A Grand Sonata
Snow came down upon the Jeweled Crozier in short flurries as Aekira Swyfte trudged his way through the shopping crowds. A million times, it seemed, he’d been stopped for conversation, by a million people he needed to thank, for without many of them, he wouldn’t even be standing in the city. One day, he would be sure to repay their kindness, but for now, there were more important things to worry about.
Aekira finally came to a pause in front of the market’s many doors. It was home to the business of a goldsmith, the one who had received Scero’s glasses for repair. He didn’t feel much like questioning how his brother’s last keepsake made it from his own pockets to the desk of an Ishgardian smith. He found himself more concerned with the sudden absence of the man he meant to meet with, who had deigned to take a short vacation upon Swyfte’s arrival, despite previous plans to meet. Even more so, Aekira found himself wondering the identity of the one who brought the glasses to him. If they an idea, even the faintest clue as to the whereabouts of his elder brother…
But that, Aekira thought, Would be getting ahead of myself.
The hyur held his breath as he pushed open the wooden door, and was greeted by an empty office. Strange, he thought, he told me he’d be back by now. But even after a “Hello,†was called out, he heard no response, and saw no sign the goldsmith had ever returned from his trip.
“Oh, hells with this,†he grumbled, but just as he intended to head back out the door, he heard a response.
“Apologies,†called the mystery voice, which he assumed belonged to the goldsmith. “I’m upstairs!â€
Taking it as an invitation, Aekira stepped inside, finding his way to the staircase and up to the building’s second level. “Second room on your right,†the voice called, and he followed his directions. He found the door to the room left open, and slipped inside. And not a moment later, it slammed loudly behind him.
“Well THAT took you long enough,†the voice from before complained. It belonged not to a Hyurian goldsmith, but to a Miqo’te, with ashen fur and eyes hidden by a mask. “Honestly, Mister Swyfte. You stopped to talk to so many people, I thought you’d never arrive. For one who’s never seen Ishgard, you have many friends here.â€
Instinctively, Aekira found himself reaching for his bow, but he also found it wasn’t at his back. He’d left it in his inn room, on the pretense that he wouldn’t need it. “Missing your toy,†the Miqo’te taunted. “I wouldn’t worry, you’ll have no need for it.â€
“You’ll have to forgive me,†the hyur responded. “I tend not to trust suspicious masked men who slam doors behind me. Now who the hells are you?â€
“Ah, yes. You may call me N’yhl.†The Miqo’te began to wander the room, tail swaying back and forth, his gaze fixed upon Aekira. “In case you’re wondering, your goldsmith is currently lounging on a beach in Costa del Sol, far from his nation’s troubles. A just reward, for one who follows directions so well. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Swyfte?â€
Aekira’s eyes narrowed. Though he didn’t have his bow at his side, he did carry with him a knife. He did not reach for it. Not yet. But he had the strangest feeling he’d need it. “I don’t even want to know how you know my name,†he retorted, “but knowing your type, I’m sure you’re about to tell me anyway.â€
A smile formed upon N’yhl’s face. “How clever of you,†he praised. “I must admit, I wasn’t originally intending to tell you much of anything. But there’s a certain satisfaction to be had in explaining a scheme, no?†He strolled toward Aekira, arms folded carefully across his chest. “Now, the easy answer would be to say I’ve been observing you since you came to Ishgard, but truth be told, I’ve had eyes on you for a bit longer than that.â€
“I’m sure you have,†Aekira groaned. He was tiring of this fellow already.
“It’s true,†N’yhl countered. “And I’ll admit, there is much to praise. You’re a strong young man of stronger conviction. Sharp of wit and of tongue. Not terrible to look at, either. And even now, when brightness is dulled by all these “What-ifs†and “could-be’s,†I find you a man to be admired. It’s a true shame you’re not the real subject of my assessment, wouldn’t you agree?â€
The hyur sighed with exasperation. “Well, assess this. You’re boring all seven hells out of me. Are you going to try to kill me yet? Or is there more to this farce?â€
“What?†The Miqo’te almost seemed taken aback. “You’re not even going to ask whose skills I REALLY mean to gauge? I’m disappointed, Mister Swyfte.â€
“Alright, FINE,†Aekira grumbled, his tone turning more and more sarcastic. “Who were you ACTUALLY watching, oh great villain?â€
“I think you already know,†came N’yhl’s short reply.
