Chapter 14: Courage and Cowardice Walk Together
The rustle of paper and the smooth feel of the folded pages against Sephiroth's fingers is a familiar blessing: Gast's Letter.
He glances up at the sound of Veld's voice. "Hand me your reply tomorrow morning. I will be too busy this evening."
He is not the only one who is busy today, Sephiroth thinks as he watches the Turk striding away. Everyone seems busy. He can smell it in the air and see it in their furtive movements.
But whatever it is, Sephiroth has no part in it. He would have known otherwise. His soul is silent, indifferent to the event unfolding around the silver-haired child.
Instead, he turns his attention to find a private corner to read the Gast's anticipated words.
Dear Sephiroth.
Unfortunately, I can't tell you much about your mother. I didn't know her so well personally. Professor Hojo knew her much better than I, but I will tell you what I can. She was a beautiful and intelligent woman with light brown hair that glowed copper in the sun. Your hairline is very similar and I seem to recall the shape of your eyes reminding me of hers, though they were brown in colour. You resemble her in many ways. Regrettably, she passed away from the complications resulting from your birth. I want you to know that the fault does not lie with you Sephiroth. It was our weakness and mistakes that resulted in this tragedy. I could and would never ask for your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I am sorry and remorseful of how it unfolded. I cannot help but wish that things had happened differently and that you could one day meet her yourself. I am sorry, I can't tell you more...
So you've finally met young Rufus Shinra. I saw him when he was just a baby, but not since. When he grows up he'll take on the mantel of Vice-president which stands vacant for now until Rufus is old enough. I'm glad you have had the chance to meet him Sephiroth, even if he didn't give you a very good first impression. I am not surprised by Rufus's behaviour. It is typical for children to be manipulative and they have reason to be so. It is actually partially related to your question about Professor Hojo's responsibility as your guardian.
Children usually have little means to fend for themselves, they have insufficient knowledge of how the world works and how to gather or earn the resources to live. The food you eat, the knowledge you gain through lessons and books, the space you live in, all of these cost resources which Shinra provides for you. Professor Hojo – as your guardian – is responsible for making sure that you are safe and healthy to the best of his ability. The duty of an adult is to provide for and protect their young who are unable to do so themselves. It is also their duty to pass on knowledge and skills that will allow the young to be able to provide for themselves as adults. Since children have no proper understanding of the dangers or difficulties they may encounter and the skills they will need in life, they do not have the ability to make correct decisions for themselves. Which is why adults decide for them. However, this means that children have no real authority or power over their own situation and can only gain some measure of influence by convincing an adult to humour them to get what they want. This is manipulation. Surely you have managed or at least tried to get your way even when adults initially said otherwise? I certainly did when I was a child. My, it seems like such a long time ago. I'd be embarrassed if I behaved like I did back then, but this sort of behaviour is somewhat expected from children.
I myself am doing wonderfully. I find my days are spent with the fair lady I told you about in my last letter. I find that the more I learn about her the more I appreciate. My heart flutters when I'm around her and when she smiles I find myself stutter with nervousness. I am blind to all of her faults. In my life I never truly valued romance. I could not understand what all the fuss was about and preferred to pursue my studies. I would never have thought I'd come across it in this old age. It was worth the wait and I hope you will come across love once in your life, Sephiroth. Even if it ends in heartbreak as I fear this first love of mine will, for the age which separates us is simply too great. But even if it does, I will thank her for the days of happiness and bliss this love has brought me. Ah, it must be strange to hear this old man wax about love. Don't mind it. I hope the day comes when you will understand.
On to more practical things. My young female companion expressed a desire to investigate the condor I spotted by the Mako reactor when I told her about it. So we will be traveling to the area. There is a small number of staff living at the reactor in the Junon plains so you can send your next letter there.
Yours Truly
Gast Faremis
The first words of Gast's letters are promising, but Sephiroth's hope quickly stumble into confusion. Though Gast says he looks similar to Jenova the colours are all wrong. Even as he thinks of his mother's name, silver strands and illusory skin flicker, a vision he is unable to consolidate with the description of brown hair and eyes. The attempt disperses the longing and purpose evoked by his mother's name and instead his soul falls silent and the visions dissipate.
