Chapter Text
When Haurchefant awoke the next morning, Arion was already up and about -- though from the warmth still in the bed with him, it hadn’t been long. He wondered if he could look pathetic enough to make Arion come back and curl up a little longer. He had almost died yesterday, after all.
(Actually he’d never been in any real danger until he’d fallen in the poison, but still, damnit all to hells , Tezo was a quick bugger. And hit like a behemoth.
And Haurchefant was still trying to figure out how he used to cast spells from dragonback .)
Regardless, he wasn’t quite ready to get up, so when he opened his eyes to squint and determine if he could convince Arion to return to bed.
He watched as Arion looked under every chair and table, in cabinets, even into the closet they shared, before standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, tapping his foot. He looked nervous, frustrated, and concerned. Not a good mix.
Doodle came out of the other shared room, chirping and shaking her head. Arion’s nervousness only seemed to grow.
Doodle noticed Haurchefant was awake, which meant pets were to be had, and whatever Arion had asked her to do was forgotten as she bounded over and catapulted herself onto the bed and straight into Haurchefant’s stomach.
“ Oof --Good morning , Snickerdoodle. No worries, I don’t think I need my spleen…” he coughed, still surprised that she could make such a forceful impact for being made of aether. Regardless, he sat up, blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders, while she kneaded his sleep pants to make it just so . She then curled up into a tight little bun, vibrating contently as Haurchefant did, indeed, pet her. “And good morning, Ari.”
Arion turned and smiled brightly, and for a brief moment, seemed to forget everything he was worried about. To Haurchefant, it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds. He couldn’t help but beam back. Arion walked over and, with a little Jump, planted a loving peck on Haurchefant’s lips. He landed, then climbed up on the bed next to the Knight, snuggling under the blanket with him.
“Morning Haru. Apologies if I woke you, I tried to be quiet,” he said.
“What were you looking for?” Haurchefant asked, wrapping one arm around him while being careful not to disturb Doodle.
“Cassini,” he said, after a pause. “She’s…not back yet. I mean…” Arion held his hand out and, as Haurchefant watched, a black and gold soulstone appeared, floating ilms above his palm. If Haurchefant was interpreting the motif on the stone right, it depicted someone getting decapitated by a scythe. “She’s not gone ,” Arion continued, talking to the stone. “If I needed her, really needed her, she’d be back in a moment. But…” He closed his hand and the soulstone vanished. “I want her here. Which probably seems silly.”
Haurchefant looked down at Doodle, a manifestation of Arion’s will as an arcanist, a magecraft he didn’t actually practice. A familiar who was always by his side. He thought of the shade that walked the same steps Arion took. He even considered the ghost that somehow had been haunting Arion’s room specifically.
No, it didn’t seem silly. But Haurchefant was a little concerned that Arion seemed to create or otherwise obtain his own confidants, rather than lean on his friends. Or lean on him .
He thought back to the fight with Lightwarden Philia. Of his dance with Lightwarden Titania. Watching Arion be an army of one. No. It wasn’t silly. It was a problem.
A recurring, deep seeded, problem.
“Is there a reason you believe she’s avoiding you, rather than…resting?” Haurchefant offered, not voicing his thoughts (somewhere, Ratatoskr was sighing something fierce. Hadn’t they just promised to communicate better? Though, she wondered if his issue was less with Arion and more with the world that forced Arion to be a war machine).
Arion nodded. “Yesterday, when I issued the order to her to retreat while Emet-Selch was there. I didn’t know at the time, but I actually recreated the scenario that killed Silent, her former Reaper.” He looked at his hands. “When I went to find her later, I tried to justify my actions…and inadvertently echoed Silent’s last words.”
“Oh.” Was all that Haurchefant could say. He suspected Cassini’s reaction was similar to what might happen if anyone ever told Arion that smiling suited him better.
“She’s not mad at me,” Arion continued. “I think…she’s afraid. And I reminded her of what she was afraid of. And…it’s selfish, it really is. But I’m worried…that she’ll focus on just being my Avatar, my sword, my shield , and not…my friend.”
“We’re talking about Cassini. You’ll sooner get the sun to stop rising.”
