Coup D'état
"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
(Alfred Lord Tennyson)
Something about the word "mentor" made him feel uneasy. Yuna's mismatched eyes were shiny when she had told him: "You're our mentor, Sir Auron, please guide us". She didn't know how lost he felt, for heavy the burden of carrying their faith and beliefs was.
The road ahead was long, Yunalesca was gone, and with her the chance of obtaining the final aeon. There was no turning back from now on: they had to defeat Sin for good, instrumentalize their own sacrifices, and use their blood as fuel. What kind of mentor was he?
Here they were: camping in the thick forest surrounding Guadosalam, a lively party of warriors, mages and thieves, tied by a greater purpose, a heroic quest for world peace. To succeed, each of them had engaged in a fight to overcome their spiritual trials and defeat the darkness that dwelled in their spirits. Lulu's long-lost love, Wakka's crumbling vision of the world, Kimahri's relationship with his warrior heritage…
What kind of mentor was he? He had dragged them out of the dark cave of false, reassuring beliefs into a bloodstained reality, one none of them could now escape. Is that what a mentor was supposed to do? Kill ideology, strangle hopes and set fire to his acolytes' freedom?
That was what he was taught, what he once had to live through. His immense life tragedy was violently facing this truth while dying, unattended, like a wild beast, unable to turn back time and save his friends. But they…they had him now…
"Thinking big thoughts, big man?" Rikku's chirping voice - the thunderous banner of poetic justice - undid his train of thought, like a thorn caught in the intricate mesh of a woollen scarf.
Auron nodded and sighed.
"You ever think big thoughts, Rikku?"
The girl looked startled, her face thoughtfully frozen, softly lit by the mysterious lights of dusk. The tiny Al Bhed sat near him, her back against the same millenary knobby oak tree; they stood silent for a while, observing the others laughing around the fire, not too far away from them. Tidus was busy mimicking what looked like a funny story.
"I do," she started slowly, an uncommon pensive tone in her usually enthusiastic voice, "sometimes, mostly during nights like this one, my thoughts get so big they seem unthinkable… unspeakable."
Auron nodded, inviting her to continue. He rarely heard her speak in such a manner, using such words. She sounded like the rightful heir of the Al Bhed tribe. Yes. He was conversing, at this very moment, with the great leader she would become.
"...but every morning I find comfort in Yuna's eyes. At night I get so scared, and I think I am going to die, but when Yuna wakes up for her dawn prayers, I hear her litanies and find my peace. This is whom I am fighting for."
"You love her very much, she is your family," Auron whispered fondly.
Rikku turned to face him and her green eyes fiercely fixated on Auron's lonely one. "I am not fighting for a better world, Auron. I am not fighting your same battle."
"I know." Her eyes were so shiny, and they carried wiseness, an indescribable brilliancy, the intelligent wit of a fast thinker and the strong resolution of a leader.
"Anyhow I will follow you anywhere, whatever happens," she said solemnly.
"Thank you, Rikku."
"Unless your scenario contemplates Yuna's sacrifice and the Al Bheds' disappearance," she joked, grim.
Auron chuckled, "Fortunately none of this is part of my plans, girl."
"Girl!?" Rikku punched his shoulder, playfully outraged, "I am no girl!"
"Forgive me, your majesty," Auron replied ironically, bowing only slightly his head.
"You will call me that one day!" Rikku's big eyes shone even stronger. Her shoulders were straight, her words candid, powerful.
"I have no doubts I will," he said, earnestly. Maybe he overdid it. Her electric vitality thrilled him.
"Oh, for Bahamut's sake stop being sarcastic!"
Auron first huffed. Then, he saw the way her face was getting red with indignation and he couldn't hold it. An earthy laugh gushed out of his chest. Rikku's face morphed from embarrassment to surprise and she exploded in a burst of merry laughter too. He felt warm waves of fondness coming from her.
