Note: The Hildibrand chapters were originally posted in between other updates, but I've decided to post all for of them together here.

Original Ao3 summary:

(Cracks fingers) It's time for me to put those childhood years of watching the weekend classic Simpsons marathon on Fox8 to good use…*

This one is set after chapter 37 of the main fic!

And once again it ended being a lot longer than I originally thought haha. And I'm not even finished!

Oh well! Um, enjoy?

A rotting hand rested at Joker's waist, long fingernails slightly digging into the small of his back. The fingers of the other, equally ghastly hand were woven through his own, firmly but gently holding him steady as his undead dance partner curved his spine back. Joker, completely dazed and slightly dazzled by utter confusion and maybe a touch of old-world charm, allowed the zombie dressed in a tattered waistcoat to tenderly dip him as together they finished the final, theatrical step in what had turned out to be a somehow peculiarly romantic waltz.

There was a moment of silence after the crescendo. And then a round of thunderous applause. A few of the other zombies let out approving, if ghastly, howls, which Nashu joined in on.

"Oh, well done Autgar!" Cheered the corpse (?) of Hildibrand Manderville from high atop the spire he remained perched on, "Well done indeed! Most gentlemanly!"

And as Joker let his head tip back, completely befuddled gaze taking in the bright blue desert sky above, did it occur to him that he was having possibly the strangest day of his life.

…And that was really saying something, given everything that had happened to him up to this point, on Earth and Hydaelyn both.

It had begun with a completely innocuous request from Yda.

The morning was quite late by the time Joker had returned to the Rising Stones, earning him some soft chiding from Tataru— and a hearty belated breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon. He'd greatly appreciated it, given he'd been up since the crack of dawn practicing how to properly swing Moenbryda's hefty axe, as he had been for the past few days now, acclimatizing to its size and weight. The efforts had left his muscles sore and his fingers calloused— and his stomach rumbling.

But while he'd been wolfing down his meal, Yda had awkwardly approached his table, a sheepish shuffle to her feet and her fingers looping over each other like knitting needles. It was with a very apologetic tone that she'd asked Joker if he could possibly go on her behalf to pick up an order for her from Rowena's House of Splendors— a sizeable bunch of a particular flower called a moon daisy.

"They were Moen's favorite, you see, but they don't grow around here. So I placed an order with the House to… to sort of honor her, you know?" She'd explained. Even with her eyes hidden under her mask as usual could Joker spy the traces of lingering dark eyebags and the tracks of dried tears.

"They should be ready to collect by now, but the trouble is… I find Rowena a bit difficult at the best of times," A sentiment Joker could definitely agree with, "And… well, this isn't one of them. I know it's silly, but I just can't face it at the moment. So, I was wondering… Do you think you could maybe collect it for me? I have the coin to pay for the flowers right here." She'd quickly added, a pouch in her hands and a nervous trembling to her lips.

And Joker had been glad to agree to help, not only for Yda's sake, but in the private hope of maybe stifling some of the constant guilt that still gnawed at him so painfully.

The House of Splendors, standing proudly at the end of the market street, was even larger than the last time Joker had stepped through the decorated doors. It now boasted a second floor— having recently made enough profits from dubious contracts with the now plentiful number of traders that Revenant's Toll saw every day to expand outwards. According to Higiri, there were even rumors of Rowena planning to have a small cafe erected on the new balcony— a fact Joker had very mixed feelings about. More coffee was always welcome, but he hated the thought of having to wrangle with the competitiveness that would arise when he inevitably tried out the House's blends. And gods help him if he liked it…

With the expansion came a fresh spate of Rowena's 'girls' to the Toll, employees all too eager to earn commission by pushing a sale. It put Joker in mind of pushy salespeople at the Junes department store, and he greatly feared for the day the frightful entrepreneur truly established Eorzea's first proper shopping mall.

As he gently turned down a plucky woman insistent on pressing a glass vial of some kind of apparently rare and exotic perfume in his face, Joker felt an ominous presence loom behind him, setting all of his prey-animal instincts flaring in alarm.

"Ah, Joker…"

Joker screamed as he spun around: a high-pitch squeal of abject fear that he very poorly attempted to transition into a casual 'hi Rowena!'

She smiled at him, the lights from a newly installed chandelier casting strong shadows over her face. Joker's back stiffened.

"And what can we do for you today?" She asked, hands folded and eyes glinting dangerously as they traveled over him, "Eldritch trinket to trade? Loot from some ancient dungeon o' danger and derring-do and death? Or perhaps you're in the mood for a new mask? I was just saying to that Yda lass of yours—"

"Ah, actually, that's exactly who I'm here about." Rowena brightened with a soft 'oho?', "An order of moon daisies. She said they should be ready to pick up."

Rowena's face fell into a dubious frown, "...Eh? They've got you runnin' errands now?" She shook her head, snorting, "Them Scions really know how to make the most o' your talents, don't they? Sendin' the savior of Eorzea to the bleedin' market... Fine use o' your time, that is!"

Joker shrugged, not wishing to indulge the unscrupulous merchant too much lest she try to find a way to turn this conversation around to more 'appropriate' work that he could be doing for her instead. Rowena, looking a little put out that Joker didn't take the bait, returned from the storeroom with a wrapped bundle of pale blue flowers and a slight huff.

"Here, then─ take 'em." She shoved them at him roughly, "Seriously though, you'd best learn how to say 'no', or they'll have you muckin' out the Chocobo stables next… And if you're not interested, then tell Yda that I've got a wide selection o' headwear in stock if she ever decides to replace that dowdy ol' mask o' hers. Gods know, she needs to…"

Joker thanked her meekly, swiftly making his exit before he could be lured into plundering an ancient ruin for yet more Tomestones (to think he was excited by the sight of the damn things at one point!). And since he was playing delivery boy again he decided to make a bit of a show to a delightedly squealing Yda by presenting the flowers with a flourish and his usual uncannily accurate Moogle imitation— and also surreptitiously slipping one of the flowers from the bunch for himself.

And then Joker had excused himself, making his way to Eastern Thanalan.

He returned for the first time since that awful day of the Waking Sands Massacre to the Church of Saint Adama Landaman, climbing the steep ascent of the dusty hill, a small bunch of flowers held tight in his fist. Nymeia lilies mainly, just as Alisaie had taught him. But among the white flowers was a single splash of pale blue— a lone moon daisy.

Feeling a now uncomfortably familiar dread in the pit of his stomach, Joker had decided it was only right that he pay his own respects. Not that Moenbryda had been buried here at this Lichyard— Thancred had mentioned something about making arrangements with her parents to have her body returned to Sharlayan on Uriager's behalf, the man having been far too indisposed with grief to possibly speak with them himself. But it wasn't as if she was the only one he had to say sorry to… A'aba and Aulie and Noraxia and everyone else who had died since his presence in this world had thrown everything into awful turmoil deserved his apologies as well.

After all, it was h̷i̵s̵ ̵f̵a̶u̶l̷t̴ that they were…

Trying to shake the image of glassy-eyed corpses from his mind, the feel of dead weight slumped across his shoulders, Joked shook his head, pressing on up the hill. Come on, one foot in front of the other, he was almost to the top.

Only when he did finish his ascent to the gated rows of headstones did he notice someone else was already there. A Miqo'te woman with a bob-cut, dressed in a dark formal suit, a red rose upon the lapel.

Other mourners were hardly an unusual sight. There had been so much death in Eorzea in the past few years alone. But the grave his fellow visitor hovered over was perilously close to the ones Joker had intended to see — the surfeit of bodies had meant there was little in the way of space, and many of the fallen Scions had been forced to share a plot with victims of the most recent Umbral Calamity.

Joker came to a halt just before he crested the top of the hill, hesitating. He would hate to interrupt, given he now knew well the importance of being left alone with one's grief sometimes. He'd been about to turn around and loiter elsewhere for a bit, give the woman some space — until he noticed the expression upon her face.

Her quiet bearing was less one of solemnity and more of puzzlement. And the grave she was hovering over was, in fact, open. A large, gaping maw of a hole, surrounded by cracked earth. And a cracked headstone to boot.

The Miqo'te looked up, catching his eye. She suddenly waved him over, almost excited.

"Oh, sir, sir! Sorry to bother you during your scheduled mourning, but I have a question." She called with surprising cheer, before pointing a white-gloved finger at the hole at her feet, "Do you know any means by which a body might suddenly re-animate and crawl out of its grave?"

Joker blinked. He, uh, kind of did actually. Namely Siren curses and Allagan nonsense and Ascians and magic parasitic fungi. But he would have instead chalked this up to a brazen act of grave-robbing were it not for the fact that the nature of the freshly clawed tunnel seemed suspiciously like an inside-job.

"Maybe…?" He replied awkwardly, leaning over the upturned grave, "What exactly…?"

The woman gasped, "Oh, how ungentlemanly of me not to introduce myself! I'm still a novice see." She put a proud hand to her chest, bushy tail wagging, "Nashu Mhakaracca, assistant inspector extraordinaire to the great Inspector Hildibrand Manderville! …Or at least, I'm trying to be. Things have been rather bumpy the past few years."

While Joker felt a little put off by the woman's overbearingly sunny disposition in the middle of a graveyard, he supposed it beat the brooding he'd be doing otherwise. He cleared his throat.

"So… you're investigating the missing body?"

"That I am!" Nashu nodded eagerly, "But I'm afraid that I've already drawn a terrible blank on the matter. I haven't a clue where to begin looking for it."

Well, Joker supposed he couldn't exactly abide a possible mysterious necromancer or some such compelling bodies to spontaneously vacate what was supposed to be their final resting places. He nodded at her, a hand to his chin.

"I'll see if I can help you think of something. I just need some details. Do you know whose grave this was?"

The woman brightened, "Why, the inspector's himself of course!"

Joker blinked.

"Yes, five years and counting, I'm afraid." Nashu brought her hands together, "Hildibrand Manderville. He was an extraordinary man. Very wonderful and clever. Died in the Calamity when he tried to launch himself with a spear at the red moon to stop its descent."

Joker bit his tongue very hard to stop himself from pointing out that that harebrained plan seemed the exact opposite of 'wonderful and clever'. No speaking ill of the dead, c'mon, stop it…

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said instead.

"People say that to me a lot." She hummed vaguely, rocking a little of the balls of her feet.

Okay, well, putting that aside… It really didn't bode well for this Nashu woman's fledgling inspectorial career if she was caught so flat-footed at the very start. Seemed she needed all the help she could get.

And so it was that Joker perhaps a little too quickly jumped upon the opportunity that had presented itself to him.

"I'll help you investigate." He said, stowing his flowers aside and holding out a hand, "I'm Joker."

"Oh, my very own assistant!" Nashu gasped, taking his hand in both of hers and shaking it very vigorously, "I finally have one! Do you hear that, inspector?" She added, turning gleefully to the still very visibly empty grave.

Making hasty arrangements to leave his flowers with one of the kindly sisters that had helped care for him after the massacre, Joker was all too quick to upend his morbid plans for the day as he redirected his focus. He turned away from the rows of graves, giving Nashu a firm nod.

"Let's start investigating, then."

And so the two had gone zombie hunting.

They began their amateur undead-sleuthing the way all such things should start: listening for rumors at the nearest tavern. That being the Quicksand, of course.

Momodi, amused and exasperated in equal measure at Joker's latest newfound friendship and temporary vocation, had pointed them to the table of a well-known investigative reporter— one Ellie Ryse, journalist for Ul'dah's Mythril Eye newspaper. A young Hyuran woman with bright purple hair and an eye-catching feathered hat, she'd been quite delighted to share her latest and most unusual scoop on the subject of roaming deadmen.

"Undead? Yes there have been reports of a spate of them flocking to the south of late, actually." She explained, scratching at her cheek with the tip of her quill. And with exactly the kind of casual ease that Joker had begun to expect from the people of this world when talking about subjects that would've set the headlines aflame back home. Nashu beamed with delight at their new and only lead, legs kicking in the chair she had decided to awkwardly share with Joker instead of pulling up one of her own, "Very… peculiar ones. Finely dressed, apparently? And not especially hostile. It sounds like a load of rubbish, but it's still making the people around here nervous. Puts them in mind of the old legends of Sil'dih…"

"Ooh, that sounds promising!" said Nashu, leaning forward and nearly knocking Joker out of their shared seating, "As inspectors, it's our duty to investigate! And then you can write all about it!"

Though doubtful of the veracity and their competency both, Ellie nevertheless directed them to the origin of the rumors— the depths of the Sagolii Desert, where unusually organised zombies had apparently taken to gathering in droves. And with nothing else to go on but a sneaking suspicion that this was connected somehow to the missing inspector's empty grave, Nashu and Joker had hauled their asses across the blistering sands.

Which in turn had led them to their present predicament.

Joker and Nashu had soon found themselves standing amidst sun-baked dunes, shoulder to perhaps a little frustratingly unbothered shoulder, surrounded by a horde of wailing, unquiet and somehow decidedly gentlemanly undead.

The small horde of zombies in question had been staggering in the open wastes, moving with uncanny motions as they slowly circled around each other, limbs flailing like rubber hoses and spines bending in directions that spines simply shouldn't be. The moment Nashu laid eyes on them had she (to Joker's loud internal screaming) immediately tried to strike up a conversation with the nearest one, smiling brightly.

