Drifting Afloat in Fallgourd (closed)

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Franz sat on a stool at the Bobbing Cork, waiting patiently. 

 

The thought of using this small, short, moment of opportunity to simply leave the inn and say nothing about it had occurred. But what would come of it? Jancis would simply keep looking. Write another letter. And he would find himself going to make sure everything was alright. 

 

There would be no running. Not in an area of the forest he was unfamiliar with. Not when even just sitting on the stool was uncomfortable at best. There was a dulling pain from the boots that push against his legs. From the gloves stretched to fit his hands. From his belt. Standing, it was as if each step was barefoot on the hard ground. 

 

He could handle these simple pains. Surely, he would either become used to them to where they no longer hurt, or they would simply go away with time. Closing his eyes, he rubbed a sore area of his forehead, but that only seemed to make it worse.

 

How would he handle this situation?

[Jancis]

Jancis matched the key up to the door that was deemed hers, opening the door to the small room.

 

It had a bed, table and chair, and a basin. She felt even more grateful for the room and all of the amenities it had. She had spent some of the platinum coins Edda had given her on attempting to track down information on the one responsible, some on what she carried in her satchel.

 

She sat by the basin, removing her over-robe and taking a cloth proceeded to wash up her hair, face, and coat.

 

The relief in her mind was great that he answered her letter, that he agreed to meet up with her, that his appearance improved, and that she had managed to not get pushed away again. It was a confusing compromise to stay here in the Float than wherever Franz said he was staying, with all his comforts he listed, but it was clearly a very generous offer he gave her.

 

The brief touch on top of his hand gave her more questions. The subtle draw she felt going by her, the discomfort she showed, and the pain that wasn't the normal look she had gotten use to before. There would be time to ask all these questions after they'd eaten. Eating would provide a comfort he needed and, hopefully, make things less awkward than they were now.

 

She had to be strong enough for two right now, she reminded herself, that a hero needed to rest. And could feel a security to be able to.

 

Finishing up, she dressed with her now semi-damped and wiped off robe and kept her belongings with her. Coming back down the stairs she looked at Franz's back. A smile came to her face before she spoke.

 

"Thank you for waiting. I am ready."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Franz rose from the stool. "It would have been a futile attempt to leave. Reckless, even."

 

"Shall we head down then? I believe it is just outside the building. " He began making his way down the stairs slowly. No sudden or quick movements. He thanked whatever it was he must have believed in at some point for not needing to use the handrail. Even varnished, the wood had a strange texture on his hand. The gloves were enough to deal with. Besides, any noticeable expressions of discomfort would likely cause what he deemed unnecessary worry.

 

Stepping outside they would be greeted by fresh air, the sounds of the little settlement, and ambience of the forest. To most, it would have been quite enjoyable.

 

Stepping into the other establishment, they would be greeted and led to a table. Given time to have a discussion in private before the meal would arrive. Taking a seat, he asked more with curiosity than wonder, “so what is this game you had mentioned?”

 

He would hope it would steer clear of heavier conversation.

[Jancis]

"It would have been a futile attempt to leave. Reckless, even."

 

Jancis nodded and followed Franz. That word, 'reckless', was becoming a theme for the night.

 

He had used it first, calling Jancis reckless for being so obvious. She had been asking around Limsa, the dockworkers, the merchants, about a man named Jin'li. It was typical to not get answers on anything important, but the reactions worked out well. Some knew something and didn't want to talk. News from some others and gossip about vagrants going missing was sadly another clue.

 

But Franz was right, her lack of subtle nature made her actions more of a bait; what she didn't fear on one side brought potential harm. She had reversed the word on him afterwards, calling his choice to be isolated reckless. So they were both reckless.

 

At least this way, two reckless people together had a better chance of surviving.

 

Jancis had grown up in the Shroud, the sounds and winds, the stronger awareness of the elements made it familiar ground. But she was watching Franz. She had focused her training on people:heal wounds, look for wounds. Poor man seemed doomed either way. He was walking carefully; he was stressed. As she followed him and sat down at the table, she waited to bring it up.

 

“So what is this game you had mentioned?”

 

"Ah, yes. It is a fun little thing. Is very easy to learn." Opening her satchel, she brought out a tied handkerchief, a grid design stitched into it. Tied within were small flat white river rocks with one side painted black. She spread it out flat in the middle of the table, giving him half of the pieces, and set up the game to start. "The idea is you cover the other."

 

She demonstrated the move by starting. "Because no piece should be alone. Want all the pieces to trust you." she said, half joking, half metaphor.

 

"But each piece is strong in its own way, is it not?"

[Unnamed Mercenary]

"I think I understand the concept. I know of a similar game. The pieces flip when 'conquered'?" 

 

He picked up one of the stones. Smooth. Simple. In a way, it was comforting to hold the textureless rock.Looking down at the grid, he laid a stone down onto one of the grid, flipping over the opposite colors in between. 

 

"Like this?"

 

There would likely be time before the meal arrived. He relaxed slightly in the seat. If it was one thing the Shroud was good at, it was a calming atmosphere. Even as an outsider, the simple sounds of nature we pleasant. The sounds of the elementals would be lost on him regardless. 