“Did you just REALLY want to say that or something?†Far beyond annoyed, Aekira distanced himself from N’yhl, heading for the window at the other end of the room. “You think I already know? That’s shite. If I knew, why would I be asking?â€
The masked man smiled, wry and knowing. “That’s fine, I suppose. We’re skipping to the part I most enjoy.†He slowly approached Aekira once more. “Mister Aekira Swyfte,†he began. “Why was it that you came here, again? ...Actually, don’t answer that. I have it in my coat pocket already.â€
Aekira found himself tensing as N’yhl pulled a particular pair of glasses from the pocket of his jacket. As he laid eyes upon the familiar battered frames, all fell into place. He finally drew the dagger from his belt, now certain he’d need it.
“Finally put it together, have you,†the Miqo’te asked.
“I was hoping for your ilk to be dead.â€
“Oh, but we live on, Mister Swyfte.†N’yhl offered up a toothy, wicked grin. “But enough of this aggression, you should be thanking us! After all, I trust I’ve just answered for you a very long-standing question.â€
And he was right, though Aekira was not quick to admit it. This stranger, N’yhl, could be lying after all, but why go to all the trouble? Why bother luring him this far if he had no reason? Two years had not changed the people this Miqo’te worked for. They still sought the same thing, and through the same people. They had observed him, hunted him, before he’d gone missing, and if the hunt continued even then, it meant only one thing to Aekira. It meant, after so much time, that Scero Swyfte yet lived. And that these mad-men still wished to use him…
Aekira Swyfte found himself filled with rage.
In an instant, all better judgement left him. He knew what these people were capable of. He also didn’t care. He sprung forward, dagger in hand, and thrusted the weapon towards the Miqo’te’s neck. There was a shield between them, however, tendrils of solid aether which burst forth from his adversary’s hands, weaving together to prevent the knife’s passage before shattering like glass.
“I was waiting for you to do that,†N’yhl announced, confidently, as if he’d planned every aspect of this encounter to a tee. He stepped back and cast off his coat, displaying the arcane equations etched into the very skin of his arms. He turned his palms upward, and from them rose yet more wicked tendrils, poised to strike like a million snakes. Flashing that same sinister grin, he goaded the hyur. “Come then, Mister Swyfte, give me your best!â€
And he did. Once again, Aekira rushed toward his foe, his dagger clashing repeatedly with the arcane weapons N’yhl produced. Each one the blade contacted shattered back into the nether from whence they came. There were those that found Aekira’s skin instead, which sliced into him like whips and left burning welts. But despite it all, he pressed forward, dancing around the deadly vines.
The Miqo’te let out a chuckle, once Aekira finally broke through the sea of tendrils. “You impress me,†he commented, and he turned his focus to defense, just barely shielding himself from the Hyur’s unforgiving dagger. “You know, had you trained as an arcanist, you would have made a wonderful addition to our ranks.â€
“And you’ll make a great addition to hell,†Aekira growled, fighting desperately against the mage until his blade finally found the Miqo’te’s stomach.
There was a choking noise as the dagger sunk in. “Oh dear,†N’yhl remarked, as his shirt became wet with blood. “Seems you’ve got me.†Every arcane weapon which remained broke apart like the glass of the window, and still, N’yhl seemed smug. He even started laughing, as Aekira pulled his blade away.
“Is bleeding out funny to you,†he asked.
“Oh, hardly…†N’yhl gazed up at the seemingly victorious fighter, clamping a hand over his wound. “I just thought you should know something.â€
Aekira’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose that something has something to do with where Scero is.â€
“I’m… afraid not,†the Miqo’te wheezed, his voice becoming weaker from blood loss. “I don’t…â€
What he said next was all but unintelligible. The hyur drew closer, the blade still in hand. “What was that?â€
N’yhl gently shut his eyes, seeming almost serene. “Mister Swyfte, you fool,†he replied. “I said I don’t die that easily.†He removed the hand from his wounded abdomen, and from it sprung forth another of his aetheric tendrils. Though Aekira reacted, it all too late. The dagger he swung fell from his hand as he found himself pierced through the chest. The Success which he thought was all but secure slipped painfully from his grasp, and Aekira could do naught but watch.Â
The arcanist before him stood casually, as if he hadn’t been stabbed just moments ago. He walked forward, driving Aekira away. “You know, Mister Swyfte, I’m not nearly the villain you think I am.†Aekira grit his teeth, hand pressed over his wound to cease as much bleeding as he could. He backed further and further from N’yhl, until he found his back to the window.
