Confessions of a Fair-Weather Heretic (Spoilers)

[111]

Evangeline flips through the heavy tome for the umpteenth time, searching it for some hint, some trick that might give her some certainty. The pages however, were as uncooperative ever.

 

It did not help that what she was doing was almost unheard of. Those Heretics who were unlucky enough to be caught by the Inquisitors did not often seek a second meeting. Those received minor brands simply thanked their fortune that they did not obtain worse, and those exiled sought new lives, not wishing to try the judgement of the Inquisitors a second time. Those executed... obviously did not have the chance.

 

Those that did return, did it in hostility. Scorning their sentence, they return to their cults and schemes, and if caught, were executed immediately.

 

She however, was simply going to walk back home, and present herself. There was only one entry that suggested some hope, an obscure passage, from one of their earliest legal tomes.

 

"The Heretic can be redeemed, if found worthy in the eyes of Man and Halone."

 

What exactly this meant however, was unclear. Eyes of man made it sound like a trial of sorts. The eyes of Halone though? The gods no longer speak to mortals, and she wonders if they ever did. More than likely this would be a judgement of the priests, a judgement which would likely go poorly for her.

 

She closes the book with a sigh, first though, her concern must be not getting slain the moment she reaches the border. For that, she can only hope Orrin's reputation will give her some edge.

[111]

The city was much as she remembered.

 

Stone, wind, and cold.

 

It was different once, the wind was less cutting, the cold less biting. Though the people, were ever as stony as their city. Perhaps even stonier. A millennium of war could break any people, and the recent years had only increased the burden. Their fields had turned to frost, their far flung fortress’s entombed in ice, and their most ancient foes returning. It was enough to break any people.

 

After all… it had broken her.

 

She shoulders her pack and walks through the gates, her heretic’s brand covered by hood and hair. Yet perhaps more help, was those she marched with. Detachment's north from the Immortal, men and women whose insignia she shared. It was the bargain she had made to return. There was another group she should have been with. The men and women of the Dauntless, those that had taken her in and given her so untrustworthy as her their comradeship. She had betrayed them with subterfuge. After their frantic battle through an Ishgardian border fort, she had vanished into the snow. It was a blessing to them, in its own way. If she were discovered by the Inquisitors, treaties or no, they would likely face judgement beside her.

 

So through the gates she marched, and as she entered the city, her mind raced, “What in the hells do I do now?”

[111]

The cold did have its benefits.

 

For one, it prevented the rot.

 

In a warmer clime, she would have smelled the bodies before she spotted them, and the stench would have been great enough to even trouble the mightly lords living on the higher terraces of the city. Instead she found them, limbs twisted in death, and frozen fast by the frost. Slicks of blood turned into black ice. As Evangeline walked through the gates of Ishgard and into the city, her heart became as heavy as stone.

 

The ruined dwellings of those in the foundation and Brume. The weakest of Ishgard, as always, having received the most punishment. The flickering flames, the cries of the wounded and hungry. The dead, the dying, the mad.

 

Was this what she had betrayed Ishgard for? Was it for this cause, that she had been exiled? So that Dravanian might prey upon them? She had heard Lady Iceheart speak, in what seemed a lifetime ago. Words of freedom, of hope, of ending war, of rising up the weak and powerless. Words that had set fire to her heart, words that she had carried with her, even in exile.

 

Yet this is what those words had brought. Death and ruin.

 

She breaks off from the Flames and storms into the Brume, fury in her eyes. Her former comrades would answer for this, if any had survived.

[111]

It seems for once, Evangeline and the Inquisitors were of one mind. Though unfortunately, they were quicker.

 

The Brume was devastated, most of its 'buildings' were wood and scrap, built in the shadow of more proper stone dwellings. Castoff materials and Debris from the society above, much like the people who lived there. Was it any wonder then, that those who had the least, and were the most vulnerable, those with whom heresy took easiest root?