"Excuse me? Excuse me, zombie sir? If you could lend me your ear—oh, from the side you're not missing one on, if that's okay?"

There was a collective audible crack as a good dozen broken necks snapped up at once to stare at them. Together they extended stiff, slightly green arms, gnarled hands grasping and bloated feet shuffling slowly towards them.

And Joker pulled a completely unalarmed Nashu back. He put out an arm defensively before her as she blinked dumbly behind her glasses, a dagger at the ready, glaring down the throng of glassy eyes and hanging jaws— and tuxedos. Dark, if tattered, suits, smart dress shoes (though they could do with a good polishing) and the occasional poorly fixed bow tie.

The actually very real gathering of dapper undead lurched towards them, their rattling voices drawling out something about… well, brains. Joker looked over his shoulder at Nashu, who was now trying to lean around him.

"Oh, I'm sorry to be rude. Do you perhaps have some kind of head-zombie we could speak to? Perhaps a zombie president?"

Joker frowned, repeatedly trying to push the Miqo'te (who simply did not seem to be grasping the gravity of this situation) back behind him and growing increasingly exasperated as she kept popping her head head up like a whack-a-mole, until she'd somehow gotten herself half-tangled inside his coat.

"I don't think that's how zombies—"

"Take us to your leader!" Nashu demanded, poking her head out from under Joker's coattails.

"Nashu, they don't—"

"My brothers, lend me your ears! A gentleman does not dine upon his guests!"

A bold voice echoed through the desert, booming from up above. Joker and Nashu looked to the sky. The Miqo'te let out a gasp, pointing.

"Up in the sky, look! It's a bird— No, it's an airship— No!"

Standing atop the spire of some kind of temple, slanted and half-buried in the sand, was a man. Maybe? Like the zombies beneath him, he was dressed in tattered formalwear, a good deal of his abdomen exposed by a hole-strewn shirt. But unlike them, his skin tone seemed to be quite flush and healthy, if caked in dirt and sand. His hair, perhaps once coiffed into a pompadour, now flopped awkwardly to the side, stray brown hairs spilling. And glinting against the light of the sun was a monocle nearly cracked in two.

But brighter even then the glare of the glass was the man's beaming smile.

Nashu, a coattail half-obscuring her face, squealed with sheer delight, bringing her hands together, "It's the inspector!"

"Spare this fine gentleman and fair lady your mastications!" Continued what may or may not have been Nahsu's zombified former employer, the assembled party beneath him hanging onto his every word with glazed eyes and slack jaws. He waved a commanding arm, "Withdraw, I say, and harass them no more!"

And the undead men actually complied, slowly shuffling away from Joker and Nashu until there was a sizeable circle of empty space between them and the horde.

"We do as our leader bids." One of the more comparatively intact zombies intoned in perfectly respectable Common, a hand upon his chest. Nashu elbowed Joker harshly in the back, looking very proud of herself, "My apologies for earlier, we were simply… embarrassed. 'Tis a tad mortifying, if you'll forgive the pun, to have someone walk in on our dance recital."

Their what.

"We are the Gentle Undead, a league of reformed zombies centered around our most noble founder." He continued, dipping into a polite bow that cracked his spine, "We mean you no harm— we simply wish to practice the way of the gentleman in the peace that is sadly denied to our kind. Permit me to demonstrate, if you would, kind sir."

And the very polite zombie extending a hand towards a completely befuddled Joker.

Joker hesitated, his own hand wavering as he watched a maggot crawl between visible tendons in the zombie's wrist. He looked to Nashu, who raised and lowered her eyebrows at him repeatedly.

He gulped. Took in a deep breath.

And accepted the zombie's hand.

Grateful for his gloves, he desperately tried not to think about what was wriggling against his palm as the undead gentleman promptly took the lead in what turned out to be an exceptionally graceful, elegant waltz.

Head spinning, Joker was led through each flowing step, feeling rather enchanted in spite of himself– and the fact that his partner's shoulders seemed to be tearing away from his torso a little at the joints. He swore he somehow heard ballroom music as he was spun and twirled and lifted with surprising ease.

A rotting hand rested at Joker's waist, long fingernails slightly digging into the small of his back. The fingers of the other, equally ghastly hand were woven through his own, firmly but gently holding him steady as his undead dance partner curved his spine back. Joker, completely dazed and slightly dazzled by utter confusion and maybe a touch of old-world charm, allowed the zombie dressed in a tattered waistcoat to tenderly dip him as together they finished the final, theatrical step in what had turned out to be a somehow peculiarly romantic waltz.

There was a moment of silence after the crescendo. And then a round of thunderous applause. A few of the other zombies let out approving, if ghastly, howls, which Nashu joined in on.

"Oh, well done Autgar!" Cheered the corpse (?) of Hildibrand Manderville from high atop the spire he remained perched on, "Well done indeed! Most gentlemanly!"

And Joker let his head tip back, completely befuddled gaze taking in the bright blue desert sky above.

Swept up in the excitement, Nashu delightedly tossed the rose from her lapel towards the pair. The zombie apparently known as Autgar caught it between his yellowed teeth, smiling down at the slightly flushed Joker.

"I trust that sufficiently proved my sincerity as a gentleman?"

Joker gulped, trying to will his reddened cheeks to cool down, "It was pretty breathtaking." He mumbled, still a bit out of it as Autgar set him back on his feet.

A foreboding thought occurred to him as he struggled to metaphorically put his head back on– while Autgar did the same more literally, adjusting the angle of his cricked neck with his hands upon his temples. Looking back to his multiple encounters with the undead during his time in this world, Joker scratched furtively at his cheek.

"I'm, uh, sorry, I suppose. About the zombies I've sort of killed— re-killed?— Before. In the past."

Autgar put a hand to his chin, "Hmm, well, did they try to take a bite out of you?"

"Oh yes."

"Then they were probably too far gone. And perilously ungentlemanly. All is forgiven."

"Well! I'm glad to see we have that settled! I trust there will be no cracking of heads and feasting upon the goo inside from either party today, hm?"

The gentlemanly leader of the band of rogue zombies dusted his hands, looking very proud of himself. Then he bent at the knees. With arms extended and surprising grace did he execute an elegant swan dive from the tip of the temple spire.

At least until he hit the ground, landing flat on his ass with an audible crack and a pained wince.

"Oh, it really is you, isn't it?" Nashu threw herself from the throng of still applauding undead at maybe-Hildibrand Manderville as he slowly pulled himself from the small crater he'd left in the earth with his backside,. There were tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his torso, "I knew nothing could kill the great inspector Hildibrand!"

Her only response, however, was a puzzled stare. The man and his (maybe not fellow) zombies looked to each other, extremely puzzled.

"Who is the Hildibrand of whom you speak?" The inspector asked, gently extracting himself from Nashu's hold, "My name is Zombibrand, devourer of brains! Undead overlord extraordinaire!"

Nashu puffed her cheeks petulantly, tail frizzing, "What are you saying!? You're not an overlord— I don't even think you're undead!" A scandalous comment that earned her a few appalled gasps from the rotting onlookers, "Inspector, you're just confused is all. Don't worry— I'll knock some sense back into that noggin of yours with my patented cure-all!"

And from… somewhere did the ever-positive Miqo'te produce a pair of bombs. Rather adorable homemade ones, cartoonishly round with corded fuses already lit and sparking.

Joker and 'Zombibrand' started. The watching league of undead's gaunt faces somehow paled even further, many slinking back behind the safety of the dunes with guttural mutters.

Hildibrand's jaw hung open like the zombie he actually wasn't, probably. His jittering eyes sought Joker's in a silent plea.

And Joker made a vain attempt to be the singular voice of reason in this increasingly bizarre scenario.

"Uh, Nashu? Boss…?" He tried, attempting to appeal to her 'inspector-and-assistant' fantasy.

But Nashu Mhakaracca was on the warpath now, and wasn't to be deterred, "If crashing into the ground made you forget, then an explosion of equal force ought to make you remember!" She posited, in what was maybe a sound bit of logic in a cartoon setting, "I'll save you, Inspector— or kill you for real this time trying!"

The not-so-Zombibrand pointed an emphatic (and shaking) finger, "See?! Even you acknowledge the possibility that this plan will result in my—"

But Nashu had already hurled her bombs directly at his face, their fuses all but gone.

The following explosion resulted in a column of sand being tossed high into the air– and the inspector along with it. Joker shielded his face, feeling a few stray stones clip him as shattered earth sprayed wildly.

And then the skyward man come back down again.

"—-Death." The inspector finished in a pained squeak, before his head was driven solidly a good dozen ilms into the baked earth.

Several of the zombies slowly crept back from their hiding places in the silence that followed, peering in concern at what was now only a pair of legs and the very tattered trousers barely managing to remain clinging to them.

Joker, Soul Crystal already in his palm, was debating if White Magic would be enough or if he would need to bust out Phoenix for this one, when one of the shoes hanging from a charred foot twitched.

"Normally I would applaud your ingenuity, Nashu," Came a voice muffled under layers of sand, "But I would have preferred that you found a more elegant solution!"

And after some truly strenuous wiggling of his posterior did a gentleman inspector extraordinaire emerge from the earth, pulling his head from the sand with an audible 'pop'.

Nashu's victim was barely given a moment to breathe before she had his neck in a loving chokehold.

"Ah! He remembers me! Inspector Hildibrand remembers me!"

And the man that was indeed a very much alive Hildibrand Manderville beamed a signature grin, his face starting to turn a bit blue, "Y-yes, yes, I remember you, my f-faithful assistant…"

When Nashu finally released him (moments from the point of strangulation) did Hildibrand stand up, gasping for the air he genuinely needed, given he was actually painfully mortal. He put his hands on his hips, letting out a rather breathless attempt at a triumphant cry, "For—for I, Hildibrand, agent of-of enquiry, Inspector extraordinaire… have awoken at last!"

The Thanalan sun fell upon him with this delectation, lighting the golden dunes and creating a blinding silhouette that might have been impressive— were the inspector's suit not in rags and his hair not comparable to a melted icecream cone with the way it sagged lopsidedly atop his head.

Evidently Nashu was still plenty impressed. Teary-eyed, she turned to Joker, waving her arms out in excitement, "Poor Inspector… he must've gotten all confused when he crawled out of his grave. Thought he was dead. Only he wasn't actually— he was just badly injured, and needed to hibernate! I didn't even know people could do that!"

And, still dumbfounded, Joker just decided to accept that explanation, because okay.

"Indeed! Be it red moon or black dragon, no fiend is a match for my legendary might" Hildibrand laughed, hands upon his hips exposed by the holes in his dress shirt, "But look at you, my dear! Taken up my legendary banner in my absence, have you?"

"Yes!" She gave a little skip of joy as she bounded towards Joker, "And this is my assistant, Jonker!" Nashu added, waving an excited hand at him.

Eh, close enough.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Hildibrand leaned into his face, eyeing him eagerly from head to toe. Joker held his breath— the guy still stank like a corpse, even if he wasn't one, "What a fine young chap! And how long have you been partners with my dear Nashu, hm?"

"Since this morning."

But Hildibrand was already distracted with something else. He bolted upright, sand falling from his shoulders. Lifted his head to the sky, spinning on the spot as if he were a radio dish trying to catch a signal.

"Oh, but what is this faint tingling sensation in my arm?! This ringing in my ears, this dizziness... Could it be…" He raised a finger dramatically to the heavens, "…A case?!"

"Or a concussion." Joker offered, still a bit concerned, "Maybe even a heart-attack?"

And Hildibrand wheeled around, his elucidating finger now shoved towards Joker.

"Incorrect! But nonetheless astutely observed, my dear fellow. I admire those who would try to posit alternative theories— keeps me on my deductive toes." He leaned in closer, peering into Joker's eyes and… sniffing him?

"Well, young chap! If you're Nashu's assistant and she's my assistant, then that would logically make you my assistant-assistant, yes?"

Joker started, "Well, um…"

"And what did you say your name was? —No, don't tell me!" Hildibrand halted his open mouth with his whole hand now quite literally upon his face. Joker sputtered against the glove over his mouth, "I need to properly exercise my disused inspectorial brain muscles! It started with a 'J'… Jim? — No, Jack! Come along now, Jack!"

He continued to stare, dumbfounded.

"Come along… where?"

"Why, off to work, of course! My finely-honed senses tell me there is a mystery to solve— we need but find it!"

And with that did the man merrily hop through the desert without the slightest care for his present battered state, disheveled pompadour bobbing.

"Farewell, my erstwhile brethren! Do remember to do as a gentleman does, always!"

"Oh! Wait for me, Inspector!" Nashu cried out, chasing after her once-again boss as the two quite literally skipped in the direction of Ul'dah.

Joker Jack shrugged. Guess that was his name now.

And 'Jack' decided that he might as well follow after them. He supposed he could admire the man's work ethic, if nothing else. It took a certain kind of individual to literally be given a second chance at life only to throw himself straight back into his job.

More importantly, all of this nonsense today had been completely senseless and bizarre and almost offensively slap-stick… and absolutely hilarious. So he decided to live up to his usual moniker and just… embrace it. Whatever!

He spared a moment to glance back at the waving Autgar and the other Gentle Undead before his new companions completely disappeared over the dunes. The zombie dandy gave him the best parting wink he could given that his eyes were slightly bulging out of sunken sockets.