 

As the game progressed, he smiled some. It was an entertaining game.

[Jancis]

"Yes, yes that is right."

 

He picked up on it so easily, and despite how Jancis thought it could be a simple way to talk, she was wrong. Instead, her eyes were on the board and wrapped up in the game.

 

Unexpectedly, he played as if he knew the game and she was the one learning. Staring at the board, she would move only to have her pieces taken. It was fun but required concentration and eventually got a corner, she cheered a little to herself.

 

By the end, Franz had over half the board, two-thirds, though she didn't stop trying to put down pieces until there were no more moves.

 

"You win. Dare say you are a natural." Laughing lightly, the board was cleared off and reset though she didn't make the first move. 

 

Maybe she had been pressing too much. When everything was survival with no recovery. Had that all Franz done these pasts days? It had been over a moon and was the man quietly crying out for comfort? The questions could wait... at least a little while. This is what she wanted; what she insisted on. That not all wounds were physical.

 

"It is better this way." She said randomly, looking away from the board at him.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

"It's nice. ...not thinking about other topics." 

 

He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to relax without worry. Yes, there was the night with Mirke. And he'd spent plenty of days drinking or otherwise eating much more than he'd needed, but binge consumption was not relaxing. It was evading stress. Or trying to drown it out. What Jancis had done was take his mind off his problems. The little game had allowed for all of that. 

 

He briefly wondered what food was selected by the cooks to arrive at the table. He hadn't taken the time to check if there was notice of the daily selections. Not that it mattered much. One thing he could be thankful for since waking up in the cottage was that his sense of taste had not become damaged in some way. And there was never a shortage of fresh vegetables from the Shroud. 

 

Not a moment after he had thought of food, came the server with a tray. Set on the table were some utensils, plates, and of course the first course. Laid down was a warm dish with walnuts, chestnuts and a selection of local squash and mushrooms. Seasoned lightly, the natural flavors were allowed to mix, giving it an earthy, yet comforting appeal.

 

He noticed his mouth was watering from just the aroma. It was slightly embarrassing. 

 

"Shall we put the game aside for a moment?" Sitting at the table in such a way, one might have assumed there was more to the relationship than two people in need of peaceful times.

[Jancis]

"Yes, yes. Thank you kindly." The gratitude went to the server as Jancis picked up the edges of the cloth 'game-board' and moved it to the far side of the table. Her smile returned to the servers as the platters were put down, family style, trying to show how much she appreciated their help.

 

She didn't wait for Franz to start, quickly taking her own scoops of food from each type. Just one spoonful. It wasn't for the reason to only nibble or eat like a bird. She was truly hungry after making haste once receiving his letter to meet him here; the past days required a lot of food for the amount of walking and energy used. But if he was waiting for her to prepare a plate, then she wanted to do it with haste so he could prepare his too knowing she was taken care of.

 

Besides, it's not like he could eat the rest, right?

 

His concern for her and others was very apparent. She had realized it with his sour cold words last the met. It took her far too long to realize the ploy; and by then they had both departed. But that was the past with other pains. Here they were in a warm place with warm food, the elements serene at present.

 

"Is nice of them to serve us here. I did learn how to interact with others in Gridania bringing out food." She commented, waiting for his plate to fill before she started to eat. "Lady Aya spoke of her staying here in the past. Was a guard at the northern border of the Hedge, I believe she mentioned singing and doing odd jobs here when that was done."

 

Her small chitchat continued between quiet breaks of eating. Drifting from talking about Aya, she spoke about figuring out how to make apple tarts in a skillet for Lady Leanne and a little gambling game they had played, the people at the pilgrimage and the stories, working with flower pressing and finding the early spring blossoms, and reading about a mysterious ink that would bring senses to life when written with.

 

"Will be worth trying, even if the snails are poisonous to make the ink. Dare think I can handle them, even if I have to build up some resilience to the toxin."

 

Jancis kept looking at Franz as she spoke, trying to be open about her thoughts and ideas. But she didn't want to just yak away. Halfway through her plate, she reached over to get some of the remaining food and asked, "I have thought about what you said before; about having books. Are any your own? Things you have written down?"

 

Her intention wasn't just polite conversation. He had spoken about lost memories before. Forgetting about Edda and staring at her. Did he write down things in case they'd slip away. Even if her curiosity was unfounded, it would be nice to know more and she waited politely attentive for his answer.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Table set and dishes served, he waited for Jancis to pick what she found appetizing first. She had been the one to express hunger, even if he had found himself vying for the food just as much. He was not worried if they finished everything. Surely a proper establishment would have additional plates ready for any number of patrons. Taking no time after Jancis, he arranged the various foods onto a plate, giving each just enough space to remain separate, but allowing them to each be served with a large enough amount to experience the flavors. A meal should be enjoyed, after all.

 

"I would expect as much from an inn and related services. Is it not their job to do so?" He wasn't quite sure where his expectations of such service had come from, but it was likely something he had become accustomed to over time. At the mentioning of Aya, he'd considered asking more, but that could be saved for a later time. He could suffice with a single question on the matter. "Was that before or after her time in Ishgard?"

