Primogenitor
Chapter Twelve
Discreet sunbeams woke the disguised dragon up.
His neck and shoulders hurt... It became worse when he raised his corpus.
Spending the whole night constricted on an armchair appeared to be nothing that mortal shapes stood all to well... The spine protested while Midgardsormr stretched his limbs. But moving lessened his balefulness a bit – thus helped him, so he continued the gymnastics.
After his vessel's agony seemed to be eased, the Methuselah turned his attention to the maiden. Calling the feeling 'painful' didn't even begin to describe his complete sentiment; the awareness of her comatose state... He was so used to the Raen's daily rhythm, that it was rootedly disturbing how lifeless she lay on the mattress. Normally, she would already be awake. Busy with whatever might have crossed her mind first.
Sad irises not leaving Cecilia's face, Midgardsormr knelt down.
His hands sought hesitantly for her cheeks. Under his cautious fingers, the rosy flesh was warm – the scales flexible. In the natural light, they resembled nacre when he looked so closely at them... Rainbow-colored shimmer on soft white...
But what truly drew him to Cecilia's countenance were her black eyelashes. Carefully, he touched the tiny hair. Which irony... When Estinien had done so in Dravania, strong jealousy was burning in the dragon's chest. Now, aforesaid moment would have a different outcome. Since the magnetism, which Midgardsormr himself currently felt, made him more emphatic. Made him comprehend the Azure Knight's mesmerization.
Her odd-colored eyes were out of reach – the windows to her soul closed. Her awareness gone. Therefore, her natural authority hidden behind her joyful personality- hidden in her sharp gaze couldn't prevent anybody from being close to her.
This fact was sore temptation... Irresistible... His fingers ran automatically along her closed lids. Even unconscious she was the prettiest mortal who had ever crossed paths with him... Howbeit... Midgardsormr didn't share Estinien's concern towards both crystal and jewel.
While they were unsettling for the Elezen, the dragon was meanwhile adoring the maiden's irises. He found comfort in the jewel's red which was colored just as his own dim eyes – and he liked its golden border. The crystal's pale blue just as the sea in white-grey light reminded him a lot of his beloved Silvertear Lake; its wisdom a secret he wished to disclose...
Aah... Bare memory of her personal features dragged his mood deeper into desperation...
Cautiously leaning his forehead against hers, he prevented drops from gliding over his face with his sheer will. 'I miss you...' the Methuselah thought melancholic. His hands touched once more her cheeks lightly; this time his palms including. The pressure so minor as if one held a newborn. As he began to caress the Raen, his lungs inhaled shivering...
Without regard to temperature as well as skin-condition, Cecilia's sweetish scent did also not reveal any physical disadvantages. Everything about her was only signaling ordinary deep sleep which all living creatures needed; not something tragic like a coma...
He closed the eyes when tears threatened to fall down.
… … …
The sound of footsteps coming from the corridor made him retire from her.
Just when he sat uprightly in the red armchair, the doctor from yesterday walked into the chamber; an Elezen-physician in tow. The female Hyur stated: "Good morning to you, Monsieur Luminae. My versed co-worker is here in order to examine the condition of your injuries. In case you don't like a foreign woman's presence, I don't stay in the room while he checks what you need."
Shaking his head, the dragon caged in humane disguise responded: "It is alright. Thou can stay." "All right. Then I will take meanwhile care of Mademoiselle Shirone." the doctor agreed. Probably, it would be polite to say, that he wasn't caring for a mortal's gender... But if he told the physician about his general dislike for humane touches, this could cause maybe problems...
In order to distract himself from his aversion to contact, he focused on the Hyur's doing in lieu of her co-worker's hands. The Elezen was of course professional – the nurse at Camp Dragonhead couldn't keep up – so his grip was from the very beginning careful. Yet, the Methuselah despised how a stranger physically contacted him so nonchalantly; this didn't even change under wariness. His meanwhile bared torso wasn't playing a part in this feeling, though. The usual nervousness ran through his veins simply because of the unavoidable situation.
Keeping all panic down, Midgardsormr endured well-behaved the treatment.
His hands seized the arm-rest tense as his wounds hurt under the touch, but still he didn't lash out. Only Cecilia was important... For her, no humane obstacle was frightening enough to constrain him – no longer, after he proved himself that even his own force was meaningless compared to her. Hence his fondness for the archmage pushed his unease more and more into oblivion.
"Fascinating... You recover faster than the standard of your species would." the Elezen noticed impressed after he had renewed 'Midge's' bandage. "Adventurers seem to be in general healthy like fishes in the sea, if you listen to Camp Dragonhead's inhabitants." ,his female co-worker stated, "Mademoiselle Shirone is no exception, although I presume we shouldn't count her here. A Raen like her heals naturally in a short instant."
"Do you envy them?" he asked chuckling. She looked with raised brows away from her patient in order to muster the Elezen: "Who? Adventurers or Au Ra?" "Former, since they earn their stamina through their actions. … Now, do you?" Getting wearily dressed in the bolster, the disguised dragon didn't like it how the female doctor eyeballed him for a moment. Fortunately, she payed quickly once more attention to her fellow: "A bit. Of course I don't envy them for being nonstop someone's foot-boys or drudges. But traveling around sounds like an exiting lifestyle."
"Mentioning that... Monsieur Luminae, you are allowed to follow your usual adventurer-routine." ,the male doctor explained, "As long as you don't overdo your efforts, there's no reason for me to imprison you. Just make sure to take breaks and to eat properly."
Midgardsormr blinked perplexed.
For mortal standards, this sounded surely good. To regard, what the physician said, couldn't be all too troublesome. But... How was he supposed to be useful for anybody? He had almost failed at protecting the solely reason for his journey...
"Now, that's what I call brilliant news." an annoying voice noticed.
The female doctor warily eyeballed the Warrior who stepped bluntly into the room. "Monsieur Erik, if your words are intended to be sarcasm, I'd suggest you leave this chamber." "And let my buddy alone with you scary people? Not going to happen." the gruff man answered grinning.
Shaking his head, the Elezen-doctor muttered: "Like cats and mice... Apologies, Monsieur Luminae. My highly-esteemed comrade doesn't fancy the personality which our heroes' good leader owns." The dragon nodded wittingly. He could sympathize with everybody who disliked Erik's mindset.
Both physicians walked to the door; obviously done with their tasks.
"Albeit the two of us don't get along..." ,the woman stated suddenly, "...I know you take care of your comrades with a severe hand. So, be at least a reliable boss and make sure that your friend will only accept harmless jobs for today."
Until the doctors were out of range, Erik kept silent.
But once no footsteps were audible: "She hates me. I had challenged her methods at Whitebrim. The physicians there were boycotting Cid's try to help their patients with a machine for distilled water, so I did in return my best to frustrate the doctors. Can't blame her for being mad, though... Back then in my home-world, I surely possessed far better manners when all of this occurred, but with my lost faith these days, I am hardly able to hold back my cynicism."
Midgardsormr's eyelids twitched while he listened.
Standing up, he scrutinized Cecilia's 'brother' who stepped distracted to the maiden's bed; caressing her face softly. Apparently, everything else lost its importance to Erik when his mind was focused on the dear 'sister'... Nothing, for which the ancient being could judge him. Yet...
"Thou art inconsistent... On one hand, thou accept persons of authority without question, but then, thou do not tolerate anybody else's orders if they do not fit thy opinion." the Methuselah criticized. Erik looked up; smirking: "I'm no soldier. Just because I help others as an adventurer, I don't turn my brain off. We Warriors of Light are our own men. We undertake in the end just what we want. Or would you willingly follow Ceci, if we people were mere toys?"
With a wrinkled nose, the dragon caged in a mortal shape snorted: "I doubt Her grace would have insisted on my personal support if Cecilia was a mindless pawn." "Like... you had initially thought my sister would be?" the impolite Hyur asked mockingly.
Frowning, Midgardsormr stared at the Marauder while he, too, came close to the sleeping Raen. "This is a sin I have indeed committed, yes..." ,the dragon admitted and hesitantly placed his hand onto her head, "For my pride, I condemn myself meanwhile... She never deserved my harsh, presumptuous judgment. In truth, she deserves far better than anything I could grant her..."
Albeit his gaze lay on Cecilia's face, 'Midge' noticed Erik's afflicted, compassionate expression.
The Marauder's hand retired from his 'sister', before he mumbled: "You- How should I put this... Midgard, you are willing to die for her. But not like my geezer did for me. You are prepared to throw your life away without a battle; without a tiny possibility of surviving. This risk so ineffable... What my geezer did- A Kamikaze-performance can not even reach the importance of your act. Becoming mortal for her safety is a gift more meaningful than anything anybody else could give. You have laid your immortality at Cecilia's feet."
The dragon-father studied Erik puzzled, when the later placed a hand onto his own.
