A/N: hi hello! and welcome back!
bubbly Oxy is back and better than ever! :D
thank you AGAIN to AkaiSafire over on AO3 for beta-reading this chapter! without her, i would have lost my head long, long ago.
any mistakes are mine because i have no self-control :D
onward and upward :)
love you
enjoy
oxy
XxXxXxX
"If I never—" Gav swiped at the massive scorpion with one of the blades Cid had given him, "—see a single grain of sand ever again, it'll be too soon!" The scout spit out an alarming amount of sand and immediately dodged out of the way of a heavy scorpion pincer.
And Clive agreed wholeheartedly. But before he could say so—
"Look out!" Clive shouted as another scorpion erupted from beneath the shifting desert sands.
Fires below, those scorpions were ugly and unpleasant. Carapaces dark brown and black, pincers that could crush bone, and a stinger that would sooner cause more physical damage than poison damage; the bugs were nasty work. The worst part of it was that the beasties seemed to hunt in groups, which in Clive's opinion was unreasonably unfair.
The oversized arachnid let out a mighty screech and brandished the dripping poison edge of its stinger menacingly. Disgusting. Clive grimaced.
Gav jumped backwards and found himself on an unstable patch of sand. He was fast, that was true, but the scorpions took advantage of their newly off-balance prey and didn't let him regain his composure. Both beasts swiped at Gav with their pincers or jabbed toward him with their tails.
"Shit!" Gav cursed, parrying and dodging as best he could, but he was being backed steadily toward the edge of a dune.
"Gav!" Clive yelled and dashed forward to intervene but—
A third scorpion burst from the ground, snapping its claws and striking out at Clive with its stinger.
That's too close! Way too close! Clive grit his teeth as the flat of the sword he'd borrowed from Gav just barely kept the scorpion's stinger from his right eye.
Ifrit hissed and clawed at Clive's mind like an offended cat, but even if Clive wanted to prime, Gav was still too near—
There was a settling, as though a button had been slipped neatly into a hole.
Aether, not crackling like fire but steady like the sunlight beating down on everything—
Light burst, blinding even in the harsh midday sun of the desert, and two orbs of radiant magic slammed into the scorpion's armored exoskeleton. It shrieked, strident and piercing, and fell away.
Clive took a moment to register the two holes burnt straight through the scorpion's body before turning to assist his traveling companion.
"Alright, I'll bite; the fuck was that?" Gav asked later, when the two of them were poking hesitantly at scorpion corpses slowly crumbling to dust in the harsh afternoon sun. "S'that another one of them weird magic powers you get from being a Dominant?"
"I don't know," Clive groaned and wiped some green scorpion…blood? Did bugs have blood?...from his face.
It was true - Clive had very little idea what was going on with his magic. He and Gav had waited until nightfall on that first day to make their break away from the Crossing proper, and Clive had left the crystal fetters on the entire time. It was far easier to move once they were no longer connected to one another, and as remaining hidden from the Ashen intelligencers in search of him was incredibly valuable, Clive saw no reason to remove them.
When he finally unlocked them, though…
Ifrit had been upset at being so enchained for so long. At least, that's how it felt - the Eikon hadn't deigned to speak to Clive properly since the attack at Drake's Head, so Clive had to try and interpret the growling and lizard-like vocalizations that occasionally rumbled through the delicate tissues of his inner ear.
More than that, though, his magic was something more, now.
Clive had never been able to use light magic before. From the moment he received the Phoenix's Blessing, all he used was fire. He hadn't particularly made an effort to try, but he was fairly certain that it hadn't been an option. It went without saying that he'd never conjured spheres of light to attack his enemies.
"It's been strange ever since I took off the fetters," Clive said and rolled his shoulders. He grimaced at the dull, painful throb he got in response. Damn, he was sore like someone had taken a hammer to his spine.
"Cid said you were a Dominant of Fire," Gav began. "But I thought each element only had one warden? Isn't the Phoenix already the Warden of Fire?"
"The Phoenix is the Warden of Fire," Clive affirmed.
"Then…?" Gav finished dusting off his clothing. He gestured to indicate Clive's—well, everything.
"...I don't know," Clive grumbled.
"Seems quite a lot you don't know," Gav observed, not unkindly. "What do you know?"
Clive knew a lot of things. He knew that the Rift varied between one hundred and two hundred meters across. He knew that it would take the pair of them another day and a half to cross into Rosarian territory. He knew the typical schedule of Sanbrequois supply transports and how to sabotage them in such a way that it looked like highway robbery or a Waloeder ambush.
He just apparently didn't know the sort of things that would help inform anyone - even himself - of how his magic worked.
"Let's just say nothing," Clive said wryly and picked a chunk of shattered scorpion carapace off his boot.
Gav hummed.
