Hydaelyn Role-Players

Notes: Originally titled "Homecoming".  I realized there is another thread on here under that name and didn't want to step on any toes.  Also please note, memories, flashbacks, and bits of history are italicized.  There are some nods to 1.0 content in here as well. This is all there is to the story at the moment, but it will likely turn into an RP opportunity for my group before it's finished. 

Server: Hyperion, LS/FC: Regalius

Feedback and questions welcome by PM.

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Ciel had stolen into Gridania late the night before and spent much of the following morning and afternoon holed up in her inn room.  The best of her knowledge told her the only locals who knew of her arrival were the innkeep, and possibly Miounne, or so that was as far as the visible denizens were concerned.  She knew only too well that word of her return would spread quickly to the ears of those who cared to know, firstly to some of her older acquaintances at Stillglade Fane, courtesy of the Elementals.  Still, after her five years of dreamless slumber, her time in the waking world had her wondering if their knowing should matter.

No singular twist of the sheets around her willowy frame seemed to be enough to stave off the sense of chill which nagged her, the same which she knew originated from within rather than without.  Gridania often had this effect on her, like as not, but there was business due which she could not put off for much longer.  They had been calling her home for long enough, and the message carried far to her on the whispers of wind sprites on the cliffs of La Noscea.

After a few false starts, the Elezen finally found enough reason to unravel herself from the relative comfort of the cocoon she had made from the bed covers.  It was thirst and hunger, only, which caused her to move and dare to face a city which, she swore, looked upon her coolly and unforgivingly with its countless eyes.  Even then, she found no need to rush for a means of sating those desires, and she took her time dressing and dragging her adamantoise shell comb through her pale hair.

When she finally felt ready, it had drawn on into late afternoon, six bells past the height of the sun's daily path.  Dinner time, and her first meal of the day.  Having felt no inclination to entertain the other patrons of Carline Canopy, Ciel left her harp with the rest of her belongings and found her way to an open table. 

"Eel pie, and a glass of wine," she requested.  Her typical order, but she paused at the last and nodded to the young man waiting her table.  "On second thought, leave the bottle here."  She hadn't been expecting company, but the compulsion to try and empty the entire bottle on her own was of very significant interest. 

When her meal arrived, she ate quietly, with her head tilted downward, her eyes on her plate and refusing to make contact with anyone else's.  Soon enough she had eaten her fill, or close to it, and the fact that her interest in the rest of her plate (and that she was already on her second glass of wine) had not gone unnoticed. 

With no forewarning, Ciel had found herself leaning far backward, chair and all, and staring up into the grinning face of a Highlander in a mage's hat.  Any remaining desire she had had to finish the last of her pie immediately vanished as her stomach twisted.  There was something familiar about this man.

"You..." There was a name somewhere, buried in the back of her mind.  It was a sore itch, like a rash of biteybug welts in an odd place.  "Big Jerk," she groused at last.  It wasn't the man's name, but it might as well have been for as often as she used to use it on him.  It was a moniker which had been well earned.

"Long time no see," the Conjurer smirked crookedly.

"I remember you now, the worst Conjurer ever," the Bard snorted. "Nearly got us killed twice... No, three times, and yet Minfilia still saw fit to assign you as my partner.  Will you let go of my chair?!"

Big Jerk had always been nothing if not accommodating of Ciel's requests and here, again, he did as asked.  The Highlander's large hand released the back of the chair and sent the woman springing forward, and the resulting jolt sent the open bottle of wine tipping toward the floor.  It would have been a complete waste to see it lost to the boards, and it was enough of one to see the Conjurer snap it up mid-fall and raise it to his lips.  She had had no idea where those lips had been back then, and even less of an idea now, but it was enough that the desire for more sweet red turned sour on her own tongue.

Several long gulps later, and Big Jerk looked to see his former partner leaning forward on the table with the open palm of her right hand slowly rubbing down over her brow.  He recalled that look of irritation with only too much fondness, and he would have happily poked the owlbear a few more times for old time's sake were he there for any reason other than business.

"So," he said as he plunked into a chair and tossed his feet up on the table, only furthering the woman's disgust, "Brother E-Sumi is lookin' for you.  Y'didn't think you could avoid him forever, didja?"

Ciel finally leaned back in her chair again and tugged down at the rim of her chapeau which so often served to hide her expression.  Big Jerk, however, knew better and knew when she was trying to retreat.  He smirked and gave the leg of her chair a firm kick to ensure he had her undivided attention.  Her answer came in the form of a warning glare.

"Go see him.  No sayin' he won't try an' convince you to come back to the guild, but there's no sayin' he will, either."  Big Jerk tilted the bottle back again and drained every last remaining drop, even going so far as to try and stick his tongue into the neck of the bottle just to make sure he had all of it.

