Ishgard.
All the paintings and renderings she had seen of the place as a child did not do the majestic architecture justice. Roen stood before the impressive structure that was The Vault of the Holy See, awed by its towering columns topped with golden spires, their pointed peaks reaching for the heavens.
She could not help but wonder if such an august presence had a hand in inspiring reverence in those who looked upon it. Prayers to Halone were often heard upon the lips of those she had passed, and seminarians in their black and red cassocks milled about near the entrance to the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral.
Roen drank in the details of the place as she followed closely behind Idristan, the knight-captain’s long stride quickened with purpose as he strode through the streets of Ishgard. He had been called back to the city proper in light of the news of a possible insurrection in the making. Despite the paladin’s reluctance to become involved in any matters outside of dealing with bloodthirsty scalekin, the knight had ordered her to accompany him back to the city-state.
“You are still a stranger to our land and our ways,†Idristan had said. “And yet you deserve to see for yourself what it is that you and I would lay down our lives to defend.†His tone would brook no argument, but there was a hint of an entreaty behind his gaze. Though he would never admit it, Roen would have guessed that perhaps the Elezen wanted her to understand and accept the scene that she had witnessed at Witchdrop. They had never spoken of it again; Roen had decided that such things were not her affair, that she had not come to Coerthas seeking to change how things were.
And yet here she was, accompanying a knight to stop a possible revolution amongst the citizenry of Ishgard. Roen’s lungs tightened with something akin to dread.
A few glances were spared her way, her armor and equipment clearly marking her as a stranger, perhaps an adventurer within the city. Others dressed in mishmash of armor were scattered about, but most were merchants or nobles, all dressed in their furred coats and robes.
“Be on guard, Deneith,†Idristan drew her attention forth as the streets began to descend into the lower portions of the city. “This is The Brume.â€
Her commanding officer had mentioned the situation briefly as they had made their trek back to Ishgard, but as Roen looked about this new district, she could not deny how much it reminded her of Pearl Lane. It was the broken underbelly of an otherwise beautiful and magnificent city-state. A stark contrast from the detailed designs of lancet windows and ornately carved finials that decorated the the buildings of worship, The Brume was a collection of unkempt alleys and broken down corners of buildings.
Piles of cracked stone and broken beams laid strewn about, and damaged walls and buildings seemed to be barely held together by wooden scaffoldings. An Elezen with dirty bandages wrapped around his head laid on the ground near one of the ruined buildings, his short and ragged breaths visible as short puffs in the frigid air. Two women were bent over him, but they held naught but pity on their faces. Beyond that scene further into a darker pocket of a crumbling house was another man on the ground, also looking sickly.
Roen’s eyes did not stay on any one of them for long. There were too many. Children huddled near a small fire while another man was raising both his hands to the sky as if to beseech the gods for aid or warmth. She strode past them all wordlessly and without slowing down, Idristan’s own pace quickening as he neared a gathering ahead.
“Ser Marat,†Idristan called out a greeting to a group of knights. They had formed a barrier at the end of the street, the tip of their pointed shields planted into the cobblestone below. Their weapons remained at their sides but every now and then one knight would glance apprehensively to another and they would shift their hands ever so slightly to be closer to the hilt of their swords. One of the knights turned in response to Idristan's call and slid his helm upwards, answering with a sharp nod of his own. “Situation report?â€
“Ser Tournes, good to see you back.†Ser Marat glanced between the knight and the paladin before turning his gaze to the group of people that had begun to gather closer towards the end of the street. “Unhappy peasants have gathered to show their discontent. There were rumors of this gathering for many suns, and many feared that it may turn violent.â€
Roen glanced past the temple knights, all armored head to toe in sturdy, well-crafted chainmail, shield and swords at the ready, to the press of people that were milling about. They were dressed in mostly layers of tattered woolen clothing, none of the furred coats were seen here. There were young and old, men and women, Elezen and Hyur alike. Many of them looked gaunt, their cheeks somewhat sunken in, their skin flushed and weather worn from the cold, but regardless of their condition their eyes glimmered with determination, however weak, and a firm sense of indignation at their treatment.