Frustration follows confusion as his eyes move over the stream of apologies that Gast offers. The information is wrong. These descriptions are of another person. It must be. Is Gast trying to hide something from him. His eyes glow in quiet menace that threaten to turn over to betrayal. His soul awakens in remembrance of the violations of his trust.
But as Sephiroth reads the paragraph again his attention is caught by the last sentences: 'I cannot help but wish that things had happened differently and that you could one day meet her yourself. I am sorry, I can't tell you more…'.
The corners of the silver-haired child's eyes tighten as a different suspicion arises. One which sooths his sudden anger, while his sharp mind flashes to the time in the Turk office with Veld.
Classified.
Perhaps this is classified information? Or maybe the old man is even hiding something from Shinra.
Calmed by this insight the child decides to let this matter lie in darkness a while longer. With time, Sephiroth will find out.
Reading on he finds his mind broaden once again through Gast's words and explenations of the human society.
Can he survive and prosper on his own? Sephiroth has never truly thought about survival in terms of food and shelter beyond having an innate confidence that he will be able to protect himself. His soul hints the answers he seeks will be found by remaining in Shinra until further notice.
However, something strikes him as wrong with the image Gast paints of his situation. Though it is not explicitly mentioned his words suggests that Shinra's caretaking is an act of generosity. But Sephiroth knows better than that.
Shinra is not generous. A notion his soul is inclined to confirm.
He does receive benefits from this company, he would have no reason to remain otherwise. However, they gain something from raising him as well.
The eagerness with which they put him through tests and experiments comes to mind, as does the memory of Veld's guilt and conflict during the status effect immunity experiments. He had not understood the man's feelings at the time but they could well indicate something. Perhaps the price they ask of him is already more than the value of what they offer him in return.
It is not only the experiments, however. They require absolute obedience from him and expect him to serve under them in future.
Though perhaps that last is more common considering Rufus's future is also laid out for him and he is expected to take the post of Vice-president when he is ready.
But is the price he pays really equal to the food, shelter, education and protection from the outside which Shinra offers him? Not knowing the value of such, Sephiroth can not truly judge that for himself. Veld's behaviour could suggest otherwise, but he is but one man. Even in this letter, Gast supports Shinra's efforts to raise him, albeit he warned Sephiroth to be wary of them in the past.
Once again, the silver-haired boy glances upon the letter from his friend. A seed of suspicion grows in his gut and echoes of betrayal whisper from the child's soul.
But Gast's last question makes him pause. Has he been manipulative? He had never thought of it. The silver-haired boy does not ask for much, he mostly does as he is told and the occasional times he willingly interacts with others have mostly been out of a desire for information. Often they answer him with out too much needling on his part.
But sometimes he manages to direct conversations or get answers which had not originally been supplied to him. Could that be considered manipulation? It comes so natural to him and it is only from professor Hojo and the Turks that Sephiroth has had difficulty to extract desired information from.
He had also managed to get his letters out of professor Hojo's hands, but had that not been his right in the first place. Especially since he had been able to argue his way to the conclusion.
In the end, perhaps it is not so unusual as the boy had first thought. He had done it often enough without even realising it, and he had mostly benefited from it.
However, he had not appreciated Rufus's attempts of manipulation on him. The boy had been obvious enough that Sephiroth was capable of recognising his actions for what they were. The boy had merely persisted to the point where it annoyed the silver-haired boy. It had not done much to earn any of his trust either.
Sephiroth had never so blatantly manipulated another… Or actually, the boy pauses in thought, he had. One of his Turk instructors – Cane, was it? – Sephiroth had deliberately provoked him. He'd even appealed to the mans emotion and fuelled it with magic in an attempt to get what he wanted.
He knew the Turk had been delaying. All the Turks had and still are.
That had indeed been manipulation. And of the sort that Rufus had attempted on him, only much more potent.
Rufus too had tried all manners of ways to convince Sephiroth to play with him using both his twisted, childish logic and trying to emotionally influence the silver-haired child. The young Shinra had even attempted to exchange favours.
When Sephiroth, had been unable to spar or advance properly in his combat training, he had goaded his instructor into attacking him. Or would have if that older Turk had not intervened. The one with the silent power around him.
He hadn't seen the Turk instructor since. He was told the man – Cane – had been sent away on a mission so his staff training wouldn't begin until he came back. That had been a couple of weeks ago.