Ciel shuddered.

"Fine," she barked at length.  She bolted to her feet quickly enough that several other patrons' attentions were drawn to the table.  For all she gave off a sense of calm most of the time, there were simply some things and some people - and sometimes those people could be classified as things - which went straight for her every last nerve and bit deeply enough to break that veil of serenity.  Big Jerk would realize only too late, too, that she had stuck him with her meal tab as she left the canopy.


Stillglade Fane was the last place in Eorzea where Ciel wanted to be, and it would have shown on her face were it not for the broad brim of her hat keeping a shadow over much of it.  She said very little to the Conjurers who passed her by on the way to the central chamber, where E-Sumi-Yan had just concluded some business with one of his students. She hung back and waited, unwilling to be the first to make direct contact.  She had come by request, not by any personal obligation, but she would not have been left alone by Big Jerk if she had opted to avoid doing so.

E-Sumi was quick to notice the Bard, giving her a calm smile as he finished dismissing the last of his company.  The horned youth spoke her name next and beckoned for her to approach, which she did with a measure of reluctant obedience.

"I was just about to take my evening tea," E-Sumi said, "But I would much prefer to do so with company, if you would not mind."

Although the Padjal had never been unkind, and had been far from heavy-handed in his judgments, Ciel knew well that what he sought was a captive audience for the things on his mind, and he would not have asked to see her if they did not somehow involve her prior associations with the guild.  Still, Ciel nodded, and waited for E-Sumi to lead her out of the central chamber.  This was one small blessing, taking business away from the eyes and ears of others and, often enough, even the Elementals spared some privacy.

A low-slung table surrounded by cushions awaited their arrival, and she waited for E-Sumi to take his place before seating herself and placing her chapeau to one side.  He would have even been the one to serve the tea if old patterns of etiquette had been forgotten in the previous five or so years, but Ciel took the kettle first and filled E-Sumi's cup, and then her own.  For all he looked like a boy, the Padjal was still very much her elder and deserved every respect which age could afford.

E-Sumi clasped his hands around the cup of tea and inclined his head to his guest in a gesture of thanks.  "You can relax, Ciel.  I know why you believe I called you, but it was not to ask for your return and renewed service to Stillglade Fane."  He had learned not to hope for as much after a time.

Emerald eyes lifted from her own tea cup to settle on the horned youth's sincere expression.  His was a thin smile, one of assurance, but also lacking in strength knowing that the matter at hand was anything but a cheerful one. "Rather, I asked for you because I have come into some information which may be of interest to you concerning Thierremont."

"Thierremont is dead," Ciel hissed angrily.  She drew a breath to collect and quell a temper which, she knew, had no business being directed at her host.  He wasn't at fault for what happened, nor was anyone else at Stillglade Fane, but five years on the loss still sat raw in her heart. 

E-Sumi-Yan raised a hand, calmly seeking the woman's patience.  "If you would allow me..." He paused in case of any further interruption, yet none seemed to be forthcoming.  "Evidence has been found which places Thierremont's guilt into question.  We need someone capable of investigating the matter in greater detail, and I thought to bring it to you, personally.  Here is an opportunity, Ciel, to bring justice to the poachers who put him in the position he was in."

She felt her hands tremble and curled them into taught fists on her lap to keep them still.  It didn't help much.  "You had me go after him that day... and now you question his guilt?  And you thought I should dredge all of this up again and relive it?  This is nothing but cruel!  Everything that happened... All of that was why I left Stillglade Fane to begin with."

"I know, Ciel, I know," the Padjal assured, "But pray listen to me.  Would you rather go on assuming he was responsible for all of those horrible things, or have a chance to prove his innocence and know that his soul is at rest? And per chance grant succor to your own soul as well?"

The Bard resumed staring into the cup in front of her, perhaps hoping for some answer to manifest itself in the tea leaves which drifted therein.  She, alone, knew the truth of Thierremont's death and it was something she could have prevented while dressed in healer's robes if only she had chosen to save him, rather than believe in his guilt.

"Very well," she sighed.  "Tell me where to begin."


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Like a number of Forestborn, she was born with a knack for hearing the whispers and utterings of the Elementals, the true inhabitants of the Twelveswood.  Or rather, sometimes she did, but it was not a constant.  Within Gridania's confines, the voices were always fewer and quieter, overtaken by the voices of the people and the dinn of their daily lives.  Even so, it was a gift she didn't care to make much of because the first time her parents realized that she had this knack, her assumed destiny would be to join the Conjurer's guild.