The two of them resumed their progress through the blistering heat of the Velkroy Desert, moving west and slightly north at Clive's direction.
"Well. I'll tell you something I know…or at least I think I know," Gav offered after a measure of struggling through the soft sands. "Right before you killed that first scorpion with the light. Coulda sworn…"
"What?" Clive asked warily when Gav trailed off into silence.
It took another moment for Gav to reply.
"...coulda sworn you had wings."
Ifrit's answering rumbles were short. Staccato.
Laughter.
.
"Ashen scouts gettin' closer," Gav said as they made camp that evening. "No fire tonight if we wanna keep 'em off our backs completely."
"How can you tell?" Clive asked.
"Scorpions en't that far west or north, usually. Those grounds belong to helldivers or nakks." Gav replied. "Somebody's been disturbin' their hunting grounds, driving them away. Must be a bigger group stirrin' up shit, and I can't think of anyone else who might've done it."
"We're close to the Rosarian border," Clive said. "Perhaps a day's walk north. It'll…well, crossing into Rosaria will bring new problems, but I'm imagining that Rosarian patrols won't take too kindly to Waloeder invaders."
He still didn't know why it was that neither the Dhalmekian Men of the Fist nor the Men of the Rock seemed to be pursuing the Waloeders. Looking back, he was also unsure why the ground at the Crossing had rumbled like that - why would Titan be working with Garuda? Was Dhalmekia aiming to attain some kind of deal with Waloed? Why? The Southwestern Alliance had been strong since the beginning of the war, and seemed mutually beneficial to both Rosaria and Dhalmekia.
"Are you certain we shouldn't be circling back toward the Crossing to meet up with Cid?" Clive asked, and not for the first time, either.
He was worried slightly about Cid's fate; what could have happened between him, Garuda, and Titan? Clive certainly wasn't also hoping to delay his return to Rosaria. Certainly not.
Gav unfurled his and Clive's bedrolls - pilfered from the Kostnice marketplace when they'd passed by, though Clive wasn't sure how Gav managed it - on the ground and replied, "Nope. We keep goin'. Cid said to get you out, so I'm gettin' you out. Not sure how much longer that Brand will look real, so we gotta move."
"Not that I don't appreciate it, but what if he's run into trouble?"
"It's Cid," Gav shrugged, "when is he not in trouble?"
Clive didn't have a response for that one, so he threw back his handful of dried meat, nuts, and fruits, (also pilfered from the Kostnice markets - Gav truly was a menace to that place) and nodded at the bedrolls.
"Move your bedroll closer to mine," Clive ordered and dusted curing salt off his hands.
"I—what?" Gav spluttered a little and coughed.
"We can't build a fire tonight and the desert is freezing," Clive reminded and held up his left hand, "Dominant of Fire, remember? It'll be warmer for you if you're closer to me."
Gav cleared his throat. "Ah. Right. Yeah."
Any remaining light from the sunset faded in short order, and the stars slowly started to pepper the night sky. In the east, the moon slowly rose over the horizon.
"It's not Cid I'm worried about, anyway," Gav offered quietly while Clive attempted to maneuver the sand beneath himself into a more comfortable arrangement.
"Hmm?"
"Wasn't near the Crossing by chance," Gav explained. "Plan was, I'd escort someone north for Cid, all the way to the Dominion. Was gonna meet her near the inn when she got across the bridge. All that changed, though."
"Who?" Clive asked curiously.
"Can't remember the name, but she was some bigshot in Kanver, I think," Gav said.
"Hmm."
Gav shifted around a little in his bedroll and turned onto his side. "Well. I just hope she can get where she's goin' on her own."
Clive wondered a little at the kind of business that would bring Cid to Kanver. Trading or knowledge, maybe? Invention? And why would someone need an escort north if they could get to and over the Crossing on their own?
He shoved his arms beneath his head and stared up at the thousands of flickering stars dappled across the pitch-black sky.
Interesting questions, indeed.
XxXxX
"At least another day," Wade complained loud enough for Tyler to hear but not loud enough to disturb the already-disturbed patrons walking the market. He accepted the rustic cob that Tyler extended to him and took a bite. He continued, mouth full, "What, do they think we're made of time?"
Tyler rolled his eyes. "Yes, how inconsiderate of this black-market travel card forger to make us wait."
"Right?" Wade asked, muffled, through half-chewed bread.
Tyler sighed and shook his head. "We'll set up camp on the outskirts again and collect the cards tomorrow. Hopefully we'll be able to make the Crossing tomorrow, as well. Did you find out why everyone's so…?" He gestured vaguely about the street at the wary market patrons and passers-by.
Wade and Tyler were just two more travelers attempting to pass over Titan's Crossing among many, so it wasn't as though they were a strange presence in this town. However, all the proprietors of the local businesses seemed on edge towards all of the travelers. In turn, all of the other travelers were wary of each other and the business proprietors. It was hectic and tense throughout the streets of the town.
