In which Clive grows frustrated with recent events and struggles to suppress an itchy trigger finger.
The contents of this chapter are loosely based on a post and comment thread from April 3rd, 2005.
Poor Thomas doesn't deserve all this. His time will come.
"Absolutely not! Sir Clive, I forbid it! I'm the captain of the guard! We don't handle punishments around here like that!"
Clive leaned against the lottery stand in Budehuc's courtyard and fidgeted with his gun, the sun gleaming along its barrel. He was on edge and twitchy. What began as a quiet morning polishing Storm somehow dissolved into an unwelcome squabble. After living at Budehuc for nearly a year, he was well-accustomed to Cecile's bossy outbursts. Sometimes they were cute. Other times they were exasperating. But today she was downright infuriating.
"Look," Clive said, "this has nothing to do with you or your abilities as a guard. I'm stating what should have been done months ago."
"Everything is completely under control!"
"So you mean to tell me you're just going to do nothing and let Luca Blight sit there? Even after he broke out of prison?"
"He's back in prison now, and I'm not doing nothing! You can't execute him, he's Miss Yun's friend!"
"Him being Yun's friend doesn't mean anything! Remember, I witnessed this guy during the Duncan Unification War, and I don't want to take any chances, Cecile."
Dammit, why is she so stubborn!? This shouldn't even be up for debate.
He slowly ran his palm up along the barrel of Storm, trying not to show his agitation. Indulging in her naïve attempt to offer a sandwich was one thing—Luca was behind bars then, even though Clive still had his reservations. But finding out the Highland prince broke out of his cell changed things.
"Don't worry, Sir Clive! I can handle things just fine. You don't have to worry about taking any chances with me around! He didn't put a scratch on me!"
"I already said this has nothing to do with—wait," he choked, "what do you mean, 'put a scratch' on you?!"
She swallowed, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks. "I'm fine!"
"That's not what I asked," Clive said.
Suddenly Cecile seemed far more interested in looking at the lottery numbers posted on the board. "How on earth does Martha plan to finance a grand prize like that," she mused, "do you reckon anyone has ever actually won?"
"Answer the damn question, Cecile."
Reluctant, she turned to face him. "I already told you, he's back in jail, so now you should have nothing to worry about!"
"Did he attack you?"
"I'm fine, Sir Clive!"
He groaned. Luca Blight already deserved a bullet long before his imprisonment, but a few more holes in the Highland prince would be gratifying. Clive's trigger finger itched.
"I think he's just upset! He has no friends, after all! We need to help him reform," Cecile added.
"Help him reform? Would a bullet in his head help?" Clive said and made no effort to suppress a scowl. "Cecile… is this really what you want?"
"If Miss Yun cares for him, he can't truly be all bad. And it's my fault we got into an argument. I shouldn't have goaded him on. It's my job to make sure he behaves and follows the rules around here!"
Yun was another source of frustration. What was it about Yun that made people want to believe her? Granted she was amicable and friendly, and Clive didn't have any personal opinions on her either way. In fact, there was something about the Alma Kinan shaman that felt almost familiar, but that was impossible. Clive never paid the secluded clan a visit during his travels, and to his knowledge Yun never crossed paths with him either. But one thing was for certain—he knew trying to sway Cecile's opinions was useless if Yun was involved.
A bell jingled behind them. Clive caught sight of Thomas exiting the appraisal shop. A small satchel was slung over his shoulder, and there were dark bags under his eyes. The news of Luca's prison-break was probably weighing even heavier on him than anyone else, Clive reasoned.
If I can't talk sense into her, I bet he can.
They locked eyes, and a look of pure panic flooded Thomas's face. His vision darted between Clive and Cecile, then the front gates. Clive gave him a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Your timing is good. What do you think about all this?"
"I'm sorry," Thomas played with the fraying strap of his satchel. "W-what are we talking about?"
"N-nothing! Everything is absolutely fine!" Cecile said, her voice louder than usual.
"You're the castle master," Clive said. "Tell Cecile to stop this nonsense over Luca Blight."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Cecile's own expression was almost as panicked as Thomas's. Clive started to wonder if he made a mistake roping Thomas into the argument.
"I'm… I'm not castle master anymore. I'm leaving," Thomas said, his voice low.
Before Clive even had a moment to process Thomas's announcement, Cecile had resumed flailing. "You see?! We don't need to bring others into this discussion. Everything is fine, I promise! I have everything under control!"
"Fine? Well, fine then; castle master or not, it doesn't excuse Luca Blight from attacking you, Cecile! This isn't something you can smooth over with a damn sandwich."
Thomas went pale. "Attack?"
"You didn't know?"
"I…"
Now Thomas's satchel and his nervous mannerisms made sense. The young man wasn't stressing over the news of Luca Blight—hell, he didn't even know anything about it. He was leaving. And it was most likely due to the scene at the festival with Kinnison. Despite all of Fred Maximillian's protests, that little bit of eavesdropping paid off. But for Cecile's sake, Clive wished in this situation his gut instinct was wrong.