Becoming a Conjurer meant, in her mind, always hiding behind someone else, always being protected, always being on a leash and having very little freedom to come and go at a whim.  It wasn't the intimate bond with the Twelveswood and its energies which frightened her, but the notion of constant, choking restraint on one's ability to live unhindered.  Freedom was what Ciel desired more than anything, and this freedom was something better afforded to the quivermen and women amongst the archers.  They were allowed to patrol the wood freely and unescorted.

At the tender age of sixteen, legal marrying age in some places, many girls are still subject to the whims and orders of their parents, and so it was that Ciel conscripted herself to Stillglade Fane.  Her mother and father could not have been happier, knowing that her talent would be put to good use, and that the success or failure of her studies would unduly be reported back to them.  It was a stifling reality, but she poured herself into it with the hope that she would be rewarded for her effort by being allowed some time out in the wood where she felt most at ease.

Her ability flourished once she understood the theory behind the magics used by the Conjurers, of both the elemental kind and the healing arts, and that the golden rule to never take more than you can give applied just as much to these things as it did to botany or any other hunting and gathering occupation.  And although Brother E-Sumi-Yan appreciated her effort and her spirit, he could see that her heart was not in her work.  She completed all of her studies and assignments to expected standards, but there was nothing about them that said "This is mine.  This is who I am."

All Conjurers, at some time or another, are shown where the Hedgetrees are around the Twelveswood, and they are given extensive detail on how these trees help to protect the wood, and Gridania, against the Ixal and other enemies.  The Hearers among them, especially, get to spend more time in these places listening to the Elementals who call the Hedgetrees home.  Ciel would sometimes slip from Gridania and go to the nearest one regardless of assignment and just sit, and listen, and breathe.  Any sometimes she would sing.

It was on such a night that she was not found in Stillglade Fane, or in her parents' home, and one of her father's young subordinates, Thierremont, was sent to look for her.  She would not have gone far, and the Lancers know the paths just as well as any Archer or Conjurer native to Gridania.  Finding her did not take long, but the sudden arrival of the Lancer caught Ciel by surprise and an Aero spell greeted him first.  The gust sent him tumbling backward and down an embankment out of sight, and into a creek where he came to rest.

Ciel was sure she had heard his startled cry and realized immediately that it was no monster or Ixal that she had pushed away from the Hedgetree.  She sprang to her feet and ran to look, but could barely make out the form of the Lancer sitting in the cool water several fulms below.

"I'm so sorry!"  she called, turning to scramble down the embankment toward him.  "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine, but for my pride, milady," the Lancer sighed. 

Thierremont stood up to shake water from his scale armor, but much of it had already seeped into the padding beneath and left his skin chilled.  Ciel was quickly at his side and began applying the warm, blue-white energies of a Cure spell in case of any unseen damage she might have caused. 

"You must be Ciel," he guessed, peering down at the top of her wide-brimmed hat. 

Her head was still bent forward in concentration when he spoke her name, but she seemed to shrink even more upon being identified.  Her answer was a tentative "Aye" followed by a long, awkward pause.  "Father sent you, I take it."

"That he did.  You shouldn't worry the man so, he only --"

"I KNOW!"  Ciel barked, her small hands rising to cup over her ears, to spare her from hearing anything more.  "All he wants is to protect me!  I am SO sick of being protected and coddled all the bloody time!  I just want some room to breathe!"

She took off back to the Yellow Serpent Gate with a startled Thierremont stammering for words as he watched.  What had he said to set her off?  The young Duskwight shrugged to himself and followed after at a more leisurely pace.


---


Even though Ciel and Thierremont didn't have the best start, neither one was to blame, and they did see more of each other from time to time.  Where there was awkward silence between the two, others around Ciel found only opportunity - her father in particular - but even E-Sumi-Yan wasn't above using their tenuous relationship as a teaching tool.

She had not only apologized, more than once, for her moment of startled judgment by the Hedgetree, but she was also made to accompany a small group of Lancers whenever they went into the Twelveswood on patrol or for practice, as there was always a need to have a Conjurer on hand. And doing so would get her the practice she needed, whether she liked it or not.  Somehow, too, Thierremont was always among that same party, and that much was owed solely to her own father.

On those days, she said very little and made a point of hiding as much beneath her hat as she possibly could.  Stolen glances between the two young Elezen were mostly unnoticed by one or the other, and if her father noticed he gave neither a verbal nor visible indication.  All he needed to know was that his part of the plan was working, and it wouldn't be long before further arrangements could be made.

Outside of assignments, Thierremont did his best to find a chink in Ciel's armor, but all attempts to catch her off guard again ended in failure.  For someone learning the healing arts, she did her damnedest to mind her surroundings better, lest she drop anyone else in a creek - or worse, a pile of chocobo manure - but that often meant spying the Duskwight and slinking away before he noticed her.  She even went so far as to wear robes in colors -other- than her customary "grape purple" so she would be harder to find.  It didn't always work.