Sephiroth doesn't really care about the man's absence, though he suspects that this 'mission' may have something to do with his attempt to rile the Turk up.
He had done it not out of necessity but out of desire. To seek the thrill his soul promised.
Once again he hears the janitors voice from a few days ago: 'Being petty is normal for children.' And now Gast confronts him with the same words by saying it is normal for children to manipulate and even suggesting that the silver-haired boy is no different.
How can Sephiroth be so different from all others around him, yet hold so much in common with children?
That is, if Sephiroth's actions really are comparable to those of children. The silver-haired child knows his understanding and motivations are not at the same level as Rufus's. But the boy doesn't know enough children to truly be able to evaluate their approximate intelligence. Perhaps Rufus is dumber than others of his peers?
Laying that matter aside the next paragraph has Sephiroth reading it again and again while turning his head at it.
What had happened to Gast?
Romance?
It awakens a mixture of disgust and contempt from his soul along with a reserved curiosity. To understand what others seem to experience but that he could never grasp.
Love.
An aching longing and fulfilment. Mother's love, he realises. But Gast does not seem to be talking about his mother in his letter. He does not even mention receiving any in return, but instead suggests that the love is his own directed towards this woman.
Ultimately the child finds himself stumped on this part of the letter. His friend seems to give so much in return for the discomfort he describes and even expects his heart to break in future. It sounds very painful to Sephiroth.
Yet his friend seems happy and even wishes the same experience upon the boy. Unable to make either heads or tails of this concept he puts it aside to explore on a later date.
Gast news that he will be traveling to the Eastern continent gladdens the silver-haired boy. He fleetingly wonders what is so special about that condor aside from it's size. But more then that a seed of hope stirs within the boy.
For every month that passes his soul seems to suggest his meeting with Gast will never occur. The thought awakens frustration, confusion and a faltering sense of betrayal.
A quiet wish cannot help but express itself, that is friend will continue his journey north and visit the silver-haired child in Midgar.
There are so many things he would like to ask the man in person and things that he has yet to know to ask about. But his soul whispers that the end is approaching, though he knows not what this end may be.
...
Sephiroth likes using the stairs, because no one else does. The elevators are often crowded and the time it takes to wait on it to both reach him and bring him to his destination makes using the stairs at times quicker.
From what the boy has gathered, the reason many people avoid the stairs is because it tires them. He can tell by the laboured breathing when he hears them walk in the stairwell. But this is usually not an issue for the five-year old unless he intends to climb dozens of floors. If he is in a hurry it is no big feat to simply leap to the next landing in but a few steps.
It is on his way to his tutor on arithmetic that Sephiroth hears one of the doors on the lower landings squeak open and heavy footsteps thump down the steps.
Sephiroth pauses in his assent.
These footsteps are different. A bit heavier than even Palmers, yet there is no accompanying laboured breathing which is customary with this weight class.
Leaning over the banister the silver haired child feels his shoulder length silver hair tickle his cheeks as it hangs above the great drop of 45 floors while he waits for his opportunity.
The opportunity is quick to arrive and just as quick to leave, but in that moment he catches a glimpse of the man descending the stair and freezes as metal glints in the light.
His soul gives a jerk of recognition. A swell of mixed emotion of shock, anger, exhilaration, and something more, something deeper. In that short instant it thrums through him with a strength that he hasn't felt since professor Hojo uttered mother's name.
But this moment lasts but an instant and passes out of sight.
Pushing of the banister Sephiroth dashes down the staircases leaving any thought of attending his lesson behind.
Listening to the sounds from below, as he turns at his third landing in hisn chase to catch up to one of the phantoms from his soul.
The sounds stop, but thankfully there is no creak of a door. It is when he makes another turn that he halts as his eyes meet the softly glowing blue ones of the adult on the landing below.
It is a tall black haired man with a muscular build unlike any Sephiroth has seen before. He wears a strange uniform which is somewhat familiar yet very wrong in it's details, and behind one shoulder, illuminated by the light trickling through the window on Sephiroth's landing, is a red leather-clad hilt.
The sight before him strikes echoes of his soul's memory that strangely overlap each other again and again and again. But for every time slightly different in the shape and size of the silhouette.
He cannot see the blade, but his soul's whispers form a disjointed shape in his mind. It speaks of the sharpness of its edge, the unyielding nature of its metal and the stubborn weight of the strength the wields it. But he cannot see it in it's entirety.
