Chapter Seven: Clasko's Messenger

Baralai had noticed a change in the priests. They didn't seem to rush around anymore, they demurely walked in pairs deep in conversation. The paperwork and daily dealings were rolling in, but it never filled a day's work – he always had a lot of free time and with not a lot to do in Bevelle it got extremely boring. It had only been a few days and he was thinking about finding Seymel already. He always slept badly when she wasn't there – his private Praetor chambers always felt cold and empty and made him stay awake for hours wondering what she was doing and if she was having fun teaching children the ropes at Mushroom Rock...

He leant out further to look down at the housing. Children were scurrying about, playing with a blitzball in the evening light, mothers carefully watching them as they chatted together...It all seemed so tranquil the streets of Bevelle bathed with intense orange light of the setting sun.

He heard a cry over the wind and looked to the main gate. A priest was waving his arms frantically and a Chocobo seemed to be trying to dodge around him. Eventually it gave up dodging and leapt over him and charged up to the temple with a call.

Baralai decided to investigate and swiftly walked down to the front of the temple. It stood there haughtily with a folded up letter tied to it's neck. Baralai became curious and slowly approached it. The bird eyed him warily, but didn't move as he reached it's neck. A ribbon tied in a bow around its neck, the letter had a hole in it and it'd been looped through the ribbon. Very gently with caution he untied it. The Chocobo twisted its head left and right, fluffed its feathers and sprinted away with a loud, "KWEH!" making a nearby priest jump as it barrelled past.

Baralai inspected the letter and his eyes widened in astonishment when he saw the letter was labelled to him.

"What on Spira?..." he wondered and suspiciously opened it.

To Praetor Baralai sir,

Baralai chuckled at the introduction, but stopped dead when he continued on.

My name is Clasko, and my friends Luzzu and Elma (from the Youth League) found a woman badly injured near the Moonflow. It looks like someone tried to murder her – she'd been stabbed. Elma and Luzzu recognised her as Seymel. We patched her up as best we could, but she's lost a lot of blood. She's been asking for you and, well, I got a Chocobo to go off as fast as possible. If all goes well, she's recovering in the Moonflow Inn. I hope you go to her right now because she is very weak and needs support.

Regards,

Clasko

The colour drained out of his face. Someone tried to murder Seymel? He sprinted to his chambers, grabbed anything he might need, scribbled a letter to confirm the high ranking priest Yansen as the makeshift Praetor and ran to some of the high ranking priests gathered in the temple with worry etched across his face.

"I'm going on leave for a while," he said shortly, "Seymel's been badly injured and I need to see her. I'm naming Yansen as a temporary Praetor while I'm away. Here's the document, Yansen," he thrust the paper toward the equally young man and left. Yansen was a tall, muscular young man, who had proved in counsel with Baralai to be a very dedicated, trustworthy and wise priest, who prided himself on his meticulous attention and skills as both a priest and his training as a warrior monk. Yansen had a shock of dark brown hair and soft grey eyes that appeared to hold a wealth of knowledge behind them, which he applied on the younger members of New Yevon like a vice when needed. Usually when they got out of line, or were spouting beliefs Yansen did not hold with.

Meanwhile, the breeze lashed Baralai's face as he stormed out of Bevelle with an expression of iron determination across his face. Whoever had done this to Seymel was going to pay.

"Wake up, Seymel," Luzzu said and gave her shoulder a gentle push. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave a delightful little yawn that could of melted any mans heart for a moment.

Luzzu frowned and he turned away from her. She had the Praetor for a boyfriend and he was said to be a fierce fighter. If he arrives within two days, Luzzu could bet that this said ferocity wouldn't be anything to trying to steal his girlfriend.

Luzzu shook his head.

"What?" Seymel asked, her eyes open and watching him with concern.

Luzzu snapped his head back to her and shrugged with an imperceptible expression.

"Nothing. Here's the innkeepers broth – it's meant to be very good taste wise as well as being excellent at strengthening the frail," he clarified and handed her a cup of some sort of yellow soup.

She wrinkled her nose at the stuff and took a sip.