"Got three different stories," Wade reported and counted down on the fingers of his unoccupied hand, "Gentleman said there was a tornado, lady said there was a thunderstorm, and a serving girl said Titan was fixing to shake the place apart. Funny part is? Innkeeper claims it was all three."
"That is funny," Tyler said slowly. He dusted the last crumbs of his own bread off his hands. "Well. If we're here anyway…"
"...can't hurt to go speak with the innkeeper, eh?" Wade asked.
"My thoughts exactly."
.
The inn was as dusty in its interior as it was on its exterior - likely one of the many realities of desert life. But, for all its grime and grit, the bar on the ground floor was well-maintained and stocked. The barkeep doubled as the innkeeper, and was happy to tell his tale when Tyler slid over far more coin than was needed to cover the two pints he ordered.
"Was like the end of days, it was!" The innkeeper exclaimed. "Ground rumblin', winds twistin', and just when I thought that was it, levin come boltin' down from the sky!"
"A thunderstorm, a tornado, and an earthquake all in one afternoon?" Tyler raised a brow. "In the middle of the desert?"
"I know how it sounds, boy-o, but believe you, me; I saw what I saw and I heard what I heard! Thirty years in these sands and I've never seen a twister, 'cept the dust devils once in a blue moon, and there one was plain as day! Tall as you like, pickin' up all sorts of debris. Then a cloud appears out of nowhere and bolts start splittin' apart the air!" The innkeeper insisted, waving his hands around animatedly. He stopped to take a sip of ale and continued, "Then there was Titan, o'course, and his earthly fury…"
"And you're sure it was Titan?" Tyler stressed. "It's important."
"Cross my heart!" The innkeeper said, making a gesture of the same. "Only one other time I've felt the ground quake 'round these parts, and that was back when our Warden opened the Rift!"
"But—" Wade started, and Tyler put a hand on his shoulder to steer him away from the bar.
"Thank you," Tyler said to the innkeeper, "for your time. We'll be out of your hair as soon as we're done." He gestured with the tankard he'd been handed and pulled Wade to a nearby bench.
"Do you think he's right?" Wade asked urgently. "Do you think it was really Titan out there?"
"I'm more worried about the thunder and the tornado," Tyler muttered in response. "The report back at the caer spoke of the Lord of Levin, did it not? That that was the Eikon that engaged Bahamut in the Mothercrystal's chamber? If we assume that Cid was Ramuh all along, then this thunderstorm would've been his work."
But if Tyler was right, then two or three Dominants had been at the town north of the Crossing…skirmishing? Could Clive have been there, as well? That was concerning.
Wade just hummed pensively and sipped at his pint, allowing the space across the table to fall into a tense silence.
Tyler was about to ask what Wade's theory about all of it was when the doors to the inn slammed open and a woman came striding in.
She made a beeline for the bar's counter and set a sizable stack of books atop its surface. They were neat, well-maintained, and as pristine as they could be given how old they looked. The stack was bound tightly with twine. Aside from the books, she had no other baggage.
The woman caught the attention of the barkeep-innkeeper and engaged him in a quiet, rushed conversation.
She was dressed almost like nobility; a purple dyed leather coat long to her knees, her cuffs adorned with intricately-carved insignias of some variety, and what was once likely a pristine white shirt buttoned high on her throat. She bore telltale signs of hard travel by road - dust and sand had stained the white cloth, there were scratches and scuffs all along the leather of her coat and boots, and her skin held a redness that spoke of unpreparedness for the harsh desert sun.
The woman looked young - less than thirty summers - and yet her hair was more light gray than dark brown.
Tyler cast his eyes to the books, again. The tomes were immaculately preserved and clearly well cared-for. Back to the woman - scuffs and scrapes, dirtied clothing.
Interesting.
Tyler kicked at Wade's foot until he caught the man's attention and nodded his head once toward the woman. Wade raised a brow as he took her in.
At the bar, the innkeeper shook his head and said something to the woman, whose shoulders drooped in response. She took up her stack of books and turned to leave.
Tyler nudged Wade once in the shoulder.
"Ah—excuse me? Is everything alright?" Wade asked, and the woman's keen eyes immediately caught on him. "Do you need help?"
"I don't have time to speak with you; I need to get going," the woman replied curtly. An accent curled her vowels and consonants into a lilting song. She readjusted her grip on her stack of books and kept moving toward the door.
"You won't get very far," Tyler cut in.
The woman froze where she stood and threw a narrowed glance at Tyler. "Are you threatening me, sir?"
"Not at all," Tyler assured. "But the sands are treacherous at night, and it's falling fast. You're not from around here, based on that accent."
The woman glared at him.
"If you were planning on leaving the city, you should wait until morning! At least then you can see all the beasts out in the desert," Wade chimed in kindly.
