Based off of the universe of FFXI, created by SquareEnix. Don't screw up FFXII, guys!
4 – Responsibilities
Two men, one clad in armor that exuded evil, one in ramshackle, mismatched armor that exuded practicality, clashed their great swords amidst a storm that grew worse by the moment. There was nothing said between the two, merely the screams of hatred that drove these two onward towards an ending they have desperately sought.
Variste snapped awake quite suddenly. She felt for Garuda's Dagger, Ramir's-
Where it should have been. Where it was. Why? The monk had-
What had happened?
They ran parallel to one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. The brown haired one looked exhausted, blood running down from his wounds, washing away in the rain. They clashed their heavy weapons as if they were half their true weight, moving faster than they should have.
She remembered bits and pieces of the fight, remembered just how hard that monk hit. She tried to stand, and found herself falling immediately back down to her back, her head assaulted by a terrible ache. When it had subsided, she settled for sitting upright. She took in her surroundings.
Trees had been cut down in places around the Ephemere. A boulder, one that she could remember sitting atop of when Ramir had been with her, was cleaved in two. Another boulder, this one the size of a small cottage, had what remained of a darksteel great sword sticking out of it. Pits, burn marks, it was the sight of a war. Only this-
Their weapons shattered, they now fought with hands and feet, no finesse, no rationality. This was a story of men killing each other.
"A war fought by only two people." The hume's voice said from behind Variste. She turned, seeing the brown haired man leaning haggard against a tree. She noticed that the mithra lay next to her, bound, to be certain, but alive.
He was dying.
"I…found your weapons… A red mage turned ninja…something new…"
She saw her degen, still caked with this man's blood, extended back to her, grip first. He was holding onto the blade, allowing it to cut deeply into his palm.
"Who are you?" Variste immediately began to effect repairs on herself. The sooner she could be up and moving, the sooner she could begin her work on this man.
"Arngrim…but that really…doesn't matter."
"So we have a name." She hadn't required much in the way of curative magic, she'd simply been knocked out. There was only one other man who could deal with her so dismissively, so far as she knew. She moved over to the man, her eyes locked firmly on the trail of blood he left behind, dragging himself against anything that could be used to support him. Taking the proffered weapon out of his hand, Variste helped the man sit. His head lolled back, and he appeared to want to fall asleep. "No, you have to stay awake, do you understand?" She spoke soothingly, trying to keep him calm, trying to keep him from shaking as much as he had been.
"You…should help that cat first…"
"No, I should help you, you probably have people that are waiting for you." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Not again, not again, not like this. "Altana, bless this body with your strength." Blue light encompassed the two. Slowly, his wounds appeared to seal themselves ever so slowly. He was still bleeding.
"I can't beat him you know…"
"Forget about that. A man in black, I keep seeing him too. Forget him."
"I don't have…what I need…"
"You have to stop shaking… can you manage that?"
He complied after taking a few deep breaths. She felt herself growing weary. His injuries were improving, but it would take time.
Arngrim felt strength return to him, enough to feel his body begin to stabilize. He looked to the sky, still dark with clouds.
"Hate me, Arngrim. Despise me. Blame me for everything. Only when you truly hold these feelings in your heart can you ever stand against us."
"I think… you'll be okay Arngrim." The woman breathed a sigh of relief.
"We are the neglected Children of Bastok. We are what the leaders of the nation used as tools. To make right, we must cut out the excess."
"Bastard…" Arngrim muttered. He started to laugh. Variste drew back somewhat, not sure what he was referring to.
"Blame me, Arngrim. Blame me for your inability to protect her."
"BASTARD!" Arngrim screamed, suddenly rising to his feet, knocking Variste on her rear. He reared back and shouted at the sky, a miserable sound, whirled on the tree, pounding it with his hands. "I fought… I fought for people." Sinking to his knees, the man reared back and pounded his head into the bark. "And you fought for a goddamned rank!"
Variste slowly reached out to comfort the man, found that her hands were running along his back.
"Help the cat." Arngrim said.
"Can you promise not to do that again?" He turned to face Variste, a small grin on his face.
"It's something I will look into." He coughed out blood, and settled himself against the tree once again. "Have you ever felt helpless?"
"What?"
"I could feel him. I could hit him. I could taste his blood. But I couldn't-"
"Yes, I have." They remained silent for the rest of the day.
