Chapter Text
Jali squinted into the sunlight. The cold, clear air above the clouds of Dravania stung his face as it whipped past.
Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, he sighed. “We’ll land soon , I told you.” He turned around. “You shouldn’t be up.”
The former prince did not deign to look at him, his good eye focused on the sky ahead. Zenos looked surprisingly sturdy for having been bedridden two days before. Half his head was still wrapped, but he had some color in his cheeks, and while Jali knew there were more bandages under the rough-spun clothes he wore, the garlean made it hard to tell, moving with the same deliberate control he always had.
Zenos stationed himself next to Jali at the railing. He peered over it. “The Warrior spent much time fighting here.” His voice had improved somewhat, but there was a hoarseness that still scraped at the bottom of his register.
Jali gave him a flat look. “ Aav’s fought his way across this entire continent,” he reminded Zenos. “You’ve seen far more of it than the locals will remember.”
“True,” the garlean answered easily, his gaze drifting over for just a second.
Jali blamed the book. Zenos had wanted to know details not presented in the narrative, and questioned Jali incessantly about it. Jali, of course, had not been around during his father’s Ishgardian campaign. The linkpearl had gotten involved, and arguments about appropriate use of his father’s time had followed.
It was markedly different than the last time.
For one, Zenos had figured out how to say more than two sentences in sequence. He’d devoured the book and then asked questions, and then asked for a quill, and then read it again and taken notes in the margins, and then he’d asked more questions. The image had been a funny one, incongruous with what he was so well known for. It had been easier to talk back to him then, while the big guy had been stuck in bed with ink smudged on his pale cheek.
“What can you tell me of this place?”
Jali rumbled unhappily, losing the fight against his nerves and distancing himself from the railing, and Zenos, by a few paces. “I told you,” he said, crossing his arms, “I wasn’t here while Aav was-“
Zenos shook his head. “No, I meant…” he paused somewhat awkwardly, staring intently at the ground, far, far below. “You said also you know the land here well.”
Jali blinked. “Oh. Yeah, there’s uh,” he cleared his throat a little, “plenty of rare materials, mostly towards Azys Lla, but the other floating islands too.”
Zenos was looking at him again, but his expression was neutral so Jali continued.
“The Diadem is that way,” Jali pointed. “Waaaay up there. You can kind of see it.”
Zenos squinted up to where Jali was pointing, humming thoughtfully.
Jali felt a stab of regret. Zenos might not be able to see it, actually, given his lack of proper vision. “It’s a collection of islands in a big aetherstorm,” he explained, “lots of weird, aspected rocks. They sell well, of course.” He stopped himself again. “You’re not…really interested in dravanian rock formations, are you?”
“I am not interested in much at all,” Zenos said, still gazing out into the cloudy distance. “You may continue.”
Jali huffed. He decided if Zenos wanted to be annoyed it wasn’t his problem, and went on to regale the garlean with exactly what made the aspected ore from the islands so uniquely useful in mecha construction. Talking settled him, enough to lean once more against the railing, though he had given himself more space away from Zenos’ broad shoulders.
The remainder of the trip passed in relative peace. They touched down only a little way from the main road. As Jali was helping Zenos pull on his coat, Biggs and Wedge came down to see them off. They exchanged goodbyes and furtive glances, until Biggs decided it was worth risking the former prince’s wrath and he swept Jali into a crushing hug. “You need anything-“ he said, pitched low enough so only Jali could hear.
Jali hugged him back. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” he assured as he was set back down. “Regular check-ins, and if anything happens I have the hotline.” He tapped the linkpearl hooked at the base of his horn with a smile. His uncles had been uncharacteristically singular in ensuring he had a way to reach them in the event of an emergency, and when both Cid and Nero agreed on something you didn’t argue.
Marcechamp was waiting for them at the edge of town. He offered an easy greeting to them both, though his eyes skated over Zenos’ looming form with an appraising gaze. Jali returned the sentiment, shook his hand, and let the man sling a friendly arm around his shoulders as he directed them away from the main road.
