CHAPTER 9:
A MEETING OF FOUR RULERS
"And here I was thinking Scotland and Hogwarts was cold," Harry grumbled as they trudged up the snow-strewn mountain paths of Paramina Rift. They had gotten warm clothing, and Harry had some warming charms to use. They'd encountered a few refugees, fleeing from zones where the Archadian Empire and the Rozarrian Empire had skirmished. Bur-Omisace was a recognised neutral zone, though Harry wondered how long it would remain so.
Mjrn looked around in wonder. Clearly, she didn't get out much beyond Eruyt Village. The young Viera had recovered well after being possessed by Venat, though she was horrified to learn what she had done while under the odious Occuria's influence, though it was actually more due to the Mist Frenzy she had sunk into: Venat had possessed her to mitigate the damage, and to lie in wait for Ashe. Fran stuck close to her sister, and Balthier close to them both. Mjrn may be older than any other Hume member of their little adventuring band, but she was perhaps the most naïve, save perhaps for Penelo.
"How do you think the Occuria watch us?" Ashe asked Harry quietly.
"I don't know. But I've got the feeling that they can't watch us all the time," Harry murmured. "Maybe they can only manifest when you have that Nethicite out or something, like it draws their attention to you. Or maybe in areas where they have a strong influence. I say try to avoid pulling the Nethicite out or even touching it while we're talking about them. I mean, you were holding that Nethicite in Jahara when we saw the shades again."
"I hope that you're correct," Ashe said. "I have no intention of being their puppet, save in appearance. If Venat speaks truly, then our goal is the same, even if the means are irrevocably separated. The reins of history, back in the hands of Man…no, all people of Ivalice. Humes, Bangaa, Seeq, Viera, Moogles, Nu Mou…we all share the same destiny, and the ability to shape it. We do not require or desire shepherding like livestock, and I will be damned before I walk willingly to the slaughter."
"Well said," Larsa said. "But the Occuria are far from our only concerns, Lady Ashe. I am loathe to consider my brother a true villain in this, but his actions are concerning, to say the least. I fear not for myself, but for the people of Ivalice. And in searching for answers about the past, I fear we may have missed news of the present. I spoke to one refugee who fled here from Archades, and apparently, in the days since we left Rabanastre, the Senate has recalled my brother from Dalmasca on a pretext. I believe events are coming to a head. Given that Judge Ghis saw Harry being brought in to speak to my brother, I believe that Ghis may have taken the opportunity to sow discord for his own purposes. I am not blind to the man's ambitions."
"Then we should make haste, and hope we are not too late to speak to the Gran Kilitias," Vossler said.
Bur-Omisace was spectacular, Harry reflected, a magnificent temple built high on a mountain, serene and peaceful. But the refugee camps, tended to by acolytes of the religion behind Bur-Omisace, marred this sight. It was a reminder that war had touched the peaceful temple, even if it hadn't been drawn into the conflict proper.
Ashe and her companions made their way into the temple, and were escorted through various corridors to a throne room, where a long causeway, set between channels of water, led to a throne, where a figure sat, their eyes closed. An old, wizened man with pointed ears (a Helgas, Harry remembered from what he had read, not actually a Hume) sat serenely. The Gran Kilitias Anastasis, Harry knew. A man who, despite his pacifist nature, had an iron will. It was said that he could silence a dispute with a single, withering look. Harry didn't quite get that from looking at the man, but knew that to underestimate him was idiocy.
"Is he sleeping?" Vaan asked.
"Sort of," Harry remarked. "If I recall correctly, he's a Dreamsage. He's in a state where he can enter a world of dreams and use them to, oh, how does it go? The future foretold, the past explained, and the present…apologised for(1)."
A faint chuckle echoed in the air around them, an old, but resonant voice that soon spoke into their minds. "An unflattering but succinct description, Ghost of Dalmasca. It is true, I do not sleep. I dream, for reality and illusion are a duality, two parts of the same whole. Only the mirror of dreams reflects that which is true."
Ashe stepped forward. "Your Grace, Anastasis…you know why I have come?"
"Yes. Lay down your words, Ashelia, daughter of Raminas. I have dreamt your dream. Who better to carry on the line of Dalmasca than a descendant of Raithwall, bearing two shards of Deifacted Nethicite? Your dream of a kingdom restored is known to me, though it is good that you temper this dream."