 

Huddled survivors had been rounded up, those too slow or injured to avoid the sweep done by the inquisitors. So they stood, huddling in the chill, as the inquisitors 'interviewed' them in a small tent. Every so often they would leave, either tossed out, bloody and bruised onto the cobblestones, or led off towards their headquarters, bound and hooded.

 

Evangeline feels the bile rise in the back of her throat, as her hand twitches involuntarily towards the satchel of grenades at her waist. Was this what she had come north to defend? This Ishgard, which seems to have only changed for the worse? This bastion of evil that had stolen her brother from her?

 

White hot flashes of rage speckle her vision, as she surveys the damage of the attack. Yet if the Holy See fell, the Dragons would have their way.

 

Growling she slams a mailed fist into a block of broken stone, cursing at the uncaring sky, "I will find a way to help end this, damn you." She is not sure who her outburst was aimed at, but it makes her feel a little better. With a groan she stretches, before trotting off towards the mid levels of the city.

 

There is still one task for her to accomplish.

[111]

Things will never be the same.

 

It is a little lie, we tell ourselves. That we will set out, and return, and all will be as we left it. It might even be true, at times. An old book, a memory, a special place, they can occasionally resist the flow of time. Yet even the unchanging changes. A sundial never changes, but if the sun were to stop and peek down on it from time to time, the time would never be the same. Much like the sun, we cannot stop our own orbits, and much as we would like, whenever we leave home, we cannot return to the one we have left.

 

“I rather wish the sun would take a peek.” Evangeline muses as she makes her way towards the middle sections of the city, chill seeping into her bones. “Ishgard could use a visit from her.”

 

This section of the city was generally spared the fate of the Brume, and it was inhabited by a broad swath of peoples. Minor Nobles, successful Merchants, Government Officials, Doctors, Lawyers, professionals… those who had money, but lacked only power. Only the four ruling houses and their lapdogs could perch upon the peak of Ishgard, only they had the privilege of looking down on the rest of the city with barely concealed disdain.

 

She stops and shakes a fist at the higher levels, “You will get yours as well, lords of carrion!” A few passerby’s stop and stare, and at least one mother ushers away a curious child. Evangeline mutters, and placing her hands back into her pockets, trods familiar paths back to a familiar home.

 

The manor was roomy for the confined quarters of Ishgard, set to catch the morning sun through a series of large windows, a small garden and stable nearby within a low wall. It had been an ordeal, keeping those plants alive, with the chill and…

 

Evangeline pauses. Her home was buried. From the wall to the house was packed snow, dirty with soot and filth. More still lay on the roof, and only a winding muddy path to the door gave any indication of habitation at all. The neighboring houses had built their own walls higher, as if to ward off some contagion.

 

“Have I truly been gone so long…?” She had been away for some time, a year though? Perhaps two? Not so long as for this. Heart suddenly uncertain Evangeline steps through the gateway onto the muddy path, past dead and choked gardens, and hollow stables, holding only snow. She walks, towards something that was once her home.

[111]

“Get out!”

 

“You’re a whore! No daughter of mine!”

 

“GO!”

 

“You’re a dirty coward! Just like your weakling brother!”

 

The clinking of bottles can be heard further within, and suddenly one sails through the stale, dusty air, passing by her cheek, and sending shards of glass clattering to the floor. The Evangeline of a year ago would have flinched, would have trembled in fear. She would have tried to placate her mother, calm her. Anything to halt the woman’s rage.

 

Instead, she just sighs, “This is going well.” before proceeding farther into the manor. Stepping over piles of trash and filth, she passes by a kitchen buzzing with flies, the stench causing the bile to rise in her throat. “Mother… I didn’t come all this way to fight. Can we talk reasonably, for once?”

 

A vase, the kind that once filled their home with color and flowers, came next, brightly colored chips of pottery spinning across the floor as it shatters. “I came this far… a few projectiles will not stop me…”

 

The wrought iron fire poker that comes next does cause her to stop despite her words, as the dark form of it comes flying by. Evangeline barely ducks out of the way in time, as the poker goes clattering down the hallway, sending piles of moldering debris flying.