She was resolutely silent.
"Those seem important to you," observed Tyler, nodding at the stack of books. "It would be easier to keep an eye on them in the light of day."
The woman sighed and grimaced. "I don't have the coin for a room here."
"Neither do we!" Wade said cheerfully. "But you're welcome to rest at our camp for the evening!"
Another sigh, this one heavier. She readjusted the stack of books in her arms and looked between Tyler and Wade for a long moment. Wade's expectant and patient smile; Tyler's quirked brow and otherwise neutral countenance.
"If either of you try anything, I'll make you both regret being born," the woman said.
"Fair enough," Tyler replied over Wade's immediate indignant spluttering.
.
The walk through town and to Wade and Tyler's camp was quick and very quiet, though not for lack of trying on Wade's part. He attempted to address the woman who had joined their small party, though her receptiveness to his topics of conversation was…lacking.
"So! Interesting accent! Where are you from?" Wade asked.
"..."
"Seems like some interesting books you have there - do you like books a lot?"
"..."
"...not much for conversation, eh?" Wade chuckled a little awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head.
The woman cast her eyes at him once more and scoffed. She looked away with a frown and trudged along in silence for a beat. "Seas drown that man," she cursed lowly.
Tyler turned to look at her. "'That man'? Should we be worried about pursuers?"
Because even though the two of them had gone to the trouble of throwing their officer medallions and uniforms over the edge of the Rift days before, it was entirely possible that someone who recognized one or both of them was out there in the realm somewhere. Being found could be catastrophic.
The woman toyed with the twine around the stack of books for several moments before sighing. "Perhaps. Not by the man to whom I refer, though I'd argue he Is the reason I'm here."
"You can confide in us, if you'd like!" Wade smiled.
The little trio reached the edge of the town and passed it, beginning their short trek out to the rock formation Tyler had decided was perfect for blocking the shearing night-time winds.
The woman glanced between the two of them for a moment before carefully adjusting the twine around the books and speaking. "A man by the name of Cid came around some time ago and started stirring up all manner of trouble for me in Kanver."
"Cid?" Tyler asked as they approached the rocks. He tried to keep his tone nonchalant when he continued, "You wouldn't happen to mean Cidolfus Telamon?"
The woman raised a brow. "The very same. You're acquainted?"
Tyler and Wade shared a look and Tyler quickly turned his attention back to starting a fire in the pit they'd used the night before. Tyler debated the merits of including the woman in their affairs, but if she knew anything about Cid…
"A friend of ours fell into some of Cid's business and went missing. We're trying to find him, now."
"I'm usually ambivalent about being the bearer of bad news, but I'm sorry to say if your friend became embroiled in that man's business, he's dead." She concluded with an unexpected amount of sympathy. She found a spot to sit on the sand unoccupied by supplies or bedrolls, and she held her stack of books in her lap.
And that was something that neither Wade nor Tyler were willing to accept, so instead Tyler asked "What do you know about him?"
"Former Lord Commander of Waloed," the woman said, "though the 'former' wasn't in place when I met him. Not that I knew about the Waloed business at all, though. He made himself known at the Science and Engineering Department at the University of Kanver a few seasons ago, toting some young engineering prodigy with him." She shook her head. "That girl couldn't have been more than ten years old. Possibly younger."
"Was she truly a prodigy, though?" Wade sounded curious.
"I know very little about mathematics or engineering - my speciality is people," the woman said, "However, I did see the department chair sobbing in his office later on, so it is not too far out of the realm of possibility."
"And you met with Cid while he was there?" Tyler probed.
She nodded. "He asked around the University for information about Eikons and Valisthean religions. Popular topic in the last few seasons. My colleagues pointed him my way, and he alighted at my office door asking all sorts of questions about Ashen beliefs and a religious group called the Circle of Malius. I had never heard of it, but I said I would do some digging and get back to him, which I did. I found something about a god and a mythic vessel heralding the end of the world. Cid seemed distraught, but he read all I could find and left the next day."
A god and a mythic vessel. Wade scratched at his head.
"And then someone came after you?" Tyler asked.
The woman pursed her lips. "No. I wanted to learn more about this Circle of Malius, so I began pulling on some threads. There are quite a few handwritten journals and records in the university library relating to religion," she nodded at a couple of leatherbound tomes in her stack of books, "and some make mention of a certain book I've been searching for for quite some time. Evidently, someone doesn't like me putting my nose where it doesn't belong."
"Would they leave you be if you just gave them the books?" Wade asked.
The woman glared. "And allow them to stop me from uncovering the truth?" She asked. "I think not." She gave a derisive sniff and crossed her arms over her chest.
Wade and Tyler shared a look.