-
She was utterly exhausted, but her work was finally finished. Arngrim had long since fallen asleep, but at least for the moment it was safe for him to have done so. The mithra hadn't awakened during her treatment, even when Variste had moved her to be seated next to Arngrim for warmth. She even made a small fire for them, one that was slowly burning out as the moon rose over La Theine.
She didn't need to be here. She'd done her part. She needed to go see the master.
She gathered her things. Arngrim had found Garuda's Dagger, something so valuable, she was convinced that the monk would have taken it to spite her. He'd retrieved it for her. The fencing degen, awarded to her for accomplishments a year before by the Crimson Mage guild, he'd given that back to her.
The mithra could have killed her, she realized. She hadn't, she'd hesitated. She should have killed Arngrim, she had enough skill to do so. Her poison hadn't done the trick, but any ranger of her skill would have shot for the head.
"I have a feeling that we've just gotten involved in something rather troublesome." She knelt near the two sleepers. Arngrim was safer around this mithra than he was around that monk, or that black armored figure she had seen in her mind.
She saw that the longsword he had come to the battle with was off to one side. Curious, she picked it up to examine it, and she nearly dropped upon reading the name engraved on the hilt.
Why did Arngrim have it?
Variste thought for a long time on the implications of it. In the end, it was placed blade first into the ground before the sleeping couple.
"This isn't necessarily farewell."
-
Arngrim's eyes slowly opened, roused by the sunrise. He was still alive. He blinked the remnants of sleep away, taking in his surroundings. No, he hadn't been in the throes of a gripping nightmare that encompassed the last three days of his life. The scenery showed that much.
"Arbalest, I will see you dead!"
The longsword was planted in the ground in front of him, almost as a parting gift. The elvaan was gone. Pity. She had been a pretty thing. She also had saved his life. How many people could claim that, and how many of them would he ever see again? In the last two years of his adventuring, there had been so many people he would accompany on their little side trips, their hunts. He rarely saw them again afterwards.
Arngrim gave a silent thanks to the woman. She had even been kind enough to have removed his breastplate, and set it to his side. Clearly, he was alive through the efforts of an experienced healer. It would be nice to be so lucky in the near future.
Arbalest was making moves towards something unpleasant. He wasn't sure what, but his simple move to San d'Oria became very complicated. He was going to need this weapon for a little while longer, if he really intended to do something about that chapter of his past. He would need to tell Epione… That was a sad tale. He'd left behind such a wonderful young woman, and for what? Something that he could not tell his own brother, something he saw on that day, two years ago, in Palborough.
"Arngrim, you know why I did not follow you into the musketeers?"
"You've no loyalty to this nation or it's leaders. That is fine, you fight for-"
"I do have loyalty. This is my home. I do not wish to die for it behind its' walls."
"Who says I am going to die?"
"The real threat, Arngrim, is not the Quadav from the north. It's much farther away, and armies cannot combat it if they stay at home. Why do you think I am paid so well?"
"I would much rather die at home than in some forsaken land hundreds of miles away."
"Then, you will never understand what I see."
What were his goals now?
He felt something warm rub against his bare arm. His head snapped to look at what it was, ready for combat, and found the mithra, still bound, had rolled to one side. Was she purring?
"Aldo… I made it to Sandy, Aldo…"
He nearly burst out laughing. Having spoken to the man in question, he could see where this was going. The girl had some kind of infatuation with him, and this was not surprising. Despite the life he led, Aldo of the Tenshodo was blessed with roguish good looks. She probably had seen him from afar.
She looked innocent enough, for a mithra. Innocence and mithra were often words that did not fit well together. This one certainly was not an exception, although…
"Hey, wake up. I've got questions, and you have answers." He nudged her face, trying not to startle her. If she was still set on finishing a contract- No, she had saved him. He remembered now, how she had used an explosive to break him out of whatever technique Galanin had restrained him with. Skilled indeed.
Why am I still alive?
"Wake up, or I will leave you tied up here with the crabs. I hear they are at the peak of their season, one may find your tail an attractive mate."
She stirred, purred, and then stretched herself as best she could while bound at her wrists and ankles. Eyes, green as emeralds, opened themselves to the world.
"Good morning, target…" She yawned.
"Is that what I am to you?"
"Were." She leaned forward and tugged at the ankle bonds. "This isn't going to do, if you really wanted to tie me up and have your way with me, this isn't going to do at all."
"I do not wish to smell like a sardine, thanks." Arngrim leered. She stuck her tongue out at him. He picked her up by both wrists, rising quickly to his feet, lifting the mithra off of the ground, holding her against the tree. His other hand reached back and picked the longsword and held in menacingly at her throat. "Who sent you?" he bellowed.