"Are you Sephiroth?" The man asks, his voice deep but gentle. The silver-haired boy can smell the lingering scent of surprise and curiosity make its way towards him.
Knowing that particular question doesn't warrant answering Sephiroth counters with his own question. "Who are you?"
Though the posture is familiar, with his tall, muscular build and black hair, and traces in the facial features sending echoes of faint recognition within the boy's soul, the man himself is not.
Sephiroth and his soul have never met him before.
The man smiles and straightens into a strange stance to Sephiroth but an intimately familiar one to his other self. "SOLDIER Hewley, at your service."
SOLDIER Hewley. It sends ripples of remembrance. Of contentment and trust, along with an equally heavy dose of betrayal and anger. But it must be for another man that these echoes stems from, and not this one, for the adult is ultimately unfamiliar.
Leaving the identity of the phantom in his mind aside Sephiroth proceeds to the most pressing matter. Namely the hilt that protrudes from behind the man's shoulder.
"Your sword…" Yes, that is what it must be. His soul resonates with the idea. Though Sephiroth is sure that he has never seen a sword of this kind before.
The man seems to catch on quickly to the boy's wish. A small, indulgent smile appearing on his face as he grasps the hilt and brings it over his head carefully. Not to scrape the tip on the landing above, the child realises. For it is as long as many men are tall, though not quite as tall as this adult before him.
A shock of familiarity rips through the boy's inner landscapes. The movement is somewhat awkwardly executed by the black-haired man as if unused to it. But the manouver is never the less terribly familiar. As too is the the distinct shape of the blade and the fractured images within his mind forms and fits perfectly into a complete picture.
As if drawn like a moth to a flame, the Silver haired child descends the remaining steps. The taller man unabashedly sits on the dusty floor and rests the huge sword on his knees to let the child have a better look.
And this sword is truly a flame, for as dilated pupils set in glowing green eyes trace the sharp tip of the blade, his soul replicates a brutal searing shock of pain through his abdomen. A blurry vision bathed in Mako blues and greens portray the blade protruding through what must have been his leather-clad torso. He can almost sense the phantom wielder twists the blade cruelly through his midriff, eliciting a short breathy grunt out of him.
On impulse he glances over his shoulder, but the vision shatters and scatters leaving the dusty staircase and the pale light of the landing window above.
"Is something wrong?" Turning back, he is met with questioning glowing blue eyes which sends echoes upon echoes of other such people through Sephiroth's soul. But none that he can distinguish.
Not bothering to answer, green eyes fall to the blade once again and he reaches reflexively to trace the familiar grooves, only to hesitate as his soul balks at his action.
Sephiroth's eyes dart up to the stranger to ask. "May I touch?"
The tall man smiles down at the boy from where he is sitting cross legged on the floor. Sephiroth senses that this he is content with studying him for the moment, the curiosity thick in the air. "Yes, of course. As long as you're careful with your fingers.
The permission pacifies his soul, the adults voice substituting for one of the phantoms within it.
Attentively he listens to the metal whisper as his pale fingertips run lightly upon the flat of the blade. Along it's grooves and to the circular holes in the centre, just below the hilt.
Materia slots, he realises quietly as he fingers their edges. He wonders idly if the grooves are to disperse and lead the Materia's power along the large blade.
"It was specially created for SOLDIER." The man interrupts his line of thought, pride seeping in his voice. "No unenhanced person would have the strength to wield it."
Sephiroth glances up at the man, the information somewhat new. "What is it called?"
The man seems to falter at this then continues in a softer voice, a scent Sephiroth cannot quite identify emerging. "It's called the Buster sword." The name trigger of remembrance from his soul which combines in perfect harmony with the replica of the blade in his mind.
Sephiroth is certain now. This is one of the tools involved in his soul's history. A major landmark. An identifier to the pieces of his lost destiny.
"It's a good name." The child comments offhandedly.
Chuckling the tall man replies bashfully. "I thought so too, but my buddies said it was childish." A mixture of pride and what the child now knows as light embarrassment tinting his scent.
Lightly the silver-haired boy brushes over the decorative brass, before reaching for the red leather-clad hilt. Once again a strong sense of wrongness bursts from his soul and he hesitates for a single moment. But Sephiroth has his own curiosity to pursue and ultimately disregards the warning. If anything it fuels the child to break the compulsion.