"Though I am sure current events have just complicated matters, Your Grace."
The accented voice came from behind, and they turned to find an elegantly-dressed young man with dark hair and a beard approaching. There was something about the man's manner and dress that put Harry in mind of a Spaniard. And although he had a vaguely arrogant air, it was a calculated one. In truth, his eyes glittered with intelligence and compassion. An elegant woman accompanied him, having the air of a personal assistant.
"My little emperor-in-waiting," the man said to Larsa. "You have called, and I have come."
Ashe looked at the man, Larsa and Vayne's earlier words coming to mind. "Al-Cid Margrace, I presume?" she asked.
"Indeed," Al-Cid said with a pleasant smile. "One of the many, many members of the Margrace family, the current rulers of Rozarria. Stopping this coming war alone is, as you may have considered, an exercise in futility. I came seeking Larsa's assistance." He stopped before Ashe, and knelt. "To think I stand before the Lady Ashe. It is indeed an honour." He took her hand and kissed it. "I see it is true after all. Ah, stunning is Dalmasca's desert bloom."
Larsa scowled, and Harry crossed his arms. "The thing about desert blooms is that they often have thorns or prickles to jab the unwary. Or have you never seen a cactus?" Harry asked.
Al-Cid chuckled good-naturedly. "True enough. Forgive my forwardness. We have much to discuss."
"Indeed," Anastasis said. "In Archadia, Larsa. In Rozarria, Al-Cid. And in Dalmasca, Ashe. They dream not of war. Should empire join with empire, then the way will open for a new Ivalice in our time."
Al-Cid scoffed. "You speak of dreams, Your Grace, but reality is a truly cruel bitch. War is upon us."
Ashe turned to Al-Cid. "I came here to ask for help from His Grace, Al-Cid. Announcing the restoration of Dalmasca will have to wait until I am ready to truly defend her with the Nethicite. But you speak as if this was all for naught."
"Not for naught, no," Al-Cid said. "We had hoped that once you could announce your ascendancy, then the Resistance could be disbanded, and the pretext for Rozarria to war with Archadia gone with it. Two years, you have been considered dead. But the problem with our meeting here is that the times have changed." Al-Cid looked at Larsa. "I am sorry, Larsa, for your loss if nothing else. Your father, Emperor Gramis, is dead."
As Larsa gaped, Harry stepped forward. "How did he die?"
"Officially, an assassination plot, formulated by the Senate and spearheaded by Senator Gregoroth. Rumour has it, though, that Vayne murdered Gramis, and used the Senate as scapegoats so that he could dissolve the Senate. He has currently assumed autocratic powers over Archadia. One of the prominent Judges protested, and even drew her sword on Vayne when she believed that he had threatened you."
"Drace…" Larsa hissed in dismay. "My brother ordered her execution, then, for drawing her sword on him?"
"He very nearly did. However, he decided to strip her of almost all of her duties instead, save for your protection," Al-Cid said. "A not-dissimilar fate befell Gabranth, as he was spying on Vayne for your father. But he warned them both that this was merely a stay of their execution, and that he would have their heads should anything befall you. But this, as you know, complicates matters. Gramis would definitely have pursued a more peaceful solution at this stage. But Vayne is another matter."
"Especially with the other matters involved," Balthier said. "Vayne knows that Ashe is still alive. He only lets her live because she is of use to her, and because our goals, perversely, are the same. And given what we have learned, peace is not on his agenda. Not quite wanton war, but peace on his terms alone."
"And the man is a military genius," Al-Cid lamented.
Anastasis added, "To reveal yourself is to invite greater chaos, possibly imperil us all. Through the dreams, I see war, with Vayne's name writ bold in history's page, with blood as ink and sword as pen. And I do not have the knowledge you seek to wield the Nethicite, Daughter of Raminas."
Larsa, troubled, said, "I believe Vayne is trying to ensure my own ascendancy, but at terrible cost."
"Well, if he's trying to ensure there's no more threat to you, then he's doing a good job," Al-Cid said, taking a piece of paper from his assistant. He began reading off various statistics about Vayne's armada against Rozarria. Handing it back, he remarked, "The largest force for war ever seen in living memory, I'd wager."
"Then the Nethicite may be our best chance," Ashe said with a scowl. "Or something greater. Greater than Nethicite."