They giggled for a while, and Auron wondered how long it had been since he did so sincerely. She made him feel understood; maybe because - even if she made a point not to show it to anyone - she grew up in a diplomatic environment, and, really, everything she did was political. The way she carried herself, even her lies and smiles, had a political aim. She was no different from him. Her way of manipulating others was based on laughter and hopes, his on duty and despair.
Rikku was smart. Infinitely so. And she was fond of him.
As if reading his mind, this tiny honourable thief found her courage and spoke, and she said. Oh, she said: "I hate having a crush on you right now, Auron."
He looked into her eyes and glimpsed her pain; saw a mortally wounded fawn making its way in the woods of her soul. She knew it could never be. Auron felt his eye fill with empathy. Was he fond of her? Unthinkable. Unspeakable. Like her nightmares.
He was dead; little more than a memory, much less than a man.
"I am sorry, Rikku…" he breathed. She fought against tears. He took her small hand in his and brought it to his chest. He squeezed it affectionately, her skin was cold, "I am so sorry…".
Her eyes, forced by pride, broke away from his gaze. She didn't want to cry in front of him. Auron perceived her feelings with great, painful clarity. She withdrew her little hand and stood up. A small trembling smile danced upon her lips for a second, and then she left.
She had never mentioned it again. Then, he had left this world and her with it.
Chapter 8 - Eftinan
"If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things."
(René Descartes)
To say that Rikku's nights were chaotic would've been a big, fat understatement. Yevon! She turned back and forth, back and forth in her hospital bed! A million thoughts ran in her little copper brain (that's how she pictured it, don't judge!), making her restless and generally anxious.
So - ça va sans dire - her mornings were more challenging than a pissed-off chimera on haste.
First of all, she had to endure daily pilgrimages - pun intended - of functionaries, politicians, commanders and shamans to her hospital room (yes, she was still there, healers had to check on her, meh). Not only to further discuss the resolutions that were made during the ongoing Trade Committee meetings (Cid was handling those) but to check on her health as well. Shiruba had tried to reduce the incoming of visitors (seeing her so stressed was stupidly cute), but she could do little to stop it.
Today had been no different, maybe worse. So, around midday, Rikku was left - finally alone - with a striking headache and a hoarse throat.
One thing that all those hearings had in common was the conspiratorial underlinings. Everyone tried to extrapolate precious information out of her, so as to discover who had done it. Because it was crystal clear, and the charade of different characters knew, that the young Al Bhed leader was poisoned.
Who poisoned me? Rikku knew too little to get a clearer picture. Also, the big question was not why poisoning her, but why poisoning her now? Frustrating! Maximum level red alarm - ding ding ding - emergency kind of frustration!
If I could punch Brother right now I would feel better.
Alas! Brother was far away for a delicate excavation mission, and getting him to come back just for an uppercut didn't sound very diplomatic. Also, Al Bhed youngsters would cancel her for being a bully. Meh. Weaklings. Expressing affection without a pinch of brotherly violence.
Restless, she got free from the bed sheets that felt like chains around her legs and ankles, rose and went to the bedside table's scratchpad to scribble a "sorry" to Shiruba before sneaking out of the medical quarters (note to self: better security needed in the New Home's infirmary).
She quietly made her way to her quarters, like good old times - when she was just a little monkey infiltrating his father's office unseen - checking each corridor for guards, limiting every noise and breath. For the first time in days, she felt kinda alive, even though she still didn't know what to do.
Since their arrival on Bikanel Island, Wantz had been very busy discussing the details of the new commercial routes with Al Bhed and other main Spiran merchants.
Auron was not too disappointed when the board excluded him from the long roundtables; after all, Wantz was a very detailed recounter. As he had predicted, many compromises were to be made to establish a favourable agreement, and the negotiations were expected to last a few more days, at least. Auron wondered if, in the end, the Al Bheds would accept a lesser advantageous solution. Everyone had to bend, in the end, to Spirans' neverending greediness. He hoped this was not the case.