 

He listened as she talked of other things. Of making desserts, handcrafts, and other things. THe ink had sounded quite odd. He wasn't completely sure if she was serious. But when books were mentioned, he was fast to reply. "No, none of them are personal. There were a few...translated copies of the same, but it was only a matter of reading preference. I can't say I ever saw the need in keeping a log of one's life." 

 

A slight shrug. It wasn't a comfortable topic, his past. "Even if I had at some time, it wouldn't be here. And these days? I've begun to simply live each day at a time. Can't be sure what may change each day. I'd rather not be reminded. It's not a pleasant feeling to know that I may wake up remembering so part of my past that completely changes my view on life." There was a short pause as if he was contemplating more. "Or to wake up grasping at fragments of oneself."

 

The small smile had faded already. "Apologies. Did not mean to darken the mood..."

[Jancis]

Jancis gave him a curious look. "Did not darken it for me. I like knowing more about you." Her reply was not apologetic or comforting. She stated a fact, eyes going back to the spiced squash and nuts she had gotten more of. 

 

She had commented lightly about not being sure about Lady Aya's time in Ishgard and wanting to find out some time next in Ul'dah, or "the Jewel", if the Quicksand wasn't too busy. But now they were talking about Franz; with his dark sad expression consuming what small reprieve he had mustered. Was it he longed for ignorance for fear of knowing something painful? That was the view on life to be out of the way? He needed time to recover. Recovery and helping him was beyond all other curiosity. He was not a matter of interest for the sake of knowing; he was a man of good heart and a person that needed to be treated as such.

 

He was not a tool, that point rang in her mind with all too familiar a connection. In the depths of the Shroud, she had been trained for something that was not human. She was a utensil for survival and nothing more. The reaches of pain wracking from her heart at such memory was quelled by a calming breath. She looked back at him with an empathetic gaze and a small sad smile.

 

"In youth," she phrased carefully, "I tried to remember things. I had thought, mayhaps, there was something in my mind that would give me some kind of purpose. For many Turns there was none. Least I believe it is Turns for what I did keep. After a time I did write down what I could, anywhere. Reminders with the bark and upon the stones I would climb. When I was ready, it did help piece together much. Once I realized and remembered, then I was able to pull free and pick my own life."

 

"It is important to rest, though, Master Franz. Is said 'Life is easier with eyes closed' and all must needs shut their eyes to rest. Tell me what you would like to talk about, then. And do."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

"I'm not sure myself. It can just be so difficult to handle each day sometimes. Knowing that my own identity is something beyond my grasp. It leaves much thought on who I was. What I had done. The man I became. When only able to remember the wrongs I have committed, it does not lend to a very positive outlook on life."

 

"But what do you mean you tried to remember things? For so much that you've learned of me, I feel I know so little of you. Could we speak of that? Who you are. What makes you come to the conclusions you do? Why you are even spending time with a such a broken person as myself?"

 

He thought upon her previous words. Rest. Even if life was easier to simply stop looking at the bad things, it wasn't quite an option. At least not to him. To even merely survive, he needed to embrace the life he was living now. But could he continue to cling onto the forgotten past?

[Jancis]

"I own nothing of greater value to give you."

 

It took a few minutes to comprehend the questions and requests. It wasn't the mindset she had; at least.

 

"I am. Ah, is a good question; I know who I want to be. My first solid memories are learning. I was trained to learn and survive; that was my role. I am no tool," she stressed that point, "but I was made into one. For many Turns I accepted that lie."

 

Digging into her robe, she pulled out a very old map. The corners had long since rubbed soft and many of the crease folds had been done so many times the parchment broke apart. Carefully, she unfolded and pieced it together. It was an old crude map of the Shroud covered in marks, erase marks, and new marks layered; most of the activity in the northeastern corner.

 

"I believe I spent most of my life up here. There were many caverns and keep hollowing trees to live in. Could see the snow of the northern reaches in the thinning winters, but was almost rare to see the sun through the thick canopy of the Twelveswood. It was two others and myself. Here I kept them safe and they taught me how to keep myself safe. Life for life. They would leave time-to-time and eventually needed me to be in town and I began to realize how vast the world was. Began to question what kind of tool I was; asking freely brought a great punishment." While she was easily answering, it wouldn't be hard to see the pain in her eyes as the words held more vivid pictures for her. She took a breath to calm down and continue.

 

"So I began to write down things. Anywhere. Everywhere. In books on pages. On trees into the bark, on stones high up. I would find them again and cling to those memories, even those few words held many more within their script. Thaliak saved me; gave me a small opportunity to know I was not alone, I was no tool. I could do more than simply survive. I can thrive and feel and experience life and support others to experience their own. I am far more than any tool. I have one book that every word meant far more to me than the simple story within. So I took her name as my own, that I could be Jancis and fly to unknown lands and make life better and escape the cage of constructed life."