This is to say she didn't dislike the young man at all.  Quite the contrary.  The problem was understanding the odd fluttery feeling in her stomach or the warmth in her cheeks when he was around.  It was unsettling and even alarming for someone who had no idea what was happening, and the best she could do was chalk it up to allergies.

But then why was he so interesting?  Elezen he may have been, but the dusty tone of his skin and the contrast of his golden eyes, and his hair with the way it's color reminded her of the rainbowed edge of a heated darksteel blade.  She was confused as to why these details even crossed her mind.

...And then she would lean into her books and try to dig even deeper into her studies to distract herself.


---


As months went on, Ciel's guard slowly began to relax around Thierremont.  She always knew he wasn't going to hurt her, he would have her father to answer to if he ever even considered it, but it was also the way he assured her.  There was never a vow to protect her at all costs, something he had learned would only force her to withdraw. 


Instead, he would say, "It's alright.  We're working together today!  We'll get this done and be back home in time for the show at the amphitheater."

We. It wasn't "Let me handle this, you just stand back", and neither was it "I've got this, nothing will hurt you." 


The sense that she could be something other than simply a back-line fixture made him different from so many of the stiff-spined, arrogant soldiers, and it was this which eventually coaxed her out of her shell.  The scrapes and wounds which came with duty and brief stints at adventuring were theirs to share, and they returned to Gridania time and again soiled and bloody for it, but happy.  Realizing this was working, her father knew it was time for the next part of his plan.

---

It was a lovely early autumn day.  The sun was still warm on her face but the breeze was cool, and the songbirds were still actively singing in chorus amidst the backdrop the creek's steady burbling. Most of these things were a very vague, distant white noise compared to what was right in front of her.

Thierremont had wanted her to meet him at one of the gazebos around Fallgourd Float, and meet him there, she did.  But she quickly found herself sitting on the gazebo floor and staring face to face with a creature out of place for this part of the world.  It reminded her of a cat with a spotty coat, but it also bore lizard-like ridges around its neck and limbs, and a sinuous tail.

"This is...what, exactly?"  She asked Thierremont though her eyes, full of nervous curiosity, never left the small beast. 


"Why," he answered cheerfully, "He's a couerl! A baby at that... and he's all yours."

A couerl.  She was face to face with a minature, blood-thirsty predator, but it was so...

"CUTE!"  Ciel fairly startled the creature by throwing her arms around it and pulling it into her lap.  She grimaced sheepishly at her own reaction and looked up to her beau just as he knelt down next to her.  "But... Why did you bring me a monster?  I've only ever read about couerl, and I've never heard anything about them which sounded like they would be good pets."

Thierremont beamed a grin, "Oh, not this one.  You see, there are people around La Noscea who raise and breed couerl as mounts, the same way some people breed chocobos, although these are harder to get.  He's completely tame, but try not to squeeze him too tightly, lest he burst."

Ciel blinked and slowly released her hold on the creature, and she could swear it sighed with relief, but it stayed calmly on her lap and watched her. "Alright, but... you still haven't told me why.  I'm sure he was expensive."

The Duskwight feigned a moment of thought, "Well, maybe, but it seemed like a proper present for such a special occasion."

The young woman searched her thoughts for any special occasions she might have been told about and forgotten, but she found nothing, and this confusion telegraphed itself to Thierremont through the blank look on her face.

"He didn't tell you?"  he asked, referring to Ciel's father, but she only shook her head in response.  Awkward silence soon gave way to further explanation.  "This little fellow my betrothal gift to you."


---

There has never been, and never will be,  a shortage of stories about arranged marriages wherein neither party is interested in the other, or where everything is one sided, and although there were some awkward moments with regard to their own, the fact Ciel and Thierremont genuinely loved each other made things worlds easier for all involved.  That is until about a month before the nuptials were set to occur.

Ciel never thought much of Thierremont acting bashful or even withdrawn.  Everyone has moments like this, and the latter is more known as a common trait of the Duskwights than their Wildwood counterparts, due to their history of dwelling in distant, darker places.  For some it was as much mental withdrawal as it was physical removal, something she understood well enough but didn't have much of a concern for until his absences became more frequent.  She would see him on their usual assignments, but even then little changed, and she was hesitant to dig for answers on what was changing between them.

Three days before the ceremony, he left a letter with her father and departed from the Lancer's guild.  The letter was unhappily delivered to her, and the very brief hand-written note told her that she was released from her betrothal by Thierremont's own choice, the wedding would never happen. The last words in the letter insisted that her couerl - whom she had named Mille Feuille - was to remain by her side.  No other creature was so worthy of having her has a friend.