 

“Seven hells mom!” Evangeline redoubles her pace, bursting into the study just in time to find her mother prying a lamp from the wall “Calm yourself!” She grabs the woman’s wrists and pulls her away from the wall, and pushing her down onto a musty armchair. “Stop tearing the damned house apart!”

 

Then she pauses, it had been too easy. Her mother, the woman whose presence had filled her life with terror for years, and she had been restrained with no more difficulty than a child. This was the woman she had been afraid of? One famed for her beauty, her face was wrinkled and worn, eyes bloodshot, with the telltale yellow of addiction to drink. Her once golden hair was grey and patchy, the thickest parts tangled and dirty.

 

“Unhand me! You treacherous spawn of Nidhogg!” A glob of saliva, hits Evangeline on the face, dribbling down her cheek, and this close, Evangeline can smell the reek of drink. She closes her eyes for a moment, as her mother struggles impotently in her hands. When had it all gone wrong? When had her family come to this?

 

After a few moments, she opens her eyes and gazes at her mother, her expression not fear, but pity. “Mother. I’ve found a place for you… A sanitarium. The staff will be here to collect you shortly, and no threats or pleads will cause them to desist. You are a vile, angry woman, and you have caused me much pain in this life…” She swallows and embraces her struggling mother in a hug, marveling at how thin the body is under the soiled nightgown. Her mother claws and screams, nails drawing lines of blood on Evangeline’s arms. Finally Evangeline releases her, and the woman falls backwards onto the armchair, she glares at her daughter for a moment, and then begins weeping.

 

Evangeline turns and walks out the way she came, “I’m taking the armor. We’ll speak again once you’re at the home.”

 

Unlike her mother, she does not weep.

[111]

(Long Conversation, will be in multiple parts.)

 

It was a surreal experience, wearing the armor. Even more so to be treated with respect by all she passed, was this what it meant to wear the garb of a Knight? Her exit from Ishgard was even easier than her entrance. The guards paying little attention to her, clad in her family’s armor. She had purchased transport to the shroud, where a woman was supposedly in residence.

 

A woman who, against all odds, she required the assistance of. It had taken some wheedling on her part, to secure her vacation destination from the Sultansworn, but in the end, they relented. So, Evangeline tromped inexpertly into the Carline Canopy, her armor clanking, where there had been reports of a red haired, rather grumpy looking highlander in the vicinity. It does not take long for Evangeline to spot said highlander, adjusting her glasses and leaning forward to read the notices on the wall.

 

Evangeline clears her throat, "Ah...", as she taps the highlander on the shoulder.

 

Crofte 's hands tighten around her dress noticeably as if there was nothing else to grab onto before she slowly cranes her neck to the side, finding an Elezen grinning sheepishly, at her "Err… Hello Crofte.” The highlander closes her eyes and places a hand to the side of one cheek. "I thought I felt a chill suddenly."

 

Evangeline sighs, "Is that how you greet an old friend Coatleque...?" Clucking her tongue, "And here I thought there would be a hug."

 

"At times I am unsure whether you are serious or not with your implications."

 

"Are we not friends...?" Evangeline tilts her head, "Or do you dislike hugs?I suppose I'll have to take back the friendship bracelets. They weren't cheap, you know."

 

"Hmm, I will just have to mail you the gil then." Crofte turns to reluctantly give Evangeline her full attention, "I should say it is a surprise to see you here, but I've already been tracked down by Miss Llorn as well. It seems there is no place I can hide anymore. Except perhaps the privy."

 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, my possible friend." She nods, " And that’s a good idea, I'll make sure to check the privy as well next time. What did Spahro request?"

 

Crofte opens her mouth to comment but it just hangs agape briefly, finally she manages to speak. “She made no requests. She is here on business, truth be told. Learning the ways of her ancestors or some such."