Thomas held back for a moment, then took a tentative step closer. "Cecile, I can't allow you to do this alone. I'm responsible for your safety, so I… I… even if I am no longer castle master..."
"The only one responsible for my safety is me, so you just worry about yourself, okay?! Besides, next time… I can beat him!"
"Next time?!" Clive blanched and Thomas resumed wringing his hands. "Cecile! Don't bother trying to fight the guy! And no, it isn't your job to take care of him!"
"But Ma—ah, Thomas is about to leave on an important trip! I need to make sure things go smoothly in his absence. And there's no smoother way towards reformation than making new friends, Sir Clive!"
Clive wasn't sure who looked more anguished; Cecile for catching herself and dropping Thomas's title, or Thomas for being thrust into the spotlight. The former castle master seemed incapable of holding eye contact with anyone, and his skittishness only made Clive more frustrated.
Before he could say anything further, another familiar face crossed the courtyard after exiting the fortune-teller's tent. "What's all this? Did I hear something about making new friends?" Fred Maximillian asked.
Thomas withered even more. One more set of eyes to observe his failure. For once Clive appreciated Fred's ignorant optimism.
"I just got my fortune told, and Sir Piccolo says today is an excellent day for me to do a good deed! What better way than to make friends?"
"No one needs to make friends with Luca Blight," Clive insisted.
"Oh." Fred's good cheer instantly dried up. "N-no, I daresay no one does."
"You don't understand! I have to do this!" Cecile cried. "Master Thomas is no longer castle master, so… so… someone has to hold things together! Why is everyone arguing with me?!"
Fred's darted a glance in Clive's direction. Clive could tell he was already putting the pieces together. "Lady Cecile," Fred said gently, "can you blame your friends for being a little concerned? As a member of the Maximillian Knights, I cannot simply stand by and watch this without saying anything, and... as your friend, I agree with Sir Clive."
"No! This is my own fault, and I am responsible for taking care of it. It's my job! I can't have anything bad happen while Thomas is gone! And… and if I befriend Luca, I can fix everything!"
As he watched her grow increasingly frantic, Clive's frustration with Cecile shifted to disdain for Thomas. He still had a choice in the matter, and he chose to abandon them. It didn't matter how similar they were—Riou never would've run away from the people who needed him, no matter how broken-hearted he was.
Clive didn't care how similar the two young men were, and he didn't care how partial Cecile was towards him. Things had gone on long enough. He tossed back his hood, darting a cold look towards Thomas before addressing Cecile. "Responsible? If anything does go wrong, it'll be because your beloved little Thomas forfeited his responsibility. He picked the perfect time to feel sorry for himself!"
Thomas shrank behind the fence and turned red with shame. The young man drew a shaky breath, then slipped away without another word.
Serves him right.
But Clive's barbed words only made things worse. "No!" Cecile sputtered, "You don't mean that, do you? Ma—ah, T-Thomas is entitled to be upset, and he has the biggest responsibility of all! This is my own fault, not his, and if I get hurt then that's what I deserve!"
"Deserve?! If you get hurt again it'll be Thomas's fault! And… mine, for not stopping this all sooner, dammit. He's no better than Luca!"
"I don't understand! He isn't anything like Luca! He cares about all of us! He just… he just needs some time alone," Cecile sobbed.
"Obviously your caring Thomas didn't care that Luca Blightof all people probably wants your head!"
"He… he cares! He's just… He..." She couldn't keep it together any longer. The messy tears flowed freely.
Fred stepped forward, frantically looking between the two of them. "Please don't cry, Lady Cecile! I'm certain Master Thomas cares about you! People always care about their friends, and he certainly considers you his friend!"
"Y-you can't call him Master Thomas anymore, Sir Fred!"
"Er… I just meant to say... Sir Clive is simply… trying to have a bit of an intervention. He's only keeping your own best interests at heart," Fred glanced at Clive pleadingly.
It was Clive's turn to feel guilty. He drew his cloak closer and couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse as he walked away. He sensed Fred's anxious stare on his back but didn't turn around. This wasn't the outcome he hoped for. Of course Cecile flew to Thomas's defense, she was smitten with him. But tears weren't something he was equipped to handle. Normally Clive was willing to give into Cecile's demands—it was easier to indulge than he preferred to admit. Even if she was trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, it was becoming clear that Cecile was desperate to gain control of the situation as her world fell apart.
Doesn't this sound a little too familiar?
Clive tightened his grip on Storm as the echoes of old anger and regret washed over him. That fateful duel still haunted him. It took only an instant to tear apart his circle of friends and his change life in the Howling Voice Guild forever. The grief afterwards was crushing. He'd have done anything in that moment to try stitching back the life he knew before everything unraveled. And if it meant befriending someone as dangerous as Luca Blight, maybe he would've done the same, or at the very least contemplated it in a brief moment of madness.