Jali had only met Marcechamp once or twice in his travels. Usually, Tseren liked to introduce Jali in person to his partners. The first time Jali had mentioned a job in the area, though, Tseren had asked him almost off-handedly if he could deliver a letter, so Jali had walked into Tailfeather alone. Jali could see immediately why the older elezen deserved such a blatant show of trust. Marcechamp was very much a mirror of the person his father had become; kind, because he knew he could stop being so if the need arose. His confidence in himself and the respect he commanded effortlessly from the community felt familiar and dependable. Despite the fact Jali doubted Marcechamp could actually do anything against even this injured shade of the former prince, he found himself relaxing now that the other man was present.
Zenos fell into step behind them. Marcechamp glanced back at him every so often, but otherwise seemed content to let the man have his peace.
Tailfeather was still a quiet destination; a rarity, given the Warrior’s fondness for it. Jali knew this was one of his father’s hideouts, a place he could disappear to when he wanted to feel more like the nomad he’d grown up as. Marcechamp was also the kind of person to go off on months-long hunts without a linkpearl when the mood struck him, so in that respect, again, he and the Warrior were well-matched.
What few people were milling about the cluster of hunter’s houses barely paused to look at them, throwing nods in Marcechamp’s direction. He flashed smiles at them all as they passed. Nobody asked any questions.
Marcechamp’s lodgings were in a low, tan-colored building. Jali had never seen them before, having been out in the field during his previous encounters with the hunter, but his first impression was that they seemed cozy, and simple, and very much to his father’s tastes. Zenos had to duck to fit in the doorway. The air inside was, thankfully, a few degrees warmer and Jali tugged off his gloves with a sigh.
“How about we get you both some lunch,” Marcechamp suggested. “The boys won’t be here for a little while yet.”
“That sounds great,” Jali said.
Marcechamp went off to rummage in his pantry. Jali wandered a little aimlessly after him past the entryway. He’d intended to find the nearest table and chair, but movement caught his attention on his right side and he peered around an open doorway to see.
This room was set apart from the rest of the house, with rugs on the floor and things on the walls. It felt like an addition to the original plan, if Jali had to guess. There were windows on the far wall, but the curtains were drawn, casting the room in dim sepia. Bookshelves and curiosity cabinets marked this place as some sort of study. There was a tall elezen in the room. He was wearing simple robes with blue trim, and his wheat-brown hair was pulled into a high bun. He had his back to the doorway, reading from a book stand, but he twitched his ear and raised his head before Jali could apologize for disturbing his peace.
The elezen sniffed the air, and turned his head further. Even though he’d realized who this must be, and what he must look like, Jali stifled a sharp intake of air at the sight.
The man’s face was destroyed. It was covered in oddly-textured, taut skin; burns, long healed. One eye socket sagged into his cheek, giving the ugly impression it was melting it’s way down his face. His other eye, his left, was similarly oddly shaped, the iris dull and spread across the sclera like pale ink in water.
“ Filthy rats ,” the man’s gnarled lips twisted up in a terrifying grimace, and his hiss sounded like death. He turned fully, and Jali realized neither of his arms continued far past his elbows.
The au ra stumbled back in alarm. He didn’t get far, colliding with the broad wall of Zenos’ chest after just a few steps. Jali mumbled an apology even as he changed course and put himself firmly behind his looming companion, but he wasn’t sure who he was talking to; Zenos wasn’t listening.
The former prince’s full focus was forward. “Charibert de Leusignac,” he said evenly. “You do live.”
Even though he was convinced the elezen was blind, Jali felt when his attention shifted to Zenos and breathed a sigh of relief.
“What stain darkens our doorstep now,” Charibert rasped, ruined features contorting with a strange kind of excitement. “I would have you cleansed.”
The head of the house returned to rescue them. “Charibert,” Marcechamp’s voice had an edge of warning to it. “We’re just in to get a snack. The boys will be here in a bit and then they’ll be off.”
