(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."Â
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.Â
"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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
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.
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."Â
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.Â
"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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
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.