"I didn't kill you, so what does it matter?" she shot back. "You wouldn't under-"
"Arbalest? Galanin? I am not playing your stupid little cat games, I will leave you here with my blade in your throat!"
"Who the hell is Arbalest? I've never hearrrd that name in my life!"
"Why didn't you kill me? What made you change sides? Crisis of conscience?"
"Two hundred thousand gil! That money can last a long time! And I gave it all away because I was wrong! Is that what you want to hear? I was wrong! I never…" She sobbed once. "I didn't want to kill anyone who didn't deserve it. All he showed me was a picture of you, I don't even know who you are! I saw you, and…"
"Look." Arngrim placed the blade into the ground once again. "I will not hurt you. See? I just need some answers."
"Really?" the mithra's face changed, and he heard a tearing sound. One of her legs lashed out and kicked him in the chest. He faltered back, but held tightly onto her wrists. "That… didn't work…" she smiled sheepishly.
"Pretty nice kick, girl, but your friend Galanin was much stronger." She loosened or cut the bonds when she stretched. She's really good.
"He wasn't my frrriend, just my Tenshodo contact."
"So the Tenshodo have a price on my head?"
"What if they did?"
The big what if. He hadn't done anything in particular to personally offend Aldo, but in his capacity as a free roving mercenary over the past two years, he'd been involved in several missions to capture airships that were smuggling goods to and from Bastok. The offenders were often imprisoned, but they occasionally escaped. Perhaps someone reported his involvement.
"If they did… I would do what I do best. I would kill them, as many as I could. Starting with you of course, though it might be amusing to keep you around to see me deal with Aldo personally. Anyone involved, anyone who profited from it. All of them." She bristled visibly when he mentioned Aldo, and Arngrim made sure he looked pleased with this.
"You keep Aldo out of this." She looked ready for murder.
"Sorry, but business is business. I do not take kindly to attempts on my life. A friend one day is an enemy the next, that's what he said to me once."
She screamed something in mithran, trying to break free of his grasp, shouting and kicking at him ineffectually. Eventually, he caught one foot, twisted it at an odd angle and pinned against the bark.
"Aldo didn't assign the contract! Don't you dare hurt him! Galanin assigned it! Galanin!"
"And Galanin is under the employ of my brother. Which means your Aldo is safe, for now at least." He dropped the woman, who was swearing vehemently in basic, mithran, and elvaan. "Two hundred thousand eh?"
"They should have paid me more for this sort of trouble!" She shook off the foot, then set about breaking the bonds on her wrists while accounting for her things.
"You are something else." Arngrim whistled. "So what kind of poison was it?"
"Look, I'm sorrrry I hit you with two arrows, can we not talk about it?"
"White Lizard brew? You are from Elshimo, you try to hide the accent well."
"Shut up about that!" she screamed.
"Why did you miss my head? Come on, I am honestly curious."
"You are making me forget why I did!" Arngrim mock pouted at this. "You want to know why?"
"I am listening."
"You were smiling in the sketch of you they gave me."
Arngrim thought about this for a few minutes while she gathered her things.
"I'm sorry I troubled you." She said as she strapped her bow on to her back, looked to the north, where Valkurm dunes waited.
"Want to come with me?"
"What?"
"I was headed to San d'Oria. I have business there, after that I was headed to Jeuno. I wanted to speak with Aldo about Galanin." He shrugged. "I'll be honest with you, after yesterday, a part of my past has returned to nip at my heels. I cannot do this alone. I figure you could be of assistance with Galanin, seeing as you know him better than I."
"You are going to hunt him down? He's different frrrom when I took the contract with him." She shuddered. "I don't want to hunt down a monster."
"Well, you owe me."
"I said I was sorry!"
"He'll come for you." Arngrim spoke with finality. "He will. He's working with my brother for some goal, and there are three people in the world right now who know anything about this. One of them decided to bow out. I have personal reasons of course, and you can decline." He slipped on the damaged breastplate over his body. "If you do, that's fine." He picked up the longsword and sheathed it, adjusted some of his equipment until he was satisfied with the comfort, and began to walk in the direction where he knew San d'Oria lay.
A few minutes went by, and he could only hear his footsteps over the breeze that blew across La Theine. He sighed.
"How long are you going to keep following me?"
"I've not been to San d'Oria in a long time. What's your name?"
"Arngrim Gustavos, never caught yours."
"Callah Risa-Nhona."
They walked.