Hildibrand threw himself through the gates of Ul'dah, the local guards far too perplexed to even try to confront him. He strolled the city's main road in the tattered remnants of his suit, earning both himself and his 'assistants' more than a few looks… Especially since the good inspector was supposed to be five years dead.

The man formerly known as Joker, who had checked out of rationality around the time a well-dressed zombie had dipped him in the most romantic waltz of his life, casually followed behind Nashu as if there wasn't a damn thing wrong with any of this.

"Keep your senses alert for any sign of trouble, you two! Especially smell!" Hildibrand's called over his shoulder as he trawled the cobbled streets like a bloodhound— nose to the floor included, "Trouble possess a most potent odor."

"Yes, inspector!" Nashu chimed, giving a swift salute that Joker joined in on. 'Jack' was going all in, now fully committed to this bit. At least for the next few hours or so.

"Oh, you're back!"

He turned to see a familiar rainbow feather bobbing towards him. The journalist from before, Ellie, looked relieved to see Joker and Nashu returned unharmed. She waved him over, quill already poised over her notebook.

"I was beginning to get a little worried, but I suppose I shouldn't have been. So? What's the word on the zomb— ah? And… who would this be?"

She took a step back from where Hildibrand was hunched with his face pressed against the pavement, looking alarmed. A reasonable reaction in general to the disheveled man crawling his way on hands and feet towards her, let alone one the esteemed journalist seemed to recognize… and know to be a corpse in a lichyard.

The undeceased man abruptly and rigidly shot up at the question, "Why, I am none other than Hildibrand Manderville, inspector extraordinaire!" He stuck out a tattered glove, radiant smile at the ready, "A pleasure to make your charming acquaintance, good madam."

Ellie blinked very slowly, accepting his hand with all the trepidation of one grasping at barbed wire, "I… l see. Forgive me, but weren't you reported as dead? I'm pretty sure I reported you as dead."

"As you can see, tales of my demise were greatly exaggerated." Hildibrand replied simply, gesturing to the two behind him with a sweeping bow, "If you will allow for further introductions— This is my first and loveliest assistant, Nashu Mhakaracca," The Miqo'te waved with a cheery 'hello!', seeming to forget that she and Ellie had already met, "And this is Nashu's newest and fluffiest assistant, Jack… Sorry I don't think I got your full name, my good fellow."

"Uh, Jack… Garland." He said, pulling for the first reasonable surname he could think of and landing on a copied-homework version of Cid's. He couldn't decide if that sounded stupid or kind of ironically cool.

Ellie stared at him, visibly confused. Given that she was well aware of who he was, having been introduced via Momodi, she was understandably perplexed. Jack Garland merely shrugged at her, jutting a thumb at Hildibrand's back and pulling a face.

That seemed to say it all, for the journalist silently accepted that as a perfectly valid answer to all of her questions.

"I see…" She cleared her throat, "And… the zombies…?"

Nahsu cheerfully jumped to give a summary of events– a very, very long summary that began with every achingly minute detail of her day up to this point since she first got out of bed this morning. She was partway through sharing an anecdote about a box that had been following her, smelling suspiciously of cheese, when Ellie turned to Jack instead. Jack, speaking over the top of a still pleasantly rambling Nashu, gave a much more concise and relevant account.

"The inspector here taught the zombies basic manners so now they don't eat people, just dazzle them with dance moves. They're ninety-percent harmless and bizarrely dashing."

"So in conclusion, the good undead of the Sagolii Desert are a fine bunch, and you needn't concern yourselves with them." Hildibrand finished for him, almost shoving him aside in his eagerness to speak directly with the very confused journalist, "Feel free to quote that in print, if you'd like. What matters now, my dearest reporter of renown, is what you can tell us."

"And… that would be…?"

"Why the details to a mystery!" Hidibrand answered, arms spread wide, "A conundrum! A puzzle! A case! I know you have one, my lovely lady— I can smell it on you."

Ellie took a step back, nose wrinkling.

"Please, do share with us your findings!" Hildibrand wheedled, hands clasped under his chin. Nashu joined in beside him, her lip wobbling. And Jack shrugged and did the same, the three pressing into the journalist's increasingly frightened face with most especially pathetic pleading expressions.

And Ellie faltered as she visibly relented.

"You lot do seem to need all the help you can get— in more ways than one." She sighed, "And I suppose I should reward your… 'Jack' here for sharing his insight on the dapper zombie rumors… Fine, fine."

She flipped through her notebook, once again scratching at her chin with her quill. "The only stories I've information on that would concern your… proclivities are those of a weapon thief. Claims his foes weapons as spoils after assaulting them. Calls himself a duelist, or so I hear, but when you don't allow your opponents to refuse, well…"

"How dreadful!" Hildibrand gasped, Nashu belatedly reacting a few seconds after him. And then Joker a few seconds after her, just to keep the trend going, "To think such a miscreant remains on the loose!"

"Stealing is wrong." Jack Garland agreed, nodding.

"Quite." Ellie flipped over a page, "I was just on my way to speak with a potential target today, actually. An esteemed noblewoman— Durilda of Vesper Bay. Fancies herself a collector of rare weapons, and she recently received an ominous missive threatening the jewel of her collection: the Treaty-Blade." She raised her head from her notes, frowning, "It's the oddest thing… According to my sources, the thief, for some unknowable reason, actually spelled out their intentions in advance with a bright red calling card."

And Jack immediately perked up, interest in this bizarre mess soaring drastically.

"Your generosity is commendable, Miss Ryse! May this mark the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship!" Hildibrand babbled quickly, grabbing Jack and Nashu's shoulders and pulling them into an awkward huddle, while Ellie attempted to subtly sniff at the sleeve of her tunic.

"This is exactly the sort of incident to relaunch the careers of three most skilled but unfortunately woefully unemployed genius inspectors!" He whispered excitedly, "Let us have our new ally of justice lead us to our future-client at once and offer her our most magnanimous aid! Surely she would not refuse such an accomplished trio as our good selves."

"No. Absolutely not."

Hildibrand's hopeful face immediately collapsed like a deflating pool toy, his jowls sagging with sadness. With eyes shimmering with pained tears, he looked the picture of pathetic misery, abetted by the ragged clothes he still hadn't changed out of.

The lady Durilda stared him down, evidently not the kind to be swayed by sad puppy dogs or men with the appearance of desperate beggars. A rather haughty blonde-haired Hyuran woman, she wore layers of fine Ul'dahn silks and glittering purple eyeshadow— the better to emphasize her withering glare.

"I have a legion of guards at my disposal. Should this thief try anything, I will have him seized or worse." She tipped her head back, aiming her shimmering glower one-by-one at each of the newcomers to her oasis abode— Ellie included, who seemed to be regretting allowing them to tag along, "And even if by some miracle he should succeed, he will not escape my wrath, for I have retained the services of a certain gentleman."

Hildibrand picked his drooping face from the floor, perking right up, "A gentleman, you say…?"

And Durilda smirked, "Ah, but you may see for yourself! Like every piece in my collection, he has been chosen with the utmost care. Now look upon my peerless inspector, hapless interlopers, and despair!"

The doors to the fair lady's mansion flew open at her declaration, revealing a man triumphantly silhouetted against the sunlight that spilled into the antechamber. A finely dressed Elezen man in a tailored linen bliaud, bearing white gloves and spectacles. Almost offensively Ishgardian, right down to his polished wingtip shoes. He looked terribly out of place in the far reaches of Thanalan, but the confidence and poise he carried himself with negated much of the discomfort.

"Apologies for the delay." He said with the trademark upper-crust accent of a northern noble, his lips curling up slightly, "Ended up single-handedly solving a murder on my way over. But I certainly could not pass up the chance to investigate such an intriguing incident. Preemptive declarations of criminal intent are hardly in vogue."

He strode into the loungeroom, an excited Ellie following his every motion with rapt attention. He brushed past a wobbly Nashu who looked ready to fall asleep on her feet. Or maybe she already had. There did seem to be a bubble of snot forming from one of her nostrils.

The other gentleman inspector of today (who knew there were so many to begin with?) dipped into a low, courteous bow before his giggling client, taking her delicately proffered hand in his.

"Briardien de Manseauguel at your service, my lady."

And maybe it was just a result of bad experiences with Ishgardian nobility in general, but Jack immediately found he didn't much care for this pompous new guy.

Neither, it seemed, did Hildibrand. He crossed his arms, leaning in. Took a deep whiff of the bowing man's pale blue hair.

"I say, sir— you smell of snowbanks and mildew. Are you perchance employed as a Coerthan Karakul herder?"

Still bent at the waist, Briardien peeked at Hildibrand from the sides of his glasses, brow furrowing hard, "I am a consulting inspector, thank you. And I should like to think myself one a damned sight better than you clueless oafs."

He straightened himself as Hildibrand gave an affronted gasp. Leaned himself into Hildibrand's face this time, "Allow me to make my own deductions, if you would. Your odor is of rotting flesh and saltpeter. And mayhap just a hint of cheese. Hildibrand Manderville and Nashu Mhakaracca, I presume."

Nashu started awake at the sound of her name, snot-bubble popping. Briardien scoffed as he pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose.

"Two rank amateurs playing at a profession of which they know naught. And aided by a most esteemed and overqualified guest, for reasons even I cannot begin to fathom." He added, looking pointedly at Jack.

Jack Garland met his gaze levelly.

"Jack Garland." Jack said flatly, arms crossed. "Assistant."

Briardien raised an eyebrow, "Indeed? Well, if playing make-believe with buffoons suits you, I suppose I will leave you to it, 'Jack'. Madame— do tell me when you've finished with these wastrels." He added, turning in his heel and waving a dismissive hand in Lady Durilda's direction, "And we shall begin to negotiate our countermeasures in earnest."

The noblewoman gave a dreamy sigh, watching Briardien's backside as he made for the verandah outside of her estate. Then she whipped angrily around, glaring once more at Hildibrand, "You see?! I do not want nor need your help. Sir Briardien is more than capable of overseeing matters here. Now get out, all of you! And you— " she spat furiously at the entrance as a slight figure attempted to slip unnoticed through the already-open doorway, "Where have you been, Maria? And where is my vase?"

Failing to creep her way past the crowd of visitors was a small child. A slight girl with her mother's blonde hair and absolutely none of her attitude. She meekly shuffled her way through the gathering of strangers in her home, fighting back tears in her big blue eyes.

"T-there was this strange flying thing, and I…" She gulped, twisting the hem of her blue dress, "The vase, I dropped it in the water. I was so─"

"You—! That vase once belonged to the Royal House of Thorne! Do you have any idea how much it was worth?!" Durilda snapped, grabbing at the girl's arm. Maria winced, "You will go back outside right now and search for my vase, and you are not to return until you find it. Do I make myself clear ?"

Joker took a step forward, anger flaring in his chest at the sight of the girl's eyes squeezed shut in fear. But Hildibrand already leapt ahead of him, loudly clearing his throat.

"My lady, pray allow me to go in the girl's stead! It is clearly not safe, for she herself spoke of a ferocious wild beast!"

The inspector gave a low bow that mimicked Briardien's motions from earlier, including reaching for Durilda's slender hand. She pulled back with disgust– and let go of her daughter's arm in the process.

"Yes, with my unmatched investigative skills, I shall swiftly locate and recover the missing vase, thereby earning your respect! At which point, you will gladly grant me permission to investigate the thieving duelist! Verily, it is a plan fiendishly clever in its intricacies!" Hildibrand mused aloud to the ceiling. A plan that had some merit, certainly, but not so much when spoken aloud within earshot of the target.

"Miss Maria, would you be so kind as to tell me exactly what happened?" Hildibrand pivoted without unbending his spine, keeping himself at the young girl's eye level. He gave what he probably supposed was a reassuring smile, lips stretched wide. Only it looked closer to 'demonic' than comforting. The girl recoiled a little.

"I… Well, I picked up the vase in Ul'dah like Mother said, and I was on my way home…" She began, practically tying the hem of her dress into knots, "I was crossing the bridge, and then the flying thing came. I got scared, so I ran. When I stopped, it was gone. But… so was the vase. I think I dropped it in Nophica's Wells…" Maria's big eyes filled again with tears, sniffling, "I want to go and look! But there were scary-looking things down there. I'm scared to go alone."

"Fortunately, you are no longer alone, Miss Maria." Hildibrand answered with surprising tenderness, gently smoothing down the girl's hair, "In us you will find most commendable allies. We shall go together and look for the vase─ all five of us!"

And he pointed to the corner, where Ellie had been loitering the whole while, making copious notes in her small book. She looked up with a disbelieving frown.

"All four of you. I'm going after Inspector Briardien. If the duelist strikes, I mean to be there."

"B-But, Miss Ryse!" Hildibrand whimpered, taken aback, "How can you ignore the plight of a young girl for the sake of a story?"

"Because that's my job, you imbecile!"

"Well, we shall not be derelict in our duty to justice." Hildibrand declared, snapping his fingers, "Come with me and mine, young miss Maria. Nashu! Jack! — We must away!"

Nophica's Wells was one of the rare sources of running water in Western Thanalan— a river flowing from Crescent Cove into a natural basin. A very nervous Maria retraced her steps, finding no sign of the vase by the bridge she had been crossing when she'd dropped it.

