CHAPTER 10:
AFTERMATH
The Gran Kilitias had not laughed that hard for years. So much so that a number of his acolytes feared that he would either die of a heart attack, or else from coughing up the shredded remnants of his lungs. Fortunately for Mount Bur-Omisace, the Gran Kilitias survived the onslaught of hilarity, and indeed, felt at least two decades younger.
He smiled when he thought about it. What Harry and Mjrn and Venat had brought about was dangerous, but it was a blow to the pride of all of those who wanted to wage war, or else manipulate things to their own advantage. Or else were shown to be just plain pricks. They had been shown that not only they could be humiliated, but humiliated with ludicrous ease. And if they could be humiliated with ludicrous ease, what did that say about the person who humiliated them? Said person, after all, could readily kill them as easily as he had humiliated them. Well, maybe not where the Occuria were concerned, after all: they were the Undying Ones, supposed to be the gods of Ivalice, but events had shown that, immortal though they were, they were far from untouchable.
With some luck, they might be humbled by the experience, though the Gran Kilitias knew that this was unlikely. They were far past the stage where a simple spanking would correct their behaviour, and that was what this was, a mere spanking. Harry was a skilled mage, true, and he was immortal, thanks to the boon (or curse, depending on how you looked at it) that Death gave him. But Anastasis knew that these weren't his greatest assets. It was more to do with his iconoclastic attitude, and his compassion. He had no problem tweaking the nose of authority, as long as he protected the people he cared about. And he had no intention of starting the coming war by accident. Which was why each of his victims, at the end of the day, found themselves with an unusual note on their person. The Gran Kilitias knew what the note would read. Some of them would be customised to the person specifically (in the case of the Marquis Ondore, Zargabaath, Drace, and the Occuria, it would be altered substantially, and Ba'gamnan and his crew weren't even going to get one), but the general note ran like this:
To the war-mongering idiots of the world,
The common people are but ants to be crushed 'neath the booted feet of War. A proverb of the Nu Mou. Those guys are full of proverbs and aphorisms and wisdom on tap, aren't they? Of course, I think you guys have been ignoring that particular one for a touch too long. Therefore, a lesson in humility was in order. Yesterday was when class was back in session, and I made you take your seats, despite the fact that you were squabbling like children, not caring about the ants you trod over as you fought over a pathetic scrap of playground. And that metaphor has officially died.
Anyway, all of you are no doubt rubbing your bruised prides and egos and thinking, who could have done this, and more importantly, how can we exact punishment for their hubris? Well, that's the pot calling the kettle black in the old hubris stakes, really, because you kill all these people, just to slake your own ambitions. You think yourselves untouchable. This is me proving otherwise, you stupid, prideful wankers. And think about it. If I could do all these things without you realising I was even there until it was too late, what would have stopped me from killing you guys?
You don't know who I am. I could be everywhere, or nowhere. I could be right behind you…made you look. But seriously, you don't know my face, my real name, my gender, or even if I'm just one person or several. I could be speaking in the first-person just to confuse you guys. I could be one, or I could be legion. Now that ought to get your paranoia juices flowing. Delicious, sweet paranoia juice. Goes well with bacon and eggs, actually.
Let me put it this way. Should Archadia and Rozarria continue on its course, well, what happened yesterday will seem like Heaven compared to the humiliations I can put you through. To mangle an old phrase, Si vis bellum, para ludi. In other words, if you want war, prepare for pranks.
I solemnly swear I am up to no good.
Prongslet.
"I daresay you have pulled the tail of the tiger," Balthier observed.
"Well, the motto of my school was 'Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon', but I've never been one to take sound advice," Harry said with a grin. He, Balthier, Mjrn and Fran were in the Resistance HQ in Rabanastre, Ashe, Vossler, and Basch nearby.
"I have not been entertained by such jests for a long time, Harry," Ashe said, smiling. "I have to admit, it does me good to see Vayne humiliated rather than dead. But Balthier is right. The Archadians certainly won't let you attack them with impunity. It is good that you have allies, of a sort, in Venat and Doctor Cid, as much as I detest working with the one who moved Vayne onto his road of conquest." At this, Ashe's face fell into its habitual scowl.