“What have they done, exactly?†Roen asked.
Ser Marat was quick to frown at her inquiry, but when a glance to Idristan was answered with a nod, he replied in an annoyed nasally tone. “They marched down the street, chanting their demands. They are collecting more people as they proceed.â€
“Have they threatened anyone? Destroyed property?†Idristan calmly scanned the crowd.
Ser Marat shook his head. “They have naught but gathered at one end of the Brume. One of their ringleaders had been shouting something about marching up to the doorstep of the Four Houses and up to the Vault itself. For obvious reasons we cannot permit them to pass much further beyond the Forgotten Knight.â€
“Do you mean to stop them by force?†Roen narrowed her eyes. “This looks like a peaceful rally.â€
Ser Marat’s jaw tensed. “One or two stragglers pose no threat. But once a mob gathers, tempers flare and discontent turns into disorder. It is wise to put down such things before it presents a problem. They cannot even see that they are lucky to be alive and housed despite the ongoing war.†He tilted his head at the paladin, a scornful look plain on his face. "Regardless of their feelings, dissidents only weaken the Holy See's efforts against the Dravanians, and in their shortsightedness they may affect the security of Ishgard itself, for every knight that is called to quell their mob is another knight that is not in the field or watching the skies." His hands tightened their grip on the top of his shield.
Idristan gave Roen a sidelong glance. “I have seen the scales of Ul’dah that your chocobo bears on his barding.†If he noted her stiffening posture, the knight-captain did not make it known. “I have heard many tales of this place. You too come from a city-state where the impoverished is an undeniable presence and yet there is naught that can be done to alleviate their woes. How does Ul’dah deal with its dissidents that the peace is kept?â€
Roen’s face hardened, her eyes refusing to meet that of her commanding officer. “Insurgents are not tolerated.†She clamped her mouth shut as if to end it there, but half a breath later she continued. “But if all who suffer believe that there is naught being done about it, that there are none who see their need and their suffering… there will rise another. Someone who is pushed too far, pushed too hard, who has decided that standing by is no longer an option.â€
Idristan regarded her for a moment longer before nodding. He stepped past the knights forward the crowd, giving Roen just half a glance over his shoulder. “Follow me, Deneith.â€
“Good people of Brume and citizens of Ishgard,†Idristan called out loudly, his hands held up in front of him. His helm rested atop his head, his eyes scanning the crowd. “You have come far enough, and your message has been heard. Know that your needs are not being ignored nor dismissed.â€
“And yet what is being done about it?†a woman called out from the crowd. “The nobles sit high and mighty in The Pillars while we’re expected to eat rocks and ice down here! And the rest of you knights are telling us to be grateful about it!â€
“The four houses are providing all they can for the Dragonsong War.†Idristan gestured toward the paladin. “They are providing funds to hire outsiders to also help in this unending conflict. We are fighting for our very right to exist despite the will of the dragons that would see us burnt and buried. We need all the resources we can spare to ensure our survival.â€
A scornful laugh barked from the rear of the mob. "'Providing all they can', ser knight says!" It was a low, almost guttural voice. "Them nobles are parading around in silks and petticoats and throwing parties day and night, and they're providing all they can!" Several other shouts in agreement and affirmation rang through the throng of people, and some of the more aggressive dissidents stepped forward closer toward the line of shields. The knights, in response, raised their shields onto their arms and placed hands on their swords.
"Stop lying to us!" Another cry from a woman lost somewhere in the crowd, the voice of one who was desperate and full of tears.
"How many of us have frozen today?" The same guttural voice shouted. "Do you even know? Do you care at all?"
"Please, firewood, blankets, anything!"
The crowd had begun to grow in size and volume, and the shouting intensified. Ser Marat's eyes glanced quickly to Idristan, expecting an order to put down the riot. The latter, to his credit, pressed his lips together in an expression of stern restraint, though he too had begun to thumb the pommel of his sword.
