A note was left for Gogonji in his safehouse:
Master Gogonji:
Per your instructions, last night after we parted ways I notified the Arbiter that I had sensitive information to pass to him regarding his sister.
Within the security of the Duskbreak, I marked the last known location of the Embers of Rhalgr camp on a map. I informed him Khamja has equities within the camp and warned him in the starkest possible terms not to take rash action that might endanger lives; he promised to notify us well in advance of any assault on the Embers' camp, which I deem sufficient for warning K.
As you know, the Arbiter is normally an impassive man, especially in my presence, but he betrayed considerable emotion at receiving this information. I relayed your exact words - that this came "from a brother, to a brother" - and his response was, "Give Gogonji my thanks."
A bit embarrassingly though, it was me he focused on after that. He said you were lucky to have me. I was quite flustered at that. Somehow, the conversation turned to that horrible day when he and I crossed blades at the Castrum; he asked me, bluntly, what my aim was that day, and I told him it was solely to keep you alive - to save you. He asked why I had fought for you, perhaps attempting to gauge the depth of my affection for you.
But with us, nothing is an easy or simple answer, is it, Master Gogonji? "I loved him," the answer the Arbiter seemed to seek from me, was not the whole answer. The bond we were forging in those days was a chain of many links: love, yes, but loyalty even moreso, loyalty first and foremost. Reliance, trust, dedication. You had no one else but me that day. And - as I told you before we infiltrated the Castrum, by the mark of Thaliak where we first met - I, too, had no one else but you. I wanted to pull you back from despair and show you that you were not alone. I gambled my life that my efforts, and Chachanji's, would reach you.
And yet still, I nearly failed you... nearly lost you. Those moments after the disastrous failure of the Rousers were among the most agonizing of my life. I don't even remember what I said. Only that I couldn't stop crying.
Forgive me for my tangent.
Over a year later now, our bond is harder and stronger than adamantite, and the Arbiter still clearly does not understand it. Perhaps he does not trust it. No doubt he, like everyone else, simply sees me as your tool. I am content enough that we have at last reached detente with him. I assured him Khamja is not his enemy, nor am I. I also offered my personal assistance when he is prepared to retrieve his sister. Hopefully, we will achieve further improvement in the relationship with him, given time.
Yours faithfully,
An
* * *
Operation Goldhoof had failed.
The survivors returned slowly, on chocobo-drawn slings or slumped over the backs of their mounts. Too few, and none unbloodied. Twenty had gone north, the Embers' largest raid by far, an ambitious strike meant to obliterate one of the main Garlean supply lines going into the Ala Mhigan mountains ahead of Heavensfury. Only seven returned, and four of those gravely wounded.
The few conscious survivors gave their story tersely. The Garleans had been ready for them. Somehow, they had known Goldhoof was coming. The supply convoy had double the guards it was reported to have had, and a suit of magitek armor to boot. They had quickly retaliated against the Embers' initial assault, instead of collapsing into confused chaos. The survivors all agreed they had been lucky to make it out at all; a hero had detonated explosives under the magitek armor to disable it, which had allowed the others to escape.
They were betrayed, all agreed, both those who had been there and those who merely heard the tale. Someone had tipped off the Garleans.
The camp was quiet, the mood grim and oppressive. Mourners of the dead sobbed and wailed, their cries occasionally shattering the silence; knots of men muttered in corners. There was a traitor among them. An affront to the Destroyer. Someone was responsible for all of this blood, all of this suffering. It was their fault.
Mamluk sent Ornh and Hannah out to the salt flats for explosives training. He didn't want them in the camp right now, not in this atmosphere. They were still outsiders, both of them, and Miss Blackroad particularly so, and Mamluk wanted them to have some time away from venomous stares and suspicious mutters. He felt particularly vindicated when Y'asah strolled into his tent without so much as a by-your-leave. "There is a traitor among us," she announced without preamble. "By order of the Holy One, we're moving the camp."
Mamluk bowed slightly. "As the Holy One commands. I will have the men break down camp at once."
She moved closer, her eyes intent on his. He kept his gaze downcast, submissive, the image of a former slave. "Does your faith begin to waver at last, Mamluk? Now, so close to Heavensfury - to the reward the Sandfox promised you for your... ever-faithful service?" Her mouth curved in a mocking smile.
Mamluk said nothing, remaining still. It was a trap, of course. Almost everything Y'asah said to him was. Miss Blackroad and Ornh were out on the salt flats. Let her focus on him now, torment him, savor her insults and lies flung his way. It kept her gaze off of them.
She laughed lowly as if sensing his thoughts, and splayed her hands over his bare chest. "Hmm... about... forty ilms should suffice. I'll remember that." She swept out of the tent, and Mamluk stared out after her; in the very center of the camp, just visible from his tent, someone had wheeled out a large steel cage, its thick bars blackened.