"When it comes to me, you are the one who I entrust with my sister. Protect her – and let her protect your torn heart as soon as she awakens." the man uttered and squeezed Midgardsormr's fingers. "Thou believe she will...?" his lungs failed to give the ancient dragon enough air for even asking. Erik smiled thereupon gently and pressed softly their hands into Cecilia's silky hair. "I know it. There's no doubt she will. And while she recovers... The two of us will use the time to turn you into a formidable adventurer, so that she doesn't have to babysit you after waking up."
~C~
Enthusiasm or rather optimism wasn't Midgardsormr's strength.
Albeit Erik seemed convinced of the dragon's qualities as a potential adventurer, the later queried his use for the citizens. How should he even support them... His control over that mortal vessel was yet not perfect. And other, than Cecilia, he didn't possess any healing-abilities. Not even a scratch could be cured by him. Furthermore...
Giving his powers up had also taken all magic in his vessel's cells away. With that, his soul was practically reduced to Level Zero... Practicing spells would perhaps never work again...
Apart from missing magic, his knowledge lacked a lot considering tools... Without any experience, it was impossible to imagine a hammer or scythe in his hands; the thought of using weapons bewildered him at the most. Howbeit... the Methuselah rejected the bare idea of holding any...
Walking behind the Warrior's leader to the Foundation, he wondered which tasks could await him. Or rather, which jobs were easy enough for a bloody amateur...
"Don't think too much about it, man. I'm only picking stuff for you that everybody could accept." the Marauder assured him self-confident. The dragon gulped nervously when they passed a fountain – or rather a group of mortals standing next to it. Leaning his head to Erik's left ear, he asked: "Such as...?" "Cleaning a mess. Carrying some stuff. Keeping somebody company. Or-"
"Uhm, dear gentlemen?" ,a young Elezen dressed in simple clothing interrupted the Warrior, "Would you adventurers mind to help me out a little? My comrade got an acute influenza; he can't come to work today. But our new Chocobos are a bit wild – I can't handle them all by myself." "Ooor supporting a nice stable-boy, who would otherwise end up as bird-food." the Midlander stated laughing. "Does this mean... you'll help me?" mentioned young man asked irritated.
Erik gaped at Midgardsormr with a devilish grin on the lips: "Yeah, do we, Midge?" The dragon wrinkled his nose; deeply frustrated how the Hyur forced him to take the lead. But bracing himself, he recalled Cecilia's willingness to help others wherever she could. Therefore, he replied dutifully: "Yes, we will do our best and take care of thy Chocobos."
"May the Fury bless you! Okay, then let me think... We must at first get rid of the dirt in the stable. In case the Chocobos become aggressive, we calm them down with a few treats. I have plenty of carrots and Gysahl Greens, so we'll be safe when we just work together. After the stable, it's time for cleaning the birds. I can't promise they won't peck, but the rascals will sooner or later allow you to touch them. And finally, we'll place vegetables into their feeding-troughs. Completely filled, that is, because they are healthy eaters." the Elezen explained the task.
Erik chuckled: "Sounds like a merrily distraction. I'm a Chocobo-fan myself, so let's waste no time. I want to see how cheeky your birds can be." "The word 'fanatic' does rather match..." Midgardsormr grumbled reserved with sunken lids. His complaint was confusing the stable-boy, who asked Erik: "Monsieur, is your friend sulking?" "Nah, he just knows me." ,Cecilia's brother responded and walked unperturbed ahead, "There exist not many things which can ecstasize me. But a little 'Kweh!' here and there does never fail to brighten my mood up." "Oh, these are exactly my comrade's words! I bet you are somebody who Chocobos adore."
Scratching his left temple, Erik thought loudly: "At least this counts for the majority of them. Spoiled ostriches don't fall for me. The flying elite here in Ishgard seems also not attracted by simply looking at my visage. The best chances I got are those birds who work for normal people; they aren't proud idiots and don't expect the most expensive food."
Nodding enthusiastic, the Elezen began to take the lead. "The opinion of my comrade. He, too, favors Chocobos who spend a simple life with us humans. You two enthusiasts should definitely chat a bit as soon as he recovers." he suggested smiling.
The men's bliss should be infectious... Sadly, it wasn't. A dragon's nervousness didn't wither just for two candlelights of joy; relaxation impossible as long as concern about the maiden's health beclouded his mind. Reaching the stables, 'Midge' questioned silently if his lack of mortal capability wouldn't turn him into a millstone around the neck.
~C~
Humans weren't necessarily a bunch of austere beings.
Despite owing Cecilia this realization already, Midgardsormr was nevertheless perplexed.
Both Erik and the stable-boy were patiently overseeing his work; not complaining that he couldn't keep up with them. Albeit they mopped far more dirt from the stony floor, both men appeared glad about his support – instead of demonstrating frustration to see, how slow he was.
Their accomplishment, though, became even more significative because of the Chocobos. In fact, the Elezen got every now and then disturbed by the feathered creatures; just as he had predicted. Erik, too, was a victim. Albeit not of pecking, to be clear. He should simply give the birds attention – and if he didn't react, a face would appear right in front of his eyes. Nonetheless which method, the Chocobos slowed the mortal's work down. Without that, the men would be even faster.
On the contrary... All birds cared not in any aspect for the Methuselah. As long as he didn't notice them visibly. When he dared to look at them, their brown eyes flared up with revulsion or anxiety. And they flinched whenever he seemingly approached them.
Once all dirt was gone, Erik and 'Midge' scrubbed on their knees the ground with hot soap-water; their co-worker did the same with the walls. This activity was a bit more to Midgardsormr's liking – his tempo increased because of the warmth spreading through his arms. Cecilia's brother smirked when he saw this and spoke following in high terms of 'Midge's' exemplary employee-morale. Quickly negating, the disguised dragon was in secret still relieved to improve visibly.
Yet, his grown motivation wasn't helpful considering the birds.
When it was time for cleaning plus combing their plumage, all Chocobos avoided without exception contact with the suspicious human. As a bunch of nervous chicken would do, the animals made sure to have lots of space between themselves and the one they obviously suspected to be a carnivore. Luckily, the stable-boy wasn't confused by their behavior. He joked, that 'Midge' must be a scary or rather awe-inducing man, as the rascals didn't consider any shenanigans. Because of this difficulty, however, the Elezen decided to continue just with Erik's help. Such decision was upsetting Midgardsormr inwardly, since he didn't want to be a failure... Hence, the dragon offered to fill meanwhile the feeding-troughs. In favor of having not to deal with the birds, so to speak.
His self-initiative made both mortals smile gladly before they agreed. Furthermore, the Elezen bowed down; happily grinning amongst the process. Like he had just now obtained a valuable gift. That over-exaggerated reaction was a bit embarrassing – additional confusing the ancient existence. How could his little gesture even have such importance to any mortal...
Thanks to the number of Chocobos, the dragon-father was this time quicker than his co-workers. Not even half of the birds were cleaned when he had refilled all troughs. So, he used the opportunity to put new straw into the stable. Why these ostriches loved to lie on dried weed, he had no idea, but watching their faces light up with shy joy proved the merit of his action. Albeit they didn't trust him, a friendly turn was still enough to weaken their fear a little.
With their work done, the stable-boy thanked 'both' adventurers.
Yet, when he wanted to pay them, Erik instantly rejected the money. For him existed no necessity to accept a handful of Gil, wherefore the Marauder insisted on giving only 'Midge' a little reward. Although the Elezen didn't understand, why an adventurer should deny payment, he accepted.
Earning money felt odd... Jingling coins in one's hands a strange experience...
The Methuselah remembered, how Cecilia had stated several times to appear like somebody who took advantage of problems instead of helping selfless out. Partly, he could relate to her sentiment. In consideration of himself, these Gil weren't deserved. For her brother counted the opposite. Diligence like he demonstrated – despite his manners – should be well acknowledged.
When Erik and Midgardsormr left the building, the former congratulated the later on his very first plus successful mission. Admittedly, the dragon didn't feel like deserving any praise due to little benefit for both mortals and Chocobos. But it wasn't so bad to support somebody a little bit. Hence, 'Midge' decided to continue in the moment Erik asked for interest into another job-search.
At least, distraction was a welcome matter. Even if it wasn't unconditionally.
~C~
For the rest of this day – and the following two – he undertook with Erik quests in Ishgard.
Albeit both Haurchefant and Alphinaud expressed clear concern, if 'Midge' wouldn't overdo it, Cecilia's comrades backed him always up. They called their newest buddy reasonable and rational; understanding his need – which was yet a tamed one – to focus the brain on something else than the maiden's coma. Bertram even stated, that he himself would never be able to act as careful as 'Midge' to increase only slowly the exhaustion-factor of accepted tasks per day.
The physicians, too, supported the disguised dragon's resolve.
Although the duration of his breaks was arguable, Midgardsormr was at least following the doctor's understanding of eating properly. Thanks to Erik's skills as a cook, he consumed per meal different ingredients – thus receiving enough vitamins and minerals. Occasionally, Tataru kept company with both males during lunchtime or later in the afternoon; giving them every time delicious fruits which she had organized from Limsa Lominsa.