The Gran Kilitias opened his eyes at that, and he spoke out loud. "To match power against power? Truly the words of a Hume-child."
"I am descended from Raithwall. But I also recognise that we need every advantage we can get, in order to protect my people. Nethicite, as with all of power's manifestations, is a double-edged sword. I have to learn how to wield it, true, but I also must learn what else I can do to protect Dalmasca."
"Indeed," the Gran Kilitias mused. "You intend to use power to protect, though that can be the most seductive form of power of all. Then you have but one choice. You must seek the other power Raithwall left."
"Another power?" Ashe asked.
"The power to cleave Nethicite. Seek you the Sword of Kings in the Stillshrine of Miriam, after journeying across the Paramina Rift."
Harry, recognising the name thanks to Jote, asked, "Your Grace, I'm sorry to ask, but what do you know of the Speculum?"
"The Speculum?" The Gran Kilitias scrutinised him. "Yes…your dreams come from another demesne entirely, Ghost of Dalmasca. You fell into our realm by accident. Or perhaps by providence. The Speculum, an enchanted mirror sages of yore used to see through the veil between realms. A gift from the gods. The Speculum rests with the Sword of Kings. It is curious, though. Why would the Dynast-King entrust a power to destroy Nethicite, the symbol of his greatness, to another, and not to his own progeny? Ashelia B'nargin, awaken, and take up your sword, lest your dream remain a dream."
"You have my thanks, Your Grace," Ashe said. She turned to Larsa, who looked pensive. Recognising his look, she asked, "You wish to stay?"
Larsa nodded. "My apologies, but…to learn of my father's death, despite the pain he put you and all of Dalmasca through…I need time to mourn and reflect, Lady Ashe. And to discuss with Al-Cid our next course of action."
Al-Cid nodded as well. "My apologies for being the bearer of atrocious tidings. I wish you luck in your endeavour, Lady Ashe. For all our sakes."
As Ashe and her entourage left, they heard the Gran Kilitias, his voice echoing in their minds once more. "My dream, too, fades into the day…"
"I don't know whether this is a disaster or an opportunity," Harry scowled as they began walking out of Bur-Omisace, heading towards Paramina Rift again. "Vayne is, nominally, on our side, or at least his goals coincide with ours for the most part."
"True, but he has his own methods of doing so. And leaving aside the Occuria for the moment, let's not forget that he doesn't have all of his underlings on a leash," Balthier said.
Vossler scoffed. "So we're still on our own, despite Larsa's grand promises."
"Larsa, Al-Cid, and the Gran Kilitias are allies not to be underestimated, Captain Azelas," Fran pointed out. "And we cannot discount Marquis Ondore. But we cannot rest easy. We may not have found all we have come for, but we should continue, in case we find something more."
"Venat said that, after this, we were to make our way to Giruvegan," Ashe mused. "Right into the lair of the enemy."
"One thing at a time, Ashe," Balthier said. "We'll deal with the string-pulling would-be architects of history after we deal with this little quest."
Harry rolled his eyes, but Balthier had a point. Better to keep focusing on the task at hand than worry about something further into the future. But the revelations in that temple disturbed him. It seemed that Ivalice was spiralling towards war, no matter what he tried to do, and Dalmasca was going to get caught up in the middle of it all…
CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:
And here you have it, the Bur-Omisace sequence, but with some differences. Given that this story is pretty much told mostly through Harry's perspective, you'll have to learn later why Drace survived in this story than in canon, though it was mostly due to Harry's influence on Vayne, little though it was. The next chapter will gloss over the Stillshrine of Miriam stuff, instead heading mostly into Harry using the Speculum for the first time, and the party confronting the Archadian forces at Bur-Omisace.
Review-answering time! plums: The Occuria, while they can see anywhere, cannot see everywhere at once, not unlike Sauron in The Lord of the Rings. Ashe and Harry's discussion earlier was meant to address this: they can watch her when she has the Nethicite in hand, or in areas thick with Mist. Whether they do so all the time is unkown. Anyway, it's a story. If you have any qualms about it, just repeat the MST3K Mantra.
cavco: Thanks. If you want a different pairing (Harry/Mjrn) and a more comic story, try Nitimur in Vetitum.
1. I used a similar joke in Luna Lovegood's mouth in Fall to Zenith. It's a quote from Doctor Who: The Creature from the Pit, specifically the astrologer Organon.