He was enjoying a walk through Bikanel's capital - if it could be called so. Outside the New Home, Sandara had been reconstructed. Once a huge camp, capable of disappearing in the sand when strangers were spotted, now it was a working-in-progress city. It had retained the characteristic beautiful coloured tents from its past: thick fabrics of deep greens and mustard-coloured cloths were erected at the side of the rock-tiled streets. The same white rock was employed in the construction of new buildings; these were decorated with shiny mosaics; elaborate geometric and arabesque motifs had been carved on the façades. But this ancient gusto was suddenly subverted by tech inserts: bronze-coloured pipelines running down the buildings, big metal grills, holograms and real people mixed in a vision which Auron was not capable of fully computing. Fascinating was perhaps the right word to describe that vista.
He had been lucky enough to visit many Bikanel towns and regions usually hidden to spirans' eyes. Lord Braska was married, after all, to an Al Bhed woman; Cid's sister, Alma, who resembled the young Rikku in many ways. Braska loved her more than anything, for she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. He recalled everything, the taste of traditional dishes prepared for them by the villagers, the starry nights spent around the fire hearing legends and myths of the desert people, exclusive tours to laboratories where young alchemists and electricians experimented on new, chunky machinas.
Auron's memories were suddenly halted by the view of a small shop specialising in leather goods. Maybe, he thought, he would've found what he needed.
And so he did, as he bought a small leather journal made of yellowy papyrus pages and a pen. Auron ironically thought that the object looked as ancient as him as he made his way back to his quarters in New Home.
"Just like you, we are not satisfied with the last agreement. We should speak to X'anu"
The metal corridors were not the ideal place for private conversations, and Auron had the tactical bad habit of eavesdropping. So, hearing those words he automatically stopped in his steps to listen.
X'anu, the old fox, is still scheming, apparently.
"Who is this X'anu you speak of?"
Auron quietly stuck his head out to get a glimpse of the interlocutors. One was a very tall green-haired Guado man who seemed to know Al Bhed politics, while the other man's clothes were in the Luka fashion.
The Guado looked around to confirm that they were alone. Auron thanked his innate quick reflexes as he was able to hide again behind the metal wall.
"You others still think that Lady Rikku of the Pollendina is the real leader. She is nothing more than a child… If you want to speak of gils, real gils, Lord X'anu is the guy,"
"Oh, I see. Nobility?"
"Yes, ancient and profitable!"
The two laughed.
"What a stroke of luck that Her Majesty is out of the game for a while, then!"
"Almost too lucky… "
Auron had heard enough. He quickly walked away, leaving those men to their treacherous schemes.
But the question that they instilled in his mind couldn't leave him: Did X'anu really poison Rikku? Was it all part of a plan to exclude her from the commercial negotiations? It sounded too simple, too rough for a valid strategist like X'anu. Either way, Auron was determined to discover more about it.
It was night in the continent when Gippal's airship left Bikanel. Over the years, the scenery had changed so much. Where once there were dark lands inhabited by primitive tribes, now Gippal could spot machinas and city lights.
He found that remarkable, a pang of Al Bhed pride flashed in him, and it lifted his spirit a little bit.
The deck was alive with the buzzing and whirring of technology. Blue lights flashed hypnotically, and the blonde found himself thinking about deep matters that he wished he left on the island.
Departing without consulting with Rikku felt bittersweet... Gippal didn't understand how their relationship became so cold in such little time. Being her second in command was proving to be a challenging task, and not only because she was stubborn like a wild chocobo - he knew that already. There was something in the way they interacted, some unsaid business between the two of them that Gippal was starting to acknowledge. He was unfair to her in the past, he knew.
Gippal sighed, unable to sit still in his command velvet chair. He hoped that his unannounced trip to Bevelle would be useful to squeeze new data around the energy source.
Al Bheds' technology was the finest, of course, but Bevelle had centuries of gils and richness behind their laboratories. He hoped to get the help of Baralai and New Yevon, but he also knew that Nooj was in Bevelle for some other matter.