On the surface, everything seemed to be fine. But in truth there was a problem...
He could not get used to it. This humane body...
There were unbearable differences his new vessel demonstrated in consideration of natural needs. Albeit 'odd' might be the more fitting description... That corpus experienced time more precisely. While a dragon would always have trouble with the mortal dotingness of a clock-time-adjustment, this thing here seemed to have a rough idea about the current setting. By it's own, his Hyur-disguise demanded some treatments with much more speed or more frequency than he was used to.
For example, his new corpus needed surprisingly lots of nutriments; much more than a wyrm should expect from such little stomach. Aforesaid one had also to consume more often such things. As if this would not be enough, his shape was picky about the food's temperature. A hot meal burned its tongue easily... Boiling tea hurt its throat.
Even more hilarious: The disguise wanted to feel water quite often on it's skin – feeling dirty after touching the most trivial things like nourishment or Chocobos. Such as, after he had helped out cleaning the stables, he noticed gradually how his body could only think of a shower. That feeling increased along the passing day until he was finally able to use a bathroom in Fortemps' manor. Same oddness counted for both days afterwards.
On the other hand, Midgardsormr's vessel demanded lots of movement. When he simply stood still like one normally would do as a dragon, his corpus began to feel uneasy. As soon as the disguise was not busy, it would either start to twitch or some limbs would start to prickle.
Furthermore, the body denied sleep when he wanted to indulge into rest while he was taking breaks at daytime. On the contrary, during nighttime it would only sleep a few hours. Ironically the humans said, he would take healthy eight hours, and praised him for his lively, energetic shape.
~C~
Coughing, he shivered a little. It was so cold...
"Are you okay?" the Marauder asked unperturbed; putting the hammer in his hand over the shoulder. Scrutinizing Erik with earnest eyes, Midgardsormr ground his teeth. Detestable mortal... His steel-eyes were watching in their usual, mocking manner.
"Do not misunderstand me... I endure the temperature somehow. This shape is not like a newborn. And leaving thy Holy City for a while is welcome to me. But... Doing so means also-" "My sister is in good hands. Relax a bit." the Midlander cut him short; a carefree grin on the lips.
Before he could complain about these lacking manners, Erik offered him the second hammer they had taken to this isolated place in Central Coerthas. Sighing, the dragon reached out for the tool. There was no option to refuse... He didn't even have a choice after the Warrior's leader had gently forced him to join a trip into the nature. Once in the web, escaping wouldn't work.
Albeit the activity itself didn't sound too bad... Gaining cooking-ingredients for Fortemps' servants, like Cecilia's 'brother' had stated. Salt from this area; some herbs and fishes. Though... Nevertheless, the situation displeased the Methuselah. His 'teacher' was the worst company. Even with the Warrior bearing not solely the 'fault', that 'Midge' stood in this icy landscape – far away from the maiden.
Why the doctor's gave their blessing to venturing around – after only three days had passed – Midgardsormr didn't know... He condemned them anyways for their rushed decision. Trusting him just because of doing successful for three days tiny jobs appeared deranged. Of course they knew better than he did, how much a human could do while the corpus was injured... And to leave mortal's cage of lies for a short period behind was indeed a relief...
Notwithstanding, the physicians were blind beings.
Both doctors fell for the official story of his identity. They automatically thought he wouldn't jump headfirst into danger. Thus, their judgment was manipulated. After all, Erik depicted him in authentic manner as the kind of adventurer who solely gathered stuff with mere tools in his hands. Instead of hitting beasts with a weapon. The dragon wasn't convinced about spreading such lies. Midgardsormr hated constructs of falsehood. Yet... it was plausible... and meant to be his shield.
After all... Every adventurer seemed to be specialized on something... Protecting, hunting, gathering, crafting... Because of that, having nothing which made 'Midge' obviously an adventurer would turn him into a suspicious person. At the most through the unlikeliness that the famous Warriors of Light would surround themselves with somebody not as hardworking as they were.
Closing his eyes resigned, he listened to Erik's instructions.
"...And don't try to gather too much from the same spot. We want to preserve nature; not ruin it. Strip-mining is what idiots do. That counts later for our Botanist- and Fisher-work as well. Greed is a strict taboo." the leader explained severely. Somehow, it didn't feel right when Erik addressed him with earnest words. Words which clarified the human's responsibility for Midgardsormr... Of course he wasn't the same exemplar who the Marauder used to call a friend in another- a parallel Eorzea. But... For the father of dragon-kind, that odd familiarity the Hyur bestowed normally upon him was one of the little reasons to accept this man.
Hence, he denied to be treated like an underling. Albeit Erik's unforced sassiness was nerve-racking, it was still better than the cold sense of duty which shone upon all people except for Cecilia.
Looking at the hammer in his hands, Midgardsormr mumbled: "I respect this planet much more than mortals do... Exploiting the world I have sworn to dignify and protect is a sin I won't commit. Thou do not need to lecture me." When he glanced at Cecilia's 'sibling', Erik grinned peacefully. "Sorry. Got carried away... I'm just a bit sick of gathers who think our job grants us fool's-license. There are way too many of them." the Midlander chuckled.
Yes... This was what humankind did... Taking... Destroying...
Erik positioned himself afterwards in front of a spot he found appropriate.
As a skilled miner, one short glimpse alone let him see at once where another good extraction-place in the crag was located. With a wave of the left hand, he showed Midgardsormr the spot to occupy. When they both were ready, the Hyur stated: "I could suggest you a proper technique how to swing your tool, but it's better when you simply try yourself."
Nodding, Midgardsormr raised the hammer in the same moment as Cecilia's brother did and let it with lots of strength crash into the rock. They quarried a few portions of salt, before Erik declared they had to switch to another corner. As both males continued their work, the Methuselah recognized how much he could identify himself with this activity. The usage of a heavy tool was partly exhausting, but his muscles were grateful for any challenging motion.
"This world here..." ,Erik began casually all of a sudden, "Technically, it's the same as my Eorzea has been. Only clear difference was always Cecilia... and now, you are such a real variation, too. With my sister's existence, I originally thought we might have a chance to rescue the planet, but... Giving your immortality up to save her life is a clear sign to me. You are one of us. And that's why we have a real possibility to prevent another world's destruction. Together, nothing can stop us."
Looking at the ground, the Methuselah shook his head.
"I have no value for thy war. As a human, there is only so little I can do. And even IF I would fight next to all of thee... How art thou able to be so confident?" he asked and swung the hammer anew. The Hyur smirked diabolic after his own tool had hit the rock: "Because I'm seriously comparing our worlds. I know what will happen. Every event so far occurred to 99% just as in my Eorzea."
Midgardsormr stopped short.
"Thou say, these two versions are almost identical?" the dragon asked irritated. Erik nodded: "Well, surely there's a turbulence... I reached this world here way earlier than the death of mine occurred. My time-travel has therefore maybe caused problems... Nevertheless, the structure is the same, yes. Truly diverse is so far only your decision to interfere." "If I am not like the wyrm thou hast known... When my actions differ so much... Could this insinuate, that our worlds – despite their similarities – do no longer share the same flow of time?" Midgardsormr wondered.
"Don't think so." the Warrior's leader negated nonchalant. Frowning, the Methuselah studied Erik. The later smiled confidently: "Announcements about attacks of both heretics and dragons were these days exactly what they should have been in consideration of my time-line. So, I really doubt something small like a butterfly's wing-beat has the effect to change the destiny of all people involved in the dragon-war."
"This may not change everything... But it could be significant enough to alternate the most important occurrences." 'Midge' warned while the Hyur went ahead for another gathering-spot. "Pfft, then your planet would already fall apart." Cecilia's brother gave a gruff reply. Seconds of nasty silence passed. Midgardsormr stated finally slightly impatient: "I cannot follow thee."
Erik's hammer crashed two times into the stone before he finally responded harshly: "Simply stated: I have a counterpart. Another version of me exists in this world. Could have replaced him, but I refuse taking another person's existence. Too many died already just because I couldn't save them. Thus, Hydaelyn made it so that my mirror-image wouldn't become an adventurer. He's following now the carrier I was never able to choose. While I am slaying animalistic plus humane monsters, he can be the pastry-chef and head-cook I always wished to be."
Yet stomaching this information, Midgardsormr realized something.
This secret was the reason why Erik had never revealed his real given name to any adventurer and their comrades. He didn't want to spread the Warrior's population under an appellation which would perhaps reach one day his counterpart.
"Thou..." ,the ancient being began hesitantly, "...hast been forced to become a fighter?"
Erik didn't answer. He only bashed a small stone until only pieces remained. The dragon watched silently how the flying splinters fell down; reflecting light just as glass. When the agonized man placed his hammer's head onto the ground and leaned his weight onto the tool, leaded by empathy 'Midge' tried once more emphatic: "Thou hast never dreamed of this life, correct?"
Erik sighed with a sad smile. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon: "No. Helping others under the risk of my own life was never something I desired as a child. All I wished for was becoming like my dad a head-cook. Like my mom a pastry-chef. As a teenager, I had even studied baking under my uncle's eyes. But then... a crime occurred in his village."