"It's probably still around." Jack consoled the girl as her face fell, "It might've just gotten swept away. Let's keep following the river."

With Nashu humming loudly and swinging her arms did they continue to trace it until the river divided into two distinct streams. They split up to follow the different paths, Jack deciding to trust his gut— or rather, his Eye— and take the one that lit up a bright blue in his aether-based sight. It meant likely sending Hildibrand and Nashu on a wild Chocobo chase, but they seemed unusually good for that. Following Ellie's advice, Maria stuck close to Jack ("Maria, dear, listen─ if it gets dangerous, or if you feel afraid, you run to this adventurer for help first, understand?"). He held her hand as they walked, her nervous eyes constantly flitting up to the sky for the 'flying thing' that had scared her before.

But while the blue skies remained conspicuously clear, the bend in the river ahead, opening into a sad little bank beneath another bridge, was not.

And somehow, despite landing himself in a world with catgirls and lizardmen (some with two heads!) and whatever the hell was going on with Goblins— had Joker encountered the most outlandishly dressed man he'd ever met.

Bent down in the stream, grumbling loudly as he pulled fragments of porcelain from his bleeding bare foot, was a huge man wrapped in several layers of brightly patterned red silk. Black lacquered armor fringed in gold gave his outfit a strongly 'eastern' impression, and protruding from under his loose headscarf were two black horns. His sclerae were similarly dark and his eyes were yellow and slitted, which, when combined with the imposing height and sharp teeth, made him look rather beastly. Jack couldn't tell if his skin was pale gray or if he was just wearing face paint— but the swirling red patterns across his eyes, lips and chin certainly were.

It all came together in something of a vague bizarro Kabuki theme, leaving Joker to wonder if he was maybe Doman. Didn't they have a large population of 'Au Ra' in the Far East? He'd heard they had horns and that the men could be quite tall. This guy didn't seem to have scales though, but what did Jack Garland know? He'd never seen one, after all. Well, except for maybe a certain someone who was also quite taken with concealing silks, but Joker had respected Yugiri's privacy enough not to try to take a peek.

Most concerning, however, was the fact that this man was armed to the teeth. A plethora of weapons of great variety were strapped awkwardly across his back and hanging from sheaths at the obi tied around his waist— spears, swords, axes, a katana or two. Clearly, this guy had never heard of Soul Crystals.

Given what had initiated this search to begin with, it was all very suspicious. But that was Hildibrand's problem, really. And more importantly for the moment— the strange man currently had several pieces of the item Jack believed he was searching for protruding from his flesh. So he decided it was wisest to try to approach this amicably. He mumbled gentle reassurances to a shyly loitering Maria before taking a step closer.

"Excuse me." said Jack, waving a hand and startling the enormous man. He hopped in surprise— and from the folds of his garment came a startled clucking as a very green chicken flapped its way free.

"Enkidu! Bad girl!" He chided in a gruff voice, scooping the oddly-colored hen back up before she could fully wriggle to her freedom. He shook his head, balancing awkwardly on one foot with a clucking chicken under an arm.

"Listen, you— I'm in a very bad mood right now. Some idiot tossed this item into the river, and every point is as a dagger in my soles! Do the people of this land simply toss their refuse in the river?"

"Oh!" Gasped Maria, her eyes growing wide as she took in the patterns on the shards the strange man had piled by his feet, "That's… that's mother's vase…"

And the stranger's skin paled further.

"O-oh! Oh, did I say 'idiot'?! I meant… that is... I…" He waved his arms, allowing his half-crushed chicken to squirm her way free and join him in frazzled flapping.

"Ah, there you are! I say, Jack, my good lad, you have a keen investigative sense!" Hildibrand's head emerged from the nearby shrub he seemed to have spilled into in his haste to chase down whatever Jack had found. Nashu emerged shortly afterwards as he hurried over, leaves sticking out of her hair and mouth. She followed behind the inspector a little sleepily as he plucked out a twig lodged into a knee exposed by a hole in his trousers.

"Excellent work! You must have sharpened that astuteness from working so closely with me."

"Absolutely." Said Jack, who had, of course, met the man only a few hours ago, "You're an inspiration to us all, Inspector."

"Now, if you would but retrieve it, then we may swiftly return the treasured vase of Lady Durilda─ Oh. Oh dear." Hildibrand's face fell, at last coming down from his self-aggrandizing ramblings to properly take in the present state of the object of their search— now fragmented into small chunks with a good half of it still scattered among the sluggishly flowing waters.

The garish man hobbled his way closer, his injured foot still held above the stream, "Um. Does this belong to you, child? Forgive me, I was so engrossed in my search that I did not notice…"

Hildibrand looked up from where he hopelessly poked at the pile of vase pieces, instantly intrigued, "That we should meet another fellow seeker of lost items today! What are you on the search for, pray tell?"

"A halberd!" The large man responded, nearly unbalancing himself as he threw out an emphatic arm, green chicken squawking, "I set it down for but a moment, only to see it next in the talons of an accursed thieving bird! I gave chase, following it to these waters, and in my haste I must have stepped upon your vase."

"I see…" Maria murmured, nervously prodding at the piled pieces Gilgamesh had retrieved from his own flesh, "It's not your fault, mister. But, um, I don't think there's anything we can do about it now."

And Nashu jumped into action, hands in determined fists, "Don't fret, Maria! I know it looks bad, but I'm sure Inspector Hildibrand will think of something!"

"Oh, but I already have, my faithful assistant." Hildibrand beamed at the group, finger and thumb cupping his chin, "Hearken to me now, for as the rising sun doth dispel the dark, so shall my solution resolve our dilemma! But first, we must gather as many fragments of the vase as we can find!"

Roused into immediate action, Nashu gave another little salute, and then threw herself boldly into the stream, splashing water high as she dragged Maria in with her by the hand. Joker, now learned to be completely indifferent to ruining his clothes (the life of an Adventurer was a fundamentally messy one, he had accepted) followed in after them, letting his coattails trail in the water. That was a problem for future-him and a surely exasperated future-Tataru.

"But where are my manners? I have yet to properly introduce myself." The bizarre man clad in reds cleared his throat as his chicken companion at last wriggled entirely free from his hold, fluttering to the ground at an odd angle thanks to a cramped wing, "I am Gilgamesh, and that is my companion, Enkidu!"

He gestured to said bird by throwing out both hands in her direction— only to find she had already trotted away from where he was pointing, idly pecking at bugs by the riverside.

"...Well, not really. It has been many moons since last I saw her, so to ease the burden of loneliness, I tamed a hen and painted it green."

Jack, knee-deep in muddy water with fragments of porcelain cupped in his palm, wondered what companion this Gilgamesh could've possibly had before this that a green chicken was a suitable substitute. A Chocobo, maybe? Oh, but they weren't so common in the Far East. Hm.

Still visibly upset at being the literal foot to crush Maria's metaphorical hopes and dreams, Gilgamesh sheepishly scooped up the chicken again before handing her to her. Maria cooed with delight, stroking her feathers. And Gilgamesh gave an awkward grin, pointed teeth protruding.

"In any case, given that I was responsible for, well, destroying your mother's vase… it would be my pleasure to help at least gather the pieces."

"The pleasure is all mine, Gilligan!" Hildibrand inserted himself into the conversation, taking hold of Gilgamesh's large hand and shaking it, "I, Hildibrand, agent of enquiry, inspector extraordinaire, bid you welcome!"

"...If it is that hard for you to remember, I give you leave to call me Gil."

"Excellent suggestion, Greg! Playful monikers are an effective means of building camaraderie. Call me Hildy!" The inspector stretched out his back— an act that caused a very loud pop. He hissed loudly, curling in on himself.

"It occurs to me that I am not yet fully recovered from my accumulated injuries. It would not be prudent to immerse my body in water…"

Fair. Being in an explosion will do that to you.

"Not without first coating it with a liberal application of salamander oil, that is!" And from somewhere in the depths of his shredded suit did Hildibrand Manderville produce a small green vial. Did he and Nashu have Soul Crystals Jack didn't know about? Weirdly mundane ones for aspiring inspectors designed to hold miscellaneous stuff and things? If so, then he badly wanted one. He figured Jack Garland had proven his worth to hold one by now.

Hildibrand grabbed his shoulder, hauling him out of the stream and wiggling the bottle in Jack's face, "You understand the importance of physical rehabilitation, yes? Then you can assist me by pouring the oil all over my body."

Oh no.

Not again.

With his keen inspectorial senses did Hildibrand detect Jack's subtle hesitance in the form of his face twisting in on itself as if he'd taken a bite out of a lemon. His fingers tightened on Jack's shoulder, "The body is but an instrument in occasional need of oiling. So come, my faithful friend! Come and oil me up!"

And Hildibrand Manderville tore off what little was left off his coat and shirt in one sweeping motion.

Jack, whose face now more resembled an asterisk than anything human, poured a hearty dollop of the concoction into his shaking palm. Slapped said hand as quickly as he could onto Hildirand's bare back.

"Ahhh, this comforting scent, as though I am a child in my mother's arms…" The man cooed, a shiver running down his spine, "Quickly now, before it dries— knead the oil into my aching flesh!"

Eager to get this over with, Jack rubbed the pungent oil into Hildibrand's skin with the speed and fervor of a man being pursued by wild beasts.

"Ahhh, the rel— Gah! Now the pain multiplies manifold! Gently, now, Jack— gently!"

Gritting his teeth, Jack calmed himself. He once again drew on his experiences with Kawakami as a base to work with. She'd been genuinely pretty good at massages… But then, she'd been getting paid.

Adjusting his stance, he began to knead the oil in firm but gentle circles across the inspector's shoulder blades. Let his hands drift as low as he dared down his back. He supposed he must've been doing a decently good job, because the sounds he started drawing from Hildibrand were now… Well. Pleasurable.

"Right there, yes! Keep doing that, just like that, just like—" The man broke off with a groan. Jack shuddered, "Yesss! Now, once more— with feeling!"

Feeling as if this should maybe count as something adjacent to third base, a very frightened Jack continued carefully kneading the oil again and again and again into the inspector's muscles, until his fingers were sore and his trademark 'thousand-yalm stare' was completely void of any spark of life.

"Ahhh! Never before have I received such splendid ministrations. You're quite good at this, my good man!"

"I've had experience." Jack squeaked in a tiny voice.

With Hildibrand Manderville now coated head-to-toe in enough oil that the reflected Thanalan sun upon his bare skin was practically blinding, he at last decided to sally forth.

"Right then! Tally-ho!"

And the inspector threw his glistening, mostly-naked body into the flowing stream… promptly washing off a good 90% of the salamander oil Jack had so laboriously applied.

Jack Garland threw himself upon the ground. Tipped his empty gaze to the sky, silently begging the Eorzean gods to listen for once and grant him patience or death. Whichever came first.

He came back to his senses an indeterminate amount of time later when Nashu suddenly loomed into his line of sight. She tilted her head at him and blew on his face. Then poked a finger in his unblinking eyes. Jack sat up with a jolt to find that every last fragment had finally been collected from the water, a scattered assortment of broken potshereds spread out across the riverbank.

The five looked at each other awkwardly, hope for recovery rapidly dwindling.

"Oh no…" Maria whimpered, futilely pressing two of the larger pieces together and watching with growing despair as they failed to jigsaw themselves back together. Gilgamesh squirmed, looking very guilty, while Nashu took up unhelpfully clacking completely random shards against each other with a very focused look in her eyes.

Jack bit his lip. He hated to say it, but even if they did manage to find the exact right place to put each piece, he highly doubted there was anything that could be done for it at this point. Even the best superglue from his world would struggle to hold this mess together.

But Hildibrand, surprisingly, did not seem deterred.

"Well done, my friends. This should be more than sufficient for our needs. He has performed miracles with far less, after all…" He added quietly afterwards, a surprisingly slight twinge of tension in his voice.

But if he noticed Jack tilting his head at him then he chose to ignore it, straightening out his bare back, "Now then— Jack! I need you to utilize the keen senses fostered within you from our extensive camaraderie to locate Maria's mysterious 'flying thing'! If we can find that, we will surely find the man I mean to have assist us."

Jack hadn't expected the next part of this plan to involve using his Third Eye to track down a succession of shattered Coblyn corpses, but whatever sixth sense guided his aether-sight was convinced that the bug-eyed rock beetle creatures were relevant to their interests. And it wasn't like he had expected a lot of the things that had happened today, so whatever. The group of five— a still determined to assist Gilgamesh among their numbers— looked upon the trail of carnage, the poor creatures' crystalized carapaces in broken fragments from the sheer blunt force trauma upon that had befallen them.

Hildibrand nodded grimly, "Well-spotted, my fluffy-haired comrade. Impact from a hammer. There can be no question– our man is near."

They followed the train of corpses, Jack, Nashu and a very confused but politely participating Maria debated whether a zombie-Coblyn would be a Zomblyn or a Combie all the while. Until they came upon footsteps trailing ink-black blood. And then a dead Ahriman, its single eye glazed and purple tongue lolling, formerly spherical head-and-body combo now indented into more of a sad crescent shape.