 

"They saw that, she far earlier than he. The moon falling changed things; I would not dare say for my favor, but it sped along my liberation. Would I have ever felt truly the lack of care to protect them from the woodwrath mayhaps sooner... boldy say I am glad that never came. For my part, at least."

 

Jancis murmured quietly after a minute, “No guilt is forgotten so long as the conscience still knows of it.” Her attention focused back on him. To gain trust was to give it first, and she had amples amounts to give, but she understood a bit more on this self-imposed exile. Every memory one of pain, a confusion of guilt and responsibility with no reward or goal beyond it. Still he fought on, still he answered her.

 

"Is hard because guilt is so loud to those of good heart. I am sure the other memories lie within, Master Franz, if not for these other weights that drown out their words. Are like those birds that roam the Shroud, when attacked their neck plumage fluffs." She demonstrated with her hands, fanning them out with grand display. "Shall always appear bigger than they truly are?"

[Unnamed Mercenary]

As he listened to all Jancis had to say, Franz could not help but wonder how Jancis had managed to live such a life. From what she had said, it was awe-inspiring to him. 

 

"I would never have known such about your past. Thank you." And he truly meant it. "I hope that one day, I will have such strength as well."

 

A few short moments later, the food dishes were cleared and a small dessert brought out. To Franz, it merely looked like a doughy lump with pieces of apple that had been baked just to completion, the inside still warm and soft. A sweetened rolanberry sauce was included as well. 

 

"Should we retire for the night after this? I will promise to still be at the Float in the morning."

 

Dipping a small torn piece of the dessert into the sauce, "especially if they continue to keeping making something such as this. I dare say I'll have a completely different issue if I even were to attempt to leave."

[Jancis]

"You like pastries, then?"

 

She humbly thanked the server for bringing out the fruity dish, admiring it. She felt very humble after what Franz had said, the churning inside was not as bad to recount what happened years ago.

 

It would be redundant to repeat that she believed he already had such a strength. Something that brought him to this land instead of his home. His generosity and the example he had always made in front of her.

 

Still she was honest at the risk of souring what was a delicious desert.

 

"I can see your discomfort. Are you sure you wish to retire? I can try helping."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

"Most foods, actually." It wasn't something he was sure to elaborate on. It wasn't every day he could find himself mostly at peace, and he already felt rather guilty after having spoiled the mood on more than one occasion already. He tore another small piece off the pastry. It would be a shame to waste it.

 

"Having the opportunity to try local ingredients is nice." He was unsure what made the occasion so important. Was it from having nearly starved so many times in the desert when he was merely a mercenary? Perhaps some residual feeling displaced onto him from the Elezen. Maybe it was from the past he could not recall. Or it may have been some combination. The desire to not only enjoy a meal, but to share it with another was seemingly important. Even still, a feeling of guilt and dread could not leave him.

 

There was a brief, distant smile. One that made separation apparent. "Thank you for the evening. I can promise I will still be here in the morning." Rising from his seat, he quietly push in the chair, and retrieved a few coins to leave on the table for the services rendered.

 

As he began to make an exit, he spoke in just loud enough of a voice for her to hear. "I may have been injured, but I still have my pride. Please trust I will be fine without assistance." It left a cold feeling, keeping Jancis at a distance, but it was the only way he knew to act. Franz believed that she would have wanted nothing more than the opportunity to help him though his troubles. But as a Garlean, as a mercenary, even, help was unfamiliar.

 

"Please, have a good evening, Jancis. The inn staff can point you to my room should you need anything." And with that, he left the small restaurant made his way back to the inn. The stairs leading to the room would be unpleasant, but they would not be particularly painful.

[Jancis]

Jancis sat there, hand still by the delicate desert, and she watched Franz as he got up, built up the careful walls, and bid her goodnight.

 

She made no move and gave no reply. Her eyes intently watching him until he escaped from view.

 

Pride. The more Jancis thought of that word, the more she felt it was a toxin. That was a subject she knew a great deal of; it was one of her 'uses'. In her veins flowed the blood that had experienced countless exposures to various sorts of poisons and venom. Some exposures were smaller than others, the suffering longer and deeper. She had suffered with purpose; she had built up immunity and resilience to the chemicals that would ravage the body. And in her quarters in the Mist were vials of plasma saved, rows of antidotes made from them.

 

And here, she had suffered from the toxin of pride. 

 

The small ones... the proud removed tournament fighters from the Grindstone that hobbled off with wounds untreated despite their agreements for the sport competition, treating the affair as if it was a dramatic warrior novel as them and their soul was beaten by the waves upon a mighty rock to hone their morals and ideals.

 

“All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride.” 

 

The large ones... the people she would never see again that had gone on without her. Her First Mate that kept such peril and fear within until it burnt her form and took her life. Her Dearest... with his warm smile and ruby eyes... who didn't take her with him. The pride that overwhelmed trust and made the illusion of worry; made the illusion of value and left her behind.

 

“It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride.” 

 

She sat there, quietly finished what remained and cleaned up. The gloaming was gone and the night was full making the way back to the inn. She sat for a couple bells there, thinking and waiting for the herald to call the hour twice. Bit by bit, exposure by exposure, the different kind of resilience built up. She was, after-all, an antidote.