Looking directly at the dragon-father, he continued: "Suspect was a young woman. An innocent one who had randomly become the real criminal's scapegoat – a corrupt police-man. See, I knew that lady a little, so I couldn't watch when everybody demanded her punishment. I was alone, though. No adventurer present – nobody willing to help her. Thus it was me who became her savior. Convicting the true delinquent in order to save who had to be saved."
The dragon-father narrowed understanding his lids.
"This happening was what turned thee into a man of justice... Starting with that day, thou were never again able to close the eyes when somebody needed help... Hence I presume, Her grace changed thy mirror-image's fate due to sending an adventurer to this village. So that another man rescued this woman." he stated; not asking for accurateness.
"Yeah..." ,Erik scratched his right temple, "Changing a little detail prevented this other me from feeling called by social duty. One man in this world became never an adventurer... One, who was meant to be a 'hero' is these days busy with cooking and baking..."
Demonstrating more enthusiasm, the Marauder continued after coughing: "Hey, if this altered factor would be a problem for the planet's fate, it could already have crumbled years ago. But however, that's not the case! Time's flowing unhindered. Just like before, I traveled to Eorzea and met my four comrades. Once more Dalamud fell down – the catastrophe started again while the five of us fought with our buddies against the Garlean Empire. As prior to this, in the battle's final moment Louisoix sent us Warriors to the future in order to save our lives. And as expected, five years later we stopped Gaius van Baelsar and endured following a lot until we ended up in Ishgard."
Midgardsormr inhaled sharply.
This report sounded indeed like a proof, that Eorzea's history was so far following the time-line which Erik had seen... Even though there were turbulences, nothing appeared different...
But there was a personal urge which didn't leave the dragon's mind alone.
"Since when... do thou know Cecilia?" the Methuselah asked. Her personal brother exhaled; considering obviously how to respond. A short moment later, he had sorted his thoughts: "Personally I met her long before we started our offensive against Garlemald's Black Wolf. Explaining the exact moment to you is a little bit difficult... A while before the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had been captured by Gaius' henchwoman. No idea if Ceci told you about that day... But it's not like Cecilia would have been a stranger- a novelty to me. Ere that first meeting, Minfilia had already told me a lot about this Raen."
Ah, so the Scion's figurehead was in the strict sense responsible for this 'pair of siblings'...
Walking to the next big rock, Erik added: "It's not self-evident for Au Ra to befriend others easily. At the most not members of a wild tribe. Normally, both Raen and Xaela would avoid everything in this land which distrusts them. But Cecilia did invariably express the wish for creating new bonds no matter to which species somebody belongs. With her open world-view, it's no wonder she was quickly adored by the Sylphs. That's why Minfilia thought of her as a special woman; resulting first and foremost in my motivation to personally contact this Au Ra. I wanted to see with my own eyes, how capable she truly was."
Hitting together with him the stones, Midgardsormr asked curious: "Presumably, thou hast found what thou were looking for?" Erik laughed muted; replying a little embarrassed: "More than that... Much more... Let me try to picture this for you... It was... impressive to watch how she interacted with all Sylphs; at the most with Noraxia. There was no difference between her way to approach people and this wild tribe... She surprised me even more, when I took her with me for completing some tasks in Central Coerthas. For an amateur, Cecilia's skills back then were already amazing... To see above all, that also Estinien was trustful towards this Raen, strengthened my decision to make her the sixth official Warrior of Light. … I think that's enough salt."
Hm, her quirks had been the initiator for involving the maiden into all of this... Odd...
While Erik searched for a fitting place to gather the herbs they had promised to obtain, Midgardsormr wanted to know casually: "Thou wanted her to be one of thy closest comrades because she is an Au Ra?" Chuckling, the Midlander shook his head. "I know that it doesn't look like a mere coincidence. Above all, thanks to Ceci we were finally a balanced troop of three men and three women. You're not the first who asks. But nah, these things weren't important to me. … Albeit I admit it makes me happy how much she matches the group."
"If it is not for completing thy group-dynamics, which reason did thou have to make her truthfully one of thee?" the dragon was more curious than he wanted to admit. Testing with his scythe a suspicious spot, Erik smiled: "You should know by yourself. Hydaelyn gave Cecilia a bright gift. That alone symbolizes already, how special my sister is, don't you think? At least I for one example haven't met so far somebody else with the stubbornness to not slay a single 'pangolin'. Or to find simply all wild tribes likeable. … We won't find here any herbs. Let's check another place."
So, Cecilia's compassionate heart was what made Erik reach out for her...
Thinking about the maiden's sweetness darkened 'Midge's' face, so he sought for distraction.
"What about thy appellation? The pseudonym which all mortals use to address thee? When Cecilia introduced thee to me, her explanation sounded like she would have been one of the adventurers who picked thy cover-name." Midgardsormr noticed while he walked by Erik's side.
Raising the brows, the Marauder studied him perplexed. "You care for that?" ,the man wondered, "It's no special story… Bertram, Annika, Tammy and Carlos weren't nasty enough for coercing me into telling them my name. It was after all not necessary as we cooperated before Dalamud's impact rather rarely with other groups. These days, however, we meet more frequently with comrades plus allies. Hence, all of them needed a possibility to address me. … In their opinion, I look like an 'Erik' – why that's so, I have no idea. But I'm fine with it, so I am now wearing this name. … By the way, Ceci was the first one who made officially use it." The dragon smiled when he heard that.
~C~
Similar to the hammer, a scythe in 'Midge's' hands felt also not bad.
When Erik had located the needed herbs, both males gathered here and there with the large tools a few leaves. Afterwards, they sought over and over for another place to went easy on the resources. Since plants regrew, the dragon considered this work as superior to mining. And even if admitting that was frustrating, the things he had once heard from Cecilia about Botanists were believable. They logged trees and cut flowers down with the same frequency they made sure to sow new plants. To save the nature. Formidable people such as those from Gridania's guild as well as adventurers who protected the land instead of robbing the last granule of dust out of it.
The Methuselah was close to favoring this work.
There was just a little difficulty preventing him from doing so...
Moving the tool needed less power but more precision – a task that challenged not only his stamina. His patience with himself got also tested by every motion. Despite the little things he was able to do just like the mortals, this job wasn't already a children's game for him. Keeping permanent control over the arms- hands appeared quite troublesome. Yet he was indeed willing to fulfill the quest even while his muscles tensed under the building pressure of holding a scythe adequate.
A while passed until they had obtained all needed herbs.
The Hyur checked the leaves to make sure their quality sufficed. Then, Erik repaired 'Midge's' tool as it had been slightly damaged. An old blacksmith-hammer was the only aid he got...
Watching the man's effort made Midgardsormr rub his right forearm unobtrusive. He hadn't planned to create any additional hassle for Cecilia's 'brother'... Undeniable, it was solely the dragon's blame how depraved the blade's condition on the exterior was...
Erik noticed his worry. Grinning, her chosen sibling cheered the Methuselah up with a promise, that the last part of their job wouldn't be affected by Midgardsormr's handicap. Albeit this sounded firstly pleasant, on second thought the Methuselah became nervous. He could not imagine, how their next activity should not suffer under insufficient usage of a fishing-rod. But he had no choice... A bill needed to be payed – and so was the contract with Hydaelyn. In her generosity Her grace had given him a young shape, so he must in return utilize it wisely and dutifully.
They went to a small river nearby the Observatorium of Astrological Phenomena.
Unperturbed, Erik waltzed onto a rock which poked out of the grayish liquid. Midgardsormr wasn't self-confident enough for simply following the example to pick an own corner, so he stopped next to the water-stream. Observing helpless the icy waves from the dry ground. He didn't know where other good spots existed... Possessed no information about the prey's penchants... Knew no tricks... All he could tell was how pointless it would be to stand directly by a co-fisher's side...
From the corners of his eyes, despite all helplessness he could see it... See, how the Warrior shrugged uncaring as he watched him; the inexperienced dragon. Like an older brother would do, that human wasn't thinking of support. Didn't find any overprotective motivation to get him out of this odd matter... Surely Erik knew where fishes reacted more likely to baits... But unambiguously, he wasn't willing to share his knowledge.
Above all, Cecilia's brother strengthened this frustrating impression when he voiced the opinion, that water was water unimportant which spot a fisher occupied. Learning by doing had more weight than any lessons could have. Tss... This chosen mortal was rather exhausting than heroic...
With a swift motion, Erik threw an ordinary-looking rod into 'Midge's' hands.
Simply testing stuff by oneself was the easiest way, the Hyur commanded once more. No technique or artifice he knew would replace personal experience – not even for something simple as fishing. To be an adventurer meant sometimes to have no guide- not even an idea how stuff functioned. Courage, patience and smartness were the best friends of their business.
Sighing, the dragon walked encouraged by the exhausting Marauder a few meters away.