"As soon as I thought there was a threat to my safety, I picked up and left the University. I contacted Cid right away - this whole thing was his fault - and he said that a man called Gav would meet me here in town as soon as I made the crossing. Lo and behold - no 'Gav' in the whole town. I cannot wait for him, either; it's too dangerous."
"Where are you headed?"
"North, to the Crystalline Dominion," the woman said. A moment passed and she picked at the twine around the stack of books again. "Home."
Wade grinned. "Ah-ha! I thought I heard a Dominion accent!"
"It's been a while since I've been back," she stared at the fire and hummed. "And now, I must make the remainder of the journey alone."
A woman likely with little to no combat experience, traveling the journey north through Boklad and the Trader's Gate alone. There was a reason she'd had an escort lined up to assist with the trek from this point - north of the Rift was unforgiving desert and all manner of horrible beasts waiting to prey on the unprepared in the sands.
A helldiver, a scorpion, or a wild nakk would make a meal out of this woman if she ran across one at the wrong time.
"Well, I mean — ah, that's to say….we could—" Wade floundered.
Tyler caught his eye and shook his head, and Wade deflated.
Right. Yes. Of course. Clive was missing - what the woman had said notwithstanding. Until they knew he was dead….Wade shook himself. Until they knew if Clive was dead. If. If. A possibility, not a prescription. They were still on the hunt for their missing Lord Marquess.
"We wish you luck with your journey," Tyler said, and Wade winced.
The woman just nodded and said, "I appreciate your help thusfar." She untied a section of the twine around her book stack and took up one of the tomes silently, leafing through the pages in the firelight.
Smoke from the fire curled up slowly into the sky and the three travelers sat in the comfortable bubble of light. Wade fidgeted with the straps of his traveling back, packed and unpacked his belongings. Tyler impassively stared out into the desert darkness. The woman simply skimmed through her books quietly, marking down passages or sections with a thin piece of charcoal.
Wade realized he never got her name. But could he ask for it, now, considering how much time had passed and that she was worried she was being hunted? It might be better if neither Wade nor Tyler knew who she really was…
In the end, time made Wade's decision for him.
The woman gently closed her final book and set it on the stack with all the others. She settled against the large sandstone at her back.
"I should get some sleep. I've a long journey ahead of me tomorrow," the woman said.
"Aye. The road to the Dominion is long," Tyler said. He poked at the logs in the fire with a long stick.
Wade wanted very, very badly to offer to escort the woman to the Trader's Gate, but he couldn't.
"I'll take first watch," Wade offered instead, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep with this weighing on his mind.
"Suit yourself," Tyler acknowledged and started to settle himself for his rest.
Wade pulled in a heavy breath and let it out slowly through his teeth. It was going to be a long night.
.
When Wade woke the next morning, the woman and her impressive stack of books were gone.
"She left?" Wade asked amidst the sounds and smells of breakfast cooking over the fire.
"Aye. Just before the sky started to turn lighter," Tyler replied. He turned a sausage on a spit. "I warned her away from known nakk and helldiver hunting grounds, and told her that if she's going near Boklad she'll need to beware of goblins, especially."
"Huh," Wade said a little tersely. It wasn't like he would've been able to offer anything meaningful, like an escort to replace the one the woman had lost, but it would've been nice to have been woken up to see the woman off, at least.
"Seemed in a hurry, too. I imagine she wanted to get home and to safety as fast as she could," Tyler continued shortly.
Wade said nothing. He accepted his breakfast with a muttered "thank you" in Tyler's general direction and the two of them ate in silence while the sun slowly rose and burnt off the lingering night-time chill.
It was only after both of them had eaten and were preparing to pack up camp that Wade hazarded his question.
"Did we…did we send that woman out there to die alone?" Wade asked.
"I don't know," Tyler replied. "It's not as though we both haven't done much, much worse in the war."
And Tyler was correct, truly; both he and Wade had sent men to their deaths. But it was different, wasn't it? Those were combatants, soldiers, enemies, even if they weren't aware of being enemies. The woman from the town, though…a learned noncombatant - a scholar, really - on a journey and in need of assistance. Were Wade a more chivalrous man, he would have insisted on escorting her north, no matter what Tyler said. A Shield of Rosaria would've…
Well.
Tyler didn't seem to be overly bothered. He was always much more self-assured and calm than Wade was. Wade admired him for that, tried to emulate it sometimes. But in this case…
Wade breathed and started to gather up his belongings from the sand. Tyler snuffed out the fire and kicked the logs away from each other to keep them from reigniting. They would find the travel card forger again, make the Crossing, and put this whole thing behind them before the day was out.
A familiar, inorganic shape on the ground caught Wade's eye just as they were preparing to leave their makeshift campsite.
He stooped and scooped up a book from the sandy ground. "She was in such a hurry it appears she left one of her books behind. A Treatise on Ashen Religions. Interesting..."
