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Note: English is not my native language, and I lack beta/proofreader, therefore expect mistakes and wonky grammar.
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She had spent good part of the day looking over the town, marking down on the map where torn buildings were and had a page after page of her sketchbook filled in silence. She had climbed higher where possible, such as a bell tower, and all the while keeping in mind that the key to doing stunts like this was to not give the arms an opportunity to protest before starting to scale the building.
High above, Kebhut squinted at the horizon, trying to see any signs of buildings brought low or shattered structures of any kind, and didn't even notice the small serpentine shape settle about her shoulders, tiny claws digging into the rough cloth of her shirt. Absentmindedly, she stroked its chin.
She didn't come as prepared as she'd like, and that was a mistake on her part. But even so, she doubted there were many maps left of the town before the occupation – before it grew into what it was now. And nothing to say about the lack of time to conduct such a large search.
Finally, crossing the rooftops she made her way back to the infamous basement.
The building looked like it had been cleared of the worst of the debris, leaving it a shell with a prominent pit in the middle. Whether stone or wood were repurposed, it was hard to say, but what was clear was that there were no attempts to salvage the building itself. All that remained were the outside walls, along with the support beams and a staircase that led to nowhere. Without Gaius watching her every move for potential thievery (the possibility of which was rather high), she made her way down, hopping from stone to box to beam to anything that appeared capable of holding her weight.
The wine cellar had to have been spacious at one point but it was not the biggest she had been in. Maybe its purpose was to store a quantity for local shops? She wasn't likely to ever learn, and that was beside the point.
Walking through the narrow space, avoiding debris, torn stone and jagged wood, she made sure to watch out for anything that may be out of place. The red stains she had seen earlier were not blood, but wine from broken bottles. The scent was weak, almost gone, but she could still catch a whiff of it. It couldn't be more than a couple of weeks old.
Mindful of the details, she looked around. The bottles, at least, were the same as the ones in Mor Dhona's markets. And with careful examination she saw that dust and rubble were disturbed in some places – the ones lacking bottles, as it were – accompanied by partial footsteps. Nothing she could use. But it was a confirmation that there was pilfering going on, and done in such a way it would go unnoticed for a long while. Not everything was taken, just those select few bottles that were already out of sight. Add a broken bottle or two and one would think it was the collapse that got to them.
Finally, she turned her attention to why she was here in the first place – the walls, the very structure of the basement. It was mostly brick and stone, except for one narrow strip peeking from behind couple of untouched shelves. Something was plastered over, but with a few taps she could tell it was hollow on the other side. Looking around, she saw nothing she could use as a tool, but it wouldn't be the first time she had to tear down a wall with her bare hands.
It didn't take more than three concentrated punches. The rest she had to pull apart to make a hole big enough for her to pass through. The tiny dragon didn't seem to mind all the excessive activity, nor the stale air that came rushing out. One step in and she could feel the dust under her feet was thick. A sudden pungent odour begun to invade her nose. It scratched at the back of her throat until she was hacking out a cough herself. With a little ball of light she saw a passage leading to only one possible tunnel. A few window-sized alcoves dotted the walls but there was no pottery. Certainly no bodies. Nothing that would explain the stench. In fact, it looked like this section had been in some kind of mundane use before being walled off centuries ago.
She moved forward through the narrow passage until she reached the rocky wall. A collapse. Rising her light high above she could see that the rocks were massive, and wholly undisturbed. Her lips twisted into a grimace. Even if she could get past the rocks, her broken horn could prove detrimental in navigating this place. This wasn't hopping across rooftops in broad daylight, this was pitch-black labyrinth. If similar expeditions in the past have taught her anything it was that one poor reaction could be the end of her.
And on top of that, so far there was not a single useful Echo to be had.
With little else she could do here, she climbed back to the surface. Even if this place led to nowhere, at least her suspicions were confirmed. There were tunnels underneath the town.
And just as she was stepping out into the sunlight, climbing across the heavy shelves and torn rafters, dusting herself off to a point that the leathery creature had to stretch and shake it off, a shadow passed over her, accompanied by the roaring sound of engines. Looking up, she saw the massive figure of the G-Warrior fly over the rooftops. Not the blue one though. Mark II was Nero's baby.
So, Nero was in town, but not Cid.
She was aware that Cid was torn between his obligation to the Bozjan front and his work on the Weapons. In the meantime, he delegated well enough. Not to Nero though, oh no – that airship was yet to sail.
With a grumble she grabbed a lone bottle lying in the corner between two barrels and shoved it into her bag. The tiny dragon graced her with a side eye only a monstrously ancient being could accomplish. She returned it in an equal fashion, as only a slayer of said monstrously ancient gods could.
With a small sigh, she made her way across town, aimless, distracted, heels clicking against the decorative cobblestone. She needed a plan. One that did not involve breaking into every house, residence, warehouse with the slim possibility of having been built over long forgotten structures. She was already doing metal calculus and spreadsheets of what would be required, and what to bring along for any lengthy stay underground. Granted, the last time she was here, Kebhut did stand on the side and let others do most of the talking, but that was official business. For this, she'll have to get a bit more... inquisitive.
In the end, she had settled herself under one of decorative trees close to the terrace, not bothering with the bench and instead choosing to climb right next to it, to lean against the rough bark. To the side, a large, lush plant blooming with blousy pink flowers tumbled, giving off a pleasant scent and obscuring her from sight. The trees helped to disperse the heat into comforting warmth against her skin.
As the day went on shadows moved across town, the soft breeze came from the ocean carrying the scent of salt, and the cheerful chirrups of bird song or high-pitched calls from the gulls made the scene perfectly idyllic.