"Ah, could that be the flying thing you witnessed, Maria?" Asked Hildibrand, prodding a finger into the oozing eye, "I can see how an unexpected Voidsent would absolutely frighten a young girl, on the small side though it is."

"Um." Replied Maria, shuffling her feet, "No… It looked more like that one."

And she pointed to the corpse of the bloodied giant Chimera that was collapsed on the path just a yalm ahead of them, all three of its diverse heads thoroughly caved in by a blunt instrument.

"...Oh." Hildibrand nodded, "Yes. Well."

Hildibrand's pushed up his cracked monocle in a rather clumsy attempt to imitate Briardian's signature fidget. He cast an eye over the morbid evidence.

"The Coblyns, the Ahriman, and now this Chimera— all were slain with a hammer. His handiwork is unmistakable." He tentatively touched the tongue of the crushed lion head, humming, "The corpse is still quite warm. which means he must still be about."

Gilgamesh perked up, "He? You know the name of the warrior who slew these creatures so spectacularly?"

Hildibrand nodded, face surprisingly tense, "Yes— and he is also the one person in all Eorzea capable of reconstructing this vase. A man whose skill with the hammer has brought rival goldsmiths low, so breathtaking are his works, so fearsome his competitive spirit…!"

There was a collective air of trepidation. Maria drew closer to Jack, holding tight to his coat. Gilgamesh curled his fingers on the haft of one his spears, yellow eyes eager.

Hildibrand nodded grimly, "Alas, it comes to this… Though every fiber of my being cries out in rebellion, I must break my oath and do the unspeakable!"

He took several, purposeful steps forward, standing prominently in the open, surrounded by rocky hills. Took a deep breath.

Maria's fingers fisted tighter in Jack's coat. He soothed her gently as her lip trembled, "Wh-What are you going to do…?"

"I…" Hildibrand licked his lips, "I must dance!"

The gentleman inspector lifted a leg— and then tipped sideways, clutching at his calf as he went down.

"How are my legs so exhausted already? " Hildibrand gasped, "Could it be… that the waters of Nophica's Wells washed away my liberal coatings of rejuvenating salamander oil?!"

You think?

"My good man!" Hildibrand rolled onto his stomach and crawled to Jack, grabbing one of the coattails that Maria wasn't holding onto. Nashu reached out and snatched up the third one, just to continue the trend, "I see no other solution; you must dance in my stead! Though it be a gross─ nay, unconscionable ─ violation of my family's traditions, I must bequeath to you the Manderville!"

Joker, pinned on all sides by grabby-hands, blinked.

"M-me…?"

"Who else but one of my most faithful assistants of many long years?" Hildibrand said seriously. Jack didn't bother pointing out that they had met for the first time literally today, "We are as kin, and therefore it is only right that you learn that which has been passed down within my family for many generations. Come, let me guide you through the steps!"

He pulled Jack forward with a tug on his coat, forcing him to stumble after him.

What was it with people in this world and trying to make him dance? Furthermore, this contrived plan wasn't really necessary. He could probably just continue to suss out where this goldsmith guy was with his Third Eye like he had the potsherds and Colbyns.

…Ah, but what would Jack Garland, faithful long-time assistant to the assistant of the world's greatest inspector, do?

He set his gaze ahead. Nodded very gravely, accepting the heavy duty that had been thrust upon him.

With Hildibrand's muttered guidance literally at his ears, Jack Garland stepped forward. Looked to the fallen chimera. Took in a deep breath.

And splayed out a pair of jazz hands.

Nashu and a still very confused Maria cheered with very differing levels of enthusiasm as Jack performed exactly as Hildibrand rapidly whispered to him, fists flailing like he was striking the air, hips shaking, jumping and turning this way and that.

"Ah, faster, if you'd please. Now a bit slower. Gyrate your hips more!"

The whole thing was turning into some bizarre combination of The Macarena, swing dancing and The Monkey. The zombies had been right— being watched during dance practice was mortifying. Joker vaguely wondered if he'd drop dead from all this repeat embarrassment before the day was over. Maybe this was karmic payback for dragging Yda and Papalymo into dancing with the Syphs.

With eyes watching his every wriggling motion like a bird of prey did Hildibrand keep time, clapping out a rhythm. Between the loud claps did he begin to belt out lyrics.

"I'm a Mander-Mander-Manderville man,
 Doing what only a Manderville can,
 From the peaks of Coerthas to Thanalan,
 Mander-Mander-Manderville man…"

And as Joker again repeated the steps from the start in a tortuous loop, face now decidedly red, was there a voice from afar. An answering clarion call, echoing like a siren song from over the hills.

"Fancy yourself a Manderville man?
 You would do what only a Manderville can?
 Then lift your legs, and put up your hands,
 Be a Mander-Mander-Manderville, man!"

Enkidu flapped her wings in alarm. Crowed to the heavens. Gilgamesh stood up straighter.

"I sense it… He comes!"

And then there was a flash in the sky. A meteoric force, parting what few clouds were in the desert sky as it hurtled towards them from the hills above. And then it was before them, landing upon the earth hard enough to send a web of deep cracks spiraling up the mountainside.

He rose slowly from his crouch with a sinewy grace, the light catching against his opaque pince-nez glasses. The very man whose image was captured in golden glory as a statue in the Gold Saucer's central plaza— Godbert Manderville, in the flesh.

Dressed only in the tightest of whities did he stride towards them, muscles rippling with each minute movement. Frankly, he came bearing the physique of what could probably be likened to the image of a god. The kind that made man question whether it was right to gaze upon such splendor.

As for the lower half…

Oh.

Oh wow. The statue really had been to scale.

Ah, if only he had gotten to tell Noraxia…

Godbert Manderville came to an imposing halt. Slowly peered at each of them (sans a conspicuous one) in turn, hands upon his hips.

"Who has summoned me with such gentlemanly gyrations?"

Very, very firmly shoving aside an idle thought that floated involuntarily through his brain about how he wouldn't mind if he'd been asked to slather oil on this guy quite so much, Joker cleared his throat a tad excessively. Gave an awkward wave.

"Hi." He croaked, "That was me."

Godbert smiled pleasantly at him, bushy white mustache twitching, "Well now! While you seem a cunning young lad, I'm afraid I have never met you before in my life. If you'll forgive my crudeness, how in the hells did you come to learn the Manderville? If I did not teach you, then who...?"

There was a very loud and perfectly cinematic snapping sound. Five heads turned to see Hildibrand Manderville, still shirtless and slightly gleaming with trace amounts of oil, slowly raise his creeping foot from where it had stepped upon a twig. Implausibly so, seeing as they were in the middle of a desolate desert quarry. He looked around, frowning with disbelief.

"By the grace of Thal, what sorcery is this?" Godbert gasped, "You... You yet live?!"

And Hildirand froze, his exposed back tensing hard. Sweat poured down his forehead in veritable waves, like someone had turned a hose upon him. His teeth chattered.

And he broke into a frantic sprint that upended a spooked Nashu with its force, kicking a frantic trail of dust in his wake as he took to the mountains.

Godbert Manderville was stunned into statuesque inaction for only a brief moment. And then he gave chase, powerful calves and thighs rippling with each pounding step, his bare feet tearing holes in the earth. There was an audible clapping of cheeks as he caught up to the utterly horrified face of his son at speeds ordinarily impossible for man.

"HILDIBRAND HELIDOR MAXIMILIAN MANDERVILLE!" Godbert roared with the kind of furious volume that could only be summoned by an angry parent.

The outcome was inevitable despite Hildibrand's best and borderline Olympian efforts to bolt to freedom. Though highly empowered by sheer dread, he was nothing compared to the force of nature that was his father, soon finding himself thoroughly out-sprinted.

And then muscular arms were around Hildibrand's bare torso.

For a moment it almost looked like a tender embrace.

And then Hildibrand's frantic screams filled the air as he was lifted over Godbert's arching shoulders and plunged headfirst towards the ground in a beautiful example of a backdrop suplex.

Jack Garland let out an appreciative whistle.

And poor, weary Hildibrand was once again driven into the merciless embrace of the earth, only a protruding pair of legs visible.

"Ten years, Hildibrand, ten years since you left home!" Godbert roared at his son's twitching legs, "And five since I learned of your trip to Dalamud! How long were you planning to allow your mother and father to suffer under the illusion that their beloved son was dead?!"

Nashu and Jack poked at Hildibrand's twitching feet as he once again wriggled his way to freedom purely through a series of pelvic thrusts. And when he had popped his head from the crater, even more bruised and disheveled and his monocle now split entirely in half, did he beg his father's patience.

"Please, Father, cease your furious undulations at once! There are more pressing matters at hand!" He gasped, waving a hand as his Godbert wriggled at him with rhythmic fury, "I will explain myself in due time, but for now this antique vase must be made whole once more— for the sake of young Miss Maria!"

The girl drew back in alarm, startled to draw the attention of the imposingly muscled man. Her fingers curled over the fragments she held against her chest.

And Godbert halted his irate dance. Peered at the little girl over the top of his glasses. His clenched draw loosened as he swiftly shifted into the tone and bearing of a kindly grandfather.

"Oh, my poor dear, look at you!" He cooed, now suddenly a genial (if shirtless) old man. He took the pieces from her little hands with great care, looking them over with warm brown eyes.

And then he threw his head back in a belly-jiggling Santa Claus-esque laugh.

"Do not worry, little one─ I deal with worse cases before my morning bowel movement. I will have this fixed for you in a jiffy!"

Maria gave a hopeful cry, her hands together. The others drew closer (Hildibrand notably wobbling) as Godbert proceeded to produce a sparkling golden hammer from somewhere (Seriously, Joker needed to learn the secrets of that). It caught the sun as he raised it high.

Frankly, Jack didn't know how to describe what happened next. It was, to his untrained eyes, simply a flurry of rapid hand motions and banging and… squeaking? And maybe a dust cloud or two or three.

And everyone gasped as suddenly, before their eyes, was a perfectly restored ancient vase, dusty brown and whole without even a trace of cracks or seams.

But Godbert held out a hand before Maria could reach for it, "Hold your applause until the end!" He crowed, hammer raised again, "For I am not yet finished. Byregot, guide my hammer!"

Said hammer shone as brightly as the sun above as Godbert once again worked his uncanny and speedy ministrations, engulfing the vase in light.

And then he drew back, swiping sweat from his forehead.

On the ground before them now was… well, something. It was certainly sparkly. The once earthen and rustic vase was now somehow augmented with woven gold. Bright cyan patterns ran along its body thanks to a fresh shimmer of painted glaze that reminded Joker of the arts and crafts projects he had been made to do in elementary school.

Godbert put his hands on his hips. Nodded with deep satisfaction.

"Look how it sparkles in the twilight, how it radiates elegance! Would you all not agree that it is a work of art?"

For once, it was Hildibrand who was the voice of disbelieving reason, "Father, you have completely destroyed a priceless antique's historical value! You've… You've simply broken it all over again!"

Godbert scoffed, hammer over his shoulder, "Broke, or made it better? I have taken a dull, unremarkable vase and transformed it into something far superior!"

"That is beside the point!"

Maria crept towards Godbert awkwardly. With no clothing to take hold of, she settled for giving a gentle tug at his arm, "Um... Mister Godbert, sir─ I don't think my mother's going to like what you did. She probably won't let Mister Hildibrand help with the investigation…"

"Well…" Jack offered awkwardly, trying to stay positive, "Maybe not? Maybe she'll like his… creative reimagining?"

Though he honestly didn't even know where the original vase began in this tacky thing. Which begged the question… If every component of an object were to be replaced, would the resulting object still be fundamentally considered the same?

Philosophers could quarrel about it endlessly— for clearly Godbert Manderville did not care.

He bid them farewell alongside 'Greg' and Enkidu, who was determined now to return to his own search of his missing halberd. Which left Hildibrand's and his entourage to try to impress lady Durilda with the new… embellishments to her ancient vase.

She wasn't at all happy to see them again, especially as Hildibrand was now wearing practically nothing, having lost his shirt and his pants now being closer to shorts in form and function. Durilda looked about ready to faint from outrage, but was mercifully distracted by her daughter's tiny voice.

"Mother, I… I brought you the vase…"

Maria hesitantly approached her. Handed over the veritable Vase of Theseus to her mother, little hands shaking.

The woman gaped in utter disbelief, staring down the tacky new abomination that had now replaced her beloved historic relic. Her eyes twitched. A vein throbbed in her head. All within her presence took several steps back.

Durilda at least had the good sense to spare her poor daughter the worst of her resulting wrath, rounding on the adults in the room instead, "By the gods, have you all no shame?! How dare you make my daughter complicit in your chicanery?! I don't know where you found this gaudy trash, but it bears no resemblance whatsoever to the vase I purchased!"

Joker at last decided to open his mouth, furious on Maria's behalf, but was halted by a voice from the other side of the door.

"Gaudy trash?"

The double doors once again flung upon wide. Godbert Manderville, thankfully (?) wearing clothes this time (although the buttons on his shirt were straining as if under seismic pressure and the short-shorts left little to the imagination regardless). He strode boldly into the lounge, glasses flashing.

"I gather from your comments, my good lady, that you do not like my reconstruction?" He frowned.

Durilda's jaw dropped, "L-Lord Manderville, sir…! You… you say this is your work?"