Wade was about to set the book down on one of the sandstone boulders when Tyler stopped him.
"Let's take it with us," Tyler said. He finished slinging his traveling pack over his shoulders and adjusting the strap. "It might come in handy, somehow. And we can return it to her when we see her again."
With that, Tyler turned and nodded towards the town slowly waking in the near distance.
When they see her again. Wade smiled and tucked the book very carefully in his pack.
XxXxXxX
A small contingent of Rosarian soldiers apparently had seen a dragon cross the Rift, land on the Rosarian side, and then fly back to Sanbreque. They had not reported this instance promptly as 1) the beast was not joined by a sizable fighting force, 2) the beast seemingly departed as soon as it arrived and 3) the contingent did not have ready access to a stolas, nor could they send a missive as their designated rider was injured.
Or so the documentation delivered to Joshua via Rodney Murdoch claimed, at least.
Rodney, for his part, appeared fairly contrite about the whole thing.
"Even if you aren't upset about it, it is still an embarrassing miscarriage of duty," Rodney grumbled.
"It would have been nice to have a warning of the possibility of an unsanctioned Sanbrequois presence on our lands," Joshua acknowledged. He peered at the report once more and simultaneously scratched Torgal's ears. "However, I can hardly fathom how the knowledge would've prepared us for the Prince's lover making his way to Rosalith."
"We've not received any additional correspondence from the Interim Commander," Rodney informed, and Joshua nodded.
Since that day in the audience chamber, Joshua had heard nothing regarding the Imperial Prince or Sir Terence of the Holy Order. Joshua imagined the man would need a few days to gather himself after nearly being executed on the spot in the throne room - Jill was still sore over being interrupted and still complained verbosely about it whenever she could - though he certainly had expected some kind of response by now. He didn't know whether His Imperial Highness would allow such a blow to his ego as a formal surrender, nor did he know whether the Dragoons could successfully pull off a coup in Oriflamme.
However, Joshua did know that the result would be chaotic. No matter the result of this supposed ceasefire, Sanbreque would be a disorganized mess. A disorganized, vulnerable mess; moreso than it had ever been before.
It would be up to Joshua to decide how to handle that mess.
Decisions, decisions.
Sanbreque was crumbling slowly day by day, with Rosarian scouts and intelligencers reporting desertion en masse and citizen unrest from Oriflamme. Joshua imagined most soldiers fled to the Crystalline Dominion or took refuge secretly within the Sanbrequois countryside, though the occasional soldier reached Rosaria to entreat the Archduke for mercy.
"Have the Undying uncovered anything new about," Joshua waved a hand around to avoid saying the name aloud, "you know?"
Ultima had been on Joshua's mind since the name had been mentioned. The Phoenix still reacted with near-violent displeasure whenever it was said aloud.
"Nothing that's been reported to me," Rodney replied. "Though Elwin spends most afternoons researching and discussing with Cyril which directions the Knights and Scribes should be pursuing."
Joshua hummed. He wondered whether King Tharmr would be amenable to a small number of Scribes making a formal visit to Ash to peruse the continent's libraries. After they'd caught several Ashen intelligencers at the Rosaria-Dhalmekia border, ostensibly pursuing some quarry…
Likely not.
"We may have a problem," Jill Warrick declared as she pushed open the door to Joshua's study. She nodded to Rodney as she passed and handed a sheaf of parchment to the Archduke. "You'll recall that the Shields stationed about the northeastern border captured Ashen intelligencers. However, that was not the whole of the matter; the Ashen intelligencers were accompanied by Men of the Fist."
Joshua took the parchment and leafed through, stopping his petting of Torgal in the process. The wolf huffed in displeasure.
Originally, the report read that the Men of the Fist had been in pursuit of the Waloeders, as though the Waloeders had been discovered in Dhalmekian territory and the Dhalmeks wanted to arrest them. However, if this update was true and the Dhalmeks had been aiding the Waloeders in crossing into Rosarian territory…
"I may need to have a discussion with the Parliament of Ministers," Joshua muttered angrily. He looked over to Jill. "Do we have any idea who the intelligencers were chasing?"
Jill shook her head. "They aren't divulging that information."
Joshua's frown deepened. Just when he'd believed that things would start to become predictable…
Torgal, apparently dissatisfied with the lack of attention he was receiving, lumbered over to the Lord Commander and laid his massive weight across the man's feet, rolling to expose the fluffy white fur on his belly. Rodney sighed but acquiesced to the silent demand for belly rubs.
"We could redouble our efforts to obtain answers from the prisoners?" Jill proposed, her jaw tense and her eyes dark.
"I would rather not incur the wrath of His Majesty if we can at all avoid it," Joshua replied. And with the mystery still surrounding King Tharmr…
He carded a hand through his hair, frustrated.