There was a noise from somewhere else in the darkened room, like a low groan or whimper.
“And you’re upsetting Zephirin,” the hunter added, pointedly.
Charibert stared Zenos down for another moment. Then he snorted, and returned to his tome. Jali wasn’t sure how he could read it given that he had no eyes to see, and had no hands with which to turn the pages, but he wasn’t about to ask.
Marcechamp stepped past them into the room. The noise had come from what Jali realized now was an occupied wheelchair, placed in front of the curtained windows as though one could see out of them still. Marcechamp bent his knees and spoke softly to the occupant. Jali didn’t hear a response.
Zenos’ eye narrowed in renewed interest. Jali wondered how he’d guessed their identities; this part certainly wasn’t in the public version of Heavensward.
Marcechamp rejoined them and showed them back to what must be his quarters. It was a simple room, with an unadorned, wood-carved table and similarly bland cots. Jali sat at one of the chairs and tried to will feeling back into his fingers.
“Sorry about that,” Marcechamp squeezed his shoulder. “I told them we’d have guests but they’re not…not all there.” He winced.
Jali nodded. “Oh yeah I’m fine,” he assured the hunter. “I’ve been scared worse.” He glanced across the table to where Zenos was settling in his own seat.
Zenos met his gaze flatly.
Marcechamp laughed. “So I heard.” He set a plate in front of Jali, then walked around the table to serve Zenos as well. “Bet you’re feeling mighty lucky about now, huh?” He addressed the garlean.
Zenos blinked. “Huh?” He sat up straight in his chair. Then, the eyebrow over his good eye rose. “This,” he pointed to the uncovered half of his face, “was not luck .” He grinned, all teeth. “That they let him destroy them so thoroughly is simply a reminder that eikons are nothing next to my be-“ he stopped suddenly, correcting himself after a moment, “-the Warrior.”
Marcechamp turned to Jali. “He talk like this all the time?”
“Oh yeah,” Jali said, tucking his chin on a propped palm.
Marcechamp laughed again, and set a place for himself.
Lunch was a quiet affair of chocobo sandwiches and crisp vegetables from the Tailfeather farms. They were just finishing up when the front door creaked open and let in two more elezen.
Dishes piled neat, Jali and Zenos ambled back down to the dim study, where Marcechamp and the newcomers had gathered. Charibert was sat now in a high-backed, plush-lined chair, staring blankly ahead with his ruined eyes but clearly listening. Beside him, someone had brought the wheelchair around. Across from them both, on a couch matched with Charibert’s armchair, two younger elezen sat leaning forward to confer quietly with Zephirin over the lit incense brazier set on the low coffee table between them.
Zephirin looked…not as unrecognizable as Charibert. His face was still largely intact, though there were scars across the bridge of his nose and cheek. Somehow, he still seemed the worse off. His head lolled slightly to the side and his mouth hung loose, like an ailing grandparent. His gaze, though it flit between the two young visitors as they spoke in turn to him, was utterly empty, following the noises without comprehending.
Unbidden, Jali heard the memory his father’s linkpearl-distorted voice, explaining what he’d done to a curious Zenos.
I shattered Charibert’s staff with a Thunder, it backfired in his hands. Surprised the bastard survived it. He’d said. Zephirin I used the lance on. Dragonfire Dive pinned him to the floor like an insect. I’d aimed for his chest but he moved faster than I expected, and I caught his hips instead. Left him there till I could finish things. Laydi said I took out a kidney, which sounds about right.
Jali pursed his lips. Zephirin’s lower half was covered by thick blankets and the rest of him with soft robes, but he didn’t need to see the damage to imagine it.
Shivering, he turned his attention to the newcomers. They too had marks from his father.