The subsequent journey he embarked on was all-consuming as he grasped at false leads and dead ends while chasing across the world to have his revenge and find her…
I don't want that future for Cecile.
Clive shook his head. It wasn't like he had anything reassuring to say. Better to let Fred handle things. The entire affair was far too close for comfort. There was only one woman in his own life he ever loved, and she turned traitor. How could he offer any warm words to Cecile when she was most likely feeling the same pain?
He stopped and leaned against the stone wall facing the lake. The sublevel bulkhead door was only a few paces away. Remembering Luca was imprisoned nearby set him on edge again. Clive found himself drumming his fingers along the barrel of Storm as he imagined pulling the trigger and properly sending the Highland prince back to the realm of the dead a second time.
"Planning on hunting some waterfowl, I take it? They're paying a good commission at the café for any game brought in."
The hair along the back of Clive's neck bristled. He knew that voice. He cursed his carelessness and quickly snapped Storm to attention, facing the intruder. "You. What do you want?"
"Hey now," Nash raised his hands defensively. "Is that any way to greet someone?"
Clive sized him up. Faint strands of grey ran through his golden hair. Wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes. The edges of his scarf were more threadbare than Clive recalled. Yet the Harmonian still maintained that same damned buttery charm. He kept his hold on Storm. "You've changed."
"And you haven't, I see."
"No. That's not what I'm talking about."
"Two decades of world travel will do that to you," Nash said. "As for you…"
The latter half of his sentence hung in the air, but it was mutually understood. Nash was twenty years older, whereas Clive was mostly unchanged from when they last crossed paths in Muse during the Dunan Unification War. The gap was pronounced. Clive was grateful to be on the youthful side of fate.
"Of course," Nash continued, "I'm still looking pretty fine, all things considered. In fact, the other day while I was at the tavern—"
Clive jabbed the muzzle of Storm against Nash's chest. "What are you doing here."
"H-hey, watch where you point that thing! It's been ages. Can't we let bygones be bygones?"
"Even in this future, I doubt the Elders have forgotten what you did."
"The Elders? But you're—" Nash narrowed his eyes and lowered his hands. "No. You're right. They probably haven't."
He knows something.
"Are you in contact with them?"
"Heh, not a chance. No, no contact here," Nash said. "In fact, since you asked so nicely about what I'm up to, I'll clue you in. I'm on holiday."
"Holiday," Clive said flatly. "Really."
"Vacation. Or perhaps retirement, depending on who you ask."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Nash shrugged, as if forgetting Storm was still aimed at his heart. "What can I say? You might want to consider trying it yourself sometime. Would do you a world of good."
"I find it hard to believe you just happened to pick this place for a vacation."
"Waterfront views, outstanding starry night skies, and fabulous local cuisine? Not to mention there's no shortage of beautiful women. What's so surprising about that?"
Clive grunted and gave Storm another nudge.
"Ah," Nash chuckled. "You mean this teleportation phenomenon. Funny thing, isn't it?"
Clive slowly lowered Storm. It was obvious he wasn't about to get any direct answers out of Nash. He was more useful alive. "Hmph. 'Funny thing'? You weren't teleported here. You came here of your own volition."
Nash exhaled in relief and patted his chest. "What can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment."
Murder was definitely out of the question. But incapacitation? Not so much. Clive tilted Storm down towards Nash's foot and grunted again.
"L-look, I know as much as you do! If you're seeking answers, all I have is what I've seen firsthand… and heard secondhand."
His hunch was correct. Even if Nash did know something, he wasn't about to share. "And what are you hearing secondhand?" Clive asked.
"Just rumors, idle gossip, you know the sort. As much as I enjoy a well-earned vacation, a dash of mystery on the side is enough to keep me spry."
"Hmph. Don't allow yourself to get too comfortable. Not when the likes of Blight are in our midst."
The carefree sparkle in Nash's smile dimmed. "Yes. I'm aware of that detail."
"And what sort of secondhand things are you hearing about that?"
"Too early to tell. But…" Nash's gaze drifted off to Budehuc's surrounding forest at the edge of the lake. "I'm content with observing for now, although I can't blame Kinnison for hightailing it out of here."
Clive's interest was piqued. "Are you insinuating he ran away?"
"Ran away? A hunter like him? Not in the least. But when faced with a big target you can't take down on your own, well… let's just say it makes more sense to return with more arrows."
So that's it. I'm not surprised.
It was only natural that Kinnison had a network of contacts to call upon. Nash's speculation was probably correct. Clive found himself mentally ticking through his own list of associates he hadn't yet reached out to, but that would mean admitting he was avoiding the uncomfortable conversation of his own teleportation.
"Guess we'll see what happens," Nash said. He drew in a deep breath, drinking in the clear air. "I forgot how tranquil it was out here. Maybe I'll take a cue from Juan and catch a nap later."
"You're awfully calm given the circumstances."
Nash chuckled. "It wouldn't be much of a holiday if I wasn't. Like I said," he gave a little nod, then turned and began to saunter away, "You might want to consider trying it yourself sometime."