“You’re a music man, yes?†Though N’yhl asked, he did not wait for the hyur to answer. “Well, then think of me as a composer, writing a grand sonata. Not for myself, mind you, but for you AND your dear brother.†The true victor finally met Aekira at the window, wearing a triumphant look on his half-hidden face. “Scero, you see, is in his phase of exhibition. His tale has just begun, and I’m sure he will become a masterpiece of magic in time. However, it would seem he needs a little push to get going. And what better motivation than tragedy befalling his dear younger brother?â€
Aekira gripped the windowsill behind him. It was all he had to keep him upright. We needed to fight back, he knew, but he was growing weaker, his limbs would not move as he told them. And so, Aekira watched helplessly, as one of N’yhl’s arcane whips retrieved the glasses, and tucked them into the pocket of his coat.
“And lucky for all of us,†N’yhl concluded, “Your tale has reached its finale.â€
Suddenly, N’yhl became distant, his face drawing further and further away. At first, he thought he was dying, then he felt the wind, saw the snow raining down along with the bloody, shattered glass of the window. He almost called at an improvement from his first thought, then decided that falling off of Ishgard to his death is really no better than bleeding out. They both have the same end result. He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. No sooner did he hear shouting, feel a pair of arms grab him. So this is what the afterlife feels like, he thought, as consciousness drifted from him, I wonder whose arms they are.
**********
For a moment, it felt as though he were floating through the nether, then suddenly, he hit solid ground. Upon opening his eyes, he expected to find himself destroyed, but instead saw he was intact, or at least, as much as he was when he last left himself. He couldn’t move a muscle, not that he tried, he simply watched as citizens of the foreign city started to crowd around him in confusion.
And then he saw him. Crawling to his side. “Are you okay,†he asked, his tone shaky with concern… yes, his hair had gotten darker, he lacked the glasses he always wore, but it was him, living, breathing.
Overjoyed, Aekira brought himself to smile. He just barely raised a hand, to grab the man’s arm. “...S-Scer,†he choked out. “I… I’m so glad…â€
Those few words were all he managed. His hand dropped to the ground, as consciousness left Aekira Swyfte once more.
Snow came down upon the Jeweled Crozier in short flurries as Aekira Swyfte trudged his way through the shopping crowds. A million times, it seemed, he’d been stopped for conversation, by a million people he needed to thank, for without many of them, he wouldn’t even be standing in the city. One day, he would be sure to repay their kindness, but for now, there were more important things to worry about.
Aekira finally came to a pause in front of the market’s many doors. It was home to the business of a goldsmith, the one who had received Scero’s glasses for repair. He didn’t feel much like questioning how his brother’s last keepsake made it from his own pockets to the desk of an Ishgardian smith. He found himself more concerned with the sudden absence of the man he meant to meet with, who had deigned to take a short vacation upon Swyfte’s arrival, despite previous plans to meet. Even more so, Aekira found himself wondering the identity of the one who brought the glasses to him. If they an idea, even the faintest clue as to the whereabouts of his elder brother…
But that, Aekira thought, Would be getting ahead of myself.
The hyur held his breath as he pushed open the wooden door, and was greeted by an empty office. Strange, he thought, he told me he’d be back by now. But even after a “Hello,†was called out, he heard no response, and saw no sign the goldsmith had ever returned from his trip.
“Oh, hells with this,†he grumbled, but just as he intended to head back out the door, he heard a response.
“Apologies,†called the mystery voice, which he assumed belonged to the goldsmith. “I’m upstairs!â€
Taking it as an invitation, Aekira stepped inside, finding his way to the staircase and up to the building’s second level. “Second room on your right,†the voice called, and he followed his directions. He found the door to the room left open, and slipped inside. And not a moment later, it slammed loudly behind him.