And with her tune changing in a complete 180 did the noblewoman switch from stern matriarch to fawning lovestruck maiden.

"Ohoho, I don't like it─ I love it! I would go so far as to call it the new centerpiece of my Thorne Dynasty collection!"

Godbert nodded, hard face falling back into congenial delight, "Ah, what a relief! I would have been most distressed had you said otherwise, especially as your darling Maria spared no effort in assisting me. Such a talented and charming child you have here." He gave the girl a wink behind his glasses, "A joy I know all too well, being a father myself! We Mandervilles do so take pride in our work and ever strive for professional perfection. Oh, but why am I repeating what my son Hildibrand doubtless told you when he offered to investigate the duelist's threats?"

"Your son…" Durilda's strained expression of joy twitched a little, under tremendous pressure from the weight of the repeated faux paus she had committed against who she was only now realizing were her social betters. She desperately cleared her throat.

"I-I cannot recall if your son used those precise words, but I do remember thinking that his help would be most welcome! You will be helping us, Inspector Hildibrand, will you not?"

And the self-satisfied smile Hildibrand gave in response nearly split his face in half.

To Joker's Jack's deepest despair, he was once again in Coerthas.

Having secured Durilda's support (and Nashu a new suit and trousers for the good inspector to at last change into, lest he freeze to death), Hildibrand had flounced off at once to rub his minor victory in his new rival's face.

Inspector Briardien had not been happy to learn of this.

They had cornered him outside of Durilda's estate, where he was forced to reluctantly share his plans with new co-workers.

"While you were off playing nursemaid, I have had several reproductions of the Treaty-Blade commissioned.' He sighed, fingers playing irritably at the frames of his glasses, "Their resemblance at a distance is good enough for our purposes. The false-blades have already been delivered to the Observatorium in the Coerthas central highlands, where they are being distributed amongst Lady Durilda's sellswords. Once I give the order, they will transport them via alternate routes to Vesper Bay."

Raising a proud finger, he continued, "This will certainly lure our elusive duelist to the scene. The moment the thief strikes, all our forces will converge on his location─ including those disguised as smallfolk along each route. The real Treaty-Blade will remain in a secure vault until the thief has been apprehended. Everything has been accounted for." He added smugly. "So your assistance will not be required. Frankly put— You lot are superfluous."

And Nashu gasped, looking absolutely insulted, "I floss once every other week, I'll have you know!"

"Yes, we are most hygienic and ready to assist!" Hildibrand joined in the protest. Jack nodded vigorously, "Please grant us a role within this charade of yours!"

Right on queue did Hildibrand, Nashu and Jack Garland press together, shoulder-to-shoulder, peering up into Briardian's face. With their hands under their respective chins and their lips wibbling, the three formed a united front of watery eyes that shimmered so, so pitifully

Briardien recoiled from the display, looking as if he had been smacked in the face with a glitter-bomb.

"...Oh fine. Very well!" He relented, faintly disgusted with himself, "...Mayhap we could use more 'smallfolk' to watch the roads in and out of the Observatorium─ assuming you actually have the capacity to conduct yourself in an unassuming fashion."

Honestly, they probably didn't. But with no other choice, Briardien led them to the outer edges of Coerthas, grumbling all the way. They met Ellie outside the settlement at the base of the Observatorium, who gave an awkward chuckle and very strained smile as Hildibrand and Nashu enthusiastically waved their arms at her from the Chocobo carriage.

The moment he set his feet on the ground, Briardien dragged Hildibrand away by the arm, Nashu and Jack trailing after him innocently. He set him harshly by the gate, spinning him to face the sad, empty road ahead.

"I will see to having the caravans dispatched. Your responsibility," The other inspector hissed into Hildibrand's face, a finger firmly pointed at the ground, "Will be to stay put and keep watch for anyone matching the description of our target. You can manage that one, can't you, you lumbering oaf?"

"Question." Jack Garland raised a hand as Hildibrand's fuming face turned a little purple, "Do we know what this duelist is supposed to look like?"

"Did none of you even think to ask?" Briardien groaned, rolling his eyes, "For goodness… Nevermind. He is said to be a towering brute dressed in red who wields an array of weapons likely pilfered from his dubious exploits."

Ah… Jack looked to Nashu and then to Hildibrand, watching the latter's eyes widen very slowly. His mouth opened into an astonished 'o'. And Jack actually felt a little thrill of excited surprise. Had the obtuse man actually realized this time…?

Then Hildibrand broke into triumphant laughter, "How fortunate for us! A man so garishly dressed should be easy to find in snowy Coerthas!"

Nah.

Determined to keep his less-competent shadows out of the way, Briardien marched away to leave the trio loitering by the settlement gates as 'look out'. Which was to say they spent the time looking into the depths of motionless white scenery growing increasingly bored.

A good hour ticked by with them continually buffeted by chilling winds and ennui both. Desperate for a continued stream of metaphorical keys jingling in his face to keep himself distracted from his own head (that's why he was here in the first place, damnit!), Joker pulled out his deck of Triple Triad playing cards. Only when he turned to ask Nashu if she was up for a game, he found the spot beside him now conspicuously empty. Poor understimulated girl had wandered off, most likely.

He shrugged. Eh, she'd be fine. Probably. Maybe.

Maybe not?

"Still no sign." Grumbled Hildibrand, arms crossed tight over his shivering torso, not noticing at all that they were a man down, "I can only conclude that, having learned that his opponent was to be the legendary inspector Hildibrand, the duelist renounced his criminal ways and retreated into hiding! Yes, that must be it!"

He let out a loud bark of triumphant laughter. It was immediately drowned by a fresh gust of howling winds and swallowed up by the desolate landscape.

Jack sneezed.

"…But uh, perhaps we should venture into the wilderness in search of clues outside of the walls? …Just to do a thorough job of it?"

Which was the exact opposite of what Briardien had asked them to do. So of course Jack was all for it.

They didn't get very far trudging through the snow before Hildibrand shouted triumphantly at a flash of color. Only it was less red and more… pink, really. Jack blinked as he scraped away the layers of built up snow drifts to find that Nashu, bundled in her warm parka, was face-down in the snow and humming to herself.

Jack gingerly pulled her up, snow falling away from her shivering form as she sniffled pitifully. Something long and metal came with her thanks to the tight grip her half-frozen fingers were keeping on it.

"Oh, Jockey! Inspector!" Nashu mewled, glasses askew as Jack set her back down on her feet, "I'm sorry! I thought I saw a wild gazebo, but when I went to look I tripped on a big stick!"

And made no attempt to right herself apparently, consigned to freezing to death in the snow just because. Jack gave a solemn nod. He could see the appeal.

Hildibrand was as undeterred from his goal as usual, "Well fear not, my dear, for by your initiative have we— By the Twelve, is that the selfsame spear which propelled me to the red moon?!"

And Joker did a double take. Because he also knew the gunhalberd that Nashu was hanging onto with the same tenacity as the cat in the 'Hang in there, baby!' poster. As he should, seeing as it had almost taken off his head before.

It was a shimmering silver with a red haft, the curved axe blade shaped like ornate white wings. The very same that had been used by the White Raven herself, Nael van Darnus, within the depths of Dalamud. Given that the one Joker had encountered before had been an aetherial construct born of the memories of Nael's enthralled soul, he supposed this one— right here before them here and now, somehow— must have been the original.

How it had come to be here was a mystery. Hell, how on Hydaelyn Hildibrand had gotten his hands on it five years ago, and decided it was a fitting vehicle for piercing the firmament, was an even bigger one.

Hildibrand took the spear in his hands, eyes shining with delight at today's second most unexpected reunion, "Well! One surely cannot ignore the will of destiny! Though I will still endeavor to avoid fisticuffs, I will be duly armed should worse come to worst. Our quarry is said to be rather violent, after all."

And right on cue was there a crunch of ominous footsteps. A long shadow fell across them. Hildibrand wheeled around with Nael's gunhalberd awkwardly at the ready, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rolled his ankle.

Against the endless Coerthan white was there a vibrant splash of red and the glint of sharpened iron. A tall figure emerged from the blanketing mists, looming over them with panting breaths that fogged in the ceaseless cold. Yellow eyes shone bright. Sharp teeth grinned at them. A hen clucked.

And Gilgamesh waved a cheerful hand, "Why, hello there, my friends! Is aught amiss?"

"Oh, it's just Greg!" Hildibrand lowered the weapon, laughing with relief, "For a moment, I thought you might be our thief!"

Gilgamesh boomed his own laugh in response, "Perish the thought! I am merely on the hunt for my spear, of course. And you?"

"Keeping careful vigil for a criminal most foul indeed— nothing at all like your good self. Come, sit with us! Perhaps you may assist us as you take your own respite."

The large man took him up on that, throwing himself onto a mound of snow with a great sigh. His assorted weapons rattled loudly, Enkidu bundled tight against his chest.

Jack, who knew there was no point doing anything until the good inspector finally put two and two together, lowered his hands from where they traced at his daggers. He instead crouched in the snow, determined to teach a sniffling Nashu a version of Triple Triad that, thanks to her poor memory and tendency to rapidly lose interest, was soon somehow playing more like a fusion of Go Fish and Old Maid. Or at least it had at the start.

"You sunk my airship!" Nashu wailed as Jack slapped a ballista card on top of hers in a move that made no sense with any previously established 'rule' of theirs, but which Nashu seemed to accept as her sad new reality. Jack gave a villainous cackle, scooping up one of her Fomors as due recompense.

Beside them, Hildibrand rolled his shoulders as he leaned against his good friend Greg, the two sitting cross-legged in the snow, "My good fellow, I've been meaning to ask─ why do you covet this weapon of yours so?"

And the man in red threw out his arms, "Ah, if you but beheld it, you would understand! In some ways it bore resemblance to a spear, but in other respects it was quite different."

He snatched up the discarded gunhalbered at Hildibrand's side to demonstrate, using the pointed tip to draw a line in the snow.

"It was crowned with a magnificent axe blade…" He began, dragging out an arrow shape, "To which was welded a musket barrel…" A rather obtuse rectangle near the center, "And fringed with decorative wings." Two little triangles on either side.

"'Twas one of the first weapons I added to my collection after arriving in these lands." He said, waving the polearm in the air as he expounded upon the virtue of his lost love, "I had never seen anything quite like it– and I assure you, Hildy, I have seen many a weapon from places you could not begin to imagine. Ah, how I yearn to reclaim it!"

Hildibrand nodded, the gears turning ever-so-very-slowly in his head as he put together a mental image of what Gilgamesh described. Took the gunhalberd from Greg's large hand, twisting it in between his palms in thought.

"I must say— This weapon of yours sounds as if it bears a striking… a striking resemblance to… to…"

He trailed off. His eyes widened. Gilgamesh did the same.

The two looked at each other.

And then they were both on their feet in a flash.

"The strongest of spears, Bradamante!" Gilagamesh howled, pointing an accusing finger.

Hildibrand pulled the White Raven's legendary weapon closer to him, holding it tight, "What?! But I... I claimed this weapon five years ago! Surely, you can't be serious?!"

"Now you call me Shirley?!" Gilgamesh growled, "Insults upon insults! That spear is mine! Give it to me!"

The large man lunged for the haft. His hand curled tight on one end, pulling it towards himself.

Hildibrand's polished shoes skidded in the snow as he held his ground, "This spear and I have traveled together to the very heavens!" Unsuccessfully, by Jack's understanding, but hey. That was still worth something, "I will not relinquish it again!"

The inspector tugged it back towards him with surprising strength, forcing Gilgamesh to stagger forward. He snarled.

"This spear and I have bested many a man together! I will not relinquish it again!"

And Hildibrand and Gilgamesh proceeded to pull the gunhalberd back and forth in what was shaping up to be the most perplexing game of tug-of-war that Jack had ever laid eyes on. He and Nashu followed the exchange, still seated with cards in hands. Their heads moved in synchronization as they followed the spectacle. With the many over-the-top gesticulations, it was almost dizzying to try to keep up with.

Jack instead dropped his gaze back to his and Nashu's makeshift playing board, devised of a checkerboard pattern he had carved with a stick in the snow that neither one had actually used so far. He reached out and flipped a distracted Nashu's Indomitable Faaz card sideways.

Nashu gasped in horror as she looked down, "You flooped my pig!"

"Inspector Hildibrand?!"

A cry of utter disbelief distracted the two halberd hoggers completely, leaving them frozen comically mid-tussle. Ellie, notebook in hand as ever, was following closely behind a panting Inspector Briardien and an entourage of local House Durendaire Knights.

"I-I can't believe I'm saying this, but...well done, Inspector!" The journalist gasped, adjusting her hat, "Thanks to you, we've caught the weapon thief in the act!"

But Hildibrand blinked dumbly. Shook his head, hands still tightly clutching Bradamante' shaft, "M-Miss Ryse, you are grossly misreading our dispute. Greg is a good, honest man, who I am certain has never stolen a weapon in his life!"

"Indeed, I have not!" 'Greg' agreed with a puffed chest, still gripping the spear's other end, "Every weapon I have claimed was by rights mine!"

Hildibrand nodded his vigorous consent. Then paused. His jaw slowly dropped as the implications finally sank in.

"Each was a trophy for besting my opponent in single combat!" Gilgamesh continued proudly, ignorant of his own incrimination.