"Venat wants to free Ivalice from the Occuria. I don't know whether the reason why they're called the Undying Ones is because they're immortal in the sense of being long-lived, or that they are actually like me, all but invincible. I'm putting money on the former, myself. If I can divert Venat and the Archadians, never mind the Rozarrians, from causing war, then that's good. Of course, I don't think they're going to heed my little missive. The Occuria are going to be pissed too. After all, they thought themselves untouchable. I just proved otherwise. They'll be trying to figure out what happened exactly before they make another move."
"And given that the Rozarrians were attacked as well," Balthier said, "the Archadians cannot blame them. They'd look ridiculous doing so."
"At the very least, we may have bought Dalmasca a little more time," Harry said. "If we're very lucky, we may have gotten them both to come to the peace table, if only to prevent something like this happening again. Of course, that's about as likely as Vayne Solidor French-kissing your uncle, Ashe."
"French-kissing?" Ashe asked.
"He means with tongue," Mjrn said. "I find it pleasant, with him, at least. France is a country back on his homeworld. Known for fine art, deep romance, and bloody revolutions."
"I'd feel right at home there," Balthier remarked. "But you are right, even a tenuous peace treaty between Rozarria and Archadia is nigh-impossible as things are at the moment. So, what would be your next move?"
"Part of the problem now may be that the Occuria may try to act through Ashe," Harry said, looking at the young princess. "You are the descendant of Raithwall, after all. Death told me that he was the Occuria's bitch. And I know you'd chafe under any yoke, Archadian, Rozarrian, or Occurian. Which is why we're going to make the Occuria a non-issue. Or at least less of one."
"What do you mean?" Ashe asked.
"Well, let me ask you a question. What were the strings the Occuria used to make Raithwall dance to their little tune? What artifacts did Raithwall leave to his descendants?"
Vossler caught on quickly. "The royal treasures! The Dusk Shard, the Dawn Shard, and the Midlight Shard!"
"Exactamundo! Which I am never going to use again in a sentence if I can help it," Harry muttered(1). "We weren't just pulling pranks while Mjrn and I were with Cid and Venat. We were also making plans to cut the strings of the Occuria. Strings which are Deifacted Nethicite."
"Deifacted Nethicite?" Basch asked.
Mjrn nodded. "Your father, Balthier, has been able to create artificial Nethicite from high-quality Magicite from Bhujerba and the Henne Mines, as you know. It has a variety of uses, though the Archadian Empire uses it chiefly for creating airships that can travel over Jagd. I did see that Judge Bergan had put in a request to Doctor Bunansa to graft Nethicite onto his very bones, to enhance his strength and magic power. But Deifacted Nethicite…you saw what happened to Nabudis. That was because of meddling with the Midlight Shard."
Harry then turned to Ashe. "Think about it, truly. Think about what happened to Nabudis. I know you are truly angry with the higher-ups of the Archadian Empire…but are you willing to see that happen to the populace of Archades?"
The young princess, after a moment, shook her head. "But would it not be better to use it as a deterrent against enemies?"
"In theory, yes. But the Occuria, according to Venat and Death, will manipulate you into using it, in anger or in cold blood. The Deifacted Nethicite, at the very least, needs to be destroyed. And the main source of that which Raithwall used is the Sun-Cryst at the Pharos at Ridorana, in the Jagd Naldoa. Doctor Cid has the Midlight Shard. According to Death, the Dusk Shard is in a hidden treasure room in Rabanastre Palace, while the Dawn Shard, as you may know, is in the Tomb of Raithwall."
"…You are asking me to destroy the proof of my royal lineage," Ashe said quietly. "Not to mention my heritage. You presume much, Harry Potter."