"Hmm, its okay I guess," she relented and began to drink it down slowly.

Luzzu patiently waited, bouncing a foot up and down unthinkingly while having a good look at the room. Seymel didn't like him sitting so close to her, but hadn't the resolve to tell him to leave her alone. He wasn't doing any harm, he was making sure she was okay and helped to save her life, she scolded herself. His hair was an unsettlingly lively red and his features weren't unattractive. She had seen him on occasions wandering about at the Youth League and could swear Lucil and he were related – their hair was matching in colour and she was sure they shared some physical features.

"Have you ever considered that Lucil might be related to you?" she blurted abruptly. Luzzu sharply glanced at her with a look of confusion at such an out of the blue question.

"Uh, I don't know. Don't remember much about my parents, so I suppose it's possible..." he contemplated. Seymel spurred on by the thought he put into his answer decided to press on.

"It's just you two sort of look alike and your hair...it's identical in colour," she rushed and finished the broth in a last gulp.

Luzzu shrugged and took the cup off Seymel, prising it gently from her hands.

"As I said, I suppose it's possible. Who knows? Anyway, you rest up and tomorrow the innkeeper will make some more of that stuff," he patted her shoulder with a crooked smile and left, turning the light off as he went.

It was night now and the memory of her assault hadn't left her brain since it had happened. Even when she was severely focusing her thoughts on Baralai, a niggling little corner of her mind was replaying the event. It had scared her badly.

'Who would want to do that to me? What did I do?' a small voice sniffled. Seymel felt the pull of exhaustion take over and slowly she slipped into an uneasy rest. She hadn't liked the unusual interest Luzzu was taking in her – it made her all too aware how vulnerable to attack she was at the moment.

She wished overpoweringly that Baralai was there...If the Chocobo had done its job, Baralai would arrive soon. Hopefully before Luzzu said something stupid, she added darkly. Luzzu was nice and all, but Baralai was, well, Baralai. She loved Baralai more than almost anything in the world (seafood was no competition and Baralai understood that – he shared the passion) and some Leaguer who happens to be in the right place at the right time with his heart in the right place doesn't make those feelings go away. She hoped Luzzu knew that, or he'll be in for a slap from her feeble hands.

Contented she had sorted her internal tribulation out, she slumbered with a lighter heart.

Baralai's determination had not wavered an inch since he had left. He had battled his way across the Thunder Plains without a flinch as the bolts struck unnervingly close to travellers. By nightfall he had made it to Guadosalem – he hadn't far to go.

He liked Guadosalem and the people. He'd taken refuge at the inn and slumped into a chair in his room. He didn't feel like sleeping – a short rest would do and he'd be home dry to the Moonflow...It was so close, but his strength had failed him so close to the finish it was painful to think about how close he was to seeing Seymel.

The letter this Clasko guy had sent him had left a few unanswered questions. Did they leave her there, or did some or all three of them stay behind? How badly was she hurt was she – the mere thought caught in his throat – dying?

Baralai took in a shaky breath and shook his head. No – she was stronger than a stab wound, he was sure, and blood can be replaced in time.

This event had upset him a lot and made him realise how vulnerable she could be without him.

'Why did she have to like travelling so much,' he thought desperately, 'it almost got her killed this time!'

'Perhaps it wouldn't have happened if you'd of been with her. It was preventable...' a nasty voice in the back of his head retorted.

Probably not, he reluctantly agreed. He really wished she would train to use a weapon and not rely solely on her black mage skills.

He couldn't blame her – he was to blame. He should have taken her back to the League so he knew she was safe before setting off back to Bevelle. He does use a weapon and could have used it to protect her when that madman went for her. If he wasn't Praetor, he wouldn't be so tied to Bevelle and have the freedom to make sure Seymel was safe...

He wasn't sure about his last point. Conversely, she could give up her job and stay with him, or in Kilika – it was quite safe there.

He calmed himself down. Now wasn't the time for pointing fingers, it was to worry whether Seymel was okay. And if she wasn't there would be hell to pay.

Comforted a little by that thought, he allowed his eyes to close and take forty winks before he set off once more.