The voice registered in Arion’s head quickly enough to keep himself from Jumping across the room, manifesting a lance in the meantime. It registered fast enough to stop Haurchefant, an aetheric sword manifesting.
It didn’t stop Doodle from launching what looked suspiciously like a megaflare straight at the owner.
Arion and Haurchefant both did not hide their disappointment when the owner was unscathed, brushing dust off his shoulder as if the space around him was not currently char. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the room went back to normal, with the exception of Doodle, who stood in the dead center, tails up and in a battle stance.
“I never liked you,” Emet-Selch muttered to the Carbuncle as he leaned against the windowsill. “Why is everyone’s first response to attack me?”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Arion spat.
“It’s very rude, you know!”
“Why the hells are you on our balcony?” Haurchefant barely contained his voice. He didn’t yell, but the hard edge was evident. “There’s a bloody door. ”
“So there is, very good!” Emet-Selch stated, voice pitched as if he were talking to a toddler. His tone dropped to normal as he continued. “I knocked for a whole minute with no response. I simply came this way to make sure you two weren’t dead.” Neither man nor carbuncle was convinced. Emet-Selch didn’t appear to care. “Anyway, appropriate topic. I came to offer language lessons.”
Arion hopped off the bed, and Haurchefant mentally added “cut into cuddle time” to the list of atrocities committed by the Ascian. The Dwarf walked until he stood next to Doodle, arms crossed.
“You are the last person I want to learn Garlean from. I’d sooner learn from the Exarch, and I think he’s guessing.”
Emet-Selch sighed. “I cannot imagine why you’d pass up this opportunity. I even have an understanding of Reaper Pacts, so I could give some insight on how to keep her leashed better. Free of charge!”
“I can list at least ten reasons why I would pass,” Arion replied crossly. “Starting with breaking into our room at first light .”
“Arion can learn more from Urianger than you, anyway,” Haurchefant added. “He’s more learned than even a native speaker. So unless you invented the language…” He stopped.Emet-Selch stared back, one eyebrow raised. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“Some plans take millenia to pay off,” the Ascian replied, sighing. “Longer when your own cohort seems keen on derailing them. Lahabrea really was more of a nuisance than a help in the end.” A shake of his head. “Do not tell Elidibus I said this, but thank you for dealing with that maniac. Saved me a lot of trouble trying to determine how to make his death look like an accident. And don’t get me started on Nabriales. Really , he just handed you all the method that can actually kill us. What a bother.” Arion, Doodle, and Haurchefant just stared, silently and in slight shock, as Emet-Selch ranted to himself. “Some people just do not age well.”
“You’re…welcome?” Arion said, because his brain had short-circuited and so all he could do was fall back on ‘be polite.’ His mother and momma would have been so proud (and then probably kicked Emet-Selch’s arse from here to next week).
Haurchefant was the first to snap out of it, and snap out of it he did.
“We don’t need your help. And Arion didn’t ask for it! So go away.”
“So stubborn. Let me guess, if I don’t leave, you’ll take matters into your own hands?” Emet-Selch yawned. “Or you’ll call the Exarch? Well, you needn’t bother with the second option, actually. Fairly sure he’s on his way.”
Arion raised one eyebrow in question toward Haurchefant, who looked just as confused. In the meantime, Emet-Selch tilted his head, and looked ( really looked) at the two men before him.
And then he smirked.
“Well. What a pair you both make.”
Arion froze, as did Haurchefant.
If both men had been paying more attention, they’d probably have realized they’d made the same reaction. And that should be suspicious. But both men had, (un?)fortunately, panicked.
Haurchefant wondered if Emet-Selch could see how entwined his aether was with Ratatoskr’s. If he could see through the glamour, see how far the scales had progressed. See that he wasn’t really the man he’d been before he’d faced the Heaven’s Ward.
Arion knew Emet-Selch could see there was something wrong with how he was responding to the Light. Maybe he was even happy that this was the result. Or maybe he’d turn around and tell the Exarch? Either way couldn’t happen, at least until Arion had a better hold on things.
And both men thought, at the same time:
He can’t tell Haru!
