BU-RE-SU
By Tenshi no Ai
(C) Square Enix
1. Panty Knight
-0-
It was in Lenalia Plains when Beowulf, who had been following up on a rumor about a dragon appearing in the Fovohamian region, realized that Reis would need clothes.
This wasn't exactly an accurate statement, not yet. After all, he hadn't even come close to locating the enchanted state of his fiancé, and even if he had he surely didn't have a cure for her just yet. He was working on that, too. Dragons didn't need clothes, he assumed correctly, and Holy Dragon Reis was, well, a dragon. However, one day he would find the Cancer stone that he believed would cure her, and that would be the day that Reis would need clothes. It just didn't seem sensible to cart a naked woman back to Lesalia from God only knows where; he had to be ready with the proper equipment! Never mind the fact that Reis couldn't actually equip clothes in the literal sense of the word, which is the kind of detail that leads to ribald jokes. No, she could only wear clothing, and the realization sent the hunter back to his house instead of the nearest general store.
Once in his home on the outskirts of the grand capital city of Ivalice, Beowulf made his way to his--someday soon, their--bedroom. In there he kept Reis' valise, the very thing that had led to their first meeting so many years ago. Crouched before it, his hands faltered at the latch. Rifling through someone else's luggage, especially a woman's, went against his sensibilities. After all, that was someone's private property, and no self-respecting man would ever want to be caught hands-deep into feminine garments of all sorts. Even if this was his house and the likelihood of his sister coming over or bandits ransacking the place was practically nonexistent, the uncomfortable feeling associated with such a gross act of disregarding a woman's privacy remained.
Following that chocobo-convoy line for a moment, he stood and walked over to his dresser drawers, where he removed a paper package. Ripping open the package, he found what he had been looking for: the outfit he had bought for Reis but had been too
(shy nervous isn't this too much would she really like it)
uncomfortable to give it to her. It was risqué, what with the enlarged opening to show off both neck and shoulders, and he had feared that she would've thought him a bit...forward, presenting something like that to a Murond cataloguer and all. That, and the blouse, which was made with a durable material, would be a bit...well, it wouldn't have flattered her slender body one bit.
Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he had bought it.
Anyway, it would have to do. He placed the shirt and the skirts into a satchel, all the while aware that he was forgetting something. Well, those would have to do. Wasn't something that covered her body enough? As long as she didn't have to walk naked--
Right. She'd have to walk. Therefore, she needed shoes.
Damn, he really was going to have to open her suitcase after all.
He walked back to her luggage and clicked it open, exposing himself to a world of unimaginable colors. Plum, peach, sky blue, sunny yellow, white and many more exploded from the years-long containment and filled his world with vibrancy. Careful not to mess up Reis' careful folding, he removed some of the clothes, delicately feeling his way inside the medium-sized box until the leather ridge of a heel met with his hands. He extricated the boot, a black one that had obviously seen many years of use, and made a mental note to get new boots for her made once she was returned to her proper form. Patting through the inside of the valise again, he soon found the matching shoe and removed it, placing both boots into the bag designated for Reis' clothes. Satisfied, he began the process of putting everything back into her luggage, but as he lifted the bundle of clothing something white and frilly fell out. He looked at it, not recognizing the garment at first. After a moment, he nearly dropped the rest of the clothes onto the floor with the rise of something he couldn't quite describe in his stomach. Discomfort clutched at him, but try as he might to simply look away and continue on with his job, he just couldn't.
He should've known that she had feminine undergarments in her suitcase. After all, she was, well, female.
They were cute. Well, he supposed they were, as Reis loved to wear interesting and cute clothing. He didn't have an opinion on undergarments because, well, it wasn't something he saw a lot of since they were worn under everything else. They were what his sister called the 'bloomer' style, puffy, short--very short--cotton pants with little ruffles around the leg holes. There was, of all things, a tiny ribbon tied into a bow at the waist hem, and it was odd to think of a ward of the Church wearing this under her plain dresses. He thought that he would've remembered something like this, it was so odd.
--Y-yes, I'm nervous but...that's to be expected, right? Let's continue...you can take those off...--
After a moment, he decided not to follow that convoy of thought and shoved the undergarment with the rest of her clothes, subsequently forgetting about it until three months later, when he was attacked by bandits.
-0-
It was a dreary-looking day in northern Limberry. With war occurring between Gallionne and Zeltennia inevitable, Beowulf chose to hunt in neutral areas when he could, and to stay silent when he was around Zeltennia; his accent was undeniably Lesalian once again. There were rumors that Limberry's Marquis Elmdor would ally himself with Duke Goltana's cause soon, but for now the small province was still a good hunting ground.