All his closest friendships were also political connections. Gippal thought that there was something extremely unsettling about this.
He was a sun child, raised in the scorching freedom of the desert dunes, coddled by sincerity and real feelings. This new adult world of delicate relationships, half-truths and schemes was making him tired.
Gippal felt weary, and perhaps old. He needed to hear her, see if she was still a sun child and if so he wanted to feel her light. He missed her dearly, he missed most of all the way she made him feel.
But her hospital room phone beeped with no response. The stupid girl must have escaped, impatient as she was. He left her a message.
A little smile pulled the corner of his mouth. Little rebellious rattlesnake…
She safely made it to her quarters, where she had a hot shower and finally wore something different from that tasteless hospital tunic. In her green top and flared low-cut jeans, Rikku finally felt Rikku again. She thought of Gippal. His resolution of leaving to investigate the energy source was put on pause after the recent events, the arrival of the Trade Committee and her poisoning. But he didn't visit her much, and all she knew of him was only on the dotted line of his daily duty reports. Was he still mad at her for their fight? He probably was, right? Mhm. Was he?
RIKKU! You're the most unnerving person on Spira, and I am you!
She was sitting in front of the bronze vanity mirror braiding her hair and trying to keep her internal monologue under control when a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. What to do? She wasn't supposed to be here.
Another knock, more urgent this time, forced her to reply, "Come in."
"My lady, forgive my intrusiveness," the old scholar Maechen stepped into her quarters.
"Holey Moley Maechen! You found me. What's up? Get in, sit,"
The old man closed the door behind him and walked into the spacious main room. She sat at the circular glass table near the window and motioned her guest to do so as well. He sat.
"My father told me to give you an audience, but, as you know…" she smiled an honest smile. Yes, yes, yes! Anytime they encountered this guy during their travels she may or may not concocted conspiracies to make him stop talking- BUT! He had the word "wise" printed on his wrinkly grey face.
"I know, Your Majesty, I was kept informed about your health status. I am glad to see you in good shape. But I am not here to merely chat… I have some information for your ears and yours ears only."
Something was wrong. Rikku's spine naturally straightened, as if sensing danger.
"Talk, Maechen."
Words she never thought she'd utter.
It wasn't challenging for Auron to infiltrate X'Anu's palace. If he wanted to, he could still be a ghost, as he had been for many years.
He wanted to speak with the man himself, there was no point in slowly investigating. This new life had made Auron quite impatient.
He made his way through big dark halls filled with ancient native statues and artefacts; he was especially attracted to a grotesque tapestry representing a mythological war between fiery blue eagles and gargantuan ants. He knew the two animals to be symbols of the old Bikanel houses: the former was the Pollendina sacred animal, while the ants probably belonged to the Gytrum House, of which X'anu was the master. Everything in that palace spoke of the past times when continuous wars divided the tribes of Bikanel and the sand was often stained with blood.
A voice - probably speaking to the house personnel - guided Auron through the hallways and led him into a vast studio: books, parchments and scrolls filled every void all around the room. He entered just as a servant was leaving. In the middle of the chamber, as if waiting for his visit, stood old X'anu. Auron knew there was no point in faking his oath of silence, and spoke first, anxious to discover anything.
"Lord X'anu, it looks as if you've been expecting me," he greeted.
The desert fighter aristocracy turned and slowly walked a few steps into the poorly lit room to sit upon a wicker chair behind a mighty wooden desk, "Did you think you could infiltrate my palace without me knowing?"
"Not at all, sir. I made no point in hiding from your eyes".
X'anu's mouth warped into a strange-looking grin; it was as if his face was not constructed to move in such a way, "I guess you won't tell me who hides behind this old-fashioned hood, but they say your name is Faram. If it is so, it wasn't a clever name choice, Sir Auron."
Auron snorted, "An easy guess for those who need to know that I am back, a name like any other for everyone else."
X'anu seemed content with the answer. He gestured for Auron to come closer and sit at his desk, "You're here to enquire about the young leader's poisoning."