 

As the last call for the new bell came, she stood up and walked across to the door to Franz's room, the back of her knuckles knocking on the door. Her voice was steady, a nurse-like kindness saturating its tone.

 

“We are rarely proud when we are alone, Franz."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

As he closed the door to his room, Franz nearly fell to the floor. What was he honestly doing at the inn? Why had he decided to leave so suddenly? Decided to speak words about pride? Decided to say something he knew would cause concern?

 

Pride.

 

I don’t have pride. Not anymore. Not since I was left to die in Eorzea.

 

Was it truly “pride” that had prompted him to leave? The feeling that he should should not have shown any weakness? Should not have ever found himself in trouble? Should not have needed another’s help? It ate away at him. Why did it matter so much what Jancis thought of him?

 

I’m not some hero either.

 

Franz picked himself up from the floor. It was no place to sleep and he knew that. As he removed the various added layers of clothing until just smallclothes, pants, and a shirt remained, he made his way to the bed. An odd feeling rushed over him and he realized just how restricting it was to wear clothing with such tight clasps, others needed to be pulled tight or tied with a knot. The way it felt as if it dug into his skin. He knew it was not the case, but the longer he sat at the table, it became suffocating. But was it the conversation or the clothes that had really caused discomfort?

 

Each attempt Jancis had made to raise him up made him retreat further and further. Overbearing? Unwanted? No, undeserved. There within was the problem. A difference in beliefs. He believed to be nothing more than the broken man who had lived with a facade for a short time. A man who had awoke in the desert, left to die, and had made something of himself. Undeniably wrong. Garlean. Foreign. He did not belong in this country. Homesick. How could he even be homesick? He couldn’t answer anything about Garlemald. Sure, there there facts he could say. Or places he could describe. But what of those truly mattered? Could he speak about where he grew up? No. Where he lived? No. The people he knew? No. On the bed lay a man who knew not himself. Or rather, he couldn’t.

 

Somewhere within the husk he had become, Jancis had thought she must have seen some good. He didn’t “protect” a rat from the slime. she had asked for it and he had complied. He didn’t volunteer his time to help Natalie or Kage with their issues. He complied with the rules of the house in which he lived. In fact, he had conspired with enemies of Ul’dah perhaps more than he had defended it. Terrorists. Jin’li. Others. If the coin was good, it didn’t matter. That had been his life until the past year. What “hero” was content with seeing the city fall? What “hero” was stuck between waiting for Eorzea to fix its own problems? Or to simply fall to Garlean rule? What did Jancis see that made her believe that the actions he did were for anything but his own benefit?

 

As “Franz”, he had made the effort to act nicer. Feign caring. Be social enough to even make a friend or two. But did they truly know him? Did they accept him as the person he was? Could they? None of the people knew what he had done to survive in the desert. How he had dragged himself off the streets of the city once arriving just  to earn barely enough gil to survive. How once word of the “Unnamed Mercenary” had spread, he had finally accumulated enough money to rent a bed to sleep on. Food to eat. They only know ‘Franz’. A name that isn’t even mine. How were they to judge if he was a “hero”? Or if he was a “good person”. How could they know him if he didn’t know himself?

 

I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Is that not how I found myself in this situation?

 

It was painful just to think about it.But what good did it do him to dwell on it? To keep thinking about his failures? To wallow in pity. None. Instead he continued to do so anyways.

 

For nearly a bell after, he lay on the bed staring out the window as if some caged animal. but he was the one who had built up the walls, stopped talking to others, secluded himself. I wonder if she even sees the same stars in Garlemald.

 

As exhaustion washed over him, he could feel himself sinking into slumber. Sight and sound beginning to blur as he drifted off on the bed. He was nearly asleep when he heard the knock.

 

“We are rarely proud when we are alone, Franz."

 

 

All that could be heard from between the door was a startled sound as he jerked up from the bed, hitting the floor.

[Jancis]

Jancis dropped her hand, eyes steadily looking at the door. Instinctively her hand went for the door handle.

 

And it worked. The gust of air that came in from the door swinging was noticable, wrinkling the unheaved sheets as it passed, as Jancis let herself in. Closing the door behind, her steps were sure as she approached him.

 

Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer room in the time it took to close the distance. Taking all she saw, there was no hesitation in her step. Kneeling down and sinking down to his level, her hands were quick to help him sit up, taking his elbow and shoulder. He was certainly a much larger man, and she had to use her form to assist in that offer to get him back upright.

 

Reaching up to the bed, she pulled on the top blanket, ruining what was made of the bed, and dragged it around Franz's shoulders. There was a bit of fussing as it bundled around him. Finally, after that, she looked him in the eye.

 

She hadn't the idea of all the chaotic thoughts that passed through his mind for the past couple hours. The beratement he was giving himself. The conflicting feelings that cycled around to the same conclusion; a worthless hunk of man passively hoping to be done, for the ultimate solution to any problem. The isolation that was easier to accept than failing once more.