Long blue hair kept the scar half-hidden, but as the taller one turned to look at him and Zenos, Jali caught a glimpse of the ruined side of his face. It was a nasty thing, far more expansive than Zenos’ wound, though the elezen had retained use of both of his eyes. Even long-healed, half of the man’s upper teeth were exposed to the air, the lip warped and pulled back, and the ear on that side was misshapen and stiff. He looked quite serious, but when he stood and offered Jali an introduction, his voice held no fury. “I am Janlenoux,” he gave a short bow, “and you must be the Warrior’s son.”
“That’s me,” Jali said pleasantly as he could, returning the gesture. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Janlenoux’s misshapen mouth was hard to read but his eyes softened in what was undoubtedly a smile. “And this is Adelphel,” he said gesturing to one who’d stepped up to join him.
Adelphel was a flaxen-haired elezen around Jali’s own age. He looked remarkably like he’d not faced the Warrior of Light in mortal combat, and smiled brightly at them both from his place at Janlenoux’s side. He stepped forward and offered a hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” Jali took his hand.
Adelphel laughed softly. “I’m sure.”
Zenos didn’t seem inclined to introduce himself, so Jali did it for him. “This is Zenos,” he said, stepping aside so they could greet him better.
Janlenoux gave Zenos a single, sharp nod. Adelphel kept his smile. “Of course.”
Zenos did not respond.
“So…” Jali turned to him. “Adelphel and Janlenoux are going to act as escorts.”
“For whom?” Zenos said lowly. Before Jali could open his mouth again he elaborated. “Me? Or you.”
“My lord, if I may,” Adelphel inserted himself with the gracefulness of one accustomed to dealing with the fickle whims of the upper class. “Our intent is to guard you both.”
“You think you can?”
Jali suppressed a shudder, the tension was pricking at his senses like alarm bells. He looked back at Zenos, mostly to assure himself the garlean wasn’t the red-eyed monstrosity that haunted his memories.
Zenos did not have his Resonance active. He didn’t even look very interested in the conversation.
Adelphel’s smile dropped, but only slightly. “Your powers are impressive,” he admitted, “but we’ve had a while to get used to our…shared current circumstances.”
“You gave yourself to your eikon. I ate mine whole.” Zenos turned around. “We are nothing alike.”
Adelphel shook his head. “That’s…not the part I meant,” he murmured, but Zenos had already stomped off to inspect the bookshelves.
“Sorry. He’s…in some kind of mood,” Jali offered, a little perplexed. Zenos had not been like this at lunch.
Adelphel shrugged. “Tis no matter,” he assured.
Jali hummed, dropping his gaze for a moment. He glanced at Marcechamp, still speaking with Charibert, and then up to Janlenoux and Adelphel, standing there at the ready.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said.
Janlenoux shifted. “We owe your father quite a bit, we would repay what we may.”
Jali met his eyes. “It’s a big ask. Zenos is a fighter of my father’s caliber, and he’s volatile,” he said, as frankly as he could. “Even if everything else goes right, being around him is risky.”
Adelphel cocked his head. “You’re here.”
Jali filled his lungs with a deep breath, and sighed. “Yeah.” He didn’t want to explain why, knowing he didn’t have the words for all of it, and that half of it was stupid impulse anyway. “I just…want you to know what you’re getting into,” he finished lamely.
Adelphel clapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate it. Truly. But rest assured, we were briefed on what to expect and the Warrior gave us ample opportunity to withdraw.”
Jali nodded, his chest loosening some as he returned Adelphel’s kind expression.
The conversation turned to more general things: Jali’s accomplishments at Ironworks, Adelphel’s new summons, Janlenoux’s bakery, until Marcechamp rejoined them. “Ready to go?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Adelphel nodded, “our bags are out-”
“Tserenson.”
Everyone turned, startled, at Zephirin. He was staring at Jali, alert.
“Ah,” Adelphel started, “perhaps-“
“It’s alright,” Jali said. He walked over to where the two older ward members sat. He tried not to look at Charibert, who was poised in his chair like a ruined statue, stock still and grim in the shadows of the room.
Instead he focused on Zephirin as he kneeled before him, folding his feet under the weight of his tail. Zephirin’s eyes had followed him the whole way.