Germinas Peak was a nice place to hunt. It was no Araguay Woods, which was touted as a treasury of monsters despite having mostly chocobos, goblins and skeletons meandering about the environs. Dragons liked the mountain--even Reis was rumored to have shown up for a spell--and often there was an abundance of humans foolishly going after said dragons. Out of all of them, he remembered a group of five, chemists and mediators both, armed with mythical guns; something his sister would undoubtedly call, an air of understatement tainting her cultured accent, 'quite an intimidating lot'.
Beowulf stopped on his way up to the summit, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the midpoint of the peak. Far in the distance, he could just about make out the golden sands of Bed Desert to the west, and to the south there was the gray-white area of Poeskas Lake, a misnomer considering the lake had been drained of water and life during the last war. There were only ghosts and skeletons there now, as well as the occasional dragons and behemoths who used the place as one big salt lick. It was a good place to hunt, but Beowulf hated dealing with minor revenants; it reminded him too much of certain Church doctrines about how monsters had no soul.
Reis had a soul.
He brought up a gloved hand to his face, rubbing thoughtfully. A beard was coming in, a safeguard for the coming winter. Appropriately scruffy in his plain clothes and dark cloak, his sword sheathed underneath and only a worn sleeping bag and the satchel that contained Reis' clothes slung over his shoulders, he looked the part of a veteran hunter. Such people never had much on them other than the bare essentials.
But he was alone, and that was enough to make him a target.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here, boys," a man called out what had to be the most cliché line any suddenly appearing bandit band could say. If he had been Reis, Beowulf would've groaned at the unoriginality, but since he was a man who loved his puns he instead groaned because he didn't want to deal with this. Turning around, he was greeted by the sight of five young men dressed as thieves and squires, all of whom were wielding the ultimate sharp implements of death: broad swords and daggers.
Impressive.
At first, Beowulf was willing to engage in battle with them. After all, a lifetime ago he was an elite knight, and he currently possessed a Rune Blade. However, he hadn't used his Magic Sword techniques in a very long time, and lack of practice made the skills much harder to conjure through the sword. He wasn't the greatest swordsman around, either. With a sigh, Beowulf held his hands up in a display of compliance. "I don't have anything valuable," he warned as the leader pushed one shaggy-haired bandit forward.
"D-d-don't move," the kid stuttered threateningly at the hunter. Humiliated now, Beowulf rolled his eyes. The young bandit walked around him, eyeing him suspiciously all the while. Finally, the boy poked Beowulf's satchel with the tip of his dagger. "That looks nice."
A pinprick of fear jabbed into the hunter's stomach. "It's not, really. Just has some extra supplies."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"...Still looks nice."
The bandit leader, who looked about a decade younger than the thirty-something Beowulf, threw up his arms in exasperation. "Hey, you're a thief, dumbass! Just take it from him!"
"Yes, sir!" the kid yelled back. "Ass," he muttered under his breath. Beowulf began rethinking his policy of peacekeeping. Before he could come to a decision, the teenager had fluidly cut the strap of the satchel and took the bag. "It's pretty heavy, boss!" the boy exclaimed. Dread began stabbing into the hunter's lower belly. He lowered his head, not willing to see the inevitable bludgeoning to his self-diginity. Unfortunately, he could still hear them.
"Alright, finally some loot! Do the honors, chief."
"Gladly!" Sounds of the satchel being cut open were punctuated by loud swooping sounds as the contents of the bag was dumped out. There was silence for a long moment.
"Uh, chief? Those're...aren't they..."
"They're women's clothing."
"Yep."
"Huh. Can't sell those."
"Hey, isn't that..."
"The hell?" This query was followed by silence. It was a silence so unnerving that Beowulf felt compelled to look up. His gaze was met with the disgusted glares of the bandits. That was preferable to the heap of clothing on the ground, Reis' undergarment daintily topping the colorful heap like whipped cream on a fruit scone.
The bandits glared at him for a moment longer before their leader said what was on all their minds: "Frigging perv. I hope the holy saint strikes you dead for your, your...whatever the fuck that is! C'mon boys, let's get outta here 'fore we get tainted or something." With mumbled agreements, the bandits stormed away, all righteous indignation.
Later, when Beowulf would have his first glimpse of the resurrected Saint Ajora, he would feel a lot better about this small incident in his life. But right now, he didn't have such a comfort. Instead, as he shuffled over to the bundle of clothes, one hollow thought made itself known through the mental noise.
I should've fought them. I really, really should've fought them.
-End-
In all his years of searching for Reis, Beowulf would've encountered many things that made him both heroic and...not. The title comes from a GameFAQs FFT board in-joke about having a class called the 'Panty Knight', complete with skillset. Well, it could be worse. Anyway, don't expect the last two stories until after September. Thanks for reading!