"I believe that constitutes a confession." Briardian nodded, "Seize him."

The knights drew their swords. They rapidly encircled the two, tips leveled at their stomachs.

"A confession to what?!" Gilgamesh wailed, utterly outraged. "I have done naught wrong! Bah, you all are beyond reason!"

He furiously wrenched Bradamante forward. Hildibrand, still holding tight as if his life depended on it, tipped forward. He sprawled with the weapon into the snow, sending Triple Triad cards flying.

Gilgamesh snarled as he drew his own blade. With one sweeping spin-slash did he cut the very air, sending the guards— and Nashu— flying back. Jack casually scooped up his scattered cards as the fuming man stormed away, taking to the Coerthan wilds with Enkidu flapping frantically at his heels.

Hildibrand pushed himself up with his elbows. He stared after Gilgamesh's retreating figure, completely dumbfounded, Bradamante still awkwardly clutched against his chest. And then he sprung up. Cleared his throat loudly.

"A-Ah! Yes, my plan to secure Greg's confession was utterly flawless, and his capture will be the coup de grâce! Come, my dear assistants! We must give chase before we lose him to the snowstorm!"

And the inspector put his years of attempts to outmaneuver his father to effective use, looking a little like a cactuar as he sprinted toward the distant sight of flowing red robes. Excited to be moving again, Nashu and Jack let out a cheerful warcry as they scrambled after their boss, following suit.

"Oh dear." Sighed Ellie, watching them depart with a shake of her head.

Briardien put a hand to his hip, "Well, my plan is thus far flawless. The bridge ahead has fallen into disrepair and remains impassable. Our culprit won't get far before he is forced into a fight." He gave a wry shrug at Ellie's troubled face, "And even if that incompetent moron hasn't realized it, he is at least in good company, somehow. I suppose we can leave the inevitable bout to the Warrior of Light for the moment."

Griffin Crossing was a famous historic Ishgardian landmark— a massive viaduct once responsible for providing passage to the Coerthas Eastern Highland. It had seen better days, however, and was still under repair after an impact from the Seventh Umbral Calamity had sheared away an entire section, leaving it to drop off in a sheer plummet into a deep ravine.

Gigamesh came to a skidding halt at the end, snarling at the great gap. Began to cast his gaze around as Enkidu stopped beside him, content to peck at the spaces between the tiles.

And Hildibrand and his assistants soon came up behind him. The inspector dropped with his hands on his knees, thoroughly out of breath.

"Y-you have nowhere else to— to run… you villain!" Hildibrand declared between pants. He swallowed hard as Gilgamesh took a step forward, pointed teeth grinding together.

"Ahem." He stepped back. Looked desperately to Jack at his side. Clearly he hadn't thought of what to actually do come the inevitable clash, "M-my good lad… you strike me as something of an accomplished warrior, no?"

Jack nodded, "I have some some experience, yes."

"Then perhaps… If you'd be so kind, you could… lead us through a plan of battle?"

Nashu leaned in eagerly. And Jack closed his eyes. Looked over their options.

"Alright." Jack pulled the two together into his own huddle, "Here's what we're gonna do…"

Gilgamesh's fingers were splayed above the haft of a katana tucked into his waistband when the whispering trio turned around. Jack smirked as his steadfast allies stepped to either side of him. Nashu with bombs akimbo, fuses sparking and her best mean glower that would put one in mind of an angry kitten. Hildibrand, Bradamante held awkwardly in his grip like more of a mop than a weapon of war— and the stance to match, the pointy end aimed at the floor.

Jack surely couldn't have asked for a finer party.

"You picked the wrong day to fuck around with my tight crew. Me and my boys are gonna mess you up!" Jack Garland declared, a finger pointed adversarially at Gilgamesh and his fluttering red robe from the other side of the bridge. The large man smirked, his teeth sharp.

Then the bombs in Nashu's hands exploded.

Joker blinked as his two erstwhile comrades were immediately thrown back by a comical eruption of home-blended gunpowder, sailing through the sky and over the bridge's front gate. Bradamante spun through the air before plunging into the ground at Joker's side.

When the cloud of dust and smoke settled, Hildibrand, of course, was driven head-first a good fulm into the earth, his legs twitching in little spasms. Nashu, meanwhile, had landed next to him with her head down and butt up, face planted in the dirt.

Fuck.

Hildibrand's exposed legs attempted to vigorously convey something to him in a bizarre foot-based sign-language. Meanwhile, Nashu had evidently resigned herself again to being one with the soil, refusing to lift her head as she hummed a muffled little tune to herself.

"…My boys are otherwise engaged." Joker turned back to Gilgamesh, continuing in the same undaunted tone as before as he roughly yanked the gunhalberd from the earth, "So I'm gonna bring it all myself."

Gilgamesh let out a huff of taunting laughter. Drew his katana with a grate of steel.

"Just as well. I could tell at one glance that you were an opponent to set my heart ablaze, Jack Garland— excellent name, by the way. And now finally we stand upon a bridge big enough for our purposes!" He swept his hand wide across the scene, "A fitting place for our clash!"

They both stepped closer from either end of the bridge, movements slow and purposeful. Gilgamesh eyed him up and down.

"So, you're this world's Warrior of Light, then?"

…This world's?

"Wait, what did you—"

"I should know a Warrior of Light when I see one, I've fought a few!" Gilgamesh interrupted him, twisting his grip on his sword, "Let's make this proper— Best me, and you may keep the spear and the other weapons I have claimed from this land. Fail, and your weapons are forfeit! Fair terms, do you not think?"

And Joker smiled back.

"Sounds good to me."

A roar of joyous laughter, "Come at me then, o' Warrior of Light! For Gilgamesh— it is embiggening time!"

…Was that even a word?

Aether gathered at Gilgamesh's cry, swelling the man's muscles until they were straining against his clothes. Joker's head tipped back slowly as the large man somehow grew even larger, bulging muscles flexing— especially the ones in his new pair of arms.

A katana in one pair of hands, a decidedly un-gunned spear in another, the embiggened Gilgamesh advanced towards him. Let out a roar as he brought the eastern blade down upon Joker's head.

Joker dodged smoothly to the side.

"H-hey!" Gilgamesh cried, offended. He swung the spear instead—horizontally this time, which Joker ducked under.

"Oh, come on! That's cheating!"

The large man furiously tossed his first set of weapons aside. Drew a fresh pair of scimitars, weaving them between his four hands, hopping between his feet. Joker spun the gunhalberd, catching them repeatedly against each of Gilgamesh's strikes in what was (rather appropriately) turning into a sort of violent dance.

"Oh, for crying out—! Stop dancing around so much!"

Furious, Gilgamesh kicked out a leg. Joker held the spear across his chest to take the blow, but the impact was hard enough to knock him back. His feet skidded against the ground as he scrambled to hold himself steady.

He bent low, shifting his hold on his weapon. Dropped into a slide, slipping under the space beneath Gilgamesh's lengthened legs. Joker twisted around. Lifted Bradamante high. With the attached barrel aimed between the man's several shoulder blades, he pulled the gunhalberd's trigger.

Click.

Oh, of fucking course!

Chuckling, Gilgamesh spun to face him, grabbing the halberd's head in one of his enlarged hands. Joker dug his heels in, struggling to keep his grip. He grit his teeth and wrenched the polearm, slashing a deep cut in his foe's palm and down his arm.

Gilgamesh drew back, hissing, blood splattering on the stones. The fingers of his injured hand twitched weakly.

"And that was just mean!"

But he still had three other arms to work with, and he immediately tried to put them to use. Before he could try to take hold of Bradamante again did Joker twist on his heel. He hurled the bladed end of the spear at the gap between the stones into the wall of the nearest watchtower. It protruded outwards like a horizontal bar, haft rattling.

Grabbing hold for leverage, Joker swung himself over it. The heels of his boots kicked Gilgamesh in the face as he flipped, sending him stumbling back. Joker kicked off the wall as the man floundered with a hand over his bleeding nose, letting a certain blade pool into form in his hand. Took the haft in both hands, converting his momentum into a jump slash.

Zantetsuken's blade was caught against another one of Gilgamesh's frantically raised katana. His sharp teeth ground together as they faced each other over the flying sparks with mutual grins.

"Yes, that's it!" Gilgamesh cried, "That's how it— wait."

He let out a surprised gasp. Swiftly drew and lunged the tip of yet another spear with the uninjured hand of his free pair. Joker awkwardly twisted aside, the edge just catching his side and tearing a light gash. He gasped as his shoulder struck the ground, rolling before pulling himself up into a crouch.

Gilgamesh pointed an accusing finger at the shadowy blade in Joker's hand, looking deeply affronted.

"Zantetsuken?!" He cried, "You rude sword! We used to be friends! One of the prides of my collection, no less! And now you turn on me?!"

Joker looked down at the weapon in question, raising an eyebrow. There was a conspicuous silence from it for a good moment, before…

…have no memory of any meeting with this man addlebrained and delusional ignore him ignore ignore ignore

Well that was a suspiciously firm denial! Joker shrugged all the same, "If you say so." He replied, lightly bopping the flat of the blade against his thigh.

Gilgamesh huffed, crossing one set of arms, "Traitor! I shall be glad to take that turncoat sword back from you as well, after my assured victory!"

Joker smirked, standing back up. Gave the thrumming Zantetsuken a cocky swipe, "We'll see."

They both stepped closer, circling each other slowly and wearing mutual fierce grins of delight.

"Ah, but now I'm nostalgic! And fighting you here like this… you remind me of someone." Gigamesh said, a wistful look overcoming his expression, "A man I met a long time ago, in another life."

The man clad in red paused, lowering his katana and spear until the tips bobbed near the ground. He sighed as he turned his gaze to the sky, a ray of afternoon sun falling upon his face, "We stood in opposition once, ready to fight to the death. But through our clashes we grew to respect each other. Maybe even care for one another, in our own ways… Yes." He added, tracing the haft of one of the many other swords at his side fondly, "Truly. My enemy, my friend…"

"Oh?" Said Joker, who had leaned against the wall of the watchtower to let him talk, "That's… really sweet, surprisingly. What was his name?"

"Why it was…" He paused, a finger pressing into his forehead, "It was… come on, I should know this…" The finger began to drive in against his head like a screw, "It wasss… Butz!"

Joker blinked.

"Yes, my good friend-enemy Butz! Or… was it Batz…? No — Bartz!" Gligamesh declared finally, slapping his forehead, "Bartz! Yes. Good man. Little sticky-beaked do-gooder with a heart of light— just like you. Jumped between different Jobs too. Did you know one time he—"

And then Joker lunged at him much like a dragoon would, Bradamante retrieved from where it had been plunged into the wall. The tip grazed past the cheek of a startled Gligamesh who just barely managed to dodge it. He raised an astonished hand to the bloody line cut against his face.

"Oh, you sly dog— you got me monologuing!" He cried, laughter in his voice.

They continued to clash, weapons meeting again and again against the twilight sky, born alternating smoothly between spear and sword and the occasional axe.

But juggling two-to-four weapons at any one time, and against such an oversized opponent, was a tall order, and Gilgamesh got a lucky strike upon the back of Joker's leg. He stumbled for just a moment, but it was a moment his foe seized.

Gilgamesh's yellow eyes gleamed as he drew a shortsword in each hand, hurling them down. Two went into Joker's coattails. One through his ankle, the last through his hand. He hissed, squirming. Frantically reached for the haft of the sword protruding from his other hand, harshly yanking it out. Kicked the one through his ankle loose with his free foot.

While his pinned foe struggled to free himself, Gilgamesh stepped towards him, head high and smirking. He was empty handed now— but surely not for long.

"You've pushed me far, Jack. I love to see it! But it seems I now have no choice…" He intoned gravely, a hand traveling to a sheath at his back. A more ornate one, fringed with gold.

"Behold— you now have the honor of being struck down by the strongest sword of all!"

And Gilgamesh drew it, a glimmer of light spilling forth from the sheath. It reflected off of woven gold as the length of fhe blade lit up. He raised the elaborately decorated sword against the sky, gleaming white and practically vibrstimf with concentrated aether.

"EX—" Gilgamesh began, a burst of energy radiating in a rippling beam, "—CALIBUR!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, bringing the weapon down, light trailing in an arc that tore the air as it passed.

Still pinned by his coattails, Joker braced himself, teeth gritted tight.

And the sword… lightly bopped the top of Joker's head with a commical 'bonk'.

In the silence that followed, Joker slowly looked up at him, peering around the very un-sharp blade that still sat on his head.

"Ah, whoops." Gilgamesh laughed awkwardly, meekly pulling the weapon away, "I guess… This is Exalipoor, actually… Funny that. They look the same." He swallowed, dropping the considerably less-than-legendary weapon to the ground, "Hahaha… My bad."

He grinned down pleasantly at Joker, eyes closed and the corner of his mouth twitching.

Joker smiled back. Gave a little chuckle that Gilgamesh also hesitantly picked up, the two breaking into slowly rising peals of laughter.

And then Joker pulled his fist back and punched him in the face. Hard.

His knuckles, collided solidly with Gilgamesh's cheek, indented his face for a moment, eyeballs popping wildly, before the man was sent spiraling through the air as a red blur.