Dion Lesage and his first-in-command were still a problem. The Holy Empire of Sanbreque, while declining, was still a problem. Ash had decided to become a problem and apparently Dhalmekia had, as well.
Joshua had not forgotten that the Dhalmeks never responded to the request that Hugo Kupka attend Rosalith in the wake of the destruction of Drake's Head. The Dhalmeks, it seemed, were aiming to divorce themselves from their alliance with Rosaria. Men of the Fist cavorting with Waloeder intelligencers, chasing someone or something to the Rosarian border? By the flames, it was becoming difficult to keep up.
"I believe I'll need the expertise of my father, as well, if we're to determine next steps," Joshua sighed. Disentangling the mess of information and movements was something better handled with several pairs of eyes and many years of experience.
"I can send for him," Jill offered.
"No, I think I'll fetch him, myself," Joshua stood from his chair, stretched, and glanced at Torgal, whose tail started slowly wiggling from side to side. "What do you think about a walk, boy? We can take the long way through the bailey and visit the stables…?"
Stables appeared to be the magic word. Torgal rolled, shook himself in such a manner that showered the room in a fine layer of shedding fur, and pranced after Joshua.
xXxXxXxXx
Martha's Rest was a charming little spot in the middle of the Rosarian wetlands. It was, apparently, well-known for accepting clientele of a great many creeds and loyalties so long as they did not cause trouble for the Rest. Martha herself was the proprietor, and she even catered to unaccompanied Bearers, which was rare for an inn. And, most importantly, the Rest accepted coin of any origin so long as it could spend somehow.
It was the most advantageous spot for Dion Lesage to recover his strength and lie low until such time that he could travel to Rosalith for his own conversation with Archduke Joshua Rosfield.
Also, Terence mused as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor to collect their evening meal from the staff at the kitchen, it did not hurt in the slightest that the cooks were masters of their craft. This evening, it appeared to be a generous serving of dualhorn meatloaf accompanied by carrots, broccoli, and a mash of potato. Terence's mouth watered a little when he accepted the trays from the kitchen minder.
He nodded his thanks and turned to ascend the stairs once more when he noticed a pair of men entering the Rest. Both men were fairly tall. One was blonde and the other had longer, dark hair.
Terence thought the man with dark hair looked slightly familiar, but as he could not immediately place him, he dismissed the thought. The mark of a Bearer stretched from his neck to beneath his left eye, though the man must've endured harsh travel on the road as the Brand was faded as though it were covered in dust.
"...for a while, and we can make tracks for Rosalith," the blonde man said.
"Hmm."
"Or not?"
"...no, that's fine," the dark haired Bearer replied.
The pair of them approached the counter and waited for service.
If anything else was said, Terence did not catch it; he walked back up the stairs to ensure he could deliver supper to the Prince before it got cold.
xXxXx
"Yep," Gav confirmed. He stared intently at the expanse of Clive's left cheek and nodded once. "That'll be gone in a couple'a days. Take a look for yourself." He gestured at the mirror hanging on the nearby wall.
The mirror in the room at Martha's Rest was marginally bigger than the mirror Clive had used in the inn in Dhalmekia - he was able to see his entire face at once. A marvel.
At Gav's direction, Clive spent a few moments studying the visage staring back at him in the glass. He hadn't looked in a proper mirror since the day of the collapse of Drake's Head; he hadn't seen his face clearly since he had been behind enemy lines. So much had changed in less than a moon, and yet his face was largely unchanged. The dark circles beneath his eyes had deepened with his departure from the Empire, but otherwise his visage was unchanged.
That is, of course, not taking into account the temporary addition of the fake Brand Gav had applied with that foul-smelling ink. And temporary it had indeed been. Where once the fake Brand had been distinct, dark, and near perfect, now it was light in tone at best and completely faded in some spots at worst. Clive believed Gav's declaration: in a matter of days, the Brand would be but a memory.
Luckily, the Brand hadn't even earned a raised brow in a place like Martha's Rest, strangely patchy as it was.
Clive raked his fingers through his hair and frowned a little. The ends had gone scraggly in the trek across Storm. He certainly wouldn't be showing up to Rosalith Castle looking his best.
At least he wouldn't be showing up with a Brand on his face.
"Thought you'd want to get to Rosalith soon as possible?" Gav asked. He opened his traveling pack and withdrew several monster parts - were those claws or teeth? - from its depths. "Not judging!" He said at Clive's answering narrowed gaze, "Just—eh. What Cid was saying about 'forgiveness' and all that. Seemed important, is all. Sort of thing you wouldn't want to put off."
It was important to Clive.
"I'm not putting it off," Clive mumbled. He peeled himself away from the wall with the mirror and eased himself down onto the low bed that hadn't been claimed by Gav's sprawling detritus. "It's just…it's been ten years since I've been home. I'm…"
"Nervous?" Gav offered, and Clive nodded. "Makes sense."