A quietness seeped around her for the first time in days. She revelled in its peace, closing her eyes, resting her head back, and allowing sleepiness to drag away any remaining heavy thoughts. Its tranquillity almost lulled her closer as her body ached with ever-mounting exhaustion. The calm. The quiet. A small town far away from everything. Not entirely free of its troubles, but it was the least amount of trouble amidst everything going on.
At times, that was enough.
"I've been looking for you!"
Until something inevitably came along to disturb it.
In this case, it was Allie. "We were unable to reach you, and father mentioned you might be around one of the collapsed buildings."
Kebhut frowned.
"He said that you were looking for Garlond," the girl clarified.
"Cid's back?"
"I heard he'll be here tomorrow," the raen shook her head. "But no one knows when exactly."
The local hero rubbed her forehead, with the air of someone trying to ward off a migraine, and growled something about the Twelve. The bottle was so close, but it wasn't something she could well indulge in the present company. The younger raen didn't seem to have any intention to leave just yet, and Kebhut pulled her sketchbook back out.
"I wanted to apologise for earlier..." Allie started and when the older raen turned to look at her, she couldn't help but wince at the sight of shattered horn. "...and to thank you. He said you were injured in that... last fight." The one where she had almost killed the girl, yes. Although more surprising it was to her that Gaius noticed to begin with. Some Legati were, admittedly, marginally more capable than others.
"Wounds heal." And then, perhaps to lessen the girl's unease, she gestured at her horn, "so will this."
Another stretch of silence, with a bit of scribbling coming from her lap.
"I've been meaning to ask-..." Allie started again, trying to avoid the discomfort of feeling unwanted, "well, I've been meaning to ask a few things but... Your name...?" The other raen just looked at the younger girl, a bit disbelieving. Allie started to fidget under the stare. "It doesn't sound eastern."
"It shouldn't. I never lived that far east."
"Oh..." Another batch of awkward silence. "Mind if I sit here?" She asked timidly. The recent events in Werlyt have had a profound impact on the lives of the many, many people, but none more so than Allie.
Kebhut moved her tail out of the way, making room for the girl. Allie took her seat next to her and shyly leaned over to look at what had preoccupied the Warrior so. A small 'oh' escaped her lips as she gazes into a spread of intricate sketches. Line after line of details – of buildings and streets, locals and Ironworks engineers and even... a stray moogle stuck under a suspiciously all-too-heavy pile of rubble. Some sketches were just patterns – of the tiles covering the streets of the city, other came from the buildings themselves.
Allie spent a good few hours sitting next to the Warrior of Light, watching as more and more images came to be – even giving pointers about certain streets she had explored in her time living here. It would have went on for quite a while, had there not been a familiar set of footsteps, a pair really, and at his approach, she cocked her head a bit, still not looking up. Yet from the corner of her eye she did catch a sight of pair of soldiers – no, more than a pair even – very much armed and ever watchful of the former Legatus. Maybe this was the 'meeting' he had to attend to earlier.
The younger raen's name was called. "It's time you head back," Valdeaulin gestured for Allie to follow him. It occurred to her then that Allie was never really 'alone', not even earlier today when they first met. If it wasn't her father, or one of his followers, it was the company of the Warrior of Light.
Standing up from her perch under the tree, her tail swished behind her, removing clinging dirt, she watched the girl be escorted away. To safety? Her attention turned to the older man. With all the ongoing meetings between the former Legatus and the Revolutionaries, small wonder he looked tired.
"How did the meeting go?" she half-asked.
He kept quiet for a moment, perhaps organizing his thoughts or perhaps just relishing the drawn-out silence. "As well as it could be expected. No doubt you've had your fair share of such events."
"Not in your capacity. My task at the table is to look moderately menacing."
He nodded and gave her a brief, studiously neutral glance, "You'd be surprised how effective in negotiations it can be. The Scions are no fools."
A grimace that could only be described as 'utter displeasure of all things involving a conference room' was the only answer he received. He shrugged and followed her where she walked over to the protruding terrace. Turning her back against the ocean, she leaned against the stone balustrade, the setting sun dying the entire view in honey gold dyes.
Her notebook still open, his eyes were drawn to her drawings, a vertical cut of the town and the cliff below, with steep tunnels and underground dwellings – a window into something akin to a miniature anthill. He only caught a brief glance of the pages. She in turn saw him take notice and cocked an eyebrow in question. In turn, she folded the notebook. His eyes followed its disappearance into the small bag hanging from her waist, where he noticed a conspicuous shape.
"That," he shot a dry glance to the bottle, "wouldn't happen to be a taken from a certain location?"
"No."
"A Warrior of Light shouldn't lie."
"I am not here in the capacity as a 'Warrior of Light'."
He shot her a complicated look, but then he shook his head again. "Apparently not. Delivering highly sensitive parcels takes priority, after all."
Her mouth opened, then shut. It didn't appear he was going to drop that any time soon. "Fair point," she mumbled with a tiny nod.
"I mean no offence." Gaius folded his arms and let his gaze fall. "Given current events, I'm simply surprised you're not needed elsewhere."
She nodded again, staring up at the sky between the leaves. Things were right on the point of getting awkward again when she said, in a more conversational tone, "I misspoke. There is no place right now that requires for me to be a 'Warrior of Light'." In the light that reflected onto his face, she saw his brows rise. "There are others who can... handle current level of threat."
"And in the meantime?"
"I deliver a package."
At this, Gaius paused, then shut his eyes and issued a low chuckle. Kebhut frowned. She couldn't remember ever seeing him laugh before.
"Then you shall have your opportunity to fulfil this most sensitive task tomorrow." His voice lowered and he leaned forward, he was staring at her with a particular expression. "Until then," he said in a way of parting before retreating for the night.
She nodded and looked back towards the horizon. Perhaps she paid a smidge too much attention to the fading footsteps.
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