“Well THAT took you long enough,†the voice from before complained. It belonged not to a Hyurian goldsmith, but to a Miqo’te, with ashen fur and eyes hidden by a mask. “Honestly, Mister Swyfte. You stopped to talk to so many people, I thought you’d never arrive. For one who’s never seen Ishgard, you have many friends here.â€
Instinctively, Aekira found himself reaching for his bow, but he also found it wasn’t at his back. He’d left it in his inn room, on the pretense that he wouldn’t need it. “Missing your toy,†the Miqo’te taunted. “I wouldn’t worry, you’ll have no need for it.â€
“You’ll have to forgive me,†the hyur responded. “I tend not to trust suspicious masked men who slam doors behind me. Now who the hells are you?â€
“Ah, yes. You may call me N’yhl.†The Miqo’te began to wander the room, tail swaying back and forth, his gaze fixed upon Aekira. “In case you’re wondering, your goldsmith is currently lounging on a beach in Costa del Sol, far from his nation’s troubles. A just reward, for one who follows directions so well. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Swyfte?â€
Aekira’s eyes narrowed. Though he didn’t have his bow at his side, he did carry with him a knife. He did not reach for it. Not yet. But he had the strangest feeling he’d need it. “I don’t even want to know how you know my name,†he retorted, “but knowing your type, I’m sure you’re about to tell me anyway.â€
A smile formed upon N’yhl’s face. “How clever of you,†he praised. “I must admit, I wasn’t originally intending to tell you much of anything. But there’s a certain satisfaction to be had in explaining a scheme, no?†He strolled toward Aekira, arms folded carefully across his chest. “Now, the easy answer would be to say I’ve been observing you since you came to Ishgard, but truth be told, I’ve had eyes on you for a bit longer than that.â€
“I’m sure you have,†Aekira groaned. He was tiring of this fellow already.
“It’s true,†N’yhl countered. “And I’ll admit, there is much to praise. You’re a strong young man of stronger conviction. Sharp of wit and of tongue. Not terrible to look at, either. And even now, when brightness is dulled by all these “What-ifs†and “could-be’s,†I find you a man to be admired. It’s a true shame you’re not the real subject of my assessment, wouldn’t you agree?â€
The hyur sighed with exasperation. “Well, assess this. You’re boring all seven hells out of me. Are you going to try to kill me yet? Or is there more to this farce?â€
“What?†The Miqo’te almost seemed taken aback. “You’re not even going to ask whose skills I REALLY mean to gauge? I’m disappointed, Mister Swyfte.â€
“Alright, FINE,†Aekira grumbled, his tone turning more and more sarcastic. “Who were you ACTUALLY watching, oh great villain?â€
“I think you already know,†came N’yhl’s short reply.
“Did you just REALLY want to say that or something?†Far beyond annoyed, Aekira distanced himself from N’yhl, heading for the window at the other end of the room. “You think I already know? That’s shite. If I knew, why would I be asking?â€
The masked man smiled, wry and knowing. “That’s fine, I suppose. We’re skipping to the part I most enjoy.†He slowly approached Aekira once more. “Mister Aekira Swyfte,†he began. “Why was it that you came here, again? ...Actually, don’t answer that. I have it in my coat pocket already.â€
Aekira found himself tensing as N’yhl pulled a particular pair of glasses from the pocket of his jacket. As he laid eyes upon the familiar battered frames, all fell into place. He finally drew the dagger from his belt, now certain he’d need it.
“Finally put it together, have you,†the Miqo’te asked.
“I was hoping for your ilk to be dead.â€
“Oh, but we live on, Mister Swyfte.†N’yhl offered up a toothy, wicked grin. “But enough of this aggression, you should be thanking us! After all, I trust I’ve just answered for you a very long-standing question.â€
And he was right, though Aekira was not quick to admit it. This stranger, N’yhl, could be lying after all, but why go to all the trouble? Why bother luring him this far if he had no reason? Two years had not changed the people this Miqo’te worked for. They still sought the same thing, and through the same people. They had observed him, hunted him, before he’d gone missing, and if the hunt continued even then, it meant only one thing to Aekira. It meant, after so much time, that Scero Swyfte yet lived. And that these mad-men still wished to use him…
Aekira Swyfte found himself filled with rage.
In an instant, all better judgement left him. He knew what these people were capable of. He also didn’t care. He sprung forward, dagger in hand, and thrusted the weapon towards the Miqo’te’s neck. There was a shield between them, however, tendrils of solid aether which burst forth from his adversary’s hands, weaving together to prevent the knife’s passage before shattering like glass.
“I was waiting for you to do that,†N’yhl announced, confidently, as if he’d planned every aspect of this encounter to a tee. He stepped back and cast off his coat, displaying the arcane equations etched into the very skin of his arms. He turned his palms upward, and from them rose yet more wicked tendrils, poised to strike like a million snakes. Flashing that same sinister grin, he goaded the hyur. “Come then, Mister Swyfte, give me your best!â€
And he did. Once again, Aekira rushed toward his foe, his dagger clashing repeatedly with the arcane weapons N’yhl produced. Each one the blade contacted shattered back into the nether from whence they came. There were those that found Aekira’s skin instead, which sliced into him like whips and left burning welts. But despite it all, he pressed forward, dancing around the deadly vines.