If that speech was the man's favored life-philosophy, Midgardsormr wondered how any newcomers could willingly seek the Hyur's advice... On the other hand, indisputable all Warriors of Light matched his description, so Erik preached basically nothing world-shattering.
Feeling still a bit resigned, nevertheless the Methuselah gave it a try.
A while passed. And with the vanishing minutes, Midgardsormr's mood became brighter. Not only thanks to the break for his strained muscles, though. Holding a rod under the gentle sound of running water – pulling sometimes a fish out of the stream – negated the strong gloom creeping through his brain. Fresh air in his lungs soothing the vessel's heartbeat.
Unbelievable how such simple attempt could appeal to him. But indeed fishing was sudden delight. It was relaxing; a task which silenced all nervous thoughts. A gathering-profession not bound to humane will as fish plus seafood came and go as the animals pleased.
True recreation...
Quickly he had caught several fishes. Different exemplars, thus he didn't know which to keep and which to throw back. When Erik checked for him their quality, the Marauder declared contentedly that the whole catch was usable for cooking.
When they went slowly back to Ishgard, Cecilia's brother noticed casually how Midgardsormr was as amateur-gather just as good as she had been. Yet, there was a difference. Albeit the result underlay bare randomness, his incipiently fishing-skills outmatched hers. With enough training – and in case he was willing to study the animal's habits – he could become a real master.
Normally, mortal understanding of 'talent' didn't mean anything to Midgardsormr.
But somehow, this praise hit a nerve... Embarrassed him...
~C~
Snowflakes fell onto his head. Disgusting wind cut his face.
But despite the weather and many people on the street, the Methuselah couldn't move further.
Pressing the purple books in his arms against the ribcage, he gulped hardly while he considered how to complete his current job. Which risk one should expect now... There was after all the possibility of becoming noticed. As soon as he stepped into the building right before him, mortal attention could lay on his very shoulders...
If just one of the employees here knew who he was, 'Midge' would be certainly doomed. After all, the Warriors of Light, Alphinaud and Tataru had been so far pretty busy with informing everybody in this Holy City about Cecilia's 'boyfriend'. So, it was unlikely or rather absurd in his opinion, that the news of 'her trophy' wouldn't have reached any of the mages...
Cursed, why had – of all things – HE to be tasked with delivering some new tomes as a gift for the Astrology-guild? Why hadn't he refused? Should only a single person recognize him in these halls, a specific woman would learn about his existence... Albeit he wouldn't feel surprised at all in case SHE had already heard of Cecilia's accident plus the maiden's savior...
This word made him almost vomit. A 'fine' savior he was... The maiden died almost on him and recovered only physically... But still people saw a tragic hero as well as lover in 'Midge'...
All mortals except for Erik treated him so far with empathy and admiration – something which made his stomach clench every time it happened. Hence, imagining Cecilia's special female friend could do the same to him paralyzed Midgardsormr inwardly. A guillotine for his conscience.
He prayed to not meet her... Hoped nobody would notice him...
That nobody might inform this Au Ra...
Inhaling, he stepped to the heavy door which opened under muted, squeaky noise.
Within its walls, the Astrology-guild was quite empty. A relief for now... While Midgardsormr went to the administration, the heavy smell of old paper filled his nose entirely. Images of Cecilia's studies in this building appeared in his mind; pushing additional guilt into him to visit this place without her. He could barely swallow this sentiment down, wherefore his arms squeezed once more the books reflexively. Fortunately, they were thick texts...
The Elezen in charge didn't pay any attention to him when he approached aforesaid Astrologian. Mortals might find such behavior rude, but for the dragon was this coincidence more than welcome. A pages-filling list kept this man busy; redounding to advantage. Thus, Midgardsormr could hand the tomes over without even a second of eye-contact.
As swift as he could, the Methuselah walked back to the entrance. Every step became lighter when he neared the door. A weight lifted from his shoulders – they gradually relaxed until he reached out for the doorknob; all tension gone. No longer finding the wood's tune noisy, a small smile flitted over his lips when his feet carried the ancient being in disguise out of the building.
Behind him, a tripping sound arose suddenly. Footsteps.
"Please, wait a moment!" the familiar voice called.
His muscles tensed. He petrified.
Augustine. Of course she had been in the Astrology-guild. Presumably she had been upstairs and came down right in the moment when he turned around in order to leave...
Squinting the eyelids, he waited for her to catch up.
Midgardsormr only looked at the Au Ra when she stopped next to him. After her unplanned sprint he scrutinized the panting woman; it hurt him to see her... These physical resemblances to Cecilia stabbed his heart. Additional, the Astrologian was similarly gazing at him with a worried expression like the precious girl would normally do... Agony; pure agony in his chest...
The magician blushed a little – embarrassed by her own impoliteness, perhaps.
"M-My name is Augustine Valentia. I'm a friend of a Warrior of Light. It's Cecilia Shirone. A-And... Y-You are... Cecilia's boyfriend, right?" the Au Ra asked nervously. The pitch of her voice should be amusing him... As if she was speaking to a higher being, the sound was higher than usual and shakily. But he couldn't find malicious joy in this moment... Even with his ill humor of an old man, the current overall-situation was too depressing as if he could find here anything funny.
Undecided, what to do, the dragon furrowed resigned his brows.
"The name was 'Midge Luminae', correct...?" Augustine inquired unsettled.
Aah, he had no time for considering a response... Thus, he nodded with a helpless mien. In secret, Midgardsormr was conflicted about the right way how to treat somebody like this Astrologian... Someone, who was obviously not scared to show what she felt. Who demonstrated her feelings for the maiden openly. Loving Cecilia so truly and unrestricted that it was scaring him...
Speaking of making the dragon anxious. That's what Augustine did abruptly.
Forthright she took his hands – abashing him a lot with this action. Not to forget how harsh her grip was when she kept him close to her beating heart. This was strange... In general, the species Au Ra seemed to be stronger than ordinary mortals... Or was it just his personal weakness to become overpowered by females of their kind...?
The Astrologian didn't let him time to reflect more on this awkwardness. "Please, PLEASE give Ceci not up!" ,Augustine pleaded, "I know she will make it! The stars speak loudly of her recovery, hence do not break up with her!" As she squeezed his hands, he recognized something important... He felt it clearly. She was one of Hydaelyn's chosen children. Just like the Warriors of Light.
Yet, entirely perplexed by her fear, 'Midge' voiced his confusion: "Why should I even do this...? Thy words are incomprehensible..." Augustine nodded emphatic: "Guys make overhasty decisions when they're desperate. You wouldn't be the first boy who does headfirst something he regrets later. At least I hope you are rather one of that kind. Instead of those men who don't even care for others and move on as if nothing happened..."
Insulted by this statement, he eyeballed the Au Ra with piercing irises. "If I would not care for Cecilia's state of health, there would be no abyss underneath my very feet – ready to swallow me in my weakest moments. Thou art completely unable to reconstruct how much I suffer."
Right after his voice fell silent, the threatening red glow in his gaze emerged.
Augustine's antique-rose eyes widened in surprise. She beheld him partly doubting, partly alarmed. Albeit the crimson light vanished quickly, the dragon knew he had strengthened her nervousness. But his own was incomparable to her tiny anxiety – he could hardly feel sorry for a human while the vessel's heartbeat disturbed him. And this Raen was anyways just as brave as his maiden.
Opposite to the Methuselah, she overcame her concern: "I only wanted to make clear, how much you are granted with bold luck. You are the first person in Eorzea who's in a relationship with Ceci." Her fingers gripped his hands tighter. "The star's help isn't needed for anybody in order to know, that she accepted only reluctantly your feelings. And I am sure it will break her trust into relationships if you either lose hope through desperation or deny- forsake this love easily."
"I'd rather rip my own heart out!" ,he snapped angrily, "Thou hast no idea, what she means to me... Considering humane standards, I am absolutely not qualified for any socializing. But she is gentle towards me and comprehends my sentiments in a way that not even my species seems to be able to. I do hardly deserve her care... It is a crime that I adore this maiden at all. But still I feel this way... Her affection is a god-send gift in my opinion. This is why... I wish only for Cecilia's well-being and her very happiness. Everything else does not matter to me."
Augustine gave him a soft smile akin to the lovely mien he yearned for: "If that's true, PLEASE endure a little bit longer. She will return to you. I know she will gain her consciousness soon back. So for the sake of both of you, stay strong." Pressing his teeth slightly into the left cheek, Midgardsormr shivered. While his lids fell almost down, he murmured: "I am patient... Much more than humans usually are... But I am not accustomed to such a situation like this one... My... family does not know sickness like men normally do..."
"Sounds like a healthy bunch, hmhm..." ,Augustine noticed, "Well, it's for me also a first time to see somebody who's close to me in a comatose state... You know, I visited her right after Haurchefant told me about Ceci's accident. Though I also wanted to meet you as soon as possible, our knight in shining armor begged me to not push anything. … He thinks highly of you, Midge. And I presume he wants to support you in return for saving her life. Of course Haurchefant is a bit overprotective, but you can truly see a friend in him."