Auron obliged and sat. He also saw no point in keeping his face hidden. He knew that X'anu had no interest in disclosing to the mass his return. On the contrary, his comeback could pose a threat to his conservationist political stances. Auron wasn't proud of much regarding himself, but one thing that now amused him was that he almost became a revolutionary symbol. He learned it through Wantz, and a few niche journalistic booklets he found in Luka. Red was now the colour of anti-systemic free thought.
"Tell me about Rikku's poisoning, X'anu"
The tanned master of the Gytrum House nodded slowly, "You surely don't believe me so inconsiderate to be responsible for that, Sir Auron".
"I did for a second,"
"I was rash in the past, and that served me well, but these are not times for Coup D'états. Anyhow, if you want to know more about this strange conspiracy I do possess a piece of the puzzle," X'anu's hands moved towards the drawers of the desk. He moved his hands swiftly, to open what was probably a false bottom.
A small crystal phial was what he retrieved. The poison?
"My men have the bad habit of following the young princess whenever she goes in the city," he started, "this phial contains traces of the poison she was infected with…"
Nothing good will come out of this, Auron thought.
"You won't believe what the results reported, Sir Auron…"
X'anu's face did that thing again, that crippled smile. Auron sighed impatiently.
Was it possible that Maechen's beard had grown a few inches in her presence?
"While you were unconscious I assisted your medical staff in the poison analysis. What resulted from my deduction and laboratory data, I told no one,"
If you could speak any slower you would, old man!
"And?" she asked impatiently.
"I was able to distinguish the poison injected into your system…"
"And?"
Maechen huffed, thoughtful. His hand, stained with browny age spots, reached his beard to slowly caress it as if evaluating which word to use. And it had to be the perfect word as well, Rikku knew. In other circumstances, being used to diplomacy, she would've admired the scholar's attitude. But now…!
"What we found in your bloodstream are traces of the Eftinan. As soon as I knew, I had the quickness of hiding the results from the doctors."
"The Eftinan?"
X'anu was neither a liar nor a fool. It was the truth. But why? How was it possible for this substance to be still around? Was Rikku herself part of this conspiracy? And Cid? This revelation made everything even muddier than before.
Was X'anu's analysis to be trusted? The liquid in the phial seemed as bright as the old stories recounted…
The Eftinan… Rikku frowned.
The Pollendina family - her family - ruled over the Al Bheds for generations. Centuries of ruling helped establish traditions, old tales and songs, and her House was now the bearer of many things, like legendary weaponry and ritual jewels. Albheds were originally a mystical, primitive tribe, with its own customs and rituals, not only high-tech desert nerds. But not everything in the Pollendina family's past was "clean".
The "Eftinan", or Youth's Dew, was a ritual poison, handed from generation to generation, used to perform the Nunalie, a rite of death and rebirth. Or so they called it, though without any proof of rebirthing, since the only visible result of the 5 days-long drug-induced dances in the desert was just the initiate's death. Her grandfather, Al-Creed, put an end to the barbaric ritual. And the poison… what it was actually made of… Rikku didn't want to think about it.
"My lady…"
Rikku nodded, suddenly light-headed, "I see, Maechen. I don't know what all this means, though…"
Maechen sighed, "Me neither, not yet at least. I will continue my research and keep your Majesty's informed. But there was something else I wanted to discuss with you…"
"The Energy Source."
Maechen nodded, "I have something to show you".
Rikku didn't know how many revelations she could bare in the same afternoon but waited quietly for the old traveller to fish a scroll in the green fabric pouch he had on his side.
It can't get more ancient than this.
"Lost in my many wanderings, I recently found myself in Bevelle for a diplomatic rendezvous with Master Baralai. Now, as you know, I don't fully believe in fate. I am a scholar, and my scientific approach to history is dear to me. In any case, fate indeed seemed the puppeteer behind our discoveries: our meeting was interrupted by a messenger, upset by readings of an energy source, the very same you desert people detected,"
Baralai… Rikku felt heavy. Too many important players were getting involved in this matter.