Roen could feel some of the crowd look her way, some in disapproval, and others with wary curiosity as others shouted and began to push forward towards the knights, though not close enough to be threatened by their blades.
“What have you seen out there?†A young man called out to her. He was perhaps sixteen winters old, or maybe younger if he were not so thin. But he had an inquisitive gleam in his eyes, and a rebellious hint to his voice. “All we hear about are what the noble houses want us to know. And what the temple knights report. What do you see out there?â€
The paladin straightened, clearing her voice. “I have seen many dragon thralls lay waste to caravans and a group of knights. I have come upon burnt or severed bodies littering the mountainside. They want naught but your deaths, and the blood of man split upon the snow. There is no sense or reason. Only violence.â€
When the crowd had quieted to a low rumble, Roen continued. “Go home to your hearth and your beds. Know that in the time of war, there will be deaths, there will be suffering. Your city has closed its walls to the rest of us for as long as I can remember. But now I stand here before you, because the need has become more dire. The war has only grown more fierce and your losses have only deepened. Ishgard needs help from outsiders because it can no longer provide for its own. So if you were to start a revolution now, to push for a change when you should all be banding together... know that you will not survive.â€
Her throat tightened as she said the next words. “So choose. Accept what must be and endure... or fight this and die.â€
The young man who had looked upon her with a flicker of hope now looked crestfallen. With a deep scowl he spun away and disappeared around the corner. The rest of the crowd began to grumble amongst themselves.
“We will take it from here,†Ser Marat stepped in front of Roen, as he motioned to the rest of the knights to shepherd the crowd away. There was a nod of acknowledgement he gave to the paladin before he turned toward the peasants, and Roen thought she spied a small satisfied curl to his lips. It made her stomach roil.
“Will that be all, Ser Tournes?†she asked curtly to Idristan.
“I think our work is finished here,†Idristan nodded. “Good work, Deneith. I think we deserve a bit of…â€
Roen did not hear the rest of what he had to offer. She spun on her heel and quickly strode away in the opposite direction, eager to put distance between herself and The Brume.
All the paintings and renderings she had seen of the place as a child did not do the majestic architecture justice. Roen stood before the impressive structure that was The Vault of the Holy See, awed by its towering columns topped with golden spires, their pointed peaks reaching for the heavens.
She could not help but wonder if such an august presence had a hand in inspiring reverence in those who looked upon it. Prayers to Halone were often heard upon the lips of those she had passed, and seminarians in their black and red cassocks milled about near the entrance to the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral.
Roen drank in the details of the place as she followed closely behind Idristan, the knight-captain’s long stride quickened with purpose as he strode through the streets of Ishgard. He had been called back to the city proper in light of the news of a possible insurrection in the making. Despite the paladin’s reluctance to become involved in any matters outside of dealing with bloodthirsty scalekin, the knight had ordered her to accompany him back to the city-state.
“You are still a stranger to our land and our ways,†Idristan had said. “And yet you deserve to see for yourself what it is that you and I would lay down our lives to defend.†His tone would brook no argument, but there was a hint of an entreaty behind his gaze. Though he would never admit it, Roen would have guessed that perhaps the Elezen wanted her to understand and accept the scene that she had witnessed at Witchdrop. They had never spoken of it again; Roen had decided that such things were not her affair, that she had not come to Coerthas seeking to change how things were.
And yet here she was, accompanying a knight to stop a possible revolution amongst the citizenry of Ishgard. Roen’s lungs tightened with something akin to dread.
A few glances were spared her way, her armor and equipment clearly marking her as a stranger, perhaps an adventurer within the city. Others dressed in mishmash of armor were scattered about, but most were merchants or nobles, all dressed in their furred coats and robes.
“Be on guard, Deneith,†Idristan drew her attention forth as the streets began to descend into the lower portions of the city. “This is The Brume.â€
Her commanding officer had mentioned the situation briefly as they had made their trek back to Ishgard, but as Roen looked about this new district, she could not deny how much it reminded her of Pearl Lane. It was the broken underbelly of an otherwise beautiful and magnificent city-state. A stark contrast from the detailed designs of lancet windows and ornately carved finials that decorated the the buildings of worship, The Brume was a collection of unkempt alleys and broken down corners of buildings.