His small fingers reach underneath the hilt, grasping around the leather and he lifts. Or tries to, as a weight which is greater than he expects meets his own strength and he only manages to bring the hilt a hand's width from the black clothed thigh.
Disregarding the sharp intake of breath accompanied by the scent of surprise from the older man, the silver-haired child exerts a force he rarely has reason to use, managing to lift the hilt to his own height. His body adjusts intuitively to balance himself, the pressure of the weight on his joints both new and somewhat familiar.
But try as he might he cannot lift the blade completely off the ground one handed so he grasps it with his second as well. Just as the tip of the blade lifts from the dusty concrete and the boy feels the muscles of his back and arms strain to keep his posture with the force of his feet pressing against the floor - a large warm hand grasps the hilt along side his and relieves his body of the swords burden.
Glowing green move to meet glowing blue. The man smiles kindly at him. Though Sephiroth can feel a deep shock emanate from the black-haired adult. "I guess you really are meant to be SOLDIER." He says.
"SOLDIER…" Sephiroth realises that he's never thought much about it, in spite of constantly hearing it referred in the same breath as he. The thought so natural, he never questioned it. "What is SOLDIER?" He asks releasing the hilt and letting the man lower it back to is knees.
Once again Sephiroth senses a fresh whiff of surprise but the sent quickly softens, and the man looks at him with an expression that Sephiroth can only describe as evaluating.
With an elbow resting on the flat of the broad blade he speaks softly with his deep voice, his cheek resting in his palm. "SOLDIER is a new kind of fighter." His other gloved hand strokes carefully along the blades edge as he continues to explain. "We're given immense strength and endurance through the power of Mako."
Returning his gaze to boy before him he adopts a severe expression. "But that is not the most important."
All of the word ring quiet bells of recognition in Sephiroth soul. This is SOLDIER.
"What is most important…" the man continues in his deep voice. "Is our SOLDIER honour." Pride and faith permeating the air in the surrounding.
Echoes of another man in another time ripple through him. He can almost hear him, the voice slightly irate, as if lecturing.
"Honour is what will stop us from using our power in the wrong way, if we are ever tempted to do so. It sets us apart from the monsters we slay. You must never forget your SOLDIER honour." The man finishes with the severe tone a quiet fervour radiating underneath it all.
His impassioned speech raises a mixture of amusement, exasperation and bitterness from the Sephiroth's spirit, but the connection is fickle and flutters away as Sephiroth seeks to delve deeper.
However, the mention of honour tugs at the silver-haired boy's own memory. "Are you from Wutai?" The child asks abruptly.
The man blinks. Once again the sent of surprise comes across. "No… What made you think that?" He asks seemingly taken aback.
"A friend told me that the people of Wutai greatly value Honour and would even take their own life if they lost it. Your mention of honour reminded me of this."
"Oh, I see." The man replies softly, while scratching his noes. "I hadn't thought about it that way before, but…" The man pauses considering. "My grandfather on my mother's side was from Wutai." He confides. His voice warm and his eyes distant. The expression helps Sephiroth identify the unfamiliar scent which the man exudes. Admiration. "It was he who put me on the path of a fighter."
"Is it true that they take their own lives when they lose their honour?" The boy asks curiously. He had not been able to understand that particular aspect of the Wutai culture, neither had Gast though he mentioned it anecdotally in his letter.
The man's gaze returns to meet Sephiroth's and he seems thoughtful as if recollecting. "Hmm, yes I think they do it sometimes, or at least they did in my grandfather's time." He confirms. "But as I recall it is not so much for the reason that they have lost it, but to regain it."
The child's soul stirs uneasily at this subject. Faint wisps of turbulent emotion prickle Sephiroth's awareness. "How can they regain their honour through death? Isn't it just running away from shame?"
He feels a spike of indignation from the big man before him who lowers his hand from his chin to rest on the Buster sword with the other. "I think, when a person loses their honour they will put the well being of the people around them in danger. Either through their own actions or the actions of others in retaliation. In order to protect the people they love they will take their own life."
"How would their actions affect the lives of the ones close to them?" Sephiroth asks, not understanding. His attention is quietly caught by the mention of love, however.