FIST

OF

JUSTICE

There was a great crash as Gilgamesh's engorged body struck one of the watchtowers, dust flying. Joker watched as the man, flat on his back and sprawled out against cracked stone, began to rapidly shrink back down. Until his newly de-biggened form was but a sad speck in the center of the large crater of his impact.

Parts of the wall crumbled to the ground as Gilgamesh hauled himself from the hole, clinging to the edges like a bizarre spider, "Um, well then…" He coughed out a puff of dust and plaster, "That's enough of a beating for now, I think!"

And then he leapt, feet immediately beating a hasty retreat the moment they met the ground. There was a series of clatterings and loud clangs as he discarded the many, many weapons from his back as he ran, lightening his load.

Joker blinked as he bolted right past him, scooping up a certain squawking chicken from the ground on the way.

Together, the two barrelled towards the great gap in the bridge. Gilgamesh leapt with all his might, Enkidu lifted above his head.

"Fly, Enkidu! Fly!"

And with the afternoon sun beaming down upon him did the acclaimed duelist take to the skies upon the wings of his chicken.

…For all of three and a half seconds. Which was pretty good airtime for a flightless bird the size of his head.

Joker shook his head as the pair plummeted into the ravine below, a trail of green feathers drifting in their wake.

Once again, they'd probably be fine. Probably.

Jack Garland once more, he emerged from the gate to Griffin Crossing with a haphazard and very pointy pile of various iron weapons bundled into his arms. Trailing behind him were a very disheveled Hildibrand and Nashu, who were each carrying their own pile of items abandoned in Gilgamesh's final flight.

Ellie shook her head, awed at the sight of such much steel, "I'd suppose congratulations would be in order, but I'm mostly flummoxed by just how many swords that man dropped. Where was he keeping all of them…?"

Again— hell if Jack knew. He was more than a little jealous of the man's capacity for inventory management.

Briardian bent down to examine Nashu's pile, who cheerfully nearly stabbed him in the cheek by pushing the haphazardous bundle of weapons into his face. He pushed his glasses up his nose, "And a surprisingly large number are counterfeit, no less. Perhaps our feather-brained duelist did not possess the eye for quality that his calling card claimed."

And so it was that the gathering of inspectors, assistants and a single journalist returned to Vesper Bay in various stages of disarray, Briardien proudly holding the real Treaty-Blade in his arms from where he had recovered it from the safety of his vault.

Lady Durilda had beamed with joy as the Ishgardian inspector presented it to her with a flourish, returned safe and sound.

"Ah, I shall be glad to return this to my collection." Durilda smiled, running a finger lovingly along the blunted edge. "Now, if you excuse me, I must be off. I have urgent business to attend to, and I'm quite eager to put this entire affair behind me. Thank you, inspectors."

With the blade in hand, she began to walk away— in the opposite direction of where he knew her bayside house to be located, Jack observed. He frowned.

But his thoughts were interrupted by two pairs of arms around both of his shoulders. Hildibrand and Nashu both gave a victorious cheer, Jack sandwiched between them.

"Mission complete!" Nashu cried, "All's well that ends well, right, Inspector? Though it's a shame that Grog turned out to be the thief."

"Indeed." Hildibrand nodded, "Truly. I was getting rather fond of the chap. But at least we gained a marvelous new ally from it all—" Jack looked up like an excited puppy anticipating praise, "—The legendary spear Bradamante!"

And Jack's face fell as Hildibrand raised the inanimate weapon high in his spare hand. He kicked out a leg, jabbing the back of Hildibrand's calf just a little. The man tipped sideways, thoroughly unbalanced by the light blow and the weapon's weight. Barely catching himself, Hildirband brought a fist to his mouth.

"Ahem! But I, uh, suppose it would be more fitting for its legacy were it left in the hands of one who was more than capable of wielding it to its full potential. And so, as its former partner, do I now bequeath it to you, my old friend Jack Garland!"

Jack beamed as Hildibrand placed the weapon's shaft into his hands. "Thank you, Inspector. I'm honored."

Even if the gun component was thoroughly broken— probably by whatever harebrained maneuver Hildibrand's had pulled to try to use it as a rocket to the moon, it was still a damn good polearm. Which meant that, whatever else had happened today, Joker had gotten a cool spear out of it. So that was nice.

But there was little time to bask in the afterglow of a job well done before a familiar voice called out to them.

"There you are, Inspector Briardien! Why did you not wait for me at the docks like we discussed?"

Everyone froze. They turned slowly, staring at lady Durilda in varying stages of shock.

"Hm? Why are you all looking at me so?" She tutted, hands upon her hips, "Oh, never mind that— where is my Treaty-Blade?"

There was a long moment of silence. Nashu tilted her head, "But… didn't we just give you the Tweety-Blade?"

Briardien recovered first. He snapped his fingers, teeth gritted in frustration, "Of course! Disguise yourself as the client and let the prize come to you… Taking advantage of an existing situation to distract us from the real crime. Brilliant, I must confess…"

"Oh, I can't believe I didn't see it!" Ellie slapped an exasperated hand to her forehead, "The man in red never spoke of the Treaty-Blade─ only the halberd. Moreover, he always issued his challenges in person… But… If he did not send the calling card, then who did?"

Jack tensed as he felt a shift in the air. A sudden flying something, spinning as it cut an arc towards them.

With finely honed reflexes, Jack casually side-stepped the object. Allowed it to continue uninterrupted as a sharp corner plunged directly into the forehead of Hildibrand Manderville.

A bright red card protruded from between his eyebrows. For a solid beat did he merely stare up at it, eyes crossing as he tried to get a look. Then he was flapping his arms much like a certain green chicken as he ran in circles.

"G-get it out, get it out!"

Tail frizzed, Nashu grabbed tight to the card and yanked it free from the inspector's head. It came away with a highly-pressurized arc of spurting blood, causing Hildibrand to panic further.

"N-no wait, put it back! Put it back!"

Nashu panicked. Wedged the corner of the card back in even deeper than before. Hildibrand's eyes rolled back into his head.

"I think you jabbed his brain." Jack said, squinting.

Briardien scoffed, "He wasn't using it."

Shrugging, Jack reached out a hand.

"Huh." He said, once again plucking the calling card boldly from Hildibrand's head. The dead-eyed man squealed softly as this time it came out with thankfully only a small dribble, "Fantastic throwing technique. Arched perfectly through the air, right on target. Expertly sharpened hand-lettering done with the newspaper clipouts is, of course, classic, classy and technically a one of a kind each time. And I even like the color! …Not that I would know what color is good for a calling card, no sir." He added, handing it over to Briardien.

The other frowning inspector wiped off the slip of blood in the corner before clearing his throat.

'"Four hundred years have I slept, one thousand faces do I wear.'" He read aloud, "'What is yours will be mine. I shall come to claim the lapis maiden's virtue'..."

Briardien lowered the card down to allow Ellie a better look. She studied it with a critical eye, "The design and the wording are the same as what was sent to Lady Durilda before. There is little doubt that the thief who stole the Treaty–Blade sent this!"

Nashu, having finished wrapping Hildibrand's head in enough layers of bandages to have him resembling a pompadoured mummy, peered at it over the inspector's other shoulder. There was a rather… hungry look in her eyes. And a rumble to her stomach. Noticing this, Briardien hastily pulled the card away from her. He adjusted his glasses again.

"Yes, there can be no doubt now. This is no longer a matter of petty burglary— what we now have on our hands is surely a Phantom Thief."

"A Phantom Thief?!" Jack Garland gasped, recoiling with theatrical horror, "What… is that, anyway?"

Hildibrand tore the bandages away from the bottom half of his face, puffed lips protruding. He did his best to paw a comforting hand at Jack's shoulder, his arm stiff with tight layers of bandages and his hand but a misshapen mitten, "Why, my dear innocent Jack! As noble and honest as you are, I suppose you wouldn't know. A Phantom Thief is a career larcenist. One who poaches goods while operating in disguise. Often assuming a theatrical pseudonym or false identity, they tend to announce their targets ahead of time to pursue the act of theft as a sort of game."

Jack looked patently appalled, shaking his head, "Who would do something like that? That's criminal!"

"Yes." Replied Hildibrand grimly, "It's a frightful world out there. I'm sorry that I must be the one to introduce you to the seedier underbelly of society, but it is a grim reality we must face if we are to reach out to the truth."

A realization seemed to hit the near-mummified man. With a sudden burst of energy, Hildibrand shot up straight, all of his remaining bandages unraveling and falling away as he ripped the card from an indignant Briardian's grasp.

"But if so, then this can only be one thing— a proclamation!" He announced boldly, eyes bright with delight as he brought the slip of red up to his face, "An official challenge from a rogue, for yours truly!"

Briardien nearly stumbled over himself in his fervor to try to reclaim the card.

"Please, it was clearly intended for me!"

But despite the Elezen's greater height did Hildibrand manage to play a decent game of keep-away, holding his prize out too far for his rival to reach. He skipped around a seething Briardien, waving the card high in the air as he bellowed his response to the skies, "Very well, Phantom Thief Of Many Faces! I─ and I alone─ Hildibrand, agent of enquiry, inspector extraordinaire, accept your challenge!"

"Oh, piss off!" Briardien snarled, at last succeeding in snatching it back.

Hildibrand rounded on him, frowning so deeply that his mouth looked like it might drip over the sides of his chin. He took one end of the card in his fists, until the two were petulantly pulling it from either side in what was now the second game of tug-of-war today. Their teeth were clenched tight, nose to nose. Briardien's glasses were even fogging up from the breaths of hot air from Hildibrand's furious pants.

"I'm so glad the inspector made a new friend." Nashu smiled dreamily, her hands clapped together.

That was one way to put it. Jack gave a wry shrug. Well, whatever all of this… this was, he was invested for sure now. Especially with a bonafide Phantom Thief in the mix… Of which he knew nothing about, respectable assistant-assistant-inspector that he was, of course.

Oh, but it was definitely getting late. And Midgardsormr, second coming of Morgana that he was, would surely scold him again if he tried to stay out much longer. Was the dragon still watching all of this play out from inside of his head? If so, he hoped that he was just as baffled as Joker had been.

Finished as Jack Garland for today, he balanced Bradamante horizontally across his shoulders. Turned on his heel to make for Vesper Bay's aetheryte, giving a parting wave as he called back to his new sort-of companions.

"See you tomorrow, Inspector!"

"Oh, farewell!" Hildibrand answered in return, voice strained with exertion as he continued to wrestle with his fellow inspector for the calling card, "Nashu and I shall meet with you again to continue our investigation! Good work today, Jack, my old boy!"

He released his hold on the card to wave a hand. And Briardien promptly elbowed him in the face, yanking it back.

When Ren returned to the Rising Stones, his newest acquisition still slung across his shoulders, it was to the sight of Thancred and Minfilia at the end of the hallway to the lounge. They looked a bit concerned as they conversed with an upset Yda, perched upon the back of the good armchair by the fire. Confused, he drew closer as snatches of their conversation drifted his way.

"I don't know, he left after he brought back the flowers. He didn't say where he was going." Yda was once again weaving her fingers together anxiously, "Do you think something bad happened…?"

"Not necessarily." Minfilia soothed her, though her expression remained somewhat troubled, "Ren is, of course, free to come and go as he pleases— as has he ever been. But after what occurred but a scant few days ago, I don't believe I can be faulted for being concerned— oh!"

She looked up in surprise as Ren awkwardly shuffled into the Scjons' lounge, turned at an angle to fit his new spear through the doorway. He blinked as Yda kicked herself from her chair.

"There you are!" She threw out her arms, "You weren't answering your linkpearl! We were worried!"

Ren tilted his head. He didn't recall hearing his little pseudo-phone ring all day. Not that he'd been paying much attention to it, but still. Leaning Bradamante against the wall, he reached into the pocket of his coat, fetching the pearl that was part of the Linkshell with the rest of the Scions'.

The small orb that sat in his palm now bore a highly visible crack along its surface. It sparked a little as he rolled it between his fingers.

Oh. Nashu's indiscriminate bomb-flinging…

He winced, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it up for the others to examine. Minfilia smiled wryly.

"…Ah. Yes, well, that would explain it." Thancred replied, laughter in his voice, "…And of course you look as if you've been in another tussle— and gained a new weapon besides? But I suppose neither is unusual for you. Still," He added, raising an eyebrow, "Just what have you been up to all day, Ren?"

And Ren opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Put a troubled hand to his chin.

"I…" He said at last, voice coming slightly strangled, "I don't know…?"

Original Ao3 endnotes;

Embiggen is a perfectly cromulent word.

A little bonus sketch from a certain revelation in Dawntrail— technically a spoiler, but presented without context, so… up to you if you want to look!

I'm... not sure if I'll do the next Hildibrand chapter over here first or the next main fic chapter… Might want to take just a little break from Hildy after how long this ended up haha. But regardless, the next one is set right afterwards.
(I swear the Mistbeard mask will show up in the future!)

I got to have a lot of fun working in references to many other FF games in this one, since ol' Greg's the perfect chance to do that. I've had major beef with him ever since he stole my gil during the Vivi intro section of FFIX when I played it as a kid. Him getting punched in the face was very cathartic for me!

Seriously, there are so many Simpsons references in the localization of the Hildibrand quests and throughout FFXIV in general. So many. Way more than people document. Maybe I should put a list together sometime haha