Piles of cracked stone and broken beams laid strewn about, and damaged walls and buildings seemed to be barely held together by wooden scaffoldings. An Elezen with dirty bandages wrapped around his head laid on the ground near one of the ruined buildings, his short and ragged breaths visible as short puffs in the frigid air. Two women were bent over him, but they held naught but pity on their faces. Beyond that scene further into a darker pocket of a crumbling house was another man on the ground, also looking sickly.
Roen’s eyes did not stay on any one of them for long. There were too many. Children huddled near a small fire while another man was raising both his hands to the sky as if to beseech the gods for aid or warmth. She strode past them all wordlessly and without slowing down, Idristan’s own pace quickening as he neared a gathering ahead.
“Ser Marat,†Idristan called out a greeting to a group of knights. They had formed a barrier at the end of the street, the tip of their pointed shields planted into the cobblestone below. Their weapons remained at their sides but every now and then one knight would glance apprehensively to another and they would shift their hands ever so slightly to be closer to the hilt of their swords. One of the knights turned in response to Idristan's call and slid his helm upwards, answering with a sharp nod of his own. “Situation report?â€
“Ser Tournes, good to see you back.†Ser Marat glanced between the knight and the paladin before turning his gaze to the group of people that had begun to gather closer towards the end of the street. “Unhappy peasants have gathered to show their discontent. There were rumors of this gathering for many suns, and many feared that it may turn violent.â€
Roen glanced past the temple knights, all armored head to toe in sturdy, well-crafted chainmail, shield and swords at the ready, to the press of people that were milling about. They were dressed in mostly layers of tattered woolen clothing, none of the furred coats were seen here. There were young and old, men and women, Elezen and Hyur alike. Many of them looked gaunt, their cheeks somewhat sunken in, their skin flushed and weather worn from the cold, but regardless of their condition their eyes glimmered with determination, however weak, and a firm sense of indignation at their treatment.
“What have they done, exactly?†Roen asked.
Ser Marat was quick to frown at her inquiry, but when a glance to Idristan was answered with a nod, he replied in an annoyed nasally tone. “They marched down the street, chanting their demands. They are collecting more people as they proceed.â€
“Have they threatened anyone? Destroyed property?†Idristan calmly scanned the crowd.
Ser Marat shook his head. “They have naught but gathered at one end of the Brume. One of their ringleaders had been shouting something about marching up to the doorstep of the Four Houses and up to the Vault itself. For obvious reasons we cannot permit them to pass much further beyond the Forgotten Knight.â€
“Do you mean to stop them by force?†Roen narrowed her eyes. “This looks like a peaceful rally.â€
Ser Marat’s jaw tensed. “One or two stragglers pose no threat. But once a mob gathers, tempers flare and discontent turns into disorder. It is wise to put down such things before it presents a problem. They cannot even see that they are lucky to be alive and housed despite the ongoing war.†He tilted his head at the paladin, a scornful look plain on his face. "Regardless of their feelings, dissidents only weaken the Holy See's efforts against the Dravanians, and in their shortsightedness they may affect the security of Ishgard itself, for every knight that is called to quell their mob is another knight that is not in the field or watching the skies." His hands tightened their grip on the top of his shield.