"The nature of the source remained partially obscure even to great Bevellian machinas, Milady, so at first I was simply waiting for further discoveries. But then something flashed in my memory at the sight of that mountain, and I am here to show it to you,"
Old hands unrolled the frail-looking parchment on the glass table. Pictures, cuneiform illustrations painted in red pigments, attracted her attention.
She recognized a mountain, broken in two by what looked like a thunderbolt. The second illustration, though, was what made her shiver.
On top of the mountain, an Al Bhed-eyed female warrior was kneeling, a big sword in her hands. She knew that sword, as it was hers now. Masamune.
"It is me," she whispered, tracing the drawing's line with her fingers. But then Rikku's eyes focused even more, and she distinguished something else, behind her, barely visible: a broad-shouldered hooded figure.
"Faram!"
Maechen's face darkened instantly at the name, "How do you know that name?"
No point in keeping information from this man, he will know some way or the other. He is trustworthy, after all.
"He came to Bikanel with Wantz of the O'akas, he is the merchant's assistant."
"Oooh, the one who saved your Majesty, then. I heard he made an oath of silence, the whole court is chatting about him, curious as they are. They are referring to him as the "silent saviour," and me, just like them, hadn't grasped his name yet".
"He looks like the man painted here," Rikku pointed to the hooded figure. Maechen nodded, pensive. "You knew the name. Why, Maechen? Who is Faram?"
The man stood silent. She couldn't believe he didn't have an answer, so she guessed he was intentionally keeping something from her. She would have time to investigate this matter better later on… Or so she hoped.
This story is getting suuuper weird. First the energy source, then my poisoning, and on top of everything a mysterious man who doesn't speak now appears in decrepit scrolls! I can't!
"What does this mean?"
"I don't know my lady, or, as I like to say, I don't know yet."
"What should we do about the poison? Someone stole it from the Pollendina's shrine…" Rikku breathed anxiously, "...or… no. It would make no sense at all."
"Sense is to be calmy discerned, Miss Rikku. I will investigate further. In the meanwhile, be safe," Maechen got up and performed a small bow which made her uncomfortable.
"Thank you Maechen, I will speak to you soon, I hope"
"I will see your Majesty during the next Desert Fighters' council. I hope you don't mind, but your father asked me to attend it."
A sweet smile danced on Rikku's mouth, "Not at all, Maechen. Thank you for your help"
The scholar left her quarters after bowing a second, unnerving, time, and Rikku was left alone with her thoughts. She needed to speak to Gippal regarding the source, to Cid, to discover anything about the Eftinan poison, and to Faram, which sounded, per se, like an impossible task.
What to do…!
I should summon Gippal and tell him everything. He is my commander, and he will know how to find out more about this whole chocobo-shit story.
She walked to the blue communication sphere she had on her work desk, but as soon as she touched it an unread message by Gippal flashed in the air, like a hologram: "Going to Bevelle to investigate the matter; I went solo, it sounded safer. We will speak on my return, soon; in the meanwhile don't do anything stupid, Your Maj."
And now Gippal was gone as well! She felt so powerless, unable to give a clear interpretation of this strange route of events.
Rikku sighed. She almost wished she was back in her hospital bed, to sleep soundly and safely for a few more days. Ignorance never seemed such bliss in comparison to her discoveries.
End of Chapter 8
I am back! Did you miss me?! This time I tried to work a little bit more on the chapter, and I basically planned the whole future plot oa little better! So now we definitely know where we're going, hehe :)
I can't promise you to be quicker with the next chapter, but I hope to get better at that. I am enjoying writing this, more than I expected...!
I also wanted to ask you a few things about this fanfiction: how do you find it? is it clear enough? Do the characters sound real? are they at least starting to be more 3D?
English is not my first language, so if anyone between you feels like becoming my beta reader please come forward!
Can't wait to show y'all what I plotted! Stay tuned for more!
Silvia