 

He had been right. Jancis sat there in front of him on the floor, tucking blankets around the man, taking him for the face value of whatever he had shown her. Blissfully ignorant of the flaws and horrors in his mind.

 

Why wouldn't she? In her mind, she felt related to him. A person lost from another place building up life and experiences. A man that had lost his own. She knew he was Garlean; he'd shown her his face without any illusion to it. Confessed his fear of harming her and the grief he felt to the other man that... that was a part of him? Was it two men she looked at? Even if that was the case, the soul of the man had given for what he believed a worthy cause. Franz. And every action since then had been with little reward.

 

The urge to support was intense; and her own mind was in disagreement. She also had thoughts about how much the man in front of her deserved. To help him piece together his memory. To figure out more about his wife and child and return to them.

 

So she sat in front of him, not smiling and not frowning. Just looking at Franz in the dim room, her eyes and attention his for the next reaction, the next rejection, whatever he decided to try.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Franz had little to no time to react as he felt the hard wooden floor of the inn room. Not a single moment to even dissuade her from entering.

 

 

You’re fine.

 

 

Only the light of the stars and any surrounding outside lamps were there to illuminate the darker room. A dull, throbbing pain had settled onto the arm and leg to hit the floor first.

 

 

You’re fine.

 

 

The insufferable embarrassment of being propped up against the bed. Of having the blanket pulled and twisted around him. Had he forgotten to lock the door? Before the blanket had been wrapped and further, a single groggy statement. “I-...I’m fine. Really. Was not that far a fall. Only startled.”

 

 

There was a consideration to reapply the glamor he used to “blend in”, but the door was closed and it was the late evening. And she already knows I’m Garlean. Staring back in about as natural an appearance as one from Garlemald could was the gaze of a man with three eyes. Defeated. Tired.  He felt his legs going asleep from the odd position he was sitting. Great. She likely will want an explanation.

 

 

But the only words he could mutter were of no use. “I’m fine.” “You neededn’t worry.” “It was just a minor fall from being startled.” Excuse after excuse. He was really only lying to himself at this point. “Please…”.

 

 

He made an effort to to stand, just barely making it half up before falling onto the bed. Pathetic. There was nothing else he could do. “Pathetic. There is really nothing more to describe my state.”

 

 

“It’s just too much. I can’t handle it any longer.”

 

 

Thoughts coming out in spoken words.

 

 

“I...I don’t know what to do. I haven’t. Not for such a long time.” A hopeless smile spread across his face. Regret? Defeat? Acceptance? Perhaps just broken. “What more is there to do? I’ve already failed so many things. Couldn’t even keep myself together. Couldn’t fix what was broken.”

 

 

“...broken.”

 

 

“...”

 

 

“That’s really all that’s left. Rejects of the person I was. The memories of a man I never even knew. It…”

 

 

“It hurts.”

 

 

“Everything just hurts, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”  Tears rolled down the sides of his face.

 

 

“I won’t see them again. I...can’t even remember some of their faces. Nothing of who I was. Who I became. It’s too much.”

 

 

He had continued to lie to himself. To others. It didn’t get very far.

 

 

Franz just stayed on the bed, whatever position he’d fallen in. Muttering. Admitting his own lack of control over what he thought would be the most basic of things. Personal insecurities. Everything.

 

 

What was there to hide? Past jobs as a mercenary? Having to take any job just to survive? A miasma of self-loathe. He was no better than a murderer, having killed people while in the Garlean Army. He was no better than a thief, having stolen away the life of Frhanz Kirche, even if unknowingly. An awful husband. A worse father. He couldn’t even be a proper friend.

 

What was left? A man full of fragmented pieces of himself, desperately trying to put them back together. Only, he didn’t have all the pieces. And pieces of someone else had been mixed in. How had he expected to put his life back together?

[Jancis]

“It hurts.”

 

The torrent of emotions came, like an overbearing dam finally being torn apart by the river behind it, flooding the valley below.

 

There in the dark with the residue of light she saw him, tears and all, just as he was. Broken, pathetic, plain faced, and as ugly as anyone could let themselves been seen.

 

Honest.

 

Overwhelmingly honest. Tears came down her cheeks as she listened and took in everything. She had no concept of how much time had passed as he went on and on, purging the secrets and thoughts from within. She took every one of them; listening on and on as the words poured out, ravaged by the feeling of empathy as the pain was re-lived.

 

And her view of him did change. The drawings children had made of him morphed into a dramatic detailed scope of a man, colors of ink blurring and mixing into blackness before washing away in years of unshed tears to nothingness. soaking into paper to create a new grayish slate with all of the tales becoming part of it; the canvas fresh to add more to.

 

She let the satchel she had been so careful about slide to the floor. The contents inside were useless right now. The creams to help with his aches and sensitivity, the crystals attuned to help regulate and revitalize, her notes on contacts in Ul'dah and letters to present to old colleagues on her behalf. It was all pointless right now.