It made no sense.  There was no explanation, no reasoning.  If he had been angry at her for something and told her as much, she might have understood, but the fact that there was no anger at all in the letter, only a sense of sad resignation,  left her confused.  He hadn't even given her father an explanation for his sudden departure from the guild, only that he was going and had no intention to return.  All of these were answers she meant to find, and if Thierremont had set off into the Twelveswood alone, she would find him.

During all of her assignments, Ciel learned well the paths of the Twelveswood and how even some of those paths had paths.  She knew her way around and through about as well as any of the Archers, and what she didn't learn on a normal day she did learn from a few of the quivermen. After days of searching every corner, rock, and felled tree trunk she finally picked up his trail at the edge of a poacher encampment.  There were no signs of conflict, no blood.  That much was a good sign, but why would he come to such a place?


And where else had he gone?  The campfires still flickered and the smell of a pot of food wafted on the breeze.  It looked as though everyone had left in a hurry.  Rather than linger and risk getting caught of there were any watchmen around, Ciel moved on and followed Thierremont's trail for as long as she could until it was swallowed up by countless other tracks.  He had surely moved through, but was not alone when he moved on.

Had he been chased?  Or, she hated to think of it, had he gone willingly?

It felt like hours had passed as she pressed on, her heart sinking when she thought the poachers' trail had been lost among the thickening brush of the deep wood, but a distant scream and the sound of conflict and snapping tree limbs renewed her determination.  She moved toward the sounds, toward a flash of brilliant color and a rush of wings, and she broke through the brush to behold the results of a one-sided battle gone terribly wrong.

At the middle of it all was a large bird, somewhat bigger than a chocobo, with trailing, colorful plumage the likes of which she had never seen before, and unlike any creature she had ever heard of even in the most unlikely of adventurers' tales.  Whatever the bird was it was powerful enough to scatter the band of poachers and badly wound, if not outright kill, a good number of them, but not before taking some injuries of its own.  And there, one of the few still alive, stood Thierremont in rough shape but with Lance still in hand.

One last, desperate throw of his lance found purchase in the bird's bright golden breast and brought it down in a lifeless heap.  Thierremont, as well, crumbled onto the warm, blood-spattered earth and lay there gasping for breath. 

Ciel lunged from her hiding place, paying no mind to the few injured and still conscious poachers who saw her, as she ran to the Duskwight's side. For as long as they had been together, she had been the first one to heal his wounds and this time would be no different, regardless of how he had wounded her by leaving.   And as she knelt down and lowered her hands to start healing him, a piercing howl echoed through the boughs.  No wolf made such a sound, no earthly being cried in such a way, and she knew what it meant.  The Twelveswood, itself, was enraged and the greenwrath would be upon them all, for no sooner did that cry resound than she saw the trees starting to pull up their roots and lurch closer.

The poachers that had survived their encounter with the bird stood no chance against the treants.  She could only watch in horror as they were stomped and crushed, or picked up and swallowed by the wandering trees, and she tried to hide from it all by pinching her eyes closed and leaning down over Thierremont.  Willing to shield him from the same fate, she would die here with him.

"I'm sorry," Thierremont sputtered, "Ciel, please forgive me.  I had no choice -- I had to... to..."

"No, shh shh, just keep still.  I'll heal you, we'll be fine," she assured, even though she knew better.

"No, don't...!  That creature, I had no right... it was sacred to the wood..."

The treants trudged closer, the heavy pounding of their roots on the earth drowning out the hushed words of the young Lancer even as Ciel drew him into her arms to cradle him.  Thierremont caught her wrist as she raised her hand to cast a Cure on him and held it as firmly as his strength would allow.  His survival would mean that both of them would bear the woodsin, and she would have to absolve herself of his crime.

The Conjurer glanced up at the closest treant and watched hopelessly as it raised a limb over her.  She slouched forward again and closed her eyes, uttering a prayer to the Twelve that the end would be quickly and that neither of them would feel it.

Suddenly, the world fell still.  There was no final blow, no heavy, crushing impact, only silence.  Daring to crack one eye open, she saw the treants still hovering uncomfortably close over her... and then watched as they slowly turned and ambled off one by one, back into the thick shadows of the deep wood.  There was silence in her arms, as well.  Thierremont's life had slipped away in that moment and, with it, his sin.


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"The Berunda is a creature sacred to the Twelveswood," E-Sumi-Yan explained, calmly looking across the table at his guest.  "Or I should say it was.  Only one ever exists at any time, and now the Elementals demand the recovery and return of its remains."

With her cup now empty, Ciel silently, thoughtfully lifted the tea pot from the candle-heated warmer on the table and poured herself another serving.  Inwardly, she couldn't help but muse at how much more she would enjoy it with a shot of bourbon or something equally as potent.

