds sizzling at though Jocelyn's sword had been a red-hot brand. The one who should have been frightened now was this beast which quickly took to the air once more.

Jocelyn waited, knowing that this thing was panicked like a desperate animal. It fire blast after blast at him but kept missing, knowing that it had no more of an advantage than he did. It flew maniacally with no real strategy, hoping that Jocelyn would be gone by luck. After the smoke cleared Jocelyn was still there, at best his coat being singed.

The creature, frustrated at how a mere man could mock it, flew headlong at him. Waiting for it was Jocelyn and the sword of god. As though the heavens themselves rained down, a glorious beam of light struck the creature, tearing it apart in a flash. The creature unceremoniously hit the glyph and skid along it, little more than its torso and head being left. When its landing ended, its remains burst into flames…shortly followed by a rumbling that encompassed all of Mulllonde.

XXXXX

With all speed Ezekiel, who was carrying Sidney, and Vic ran, the very city itself starting to crumble. Despite the urgency Vic had to turn back and yell at the top of her lungs.

"Jocelyn!!!!"

"We've no time! This place is comin' down on our 'eads!"

"But Agent Oaks!"

"We can't turn back!"

Vic gave one last look behind her before running for her life. Mullonde continued to fall, buildings millennia old collapsing in great chunks that decimated the ground. They ran, they ran harder than anyone could hope to. By the time they got to the entrance the city was nearly gone, little more than dust and rock.

Met with the starlit night Vic had to turn to the sea, needing to know what happened next. A huge crashing noise resounded across the air, causing the waves to nearly reach over the cliffs. The entire sea shook wildly and a great beam of light split the clouds apart. Within the space to barely breathe all that had passed, the sea slowly becoming calm in spite of its chaos. Vic could only hang her head solemnly.

"Godspeed, Oaks."

Vic felt someone tugging on her hand, seeing Sidney yanking her earnestly. The little girl ran over to Ezekiel, his face looking upward at the sky. Despite his life fading he grinned. Sidney, tears running down her face, pleaded to him.

"Don't die, Nigel! Please, you can't die!"

"You…speak." Ezekiel gently stroked Sidney's head "Everything you witnessed…I am sorry."

Smiling, Ezekiel breathed his last. Sidney ran to Vic and buried her face in her clothes. Stroking the girl's red locks, Vic noticed two very familiar people coming up on horses.

"Woot in blazes!?!" Grieme was obviously surprised "We get 'ere late?"

"Aye." Vic's respond was little more than a whisper.

"For the love o'…" Grieme leapt off his horse and stomped over to Vic "Woot aboot Macbeth? That bastard Banquo? Yer pal?"

"The Blades are gone, buried in the city. And Oaks…"

Arya stepped off her steed and walked over to the fallen Ezekiel. She clasped her hands gracefully.

"Don' pray for 'im."

"Those who have ones who may cry for them should not be belittled, no matter what they were."

Arya stood and glanced at Vic and Sidney. She crossed her arms.

"Riot?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Your partner?"

"The same."

Arya needed to hear no more and signaled to leave. Grieme hesitated for a moment, but he knew there was nothing more to fight. There was no more point to this mess.

They vanished over the horizon quietly and Vic stood there comforting Sidney beneath the beautiful, starlit sky.