Master Gogonji:
Per your instructions, last night after we parted ways I notified the Arbiter that I had sensitive information to pass to him regarding his sister.
Within the security of the Duskbreak, I marked the last known location of the Embers of Rhalgr camp on a map. I informed him Khamja has equities within the camp and warned him in the starkest possible terms not to take rash action that might endanger lives; he promised to notify us well in advance of any assault on the Embers' camp, which I deem sufficient for warning K.
As you know, the Arbiter is normally an impassive man, especially in my presence, but he betrayed considerable emotion at receiving this information. I relayed your exact words - that this came "from a brother, to a brother" - and his response was, "Give Gogonji my thanks."
A bit embarrassingly though, it was me he focused on after that. He said you were lucky to have me. I was quite flustered at that. Somehow, the conversation turned to that horrible day when he and I crossed blades at the Castrum; he asked me, bluntly, what my aim was that day, and I told him it was solely to keep you alive - to save you. He asked why I had fought for you, perhaps attempting to gauge the depth of my affection for you.
But with us, nothing is an easy or simple answer, is it, Master Gogonji? "I loved him," the answer the Arbiter seemed to seek from me, was not the whole answer. The bond we were forging in those days was a chain of many links: love, yes, but loyalty even moreso, loyalty first and foremost. Reliance, trust, dedication. You had no one else but me that day. And - as I told you before we infiltrated the Castrum, by the mark of Thaliak where we first met - I, too, had no one else but you. I wanted to pull you back from despair and show you that you were not alone. I gambled my life that my efforts, and Chachanji's, would reach you.
And yet still, I nearly failed you... nearly lost you. Those moments after the disastrous failure of the Rousers were among the most agonizing of my life. I don't even remember what I said. Only that I couldn't stop crying.
Forgive me for my tangent.
Over a year later now, our bond is harder and stronger than adamantite, and the Arbiter still clearly does not understand it. Perhaps he does not trust it. No doubt he, like everyone else, simply sees me as your tool. I am content enough that we have at last reached detente with him. I assured him Khamja is not his enemy, nor am I. I also offered my personal assistance when he is prepared to retrieve his sister. Hopefully, we will achieve further improvement in the relationship with him, given time.
Yours faithfully,
An
* * *
Operation Goldhoof had failed.
The survivors returned slowly, on chocobo-drawn slings or slumped over the backs of their mounts. Too few, and none unbloodied. Twenty had gone north, the Embers' largest raid by far, an ambitious strike meant to obliterate one of the main Garlean supply lines going into the Ala Mhigan mountains ahead of Heavensfury. Only seven returned, and four of those gravely wounded.
The few conscious survivors gave their story tersely. The Garleans had been ready for them. Somehow, they had known Goldhoof was coming. The supply convoy had double the guards it was reported to have had, and a suit of magitek armor to boot. They had quickly retaliated against the Embers' initial assault, instead of collapsing into confused chaos. The survivors all agreed they had been lucky to make it out at all; a hero had detonated explosives under the magitek armor to disable it, which had allowed the others to escape.
They were betrayed, all agreed, both those who had been there and those who merely heard the tale. Someone had tipped off the Garleans.
The camp was quiet, the mood grim and oppressive. Mourners of the dead sobbed and wailed, their cries occasionally shattering the silence; knots of men muttered in corners. There was a traitor among them. An affront to the Destroyer. Someone was responsible for all of this blood, all of this suffering. It was their fault.
Mamluk sent Ornh and Hannah out to the salt flats for explosives training. He didn't want them in the camp right now, not in this atmosphere. They were still outsiders, both of them, and Miss Blackroad particularly so, and Mamluk wanted them to have some time away from venomous stares and suspicious mutters. He felt particularly vindicated when Y'asah strolled into his tent without so much as a by-your-leave. "There is a traitor among us," she announced without preamble. "By order of the Holy One, we're moving the camp."
Mamluk bowed slightly. "As the Holy One commands. I will have the men break down camp at once."
She moved closer, her eyes intent on his. He kept his gaze downcast, submissive, the image of a former slave. "Does your faith begin to waver at last, Mamluk? Now, so close to Heavensfury - to the reward the Sandfox promised you for your... ever-faithful service?" Her mouth curved in a mocking smile.
Mamluk said nothing, remaining still. It was a trap, of course. Almost everything Y'asah said to him was. Miss Blackroad and Ornh were out on the salt flats. Let her focus on him now, torment him, savor her insults and lies flung his way. It kept her gaze off of them.
She laughed lowly as if sensing his thoughts, and splayed her hands over his bare chest. "Hmm... about... forty ilms should suffice. I'll remember that." She swept out of the tent, and Mamluk stared out after her; in the very center of the camp, just visible from his tent, someone had wheeled out a large steel cage, its thick bars blackened.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
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