Trying to leave all depression behind, the Methuselah noticed minimal smiling: "Ventures are still not making him excited in spite of my own recovery... Even with the Warrior's support, there is hardly any confidence coming from Haurchefant. I must be indeed a poor excuse of a so-called hero when the Elezen acts like a mother-hen."
Laughing gently, the Astrologian agreed: "He has absolutely trouble with letting go, that's for sure. But I must admit, you are really not looking completely restored. Maybe you need a challenge... Something which motivates you more than gathering. Or an undertaking that frustrates you a lot, wherefore your stubbornness allows you to blend every other burden out."
Tilting his head to the left shoulder, 'Midge' pondered silently for a moment.
"Thou art describing a feeling I partly experience when I use my fishing-rod. But doing so is indeed no challenge for me..." "Do you have a rival who could put a bit pressure on you?" the Astrologian asked curious. Thinking about Erik for a second, Midgardsormr shook quickly his head. This man was a nuisance, true... But definitely nobody who challenged him on the same level. When it came to being an adventurer, the Midlander was far superior. A master; teacher.
Bumping her fists together, Augustine suggested: "Then try to become a healer like me or Cecilia! As you hate fighting, you could support in order to prevent damage! You would heal injuries and create barriers!" Glancing at the floor, the Methuselah furrowed his brows. "I... suffer under a lack of magic. When I gave all reserves I had in a specific situation, my force reached a tier below zero. Hence I do not even know... if I will ever regain the ability to use magic at all."
Augustine grumbled and grabbed his face subsequently; forcing him to look at her. The mage managed this as he hadn't expected her to touch him on the cheeks. "I bet I can help you." ,she said while he stared into her dusky-rose eyes, "If I medicate you now and then as some kind of therapy, we'll surely can kick-start your own magical flow." He sighed and shook the head. His vessel wasn't meant to be powerful... In exchange for Hydaelyn's support, he could in fact be appreciative about being even able to still breathe after the first twenty-two hours had passed...
"Until Ceci wakes up, you try to do all kinds of things in order to lessen the burden for her friends, correct?" Augustine asked suddenly. Not thinking about it, he nodded reflexively. Something that surprised himself when Midgardsormr realized it. The Astrologian, however, smiled happily: "That's what I thought. So, it surely would be helpful if you could use magic again, right?"
Oh-oh, he saw where this was going... She would let him no chance to refuse... "Fine... As thou art not allowing me another choice... But I will only accept this 'therapy' in the evening after I am done with my tasks. In best case, when I have finished dinner." The Au Ra giggled: "This is a good plan! Okay, then you'll come every evening to me in the Astrology-guild, yes?"
Studying her gloomily, the disguised dragon agreed.
~C~
A little depressed, Midgardsormr walked through the corridor.
He should have enjoyed eating breakfast with Cecilia's friends as usual since eight days...
But with his growing grasp for mortals due to his new experiences, 'Midge' became also better in seeing through charades which were meant to conceal feelings. Hence, the meal before hadn't exactly the effect on him one would wish for. Albeit it wasn't for Alphinaud or Tataru, that his mood was overshadowed... Both bearers of pointed ears were easy to read.
No, it was for the adventurers.
The Warriors of Light were impressive in their way of dealing with sadness; if not even handling their suffering. Every time something negative began to consume them, they swallowed it down and moved forward. Albeit nothing was forgotten- albeit they spoke openly about the things which made them worried, there was no outliving of emotions. And these brave things that the Warriors did every day... Those were in the end drowning what the five truly held in their hearts.
Just like he did, the group missed her. They wished to see Cecilia awake again.
If Midgardsormr was already desperate, her close friends were even more helpless under the facade of lively adventurers who dutifully did their work. Losing the majority of their Scion-companions had shaken them, but almost losing a 'sister' was truly something they hardly could recover from.
As he went through Fortemps' manor, he wondered if there was something HE could do for them... Growing fond of these people had altered his way of thinking... That was, after all, what he realized after Augustine had expected from him to be searching for ways to support them.
Yes, he wanted to lessen their burden. For Annika and Tammy at the most, because the two were 'her girls'. There existed probably no cure for Erik and Carlos as both men were rough as rocks... But for Bertram, perhaps, was a possibility given to lighten his burden... And... maybe Alphinaud, who was Cecilia's little favorite... as well as the motherly Tataru could deserve a distraction.
Midgardsormr paused when he saw the opened door leading to her room.
Who was visiting Cecilia already in the early morning, while her adventurer- and Scion-friends began their daily routine? For Haurchefant, Cid and Estinien was rather evening common – and Lord Aymeric had only once in the early night found the time to see her for a short instant. Augustine waltzed also not to this place before night drew close, although she accompanied 'Midge' rather after their 'therapy-session' instead of coming alone.
Hesitating, the Methuselah didn't know what to do.
He had only come here to retrieve another pullover... Since it was a bit too fresh plus windy outside – and thanks to Erik insisting on placing 'Midge's' clothes into the wardrobe at Fortemps' villa. Whoever was visiting the maiden now was probably not wishing to meet anybody... But because 'Midge' was officially her partner, he had in theory the right to interrupt...
Albeit he quivered a bit, the dragon went into the chamber.
There was a man next to her bed. A knight.
It was an older exemplar. His black hair started to become grey; the short beard yet untouched by the aging-process. The Hyur's iron eyes were small and fatigued, although their gaze appeared wise. Both lance plus simple armor looked outworn, thus he must be serving Coerthas for a long while.
Although he seemed lost in sadness, the knight recognized 'Midge'.
Keeping the gaze on the maiden's face, the mortal opened his mouth: "I'm really sorry to appear without any warning... My duties at the Observatorium didn't allow me to arrive Ishgard any earlier. I know Cecilia wouldn't mind my visit no matter the clock-time-adjustment, but the two of us had so far not the pleasure to meet each other..."
Ah, such welcome difference to the most famous Dragoon... Mannerism.
Trying to comfort him, the disguised dragon replied: "Do not feel guilty. As her friend, thou hast every right to see Cecilia whenever thou please. Although thou must be anyways trustworthy, when the narcissistic Azure Knight calls thee his teacher." Surprised, the Hyur looked at him. "Pardon, but how did you know who I am?" Alberic asked confused.
Midgardsormr chuckled slightly. Seemingly this man expected himself to be unremarkable... Well, normally this would be correct, but... "Thou art old enough to execute the role of Cecilia's father. Thy weapon looks battered and speaks of thy experience. Not to forget... Erik does not seem to talk about other Lancers than thee and thy former protégé." "Hah, yes, that's indeed typical for him." ,the knight laughed, "In fact, our Marauder doesn't seem to be a fan of Lancers, so Estinien and I are the only ones who enjoy his considerateness."
Such truthful smile changed one's intention easily...
Even thought there existed no wish for staying, the Methuselah began to converse with Alberic.
He was indeed a fine old man. Friendly and calm; a humble person; luckily not blessed with the ego of the current Azure Dragoon. This Midlander appeared to be far more compassionate than one should expect from Estinien's role-model. The patience Alberic emitted had a soothing effect, wherefore it was conflicting to remember that Nidhogg's eye had once chosen this man.
Wasn't Midgardsormr's son preying on mortal weaknesses?
Picking the next bearer of his scheming body-part had always followed the Great Wyrm's plans...
On the other hand, maybe all these positive qualities were exactly what Nidhogg had been trying to take advantage on... Just listening to Alberic made more than clear, how much colleagues and fellow inhabitants of Coerthas meant to this good knight. Thus his sympathy for other people was probably once a welcome possibility to manipulate Alberic's thoughts as well as feelings...
Silently, Midgardsormr wondered why he himself didn't make the mortals suffer who had betrayed their kind... Just as Nidhogg, he had lost a dear relative. Not a sister, but a daughter. Above all, countless grandchildren had been slayed, too...
Was the pact, which he was agreeing to in the past, manipulating his decisions? So, that he spared all humans from a dragon-father's wrath in favor of Hydaelyn's generosity? He had sworn to protect the planet in exchange for welcoming his unborn brood... Did this force him to be a mere watcher? But if this was his fate... Could he even be satisfied with his role? Only watching – hoping quietly for his kind to kill Ishgard's men one by one...?
Hatred was within him. Akin to his whole species since the day Ratatoskr died. Yet, the old Lancer next to him had also reasons to despise dragons. Cecilia had been right when she was accusing Midgardsormr's kind of not realizing their own mistake. They hadn't tried to explain for any later humane generations, what cruel action of mortal hands had driven them apart. Thanks to that, Coerthas' inhabitants believed to be attacked by 'pangolins' because of bare evilness.
Letting rage consume him wasn't an option.
"Hast thou regretted thy former title?" the Methuselah asked cautiously in order to not rip any wounds open. Alberic sighed with a depressing smile and shook the head: "I cannot change the past, so even if I felt regret, there's nothing I could do about it. There's only one kind of remorse... Sorrow for being unable to save Estinien's family. In some way, he's like a biological son for me, which makes me suffer under his own agony. … It made me unspeakable happy when he accepted Cecilia as a real friend."