“Tserenson,” the elezen repeated. His voice was hoarse and wavered a bit, and had an air of deep melancholy to it that Jali did not know how to address.
“Ser Zephirin.” Jali swallowed.
Zephirin said something in Ishgardian. Jali struggled to remember what little of the language he had picked up during his travels, but Charibert’s rasp saved him the trouble.
“He asks why you travel with the dragon.”
Jali considered his answer carefully. “My father claimed him,” he said at last, “as he did you.”
“ Son œil… ”Zephirin said airily, as though drifting away. His hand lifted to trace his own cheek, and Jali realized with a start what he was referring to. There was a scar there, faint but present, that ran over his nose, clearly broken and reset, and down past Zephirin’s cheek on that side.
He noticed because he’d been staring at a very similar wound, albeit much more recently wrought, for the past few weeks.
Zephirin’s hand reached up and Jali watched, because he could not look away despite his gorge rising, as he peeled back his own eyelid and dug the eye out of its socket.
It was a glass eye, of course. As soon as the motion was completed and Zephirin remained whole despite it, the building horror abated and Jali could see the exquisite craftsmanship on display as the elezen held it in his palm.
“Tserenson,” he said again.
Hastily, Jali held out his hands, and received the glass eye, it’s emerald inlay glinting as it rolled. Zephirin’s hands, cold at the fingertips, folded over his own and molded his fingers around it. He could feel the aether contained in the object, and wondered.
Convinced now that Jali would take the gift, Zephirin sat back. He made the effort to say something at length, again in Ishgardian, this time directed at Charibert.
The old inquisitor sneered, but spoke on his friend’s behalf anyway. “The Heavensward have killed many a dragon in our time. Two of us walk with you, but we are not as we used to be. Use this, should you have need of it.”
Jali clutched the glass in his hand. Movement out of the corner of his eye stole his attention for a moment: Zenos, a shock of blue as his eye flashed in the dim study light.
The looming garlean betrayed nothing on his face, but he inclined his head.
“Thank you, honored elder,” Jali said, reverting to the way he’d been taught to speak to the nunhs.
He thought he saw the corner of Zephirin’s mouth curl up in a smile. The elezen’s fingers twitched; a dismissal wave, if he’d had the strength for it.
Jali stood, bowed to the two men, and slipped the eye into one of his belt pouches as he straightened.
Marcechamp cleared his throat. “Well then, let’s get you mounted up.”
Marcechamp’s private stables were around the back of the complex. Tseren had left mounts here for them a few weeks back when he’d visited himself.
“He seemed very confident I would follow along,” Zenos grumbled. But he was following along, so his words didn’t have much weight.
As they approached the barn, Jali already picked out which of the birds was meant to be his. Edelweiss was a black chocobo, Ishgardian pure-bred. He had always looked slim next to Tseren’s mighty war-yol and the Warrior’s personal mount Narantsetsig, who were both mean old ladies who’d drawn blood on Jali more than once, but he was certainly no cart-bird or flighty merchant’s mount. Trained by house Fortemps, he was a sturdy bird, accustomed to cold and knew to fly calm and steady for a rider. He’d always been gentle and even shy, and Jali approached without hesitation.
“Hey ‘weiss,” he stroked the bird’s beak in greeting, “good to see ya.”
The bird kweh’ d gently and pressed against his palm.
Jali wasn’t terribly fond of riding, but he knew how to do it. His father had left tack for them as well, including packed saddlebags. Jali would go through them later, but he’d traveled enough with his father to know what was likely to be in them. He saddled Edelweiss with his own journey bags and bedroll, Zenos hovering a few paces away watching all the while. When he was satisfied, he led Edelweiss in hand out from under the stable awning, to where Marcechamp was waiting. “Which one is Zenos’? I’ll help him tack up.”
Marcechamp, checking the bird’s girth strap, looked up. “Oh no, you'd need a hell of a chocobo to carry a man that size,” he jerked a thumb at Zenos. “Tseren left this instead. He said you’d know how to use it.” He handed Zenos a long, strange sort of flute.
