He had always hated knocking on doors.
Which is why Maximilien didn't bother this time. He unceremoniously turned the knob to the Marquis' office and swung the heavy mahogany door open with little grace or finesse. Again the drachen mail was absent, replaced with functional yet considerably more comfortable cotton work clothes. The Elezen held a burlap sack underneath his arm, adjusting it as if its weight was considerably more than its size implied.
The Marquis chose not to face him, of course. The mask this time was a full face mask made out of polished ash, its markings imitating the style of the Gridanian Wood Wailers. Maximilien snorted at the choice. Perhaps it was symbolic and the Marquis was seeking to avoid some sin. Not that such a thing mattered to him, of course. "You have what I seek?" The Marquis' voice was sharp and thin, his manner of speaking almost sing-song in nature, accentuating his question with a slight trill. The Marquis was short and stocky, the top of his head barely coming up to Maximilien's shoulder. The white hood he wore obscured most of his features, save for the brilliant green justacorps that adorned his frame.
Maximilien stepped forward and dumped the burlap sack onto the Marquis' desk, repressing a snarl. He had no time for games, now.
The Marquis turned, unfolding the sack to reveal a polished hemisphere made of smooth black granite. The interior was coloured brightly like a geode; the flat face of the hemisphere was inscribed with carvings that seemed to shift every time the eye attempted to focus on the lines, as if to obscure its appearance. Despite having been in the frozen Coerthas climate, the hemisphere was warm to the touch, and almost seemed to pulse like a still-beating heart. "This is the legacy of the heretics," the Marquis croaked, stroking the rounded surface of the hemisphere.
"It is what you requested," Maximilien said tersely, tapping his foot. "About the House--"
"How many were lost?" the Marquis murmured, tapping the hemisphere. Maximilien glared at the Marquis at the interruption.
"Twenty-nine. Though that seems pointless now, if you have heard anything of recent events." The Elezen clenched his fists.
"You are angry," the Marquis said, turning his masked gaze towards the Elezen. Maximilien stiffened briefly.
"Peace has been declared," the dragoon practically spat the word. "Nidhogg slain upon the Steps of Faith. The Lord Commander has seized control. The Dragonsong War has ended, and this is only the start." Maximilien began to pace, arms folded and knuckles white behind his back. "Do you know what they call him? The new Azure Dragoon for a new age of peace. The people say that he soared through the heavens upon a white dragon."
When the Marquis responded with nought, Maximilien grasped one of the ornate oaken chairs by one of its legs and violently hurled the furniture against the wall, resounding with a tremendous clang. The mahogany door swung open behind him, leading a female Elezen with platinum hair and adorned in full, polished armour to storm into the study, sword in hand. The Marquis gave her a gentle wave, even as she eyed Maximilien with tense suspicion.
"We had a deal! And now the war is over. The Order is finished. Our traditions are finished!" Maximilien was shouting now, leading the female Elezen to approach him.
"Sir Valencourt," the Marquis whispered, tapping on the hemisphere again. "You need not worry. Ishgard will be free of the shadow of the dragon, and then you may resume your holy war with gusto. Our Lady Alchemist has shown promising results, and now that you have delivered this piece into our hands...I ask only that you endure this humiliation for a while longer."
Maximilien grit his teeth. Peace. Peace. And now Ishgard would throw its lot in with the Alliance, forced to contend with such mundane foes as Garleans and beastmen. "I did not take on the drachen for peace," he murmured venomously. "I have tolerated your shadowy dealings and machinations because I believed it would achieve the results I needed. Pray do not give me the perfect reason to bloody my spear so soon into this newfound peace." And with that, he stormed out of the study, brusquely shoving his way past the female knight.
The Marquis merely tapped on the stone again.
Which is why Maximilien didn't bother this time. He unceremoniously turned the knob to the Marquis' office and swung the heavy mahogany door open with little grace or finesse. Again the drachen mail was absent, replaced with functional yet considerably more comfortable cotton work clothes. The Elezen held a burlap sack underneath his arm, adjusting it as if its weight was considerably more than its size implied.
The Marquis chose not to face him, of course. The mask this time was a full face mask made out of polished ash, its markings imitating the style of the Gridanian Wood Wailers. Maximilien snorted at the choice. Perhaps it was symbolic and the Marquis was seeking to avoid some sin. Not that such a thing mattered to him, of course. "You have what I seek?" The Marquis' voice was sharp and thin, his manner of speaking almost sing-song in nature, accentuating his question with a slight trill. The Marquis was short and stocky, the top of his head barely coming up to Maximilien's shoulder. The white hood he wore obscured most of his features, save for the brilliant green justacorps that adorned his frame.
Maximilien stepped forward and dumped the burlap sack onto the Marquis' desk, repressing a snarl. He had no time for games, now.
The Marquis turned, unfolding the sack to reveal a polished hemisphere made of smooth black granite. The interior was coloured brightly like a geode; the flat face of the hemisphere was inscribed with carvings that seemed to shift every time the eye attempted to focus on the lines, as if to obscure its appearance. Despite having been in the frozen Coerthas climate, the hemisphere was warm to the touch, and almost seemed to pulse like a still-beating heart. "This is the legacy of the heretics," the Marquis croaked, stroking the rounded surface of the hemisphere.
"It is what you requested," Maximilien said tersely, tapping his foot. "About the House--"
"How many were lost?" the Marquis murmured, tapping the hemisphere. Maximilien glared at the Marquis at the interruption.
"Twenty-nine. Though that seems pointless now, if you have heard anything of recent events." The Elezen clenched his fists.
"You are angry," the Marquis said, turning his masked gaze towards the Elezen. Maximilien stiffened briefly.
"Peace has been declared," the dragoon practically spat the word. "Nidhogg slain upon the Steps of Faith. The Lord Commander has seized control. The Dragonsong War has ended, and this is only the start." Maximilien began to pace, arms folded and knuckles white behind his back. "Do you know what they call him? The new Azure Dragoon for a new age of peace. The people say that he soared through the heavens upon a white dragon."
When the Marquis responded with nought, Maximilien grasped one of the ornate oaken chairs by one of its legs and violently hurled the furniture against the wall, resounding with a tremendous clang. The mahogany door swung open behind him, leading a female Elezen with platinum hair and adorned in full, polished armour to storm into the study, sword in hand. The Marquis gave her a gentle wave, even as she eyed Maximilien with tense suspicion.
"We had a deal! And now the war is over. The Order is finished. Our traditions are finished!" Maximilien was shouting now, leading the female Elezen to approach him.
"Sir Valencourt," the Marquis whispered, tapping on the hemisphere again. "You need not worry. Ishgard will be free of the shadow of the dragon, and then you may resume your holy war with gusto. Our Lady Alchemist has shown promising results, and now that you have delivered this piece into our hands...I ask only that you endure this humiliation for a while longer."
Maximilien grit his teeth. Peace. Peace. And now Ishgard would throw its lot in with the Alliance, forced to contend with such mundane foes as Garleans and beastmen. "I did not take on the drachen for peace," he murmured venomously. "I have tolerated your shadowy dealings and machinations because I believed it would achieve the results I needed. Pray do not give me the perfect reason to bloody my spear so soon into this newfound peace." And with that, he stormed out of the study, brusquely shoving his way past the female knight.
The Marquis merely tapped on the stone again.