The older man pauses for a moment. Adjusting the weight of the sword on his lap and surreptitiously stretching his back, he replies. "Well, apart from the shame and betrayal that is caused by the dishonourable actions, the loved ones' reputation may be affected through their association with them in a similar way. People may become more mistrustful, and some might seek to take revenged on the ones deer to them."
"It still sounds like they are running away through death." Argues Sephiroth on behalf of the anger and betrayal that simmers in remembrance of an unnamed death. For he realised that this must be been someone's death that resides somewhere within his soul. This subject is too closely tied to it for it not to be.
The dark haired man sighs, shaking is head with the faint sense of exasperation trickling into the man's scent. "It takes great courage to recognise how you may endanger your loved ones and greater still to take your life in order to protect them."
There is that word again. Love. The ones that are loved. Just like how Gast described that he loved that new woman he met. Does this mean that Gast would protect that her not only from others but also himself? Would he take his life in order to do so?
Sephiroth can sense that the man is losing his patience and interest in the subject. With the foreboding sense of urgency for Gast's unnamed end in the child's mind he continues his questioning. "What of the ones that are left behind? What of the friend who still needs them?"
The man rolls his shoulder his right hand moving to grip the handle of the Buster sword as he manoeuvres his feet under him. "Traditionally it is the friend that grants the merciful end to their pain, since the suicide itself is a slow one." He stands up in one smooth motion. "It may be hard for you to understand this now, but the ones who kill themselves after having lost their honour do it for good reason. If they are lucky enough they have a close friend who deems them worthy of having a quick and merciful death." He finishes with a soft click as what might be a magnet on the mans harness meets the blade, holding it in place.
The SODIER smiles down at Sephiroth. "I'm sorry to leave you but I have things to do." He turns and opens the door on the landing. Waving, while uttering his parting words. "We'll probably meet again in future."
But before the door slams shut, a sense of urgency comes across Sephiroth as loss and betrayal, along with that emptiness, rears its unpleasant head from his soul. In an instant the child grasps the door an and calls after the adult beginning to stride down the corridor on the other side. "What if they have no friends left?" He asks. "What if there is no one left worth protecting?"
The familiar yet foreign form of the tall dark haired man with his sword, stops and turns partially to look back at the strange boy. He is quiet for a moment before answering simply. "Then, I guess, they will die a monster's death." Turning back, he continues on, unaware of the true weight of his words.
Retreating back into the quiet stairwell the little boy broods quietly. He had gained much from this interaction; he'd found a major tool from his soul's forgotten history, yet at the same time the things he learns promises a foreboding fate.
Sliding down he feels the wall tug at his shirt and the slight pain as his bare back scrapes against he uneven surface. He finds himself for the first time truly questioning his soul. What could the purpose he has lost be? Would it truly be worth the pain his future hints at?
Reaching a finger down to touch a patch of undisturbed dust on the ground, he traces the shape of the Buster sword. When will he find his illusive Cloud?
Reviews:Thanks to Bloody Roses for her reviews, I pretty much used their words in Gast's letter in regards of children and manipulation. Lordibau for yet another fun review and sharing the news of smut ficks and and the French President which made the news O.O Lovely to hear from Lady Yomi and JustAReader SO for telling me what you thought about my story!
Will Sephiroth ever love another as Gast hopes he would?
What?! it was the Buster sword and not the Masamune?! I'm glad I seemed to have managed to surprise some of you with this development. I'd be interested in hearing if anyone had suspicions though. This chapter was a pain to write, and I'm not entirely satisfied. But I'll have to come back to improve it another day.
On a side note; I've been thinking about what genre this story would have and ended up with the mystery category. Even though we know, (or think we know) what's going on, Sephiroth doesn't and is on a journey to find answers for himself. Wouldn't this mean it should be under the 'mystery' genre. I found thiq surprising, because I usually don't like reading this genre. What do you, my dear reader, think?
I make no claim whatsoever that what SOLDIER Hewely described honour as has anything to do with the traditional concept of Seppuku that this suicide thing is inspired from. I've never really understood it so I just made up something that sort of made just a little bit of sense in the context of this story. As a final note I'll share with you the only thing I've ever heard that I actually understood on the topic of Honour I found in a Swedish 'dictionary for thinkers': "Honour should only appear as a by-product." a quote by Paul Valéry
Next chapter: Letter from Gast