Nervous didn't quite express the whole of it, but it expressed enough of it for the moment.
"Ten years, huh? Same as the length of the war," Gav observed.
"Exactly."
"Oh."
Gav suddenly seemed to find the fraying straps of his traveling pack incredibly interesting.
"I, uh." Gav stumbled out. "War's taken my own from me, too. Not the same as yours, I'll bet, but—eh. Empire went looking for resources when the Rift opened and Dhalmekia stopped tradin'. As fate would have it, they stumbled onto my village." Gav's face went dark and his eyes shuttered.
Clive didn't know what Gav's village had been called, nor where it had been located. It likely had been razed before Clive had any power in the Empire at all. Still, he flinched and felt the sting of guilt lance through his heart.
"I assume Cid didn't tell you?" Clive asked bitterly. "I was an Imperial officer. Seven years as a commander."
Gav reeled back, something like disgust cracking across his face like a whip. He blinked a few times and shook his head. His brow furrowed in effort, like he was forcing down his reaction.
"Cid was helpin' you escape the Empire, though," Gav pointed out. "And your family's in Rosalith, en't they?"
"'Helping me escape' is rather generous," Clive muttered under his breath. "But…yes."
"Seems it's more complicated than you want me to think it is," Gav said. "D'you…wanna talk about it?"
"Not particularly, no," Clive said.
"I understand that," Gav replied. "Well, at least you don't look like an Imperial, now?"
Clive had long shed his Imperial clothing for nondescript traveling garments. The only thing he had left to mark him as an Imperial was…
"At least there's that," Clive said.
"We'll wait for that mark to fade and get goin' to Rosalith, eh?" Gav asked.
"You don't have to come with me. I can go on my own. Besides, you already escorted me out of Dhalmekia, like Cid told you to," Clive said.
Clive had traveled with Gav for days, and he considered Gav to be a good man with an excellent nose and a good head on his shoulders.
Clive knew what he was walking into, going back to Rosalith with his past as it was. If Gav came along, Clive shuddered to think what might happen. Clive was dead, for all intents and purposes - there was no reason for any guard at any gate to believe that he was Clive Rosfield, the former Lord Marquess. But if he showed them his Imperial officer's medallion, he might have a chance at being granted an audience. He also ran the risk of being run through instantly; the choice would be put to the guards in attendance at his arrival.
That was a sight more danger than he was willing to subject Gav to.
Unfortunately, though…
"Gotta see this through, now," Gav declared with a grin. "Besides, might be nice, y'know? I quite like homecomings."
When Gav's attention was caught by the arrangement of nakk hides in his bag, Clive grimaced.
It was to be stealth, then, apparently.
.
It took three full days for the remainder of the false Brand to fade.
Clive slipped out of the Rest in the peachy pre-dawn light, but not before casting another glance over at the still-sleeping Gav and silently thanking the man for his help.
This, however, was something that Clive needed to do alone.
Trading the pincers and tails of scorpions for coin and then for the renting of a chocobo was an easy task. Clive mounted up and left the Rest behind.
The ride to Rosalith was familiar in a manner that stung the heart. All along the roads were gently-swaying grasses and the brown seed pods of flowers gone dormant in the dying of the season. The leaves were beginning to bleed yellow on their trees, the branches preparing to shed their delicate extremities for the coming cold. All about were signs of nature holding its breath in anticipation of autumn - in anticipation of what was to come.
Clive knew the feeling.
The walls of the city emerged white and steady over the horizon - a sight which once felt like a welcome and now felt like a threat. In the light of the sun, the city shone brilliant and bright. Rosalith truly was the crown jewel of Rosaria. The sight of it after so long…
Clive swallowed hard. Scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand and kept the reins of the chocobo straight on with the other, no matter how much he wanted to turn around.
He pressed on through the countryside, through the small settlement outside of the city walls, and to the closed city gates. Rosarian Shields in their bright red leathers stood guard on the outside and watched suspiciously as Clive dismounted his bird and encouraged the mount to return home to Martha's Rest.
"Who goes there?!" Cried one of the Shields.
A breath in, and a breath out.
"I've come to surrender!" Clive shouted in response, pulling the heavy silver officer's medallion from his pocket and brandishing its elegant face to the world.
Clive was ready for whatever fate awaited inside. He had to be.
The Shields stormed forward to meet him.
xXxXxXxXxXxXx
A/N: i think we know where we are :) we all know what's about to happen, don't we? :) i have massive, giant swathes of the next chapter written and they've been written for almost a year at this point. :) it's gonna be a hot minute because i've got Important School Things happening, but it's going to happen! :D
(*********I ask you to please regard my note at the end of last chapter before you decide to review. TL:DR- not looking for crit, but I do thank you for your investment in the work.)
love you :D see you for 13 ;)
oxy