 

It was quiet, still dark. Jancis' legs were sore and asleep from her static position for so long. The floor creaked as she moved, standing and taking the pillow on the bed. She sat where it had been, her back against the wall. Putting the fluff in front of her, she grabbed Franz. Expecting him to be limp from such an emotional upheaval, she used that to gather him enough to sort him out on the bed. Face in the pillow against her leg, blanket down so just his toes peered out. Acting like a husband pillow, she kept her arm up over the man's side and held him lightly.

 

Her mind raced with thoughts as she did. That the missing memories and pieces would be found or replaced. That Nymeia would have left him had he been worthless. The tide of emotion was ebbing and she was left fatigued afterwards. He didn't need the emotion suppressed right now, her mind lingered.. dropping the encouraging thoughts previously thought to bring to speech. They both needed to experience the raw feelings.

 

So she sat there holding Franz as she closed her eyes, head dropping down to hang, as soft words finally came from her.

 

"Being strong is damn exhausting."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

After the flood of words he had so desperately tried to keep inside, it was comforting to have let them go, as if they had been washed away from him. Tension from silence. To not cause worry. To appear strong. But it had gotten him nowhere. Done nothing to help his situation. If anything, it only pushed his worries onto others.

 

There was no strength left to resist trying to further push himself away. There was an attempt to wipe some of the tears from his likely bloodshot eyes. Perhaps he would simply keep them closed instead. Seeing Jancis’ expression could possibly send him over again.

 

What would she think of him now?

 

It was exhausting holding onto all of those feelings. It was exhausting to voice them. Franz could not push himself away, even if Jancis’ touch felt uncomfortable. How could he? She had stayed. Listened. Wanted to understand.She’s certainly gotten that. But how will she react? It was a frightening thought. There was so much he had spoken about. Any number of things that could not only bring her trouble, but cause endless trouble for himself.

 

Murder. Thievery. Abandonment.

 

Just to think of a few.

 

Of course he was aware that some of them may have been outside his control. Part of being a mercenary meant he would take any job, regardless the suitor and regardless the task. It meant surviving.But a lack of malice or ill intention does not make a bad action any less regrettable.

 

Only when the room became completely silent did he break the silence with a response to her words.

 

“I believe you would know better than I in that regard.”

 

And with those final words, consciousness drifted away once again and he felt himself easing into the embrace of sleep in a child-like manner. Pride was of little concern after everything else he had said.Had I always been this frail?

 

--

 

In his dreams, small fragments of the past found their way back into the seams holding his soul together. Indistinct voices and scenery. Garlemald. A little girl looking up and smiling at him.She has her mother’s eyes. The girl running away, laughing. Playing.

 

In another scene, he was in another room. A kitchen? Pots and pans on a large stove. An oven, baking.Will there be enough patrons today? How long can we stay open like this? A magitek timer buzzing.Prepare the next batch.

 

Then he was in an unfamiliar building. Sterile. Bright. An announcement that all participants would be allowed to opt out.That was a lie. We knew we were never going to be able to leave the moment we stepped in. A white-haired woman with glasses talked about the betterment of the Empire. How they would be making a difference.Her eyes seemed so cold.

 

The final dream was perhaps the strangest. Warm. No, hot. Burning. He and others had been sent somewhere. Flames danced around his line of sight. A large beast drew near.The units had never been designed to hold that much aether. They....I....I watched as they all burned. All of them. He'd seen the create breath flames onto the group, magitek failing. Overloading. Broken.Burning. Everything had been burning.

 

--

 

As he had slept, a peaceful expression could have been seen on his face. Fond memories. Simpler times that he had enjoyed. But happiness was something the man was accustomed to being deprived of. Slowly, the content expression worsened, becoming almost pained. The last dream eventually became too much, jolting him awake, sweating. Reliving the sensation of burning from the inside out. It was an unbearable pain that spread to even the tips of his fingers and toes. A muffled sound of pain despite wanting to cry out. Instead, he only grit his teeth with clenched fists until the pain faded. He dare not open his eyes for fear of what he would see.

[Jancis]

“I believe you would know better than I in that regard.”

 

The quiet words refreshed the tears in her eyes. Her eyes hung down looking at Franz, shadows hiding most of his face, as she waited. She realized after awhile he had slipped off to sleep when his body became heavier against her and there was a strange serene awkwardness.

 

Man she looked up to she was now looking down at. She wasn't blinded by stories; she was sure there were pains and normal misgivings and flaws. The overload of emotion was immense and it hurt. She cried, her throat closing and choking up as she let it consume her and exhaust her heart.

 

She was a healer, her mind going into some background noise of book quotes and lessons taught to her. The grief in his tone. The focus utterly on his failures. Something hummed in her mind that surely some of the details were expanded beyond the reality of what happened (even if it became his reality in mind) and obsessed over.

 

It was a small throbbing comfort as she fought the depression of the night. Franz slept. Crushing his head with a rock was not the right option; but there was a lot of work to do.

 

Jin'li had used him, the monster's name came to her mind as she drifted between consciousness and sleep, and came back for some reason to him. To use him again? Justice had a different meaning to Jancis than city laws, something more primal pulsed. She'd help him with finding solace and penance; to repay the ones that remained and were wronged. To protect others from others who would repeat such grief.