"That was seven years ago," she said without lifting her eyes.  "Two years before the Calamity.  You expect me to know where the rot of some dead bird ended up in that time?"

E-Sumi-Yan smiled knowingly and settled his own hands on his lap.  "I would not think you ignorant enough to believe poachers would simply kill a creature like that and then leave the carcass for other beasts to feed upon.  But suffice it to say, any poachers who stayed out of that hunt or fled when it took a turn for the worse, did precisely that.  The losses they suffered were too great to make collecting it worthwhile.  On the other hand, Ixal tracks were found not too long after the patrols went out to clear the area.  The carcass had also disappeared by the time they arrived."

Ciel's frown deepened, "Then you're saying the Ixal took the remains.  I suppose that makes sense, they would want the colorful plumage for headdresses, among other things."

And there were any number of Ixal encampments through which the Berunda's pieces could have been distributed, even all the way to Natalan.  Leave it to the Elementals to send someone on a wild goose chase of such scale.  Or a wild Berunda hunt, as it were.

"The next thing I want to know," she said, "Is how recovering the remains helps to absolve Thierremont's guilt.  I saw him slay the thing, and I know that makes him a sinner in the Elementals' eyes, regardless of his intentions."

E-Sumi took his cup back into hand and drained what was left in it, and then held the vessel out to request a refill from the Bard.  She accommodated as happily as the situation would possibly allow, and the Padjal resumed his explanation. 

"After you left the first time we continued to investigate.  Among Thierremont's personal documents, we found what appeared to be a contract."  The ancient youth placed his cup down to allow it to cool off, and picked up a scrap of parchment which he then handed over to Ciel. 

"Apparently, while his mother was deathly ill, he wasted no opportunity trying to find a cure for her, even going so far as to obtain various snake oil elixirs from the black market.  Sometimes this meant going through some less than savory contacts amongst poachers and, as you can imagine, this resulted in quite a debt owed.  It may be that he was recruited to slay the Berunda to help cover some, if not all, of that debt and to provide more ill-gotten goods to the very markets he tapped."

The woman finally lifted her emerald gaze, first to the contract and then to her former mentor, eyes filled with realization, surprise, and regret.  "I never knew.  I never would have had any idea.  His mother was sick, that much I knew, but the rest?"  She shook her head.

E-Sumi-Yan nodded, "And you do still bear a trace of his woodsin since you witnessed what occurred and did not try to stop him, and because you were with him when he died.  This is why you were subject to the Greenwrath when you first returned to us five years ago, and again after your long silence following the Calamity.  Neither of the cleansing rituals you participated in were enough to rid you of what you had earned simply by being there."

Ciel listened and turned her eyes downward again with a nod.  He was right that it was as much her burden to bear as it would have been Thierremont's.  Without him being there to make right what had happened, the responsibility fell to her as a proxy.

"Then you know what you must do." E-Sumi said, "As it's doubtful that the Berunda's remains made it to the black markets, I need you to find whatever you can.  Some of the remains may have been altered and turned into weapons, tools, clothing, jewelry... Whatever the case, take any of them back from the Ixal that you can and burn them to ash.  After that, return the ashes to the Twelveswood by pouring them into the waters at Urth's Gift.  This is what the Elementals have asked, that another Berunda may one day rise."

(And a long overdue update.)



None of the places Ciel searched within the Twelveswood had what she sought.  The Ixali she took the time to question were neither cooperative nor forthcoming, and this left her with only two other options.  Coerthas would have to be the next stop but she had to be certain, first, that the risk of going there would bear fruit.  She knew of only one individual who might have known if that would be the correct path to pursue, and it took more traveling than necessary to find her.

"Hungry, are you? Sit, you must.  Rest." 

Her friend was an old "bird", an unlikely ally when Ciel bore the blood of more than a few Ixal on her hands, both recent and in the years preceding.  Dozol Meloc was apart from her own kind most of the time, an outcast, but visibly defined from her brethren by the colorful plumes with which she decorated herself.  She kept her haven in the further reaches of Eastern Thanalan, away from the eyes of those who would shun her, and answering to the call of few.

Ciel had adopted a different attire for her visit, appropriate, and even respectful of Dozol Meloc's profession. The robes she wore were deep and dark, and made her feel overdressed in the dry heat of the desert sun, but the cool shadows of the cavern were welcoming by comparison, as was the Ixal's hospitality.  She gratefully held out both hands to accept an offered cup of some sort of stew from her hostess, and sat with her feet folded under her beside the small cooking fire.

"Troubled, you seem, friend," clucked the Ixal, calmly studying what she could see of Ciel's face within such a deep hood. 

