[A Disturbing Turn - The Scales Part One]
The evening air was pleasant, even warm—though the Quick Sand had been abuzz with the threat of a looming chill. A thin sliver moon cast its pale silver across the sandblown landscape spread out before her. The dark silhouettes of distant hills rose against the horizon. Aya pursed her lips letting the breath of air escape slowly. She wondered how long had it been since she had last been "climbing"?Â
When she first arrived in Ul'dah the thought simply seemed too dangerous: a recently arrived immigrant, penniless and friendless, wouldn't survive a potential trespassing charge. Fortunately, the passage of time had changed things. Either the city had grown less strange, or she had grown less a stranger. Maybe both.
It was an old diversion, one first inspired by the daring of her brothers who used it to avoid and escape trouble during their months in Limsa Lominsa. In Ishgard it had become something of a lifeline: like most of the city's poorer denizens, Aya's neighborhood only saw the light of the sun and moon as indirectly filtered through the towering structure in the upper levels. A prisoner, literally and figuratively, the young Aya resisted the bonds of her confinement by acrobatically climbing and leaping as high as she could upon the towers and parapets of the city skyline. Sometimes she would move quietly through the interior walkways, dodging between guard patrols, or scale sheer exterior surfaces in her quest for an ever better vantage point from which to gaze upon the forbidden, open world.
When endless winter descended upon the city she refused to give up the game, even as her brothers grew up and moved on. Following some night's performances, flush with energy and the biding anxiety that never seemed to leave her, she slipped away and made her way bit-by-bit to the roof of one of the higher towers. There, robed in worn fur, and draped in a blanket she came to truly know the sound of howling wind, and the sight of snowstorm. Every trip breathed fresh life into proscribed desires: to feel the sun's warmth, to be free amidst the world, and to be alone in solitude.Â
Ul'dah presented little challenge by comparison. The guards were unprofessional; the methods of construction presented plentiful opportunities for foot and finger holds. At times it seemed it wasn't even worth the effort, but when the moment called for meditation and the warm comfort of nostalgia, nothing else would do.
As the slow exhale ended she opened her eyes once more, vision drifting aimlessly through the palely-lit expanse spreading from the city in every direction. Her thoughts returned to the conversation the evening before. Kiht never seemed to worry, and this had been no different. The lissome and fearless Keeper Huntress was as unassuming as she was slight; an unmoved exterior hid the heart of a valiant hero. So, her concern, no matter how coolly expressed, was far from trifling.
Dravanian artifacts are far from trifling: anyone raised in Ishgard is acutely aware of this. The all-too-subtle danger of the Horde is drilled into their imaginations. The mere possession of a trinket, a relic, or any object associated with dragon-kind could open someone to the pernicious effects of direct contact, and all the dangers that entails. The slightest touch of such a relic could mean the loss of control and employment as an agent of destruction.Â
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While children whisper ridiculous rumors, parents, preachers, and headmasters frighten them with stories and warnings. Not only is contact with such artifacts forbidden, but it can be easily detected by those specially trained in the Inquisitor's arts. Punishment for heresy would follow swiftly. As far from trifling as a child of Ishgard can imagine.
She turned idea over in her head: exporting such artifacts outside of Coerthas seemed such an obvious ploy, why had it not happened before? Perhaps it had - the Holy See certainly would not have allowed word of such malfeasance to spread. Not only did this ploy bring individuals entirely unaware of the danger of such objects into contact with them, but it posed the potential to spread Dravanian influence. Of course, the Horde itself seemed to have no interest in any city but Ishgard: the dragons were ever devious, but never clever. She was certain that heretics would be the ones responsible.
The matter seemed so much less academic when she considered her friends who were involved. She squeezed her fists, lips held tight together as her eyes stared blankly at the crescent moon. Why was Verad involved in this? The Duskwight trader always seemed to be at the center of trouble he had no business in. His lanky, perplexing manner was better suited to befuddling the unassuming, rather than dallying in matters of state and consequence. She still couldn't help but see him as she had first met him: a drifting pauper, threadbare, with long shaggy hair and a beard that seemed disheveled despite his every attentiveness. The sight of him wealthy, dapper, and kempt was both jarring and unsettling. She had a nagging suspicion that no matter the status it had brought him, that the manner and nature of his wealth had left him unsatisfied. Sometimes his trouble seemed just an effort to fill the hole left by his lost pursuit of the Dubious goods market. If he could not sell material dubious, he could at least cast himself about in manner dubious.
Anyway, she comforted herself, how dangerous could it really be? She had always felt the danger of the Horde was overblown: a useful excuse for the See's complete control of every aspect of life in Ishgard. A husk of fabrication built around a kernel of truth for the purpose of power. That was the Dravanian Crusade in its whole. But, the kernel of truth was difficult to deny. The power of Dravanian Relics could not be wholly fabricated, or else the chase for them would not consume the efforts of so many people. Ul'dah was, and would be, entirely unprepared. For all its faults, Ishgard's resistance against the Dravanians relied upon centuries of experience, and a firm resolve girded with a religious zealotry that inspired routine heroics. Ul'dah, wealthy beyond measure, would find no recourse to buy herself out of this particular threat.
Aya and Kiht parting ways after tea