Idristan gave Roen a sidelong glance. “I have seen the scales of Ul’dah that your chocobo bears on his barding.†If he noted her stiffening posture, the knight-captain did not make it known. “I have heard many tales of this place. You too come from a city-state where the impoverished is an undeniable presence and yet there is naught that can be done to alleviate their woes. How does Ul’dah deal with its dissidents that the peace is kept?â€
Roen’s face hardened, her eyes refusing to meet that of her commanding officer. “Insurgents are not tolerated.†She clamped her mouth shut as if to end it there, but half a breath later she continued. “But if all who suffer believe that there is naught being done about it, that there are none who see their need and their suffering… there will rise another. Someone who is pushed too far, pushed too hard, who has decided that standing by is no longer an option.â€
Idristan regarded her for a moment longer before nodding. He stepped past the knights forward the crowd, giving Roen just half a glance over his shoulder. “Follow me, Deneith.â€
“Good people of Brume and citizens of Ishgard,†Idristan called out loudly, his hands held up in front of him. His helm rested atop his head, his eyes scanning the crowd. “You have come far enough, and your message has been heard. Know that your needs are not being ignored nor dismissed.â€
“And yet what is being done about it?†a woman called out from the crowd. “The nobles sit high and mighty in The Pillars while we’re expected to eat rocks and ice down here! And the rest of you knights are telling us to be grateful about it!â€
“The four houses are providing all they can for the Dragonsong War.†Idristan gestured toward the paladin. “They are providing funds to hire outsiders to also help in this unending conflict. We are fighting for our very right to exist despite the will of the dragons that would see us burnt and buried. We need all the resources we can spare to ensure our survival.â€
A scornful laugh barked from the rear of the mob. "'Providing all they can', ser knight says!" It was a low, almost guttural voice. "Them nobles are parading around in silks and petticoats and throwing parties day and night, and they're providing all they can!" Several other shouts in agreement and affirmation rang through the throng of people, and some of the more aggressive dissidents stepped forward closer toward the line of shields. The knights, in response, raised their shields onto their arms and placed hands on their swords.
"Stop lying to us!" Another cry from a woman lost somewhere in the crowd, the voice of one who was desperate and full of tears.
"How many of us have frozen today?" The same guttural voice shouted. "Do you even know? Do you care at all?"
"Please, firewood, blankets, anything!"
The crowd had begun to grow in size and volume, and the shouting intensified. Ser Marat's eyes glanced quickly to Idristan, expecting an order to put down the riot. The latter, to his credit, pressed his lips together in an expression of stern restraint, though he too had begun to thumb the pommel of his sword.
Roen could feel some of the crowd look her way, some in disapproval, and others with wary curiosity as others shouted and began to push forward towards the knights, though not close enough to be threatened by their blades.
“What have you seen out there?†A young man called out to her. He was perhaps sixteen winters old, or maybe younger if he were not so thin. But he had an inquisitive gleam in his eyes, and a rebellious hint to his voice. “All we hear about are what the noble houses want us to know. And what the temple knights report. What do you see out there?â€
The paladin straightened, clearing her voice. “I have seen many dragon thralls lay waste to caravans and a group of knights. I have come upon burnt or severed bodies littering the mountainside. They want naught but your deaths, and the blood of man split upon the snow. There is no sense or reason. Only violence.â€
When the crowd had quieted to a low rumble, Roen continued. “Go home to your hearth and your beds. Know that in the time of war, there will be deaths, there will be suffering. Your city has closed its walls to the rest of us for as long as I can remember. But now I stand here before you, because the need has become more dire. The war has only grown more fierce and your losses have only deepened. Ishgard needs help from outsiders because it can no longer provide for its own. So if you were to start a revolution now, to push for a change when you should all be banding together... know that you will not survive.â€
Her throat tightened as she said the next words. “So choose. Accept what must be and endure... or fight this and die.â€
The young man who had looked upon her with a flicker of hope now looked crestfallen. With a deep scowl he spun away and disappeared around the corner. The rest of the crowd began to grumble amongst themselves.
“We will take it from here,†Ser Marat stepped in front of Roen, as he motioned to the rest of the knights to shepherd the crowd away. There was a nod of acknowledgement he gave to the paladin before he turned toward the peasants, and Roen thought she spied a small satisfied curl to his lips. It made her stomach roil.
“Will that be all, Ser Tournes?†she asked curtly to Idristan.
“I think our work is finished here,†Idristan nodded. “Good work, Deneith. I think we deserve a bit of…â€
Roen did not hear the rest of what he had to offer. She spun on her heel and quickly strode away in the opposite direction, eager to put distance between herself and The Brume.