"Observant and wise as always, my friend," Ciel conceded.  "I would not seek to take up your time for trivialities, of course, but this is a very personal matter and some of it concerns your kinfolk.  They may be in possession of something I need."

"Hmmm?  What thing is this?"

Ciel thoughtfully considered her explanation while staring into the cup of stew.  It didn't look unappetizing, but for the moment it served as a focus.  "Have you heard of a creature called Berunda?  Large, colorful bird, bigger than a chocobo.  It has... had long, trailing plumes."

"Heard of it, I have, but Berunda feathers these are not," Dozol answered, sweeping a clawed hand over herself to indicate her personal adornments. 

"Oh... No, no, I wasn't asking if they were.  I've been charged with finding the remains, you see, and since I know the carcass ended up in the hands of some of the Ixal, I was wondering if you might know which ones and where they are."

Dozol idly stirred an old wooden spoon through the cookpot between herself and her student.  She uttered a low, trilling sound in her throat.  It could have been a sound of concern, but there was no way for Ciel to tell by the old bird's posture or facial expression.  She knew little enough of the Ixal to understand their body language.

"I may recall last I saw, but many years has it been."  There was palpable hesitance in Dozol's answer.  She knew she would be sending Ciel into the heart of Ixal territory, but just as importantly, against her own brethren.  Even as an outcast, Dozol held no ill will against the others, not enough to knowingly turn against them, but such a risk could pay off twice.

"Natalan," she answered at length.  "What you seek, there you will find.  Passed through many Ixal camps over long years, Berunda remains did.  Confiscated, they were, by Heuloc clan.  Bad, very bad... Amongst Ixal, even, the worst they are.  More power and more power, they don't have it, they take."

Ciel sighed despairingly and distracted herself by spooning some of the stew into her mouth.  It was bland but not terrible, and it gave her some time to chew over what she had just learned.

"Sateli, Sutali, Sotoli, Sethuli."  Ciel couldn't tell if Dozol was chanting something or if she had something stuck in her teeth by the way each name came though the Ixal's beak.  A beak with sharp teeth.  "Sisters, they are.  Worst of the clan.  Strong as you are, a chance against them, you have not.  Help you, I cannot."

Better and better, Ciel told herself.  And the stew quickly disappeared from the cup.  For what little she actually tasted of it, she had had her fill and placed the cup down by the cooking fire.

"Then I need a plan," the Bard-turned-Thaumaturge acknowledged.

"Plan, yes."  Dozol seemed to approve of the idea but added, "Plan is good, but friends too.  More friends you have, do you not?"

Ciel hesitated again but nodded once.  "I do, but they have their own problems.  If these Huelocs are as powerful as you say, I'm not sure I can put their lives at risk for the sake of my own personal problems."

Her doubt was met with a shrill SQWAAAK from the elder mage before her, and she drew back quickly with her arms held up to block the staff of carved bone making its way toward the top of her head.  It stopped short, a bare ilm before making contact.

"Foolish, you are!  Ask!  ASK!"

And just as Ciel started to lower her guard, and her hands, the bone staff completed its journey and smacked her squarely.  She recoiled again, this time into a ball with her eyes pinched shut and hands clasped over the same spot which she knew would swell later.

"If true they are, friends will help, gladly,"  Dozol didn't need to drive the point home any further, but it didn't seem as though the lesson would be accompanied by any further beatings.  "Risk is shared.  Reward is shared.  Trust them, do you not?"

Ciel hissed through her teeth and adjusted the placement of her hood as she sat back up, slowly.  "Truth be told... I'm not sure."

"Why?"

"Long story."  Ciel was willing to leave it at that, but Dozol was nothing if not patient.  In most things.  When she realized the old bird wasn't simply going to let it go without hearing the story, she went into detail of how there were supposedly spies among them, and how a couple of them had changed, not just in appearance, but in race.

"The truth is, I'm not sure if it's even really them.  They were Miqo'te, now they're Elezen, and the best explanation we've come to is wine tainted with Fantasia.  I suppose it's plausible, but with the possibility of spies, how can I be sure?"

Dozol Meloc made that same low, trilling sound again.  "Still ask. If false they are, help they will not.  Risk themselves against Huelocs, doubtful it is.  If true, help you they will, in some way."

Ciel couldn't argue with that logic.  If the Isa'to and Zaizhir she knew truly were imposters, she would have to find some other way.  She had no doubt that someone among their small company would be willing to aid her, no matter what outcome they may come to.

"Thank you, Dozol Meloc."  She bowed from her seated position and then rose to her feet.  "I will take your advice.  I pray I'll have a chance to tell you about it next time we meet."

The old bird raised a clawed hand and waved her student toward the cavern entrance.  "Succeed, you will.  Have doubt, I do not."