 

She slept. It was an aware sleep like a soldier would. She felt his subtle shift, opening her eyes to realize it was just dawn. She could see more of him now from the window's light and the tight expression and feign of sleep.

 

Her face was still tear-streaked, quite a wreck of sniffling and whatnot from hours before. Try as she did, her voice was still broken and hoarse even in its soft tone.

 

"It is dawn. You can sleep more if you want to. I cannot anymore."

 

She had more to say, but she waited instead.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

At the sound of her voice, Franz stirred on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

 

“No, it would be best that I get up as well.”

 

The phantom pains of his dreams had left, leaving him in a much better state than the previous night. He rose from the bed, turning his back to her. Raising a hand to his forehead, he reapplied a simple glamour to hide the undeniable marker of Garlean blood.

 

Taking a calm, deep, breath, he turned to face her. A small, heartfelt smile crept onto his face. Eyes that didn’t nearly look as sad as before.

 

“Thank you. For listening.”

 

He eyed her expression. The dried tears. Coarse voice. You’re the one responsible for that. Franz would have to rectify that.

 

Opening a small window in the room to let in some fresh air and light, he sat down at a table in the room. He would wait for her words now.

[Jancis]

The corner of her mouth tugged as she mimicked the expression, the look on his face the reward for a hard night.

 

"You are welcome." She replied, her voice sincere despite its throaty tone. There wasn't regret or built up politeness muddled. She barged in and pushed herself to be welcomed into his grief and he ended up thanking her for it.

 

Jancis didn't move, any limb a token resistance to moving as he shifted and stood up. She sat still as she listened to the morning birds, the faint sound of the day's business starting in the small shroud market hub. There was a serene peace for a few minutes until she shuffled and sat on the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor.

 

"It is more clear now why Jin'li has decided to target you. We have much to do."

 

She slipped off the bed and retrieved the satchel, putting it on the table in front of Franz. Standing next to him, she pulled the roll of papers from it, letters bundled to the those she knew in Ul'dah. She sorted it through it, pulling out one in particular.

 

"This man here is Sir Kahn'a Od'hilkas. He saved my life from the onslaught that Jin'li brought to ravage the city. Lady Crofte knows he is more of a, ah, tactics man of the Immortal Flames. And he has other more useful contacts. Might have run into him and not even realized it."

 

She flipped through some other names, briefly mentioning them, but implying that they've all worked for one another in the past. The satchel was for him and she left it there as such. "Lady Edda will hopefully be returning soon from her father's estate. With her supplies and abilities, we will be able to rebuild more."

 

"Everyone deserves to have their second chances, Franz. Atonement. Or perhaps it is only a matter of perspective?"  she asked, looking down on his face. "I have done plenty wrong in my Turns; shall likely commit more. It does not negate my efforts to want to do better, however. It is a job for more than one person to accomplish."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Somehow, the thought of Jin’li’s plans seemed more distant than it had previously. The grave nature to it, unaffecting. Hearing Jancis talk about it more, it because evident she must not have grasped his original connection to the deranged miqo’te.

 

 

“Of course Jin’li wanted to target me. He wanted my help. Employment. There was not much time to notice his...displeasure at my rejection.”

 

 

He watched casually as she got up. Picked up the satchel. Lightly dropped it on the table. And what is supposed to be in here? It was answered nearly immediately.

 

 

Jancis had pulled out a familiar face. Using a name that was familiar to her, but not to him. Kahn’a. So that’s his name. It made sense. Kahn’a had been at the first of Jin’li’s deaths he witnessed. He knew Melkire. And was associated with another person he had been asked to keep an eye on. Connections.

 

 

“I’m well aware of who he is. But the name...that is useful.”

 

 

The other names of people did not seem to catch his eye.

 

 

When Edda was once again mentioned, the words stung. The amount of verbal vitriol that Edda seemed to have only sought to make it more apparent of her feelings towards him. A lack of approval. A complete lack of desire to be around. An act. Of course all of it is an act. Unless she actually lied to herself until believing it. Then there was was case of her ring. How it had been conveyed that he should simply sell it for wealth. Benefit from the object’s misfortune of becoming “his”. He was told it was a treasured item. And a treasured item belongs with the person who can treasure it. He would ensure trying to return it at the next time they would meet.

 

 

Perspective. Second chances.

 

 

But how many times can one really have multiple ‘second chances’?

 

 

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” He could feel his tone going flat. The words didn’t seem to carry as much meaning as he’d been hoping.

 

 

“In any case, I’ve made a complete mess of this entire thing,” he said, almost chuckling. The laughter trying to hide his other feelings. Keep the mood lighter. There was nothing left to hide about his worries. She’d already been told them in his pitiful state. One must rise up from their lower points.

 

 

“Perhaps we should freshen up and start the day?” A light smile. “I shouldn't keep you any longer.” She was right, and he knew it. In his attempts to handle everything himself, he had only broken under the pressure.

 

But that man had gone to sleep for his final day and a new one had awoken. The same for what would perhaps be many days, as pieces of his past would surface, the more painful memories, drifting away.