"Maybe," Harry said. "But an old friend of mine once told me I have a saving people thing. You'd have liked her, actually. Her name was Hermione. Just as bossy as you are, but a better friend I couldn't ask for." His face fell at the thought. "She was murdered by bigots who thought that, because her parents couldn't use magic, that made her less than human. They didn't have magic almost anyone could use on my world, not like in Ivalice. They died…while I live on, unable to die. The Boy Who Lived, now the Boy Who Cannot Die. I may not look it, Ashe, but I've lived for four times your age, more or less. Age may not necessarily confer wisdom, but it confers experience. And I know one thing I have experienced that you are too: righteous anger at injustice, and with it, the desire for revenge. Believe me, revenge, while briefly satisfying, doesn't fulfil you. It doesn't bring back your loved ones. Mark Twain, a writer of my world, said that anger is an acid that does more damage to the container it is in than anything it is poured on."
"Do you have anything else other than homilies to offer me?" Ashe asked. She wasn't angry as much as a little irritable, though it was a genuine question.
"I'm shit at comforting people, Ashe, pulling pranks on the deserving to make them laugh aside," Harry said. "I spent too much of my life being fed bullshit in the name of giving me a happy and normal childhood I didn't actually have, so I have a tendency to be blunt when I'm not playing around. You and I…we've both had to deal with expectations we didn't ask for. I was the Boy Who Lived, and you were born to become Queen of Dalmasca. We've had to deal with the meddling of others, and the loss of loved ones." After a moment, he said, "I have plenty to offer you besides homilies. It's just up to you whether to accept my help or not. I'm not doing this because for Dalmasca any more than I would do it for Archadia or Rozarria. Technically, my loyalties are to Eruyt, as are those of Mjrn. But in reality…my loyalty is to people. The people history forgets, tramples underfoot. People that the Occuria and the leaders of Rozarria and Archadia don't give a shit about. That's who I'm loyal to: the people treated, at best, as game pieces by the rulers of the lands. That's why I'm doing everything I can to stop the coming war."
"One man, against that?" Basch asked. "A single hero may prevail in stories and tales, but this is reality. I cannot deny your sentiment, Harry. But one against history?"
"Well, leaving aside the assumption that I am alone, there is one fact that you haven't considered. Even if I was alone…I'm crazy enough to try." He gave a rather wide, deranged grin that had a few of those present moving their hands closer to their swords or weapons.
"That you certainly are, Harry," Balthier said. "Incidentally, speaking of deranged individuals, is that man in the green spandex still dealing with Ba'gamnan?"
Harry laughed evilly. "Not really…but Ba'gamnan is not going to be trouble for a while yet, I can guarantee that. After all, I finished the visual feed before he could unleash the Sunset Illusion of Youth on your eyes."
"Sunset Illusion of Youth?" Ashe asked.
"Let's just put it this way. Some sights are horrific because of violence or horror. Other sights…well, it's because they are so weird, so unconnected with reality as we know it, that the mind revolts badly. Might Guy's Sunset Illusion of Youth falls into the latter category. Actually, Cid was kind enough to record it for me. He was fascinated, actually, though learning horrific shit's right up his alley. I've sent recordings to most of my victims yesterday, with Venat sending one to the Occuria. I actually checked in on Ba'gamnan before I came here. He's in a cell of the City Watch, curled up in a ball and crying for his mummy to make the scary sunset go away. I wonder how long it'll be before the others watch the recordings?"
High above Giruvegan, the Occuria, for the most part, were screaming in horror. And you know it's pretty bad when eldritch entities responsible for puppeteering the history of Ivalice are horrified. All of what was, supposedly, a simple sunset. Then again, as Might Guy would have put it about the ancient entities, they had been most unyouthful…
CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:
After that cracky previous chapter, I found it hard to come back to this. Thankfully, I did. Thanks to everyone who enjoyed it. But at least now Harry and company have a plan.
Review-answering time! VulpineSnow: Mjrn got the barest amount of development in one of the sidequests. I think it was the Cockatrice one. She gets a VERY raw deal in the game.
dandraft15: She looked more like she was in her fifties (and a well-preserved fifties at that) at the time, and while their sex life wasn't as much as it used to be, it was still fairly healthy.
1. I'm pretty sure the Doctor said the same thing in Doctor Who: School Reunion.