As Ciel left the cool darkness of the cavern, she only spared a passing thought to what she might have eaten, or whether it might make her ill later.  For that moment, at least, she felt like she had regained some of the energy she spent while crossing the land from Camp Drybone, and she drew in a deep breath to steel herself for the next step in her mission.

Elsewhere, the linkpearls of her Regalius comrades began to chime...


No answer.  There never was an answer, no matter when or how often she tried to raise them over the Linkpearl.  The spies, she thought.  Or as Wylfwyda had said wolves among the flock.  Ciel had made a crucial mistake in splitting off from her comrades, and leaving them one fewer to their numbers and that much more vulnerable. 

Try as she might to find any of them, there was no sign.  Regalius' office had been more or less abandoned, no sign of struggle or conflict and even a pan of food had been left to cook unattended until it burned and until the fire guttered out.  The brothers Jyn were nowhere.  U'ysara was nowhere. None of them were seemingly anywhere and no one else claimed to have seen them.

There was no sign, even, of Wylfwyda, that damnable mercenary.  Ciel could only assume she had found them, one by one, and sated herself on blood.  The bard was left empty-handed save for unanswered questions, and an agonizing search which lasted for months. 

This eventually brought her to rest in Ul'dah where, she hoped, she might find clues, none though there were.  What she found were new comrades, ones who took her by surprise by their welcome into their fold.  Understandably reluctant to trouble them with her own searching, she kept the past tucked away.  No one else should be lost because of her own confusion.

Months passed before she revisited the concern again, and she stayed mostly out of Gridania during that time unless she had something else she had to take care of.  Even so, she made sure to steer well away from the Conjurers' guild, even knowing full well that her time was running short to resolve her problem.

The company she had found herself with were good folk, even if she hadn't expected to be taken into their ranks, and all naturally had their own concerns to contend with.  Why would she ask any of them to put aside their problems for her sake?  For something which was her business?  She kept mum about the matter for another couple of months, thinking, and planning, until she knew how to present it.

She told her comrades the tale of an ill-fated pair, Astrid and Forgetmenot, and in the end revealed only that Astrid represented her own part in the story, and that one day soon, she would have to write an ending to the tale.  Never until then could she speak Thierremont's name.  Whether or not doing so would incur the wrath of spirits or Elementals, she never said, but it was a fine hook to keep some of her comrades curious, and the more she spoke with some of them individually about her desire to see the tale finished, the more she found their willingness to aid her.  She never had to ask.

Ciel had her plan.  She knew where the Berunda's remains were, who had them, and what sort of situation she and the Order would be walking into.  And the closer the day came, the more restless she found herself.  Solid sleep became a luxury, as every spare thought, every ilm of her dreaming, turned to that and how it could all go horribly wrong. 

All the fear which had etched itself into her mind still had to be faced down, for better or worse, and the Order arrived at Natalan a dozen strong.  A dozen lives she would be responsible for is things went as she feared they would, but a small army all present and willing to follow her into whatever Hells might await.  She had never known anything like that feeling, the odd mix of confidence and pre-emptive regret which accompanies a leader.

The Ixals put up a good struggle, but several dozen were not enough resistance to keep Ciel and the others from crashing the gates and drilling their way toward the heart of the tribe's stronghold where the Huelocs inevitably awaited.

"Take everything they have on them - Any feathers, bone, hides, everything!"  Ciel called out as she made ready to loose her first arrow.  "We will clean this place out if we must."

"What about the crystals?"  One of her comrades, a Conjurer with chestnut hair and glasses looked to the songstress curiously.  "If we find and take as many crystals as we can, maybe we can delay the next summoning!"

This was a far better plan than anything Ciel, herself, had come up with.  She nodded, "Good idea.  And even if we can't prevent it, we can make sure Garuda's next incarnation is weak.  Let us finish here, and then we can look for their supplies."

Ciel whirled about and turned loose her arrow on one of the Huelocs as the others moved in to engage.  One by one, each of the Ixals known as the Four Winds were felled by the Order, but more Ixals streamed toward them the longer they remained within the stronghold.  And amidst the screams of the Ixal, the sprays of blood, nothing was left behind.  Everything the Ixals dropped, whether or not it was part of the Berunda's remains, was collected, and several of the tribe's stockpiles of supplies were set alight and burned as the Order cut their escape back out of Natalan.  They were never able to get near the tribe's crystal stash.

They were followed far from the gates, but even the Ixal dared not set foot too close to Camp Dragonhead, and it was there that the order reconvened.  With their task accomplished, most took their turn to leave the snows of Coerthas and return to the company Hall, while a handful remained behind to accompany Ciel to the observatorium, where the Berunda's remains were burned to ash as promised.