The Miqo’te let out a chuckle, once Aekira finally broke through the sea of tendrils. “You impress me,†he commented, and he turned his focus to defense, just barely shielding himself from the Hyur’s unforgiving dagger. “You know, had you trained as an arcanist, you would have made a wonderful addition to our ranks.â€
“And you’ll make a great addition to hell,†Aekira growled, fighting desperately against the mage until his blade finally found the Miqo’te’s stomach.
There was a choking noise as the dagger sunk in. “Oh dear,†N’yhl remarked, as his shirt became wet with blood. “Seems you’ve got me.†Every arcane weapon which remained broke apart like the glass of the window, and still, N’yhl seemed smug. He even started laughing, as Aekira pulled his blade away.
“Is bleeding out funny to you,†he asked.
“Oh, hardly…†N’yhl gazed up at the seemingly victorious fighter, clamping a hand over his wound. “I just thought you should know something.â€
Aekira’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose that something has something to do with where Scero is.â€
“I’m… afraid not,†the Miqo’te wheezed, his voice becoming weaker from blood loss. “I don’t…â€
What he said next was all but unintelligible. The hyur drew closer, the blade still in hand. “What was that?â€
N’yhl gently shut his eyes, seeming almost serene. “Mister Swyfte, you fool,†he replied. “I said I don’t die that easily.†He removed the hand from his wounded abdomen, and from it sprung forth another of his aetheric tendrils. Though Aekira reacted, it all too late. The dagger he swung fell from his hand as he found himself pierced through the chest. The Success which he thought was all but secure slipped painfully from his grasp, and Aekira could do naught but watch.Â
The arcanist before him stood casually, as if he hadn’t been stabbed just moments ago. He walked forward, driving Aekira away. “You know, Mister Swyfte, I’m not nearly the villain you think I am.†Aekira grit his teeth, hand pressed over his wound to cease as much bleeding as he could. He backed further and further from N’yhl, until he found his back to the window.
“You’re a music man, yes?†Though N’yhl asked, he did not wait for the hyur to answer. “Well, then think of me as a composer, writing a grand sonata. Not for myself, mind you, but for you AND your dear brother.†The true victor finally met Aekira at the window, wearing a triumphant look on his half-hidden face. “Scero, you see, is in his phase of exhibition. His tale has just begun, and I’m sure he will become a masterpiece of magic in time. However, it would seem he needs a little push to get going. And what better motivation than tragedy befalling his dear younger brother?â€
Aekira gripped the windowsill behind him. It was all he had to keep him upright. We needed to fight back, he knew, but he was growing weaker, his limbs would not move as he told them. And so, Aekira watched helplessly, as one of N’yhl’s arcane whips retrieved the glasses, and tucked them into the pocket of his coat.
“And lucky for all of us,†N’yhl concluded, “Your tale has reached its finale.â€
Suddenly, N’yhl became distant, his face drawing further and further away. At first, he thought he was dying, then he felt the wind, saw the snow raining down along with the bloody, shattered glass of the window. He almost called at an improvement from his first thought, then decided that falling off of Ishgard to his death is really no better than bleeding out. They both have the same end result. He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. No sooner did he hear shouting, feel a pair of arms grab him. So this is what the afterlife feels like, he thought, as consciousness drifted from him, I wonder whose arms they are.
**********
For a moment, it felt as though he were floating through the nether, then suddenly, he hit solid ground. Upon opening his eyes, he expected to find himself destroyed, but instead saw he was intact, or at least, as much as he was when he last left himself. He couldn’t move a muscle, not that he tried, he simply watched as citizens of the foreign city started to crowd around him in confusion.
And then he saw him. Crawling to his side. “Are you okay,†he asked, his tone shaky with concern… yes, his hair had gotten darker, he lacked the glasses he always wore, but it was him, living, breathing.
Overjoyed, Aekira brought himself to smile. He just barely raised a hand, to grab the man’s arm. “...S-Scer,†he choked out. “I… I’m so glad…â€
Those few words were all he managed. His hand dropped to the ground, as consciousness left Aekira Swyfte once more.