“That’s a mount summon,” Jali frowned. “Can you use that? It requires aether, and you’re still recovering-“
Zenos squinted at the gift, turning it this way and that in his hand, and then shook his head. “That is of no issue.”
The garlean blew one long, high note on the whistle. In a rush of aether and fur and teeth, a dog- no, a wolf- stepped into being. It was a majestic creature, silver-grey fur underneath stunning gold markings, with a strange green fire that seemed to emanate from its chest.
Jali watched as Zenos visibly perked, standing straighter.
The wolf seemed to catch sight of him, and, ears forward, padded over. It was a massive thing, relatively speaking. Jali had no doubt it would be able to carry Zenos on it’s back. As it was, the wolf snuffled at Zenos’ chest, and then, tail shaking with eagerness, pressed forward and tried to lick at Zenos’ face.
Jali had to laugh. The former prince grimaced and tried to turn his face out of the way, hands pushing back on the wolf’s chest, but he did allow the creature a few wet licks.
“I think he likes you,” Jali said.
“He is of Shinryu,” Zenos rumbled, finally pushing the wolf off with a firm command. “He shows deference to me, that is all.”
The wolf wagged his tail harder, staring up at Zenos expectantly.
Zenos stared back. He took one large palm and after a moment of consideration, placed it firmly on the wolf’s head.
The wolf huffed happily from under his hand and continued to wag.
“Have you ever pet a dog before?” Jali asked amused, crossing his arms.
“I kept no pets but those that were useful,” Zenos answered in his typical manner, his hand still on the dog. He turned to Marcechamp. “This mount is acceptable.”
“Naturally,” Marcechamp flashed a grin. “Figured Tseren would know what he was doing. Alright now,” he turned to the young former ward members, approaching with their own chocobos. “You boys know your route?”
“Yessir,” Janlenoux answered.
“Thank you, Ser Marcechamp,” Adelphel added, then ducked his head and giggled as the older elezen cuffed him round the ear.
“Don’t you ‘Ser’ me, either of you,” he said, fondness ruining any sense of disapproval. “Best make use of your daylight then! Get!”
The ward mounted their birds. Zenos swung his bundle and then himself up onto the wolf’s back, confident as if the thing was a perfectly regular pony.
Jali hopped up on Edelweiss, grateful that he’d been trained well enough to stand still for the process. His father’s beasts tended to be more go than woah, and Jali had never been a fan of moving mounts. He kissed his teeth and brought the bird around. “Thanks Marc.”
“Don’t mention it kid,” Marcechamp tilted his head back to look up at him, patting his knee. “Stay safe out there. Sun’s blessings.”
Jali felt warm again; that wasn’t an Ishgardian saying. “I’d tell Halone to keep you but I think you’ve got one better.”
Marcechamp threw his head back for a full, true laugh. “When he deigns to visit!” They shared a grin, and then Marcechamp clicked his tongue and patted Edelweiss’ flank and the bird started forward obediently.
Janlenoux and Adelphel had taken their place at the head of the party, Zenos and the wolf waiting patiently behind them. He joined them, Edelweiss trilling tentatively to his new companions. The bird was tall, and the wolf was less so, so Zenos was only an ilm or so above Jali instead of a full head and shoulders. The former prince looked…well, like a prince, sitting with a grace and stature that shone despite his plain clothes. He held his balance with his legs only, his hands at rest at his side. “You know how to steer that thing?”
Zenos blinked at him, unconcerned that he had neither saddle nor bridle for his steed. “We have an understanding.”
“Naturally,” Jali smiled. He glanced back and saw Marcechamp, leaning against a post by the stables. The man’s bright grin had faded into a weary, watchful gaze. Jali found his hand in his pocket, rolling Zephirin’s eye between his fingertips.
Janlenoux gave a sharp whistle, and Jali rushed to grab the reins before Edelweiss started forward, and then they all four were off, into the Dravanian wilds.