Unsure – since he didn't feel like it was his right – Midgardsormr uttered only hesitantly the words which began to claw urgently into his antiquated mind: "The force which seems to connect them... The experience they shared... Why does she avoid her companion, when even I can see so clearly, that she yearns for the complete opposite?" Temporary, Alberic looked downhearted at the maiden, before he payed again attention to Midgardsormr.
"She doesn't want to see once more, how Estinien becomes influenced by Nidhogg. As she is sure it's her fault that the wyrm manipulated him, she keeps our exhausting Elezen at bay. Of course everyone close to the Azure Knight could trigger an outburst and cede the Eye thus some control, but I must admit that Cecilia is indeed different. That's because of the burden which the two bear despite our traditions together. Albeit her part is not official... Something like their strong bond has in Ishgard's history never occurred so far. With that, she is afraid to practically sacrifice Estinien just for her decision that she won't fight like us." the Lancer explained with sad eyes.
Despite her refusal to kill dragons, the maiden held the Dragoon so dear in her heart...
Midgardsormr had realized that already, yet the knowledge sounded now even more important...
Carefully and even a little afraid, the disguised dragon asked: "Are Cecilia and Estinien... chained by destiny to each other? Are they soul-mates?" The old mortal studied him with a surprised mien. "In some way you could call them relatives..." ,Alberic began, "...but they are surely no lovers. Never were. Siblings – that's what they should be if the girl would not have lost her belief."
Looking at the floor, 'Midge' murmured: "This does not directly quieten my concern..."
"Do you worry about being her boyfriend while somebody else could be that? Or is it rather, because that person could steal your place?" the attentive Lancer wondered. Scrutinizing him, Midgardsormr reflected for the blink of an eye on Alberic's question. "I do not fear this. At least not in aspects of jealousy or anxiety. She is not owned by me. But what I am truly afraid of... might be the possibility of breaking souls by watching their suffering. Instead of doing the right thing."
A shame for a once proud dragon to feel this way... Such empathy... He became more like them; more like mortals... This vessel with its own knowledge was altering his consciousness.
Folding the arms, Alberic stated smiling: "Just look at this intelligent, compassionate young man. Wouldn't have expected anything else from Cecilia's choice. ... May I ask you a favor? In case, naturally, that you haven't already set duties to fulfill. I don't want to steal your time."
Midgardsormr replied skeptical with a slight frown: "So far, I did not accept any requests for today. I had only planned to retrieve an optional piece of clothing at the manor before seeing what I could undertake this forenoon" "Ah, so you could lend me a hand if the job suits you." the Lancer recognized gladly. Irritated by the man's joy, the disguised dragon nodded.
"Okay, I would need someone who helps me carrying several weapons and training-objects from Ishgard to Camp Dragonhead." ,Alberic explained, "I'm tasked to oversee today's training of a few new Dragoons, but the old equipment there isn't sufficient in my opinion. Of course I could teach the newcomers also in the Holy City, but I prefer the realistic environment in Central Coerthas. That's why I have to transport some stuff."
"All I have to do... is helping thee with the transport?" 'Midge' wondered. The Lancer nodded: "That's the basic, yes. Actually I need also somebody who helps me overseeing their doing, so that our equipment will be treated properly. But in case you don't like that, I'm not going to beg you for any further support than carrying the weapons."
Stepping to the cupboard, Midgardsormr reflected on this request. While he took an extra sweater and pulled it over his head, he was at first nervous to imagine so many skilled fiends of dragon-kind around himself. But on the other hand... When even Estinien couldn't recognize him as a 'pangolin', how large could the chance be to be identified by an amateur...
Reluctantly, the dragon in disguise agreed: "I accept thy commission. But be warned... I posses none experience in taking care of anybody's weapon-exercises. Perhaps I will not see instantly when thy students damage thy equipment too much." "That's fine. Four eyes notice still more than two. I'm anyways glad about your help. Thank you, Midge." the Hyur responded smiling.
Midgardsormr didn't know, if he could sympathize with this joy...
~C~
An intense sigh escaped the half-opened mouth.
Carrying objects around – in his arms and on the shoulders – was more exhausting than expected. So this was one of the moments, which adventurers tended to despise at times... Miming a foot-boy. A pack-horse. No matter, how many objects Alberic himself carried as the employer, the frustration emerging in the Methuselah's brain was immense...
Partly, he had to smother his draconic aggression as they reached Dragonhead's western entry. These sentinels here gave him cold as well as curious glances – a typical reaction saved for the majority of adventurers. Both men would probably not even make themselves useful, if he stumbled and injured himself with the weapons... An image that turned his stomach upside-down.
Ignoring the knights, the disguised dragon reminded himself, that those swordsmen would at least offer support when it came to seriously casualties. Two of them had done so for Cecilia, after all, wherefore judging their professional-branch in general wasn't acceptable.
As his feet dragged him right behind the Hyur through Dragonhead's northern gate, he could see Alberic's students: Four Elezen; young and motivated. Three tall men and one rather small woman. They wore the typical Dragoon-armor, albeit not as dark as Estinien's.
"There, please put the equipment next to my disciples down." the Lancer commanded.
'Midge' felt relief to be finally able to get rid of the metallic weapons as well as the other supplies. Swaying and stretching the freed arms, he took a short break while the Dragoons sorted the objects. Then, he dutifully followed Alberic's plea to fetch together with him the Camp's striking-dummies. Fortunately the armory was located in their direct near – hence the Methuselah developed no optional frustration for carrying once more weighty stuff.
After the training-objects had been employed, he decided ultimately to stay.
Probably not the most clever move to spend time with sworn enemies, but a practical research.
Under Alberic's advice the ancient existence handed specific lance-types over to the four Dragoons. They appeared friendly, yet he said barely a word to them. For Midgardsormr, even a good intention couldn't decrease the threat he felt. A new generation of dragon-slayers was unsettling to the point where an escape illustrated normally numeric inferiority. His vessel, though, demanded adaptions to whatever mortal life meant, so he was true to his words and stayed just as promised.
~C~
A while of motionless watching passed.
To be honest, he felt out of place. Okay, maybe not completely useless... Thanks to his experience, the father of dragon-kind knew how to recognize rough blunders. To fight against mankind long, long ago had given him enough glimpses at their different combat-styles. If there would just not exist one single detail... Dragoons were the elite amongst Lancers. Even four newcomers featured more skills than the majority of people who had tried to kill the Methuselah. These Elezen here were virtuosos; in a 'pangolin's' opinion close to reaching Estinien's competence.
Alberic, however, did see mistakes.
While the old Hyur was busy to correct movement-sequences, 'Midge' scrutinized his very doing. Fascinating... This gentle man turned out to be an attentive, uncompromising teacher... Traceable, why he had once been an Azure Knight. In case of fighting, Alberic was a perfectionist led by definitive protective-instincts. THAT was Nidhogg's anchor in the Lancer's youth...
Strange... Somehow, Midgardsormr began to marvel Alberic's abilities.
Although it was hopeless to even try to keep up with him, the dragon wanted imitate this old master. Not for shedding more blood of his own kind, no... But for supporting the last remaining guardians of that Holy City, which was right now Cecilia's sanctuary. Only for the maiden's safety. Therefore, he focused his whole consciousness on the four Elezen; looking for finest mistakes.
It was at first shyly, but 'Midge' started nevertheless to name suspected cases.
He wasn't completely right with his guesses, though. Alberic explained, that specific movements would have been wrong in measure of old teachings, but in fact newer techniques did accept what the 'adventurer' expected to be wrong. This made Midgardsormr bite his tongue. Such a faux pas wasn't good... More of these missteps could reveal, that this vessel's owner was much older as all present mortals together... That had to be prevented at all costs.
Once more the Methuselah fell silent for a moment. Analyzing the teacher's decisions precisely, slowly he got the hang of his job. The next few errors he counted were correct. While the Dragoons reacted surprised, Alberic was smirking about 'Midge's' keen eyes.
"See? I told you four eyes are better than two." ,the Hyur stated pleased, "But say, could you do me another favor? It's just this optional request, I promise. As soon as this task is over, your job won't be extended in any further way." Not really delighted, the dragon caged in a mortal shell nodded.
What was next on the list of tiresome things the former Azure Knight wanted him to do...?
Mentioned chevalier replied happily: "Thank you! Well, one of the weapons we haven't used so far seems a bit rusty. I'm not sure, if we can practice with a questionable blade... Therefore I would really appreciate some tests. Surely I know you're not the type of adventurer who enjoys fighting, but... My old eyes can't handle anymore attacking plus coordinating my students, simultaneously. And since you're a gatherer, I suppose you won't make such a difference between scythe or lance."
Not waiting for a reaction, Alberic lifted the specific weapon from the floor.
As the man offered him the metallic object, Midgardsormr hesitated to even grab it.