 

"Seems to be popular lately... though I might question what has brought you north as well." She gestures outside, "For either this is the Shroud, or the Syndicate have embarked on an ambition tree planting campaign."

 

Coatleque shrugs "I had some leave time.” My absence is authorized, I assure you."

 

"Haha, I didn't know you were such a comedian Coatleque." She laughs.

 

“My absence is authorized, I assure you, and the location is personal." The Highlander watches Evangeline curiously as the Elezen laughs.

 

"Ah... was it not a joke?" Evangeline clears her throat and points to a pile of leaves, "Where better to go than the Shroud for some leaf time?"

 

“... LEAVE, not LEAF." Crofte rubs her palm against her forehead "And why are you even here then? Dressed for battle even; I assume you are going home."

 

"I was home." She scratches a cheek, "Even went to visit the old manor. Things happened though, and I had to leave for a short while. As for why I am here, believe it or not, I would ask for your help Coatleque."

[

"Did you happen to come back through Coerthas then? Have you heard any mention of the na... MY help? Hmm. How may I be of help to you then? You have need of the soulstone again perhaps?"

 

Evangeline Primrose sighs, "I went north with a detachment of Flames, I traveled south again on my own after retrieving this armor and learning the state of the city. As for your help Crofte, I care not about the Soulstone, but I would ask for your advice and information."

 

Crofte finally removes her hand from her cheek and crosses her arms. "Advice is always free and available. Information, however, I am sorely lacking."

 

"You may know this, and if not, then none might." She takes a deep breath to steady herself, "Master Wolfsong is not in his cave, nor any other likely location. I have heard that you have had contact with him recently. Could you perhaps know where he has gone?"

 

"Curious. I find it hard to believe I may have been the -last- person to speak with him. You are not the only one who has asked, and now you give me cause to worry. I last saw him in Ul'dah before I left for the Shroud. We spoke briefly near the Aetheryte plaza."

 

Evangeline bites her lip, "Did he give you any reason to think he might leave on a long journey? He spoke to me once of finding his sister, but he never elaborated."

 

"A 'long' journey? No. Though the search for his sister is actually what we spoke of as well. He hadn't seen her since Starlight. I did not know where she was, so he was to go off looking for her friend - that Moon Keeper."

 

The Elezen frowns, "So it is this search he has likely embarked on. But it has been some weeks, I would think he would have at least contacted 'Someone'."

 

"Mmm. He was supposed to meet me here with someone else and never did. She has not seen him either."

 

"I've never met Gharen's sister, I only know her name. I am well away from knowing her friends." What is this Keeper's name?"

 

"Erm... hmm." Crofte mumbles to herself as she tries to remember, Jekyl? Jerkya? Kiht something. Truthfully I've only seen her twice."

 

Evangeline sighs, "Well then that might be of little help, I'll have to survey the area... hopefully there will be time."

 

"I pray you have better luck than I. The locals have proven to be rather tight lipped, even when coin is involved."

Evangeline shakes her head, "You Ul'dahn's trying to solve everything with coin. Though I suppose I'm as much Ul’dah as Ishgard at the moment.”

 

"I've heard nothing but bad things passing through here from the north. I do not envy you."

 

"It was easy to get past the gates Crofte." She rubs a temple, "They were all but blown apart.

Even after the victory won at the steps of faith, the Dravanians had broken through."

 

"Then the city has fallen? No, I think news of that magnitude would have traveled fast."

 

The Elezen shakes her head, "Not the city, but the lower levels have been ravished. They were happy enough to see more Flames as reinforcements that they did not dwell overly long on my identity... or many others. The city is teeming with refugees, mercenaries, and heretics."

 

"That sounds like another city I know. Perhaps Ishgard has the means to feed, find work, and otherwise placate such masses."

 

Evangeline rolls her eyes, "I thought the jokes were over Crofte. Yet you keep making them."

 

Crofte sighs, "And neither of us ever laugh."

 

Evangeline smiles grimly, "On the inside Crofte."