Staring at the sharp edge made his stomach clench painfully. He couldn't... This was a weapon-type harming his kind since one-thousand years... A symbol of mortal's betrayal. What once used to fight side by side – completing the unity of dragon and rider – had merciless turned around and cut into the mount's flesh. Remembering this day caused a wave of agony. One of the rare occasions amongst his relatives; ruined by men... The bare memory of Ratatoskr's death was suffocating.
He squinted his eyes as the terror grabbed his heart.
Entirely aware, that using this thing meant to do something his species despised, the discrepance between duty and pride could hardly be endured. If he abode by Hydaelyn's contract; his very oath, doing so turned him partly into a traitor even without fighting against another dragon...
But he could hardly deny without giving a logical reason.
Midgardsormr wasn't allowed to make men distrust him. Especially not those born to slay dragons. If they suspected him a single time of acting ominous, he wouldn't be able to fool them forever. Sooner or later, his secret might then slip through... That would be a death-penalty for his vessel. And maybe for his soul, too, since he wasn't sure if his remaining advantage of the Echo – to switch his spirit to another shape similar to rebirth – had been spared by the trade with Hydaelyn.
Trembling, he reached out for the weapon.
Over and over, he reminded himself to do this in the end for Cecilia. Though her friends had earned lately much more of his truthful sympathy... Still, with so much pressure rested on his shoulders, only she mattered to him. There was no noble excuse for his cheap behavior. Purposefully, he lived at the moment just for surviving – in order to see her beautiful smile again. To listen once more to the siren-song her voice made.
Midgardsormr's gaze wandered up and down the weapon when it lay in his right hand.
This object looked nagged like Alberic's lance... Well, it was a fitting thing for a battle-weary man. Or a dead-tired, antiquated dragon. The Methuselah could identify himself with the rusty thing. Albeit Her grace had given him a relatively young shape, his soul remained prehistoric and cynical. Old-fashioned in the worst way. There was no real gentleness.
"Can you hit the dummy over there? It's the best choice for simple weapon-tests." the teacher suggested friendly. 'Midge' gazed askance at the wooden object; suppressing the queasy feeling of his stirring stomach as good as possible. "Of course... As long as thou expect nothing fancy, I will examine the weapon's condition for thee."
His stilts brought him to the manikin.
Every motivation for being useful, however, shrank to a minimum.
Midgardsormr grabbed the lance with both hands – condemning himself to lose whatever pride might have remained despite all obstacles – and took position in front of the training-object.
He made a handful of moves. They were nothing compared to the skilled Dragoons, yet he hoped these motions would suffice to spare him any other torture. The usage of the long weapon, at least, wasn't too awkward after several days of gathering. Similar to a scythe, like Alberic had stated correctly, the spiteful thing lay steady in his hands. Yet, though there was no clumsiness, the dragon was afraid to be in another way inept. Would he be able to hide, what he had seen in the past, and mimic only the current style of Lancers?
Exhaling, the disguised dragon finished the test with one straight thrust.
Afterwards he glimpsed immediately at the four Elezen. Thank goodness... They hadn't payed any attention to him in favor of their own doing. But Alberic's grey hawk-eyes had watched him intent. For an unknown reason, surprise dwelled in their expression. "A bit more, Midge. And if possible, with more strength." the Hyur begged.
Midgardsormr widened the eyes minimal. Bore down the red glow. He didn't like the worried sound which this man abruptly made... What had Alberic seen in his simple actions? There hadn't been continuing hints that talked louder than words – he was sure of it. But... A master of the lance possessed in this specific case more knowledge than an ancient being. So, perhaps the mortal COULD see the young vessel didn't match its owner's mental age...
Teeth grinding under inner pressure, the Methuselah started anew.
As he moved, Alberic was this time commenting on his doing: "Midge, more focus! … Faster! … Hit the dummy stronger! … Don't be afraid to overdo it! The lance must stand this or else we can't use it anymore! … You must put everything you got into the thrusts! Do it!"
Frustration boiled underneath 'Midge's' skin. The stomach filled itself with anger; letting go of all concern towards his kind. What they might think, if they knew about his doing, lost all importance. In fact, every other unsettledness vanished, too, because of the silent realization to have probably ruined everything already.
This here wasn't a weaponry-test... It was a possible proof of him being not what his form pretended to be. Therefore, no constriction was anymore necessary... Because Midgardsormr had nothing for convincing Alberic of the opposite, if skepticism became stronger than friendliness.
Like a berserk he caved to desperation; Hydaelyn's first dragon chained to a humane form.
The thoughts were channeled to the very bottom of his existence. Wrath and wildness. The lance in his hands reflected this. He made it hit the training-object like one might attack the worst enemy. Imprisoned by the terror of threatening failure; empowered via the aggressive commands. Midgardsormr almost lost control over his senses.
"Very good! You can stop now." suddenly Alberic called enthusiastic.
Had this behavior perhaps not symbolized, that he saw through the lie...?
Panting, the disguised dragon lowered his arms. The vessel's hands trembled a lot, whereby Midgardsormr could no longer hold the weapon. It slipped through his loose fingers and fell onto the ground. "I am sorry..." he apologized out of breath and bowed to get it back. This action made his brain dizzy... Squinting the eyes, he pulled the lance up ; shaking his head to clear it.
"No need for apologies. At least not for you." the old Lancer said gently and came to 'Midge's' side. Only now the Methuselah recognized, that all eyes lay on him. Both Hyur and the four Elezen beheld him with strange administration. Albeit he had since a while not allowed himself the luxury, the exhausted dragon made a bit room for his awful humor full of cynicism: "Was I so horrible... that thou art rather amused than crestfallen about my failure?"
Alberic laughed lightly. "Hah, no, you weren't." ,the Hyur stated and snickered a bit, "If anything, Midge, then I was horrible to push you so much. A gatherer is not used to stressful motions... Consideration for you would have been the right thing... I'm sorry for the recklessness... However, that's not want I want to tell you..." Raising the brows, Midgardsormr studied the embarrassed smile the Lancer gave him now.
Was he missing something?
If that was the case, then what might this be?
'Midge' jerked slightly, when the man's hand patted his shoulder. Physical contact to mortals was still a problem... Even with Augustine touching him every evening – letting her aether flow through his back and arms in order to heal the lack of magic he had – the father of dragon-kind wanted to avoid even touches of the remaining Warriors.
The Dragoon's mentor uttered with pure jollity: "You, my young friend, own a god-given talent. Such natural handling of the lance is rarely seen amongst amateurs. Because of this, I simply must use the chance and ask, if you would like me to train you as a Lancer."
Midgardsormr jerked in shock.
"Wait – please do not judge rashly!" ,Alberic stated and patted anew, "Before you refuse overhasty: Of course Erik told me, that you're a peaceful man. But your abilities for a layman are amazing. Impressive, even! Also, it can't hurt to be able to protect yourself in case that's needed. Coerthas is, after all, a dangerous place for gatherers. Dravania even more. So, tell me: Do you accept?"
Frowning anxiously, the dragon looked at the weapon in his hands.
This cursed version of a blade should become a part of him? Of all things THIS stigma?
As he stared at the lance, Cecilia's face appeared in his mind – reminding him of his earlier helpless to keep her save. In the end, her comatose condition was his fault. He had failed to protect what was precious to him... And if she should ever wake up again, every threat apart from his own species – that he did not want to harm just like she planned – would have its way with her if he rejected now.
Forcing himself, his gaze returned to Alberic's face.
"I will at least try it." ,the dragon said with a heavy heart, "In case I won't match thy expectations, please show me another path to turn myself into a combatant. Should nothing change about the way I am now... I won't be able to help my allies in the future."
Even though he cared not too intense for the remaining Warriors and their comrades... it was true, that he felt the need to support them on their struggling way. And albeit his head was filled with frustration about the fact, that he once more had to bend down to mortal's rules... That his situation amongst mankind did never vary... The dragon knew he had to prevent their distrust at all costs.
His one and only solution was to accept the altered fate Hydaelyn's help meant.
"Okay... Yes, I promise we find in worst case another class for you." ,Alberic nodded determined, "But I doubt this will be necessary. Even though I am not as young and merry as the guild-master yonder in Gridania, I don't stay behind my colleague. This old dog is still able to teach you a lot. Ergo: Raise your head up high, because we will turn your inborn talent into unforgettable skill!"
The four Dragoons cheered loudly, before they returned to their training.
Helpless, 'Midge' gave a weak smile when Alberic pressed a few Gil into his pocket.
Batting one eye, the Midlander stated: "To make sure, that I won't forget your reward. After all, everything you did for me was generous and selfless. In other words, you are made of the material which caused Coerthas open nowadays its arms for adventurers. And I'm lucky to have recruited someone like you for the next Lancer-generation."
"I just hope thou art right about me..." the disguised dragon murmured worried.
Alberic chuckled amused: "Heh, I'm sure of it. Now, let's start your training."
Once Erik knew about this, that awful man would blaze in contentment...