Dear Halone, what if he says something to Arion?!
Emet-Selch said nothing, however, but kept on smirking.
The moment passed, and Haurchefant decided to redirect the conversation, using the tried and true method of interpreting the comment to be about their interracial, homosexual relationship and not about literally anything else.
“Seriously, for all your worldliness, you’ve never seen a Lalafell married to an Elezen?” he asked. Emet-Selch sighed.
“A Dwarf married to an Elf, Knight. Please, at least remember the language of this Star .” Obviously the semantics of the comment bothered him more than the actual comment did.
Haurchefant was going to unleash the full power of his language if Emet-Selch didn’t stop talking.
“If I agree to take your stupid lesson will you leave ?!” Arion shouted, suddenly. The sound surprised Doodle, who let out a startled hop and fell over; Haurcefant was startled to his feet, and Emet-Selch actually looked poised to snap his fingers and bring the roof down on their heads. And Arion just stood there, hands in fists at his sides, glaring at Emet-Selch.
The Ascian lowered his hand. “Why, of course . I would need to prepare, after all. Would be terrible if I offered and then made a fool of myself!”
“Too late,” Haurchefant muttered. Emet-Selch ignored him.
“ Fine . Then I agree. I’ll meet you at noon at the Whispering Gallery. Now go away so we can have breakfast!”
Emet-Selch didn’t move. In fact, at the mention of food, he tilted his head a little. Like a dog.
Or a falcon?
Haurchefant wondered why he made that particular connection. Somewhere, Ratatoskr sighed again .
“Oh, lovely. What are we having?” the Ascian asked.
Arion’s glare could have frozen the Hell of Fire. “ Haurchefant and I will be eating together at the Wandering Stairs. And you will fuck off until the noon bell.”
Emet-Selch scrunched his nose. “I would rather eat grass than taste that swill . Good morn, then.” And then he was gone.
Arion, Haurchefant, and Doodle stood, ready, and waited for the Ascian to return. But he did not. So they relaxed.
And then there was a hurried knock at the door.
When Haurchefant opened it to reveal the (slightly winded, very concerned) Exarch, Arion walked back to bed and fell face first back into it.
It was going to be one of those days.
After Arion tried to wake up on a different side of the bed, Haurchefant tried to explain what happened to the Exarch, and both men gave a good toe wiggle (at least there would be that!), they (re)started their day by heading to the Wandering Stairs for a good breakfast.
“Seriously. An Ascian just standing in my room is probably the worst thing to ever wake up to. I’m already a terrible sleeper, now I’m going to think every scratch and creek is some unknowable being or that really creepy shoebill,” Arion muttered as they walked.
“...Shoebill?” the Exarch asked, politely, but also with no small amount of concern and disbelief.
“Yeah, there’s a massive one -- or maybe they’re all massive? I don’t know. There’s one that lives on my balcony, and if I’m not careful, it will just strut into the room and make itself at home.”
The Exarch stared at Arion, horrified, and Haurchefant just sighed. He had, unfortunately, seen said shoebill. And helped Arion kick it out, more than once.
“Ser Artemicion, I really think I need to give you a new room,” the Exarch finally stated, shaking himself from his stupor.
“Don’t bother,” Arion shrugged it off. “I’m fairly certain all this will follow me. Plus I like Ardbert. So long as the shoebill doesn’t think I’m a slightly oversized fish and try to eat me, well, it’s not harming anything.” They made their way up towards an empty table. “Actually, Exarch, are you busy today?”
Haurchefant and Arion both got the feeling that if he was busy, he no longer was the moment Arion asked. The Exarch probably was now chucking all those plans out the proverbial window so that his day was wide open and available.
“Other than returning some books to the Cabinet and checking with Katliss for updates on the provision supplies to Holminster Switch, no,” the Exarch said. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Well, it’s funny you mentioned the Cabinet because ---”
“DON’T WORRY LAD I GOT YA! LALI-HO!”
If anyone asked, Arion would admit that he absolutely believed that taking Garlean classes with Solus zos Galvus née Emet-Selch was going to be the weirdest part of his day. He would have bet a good sum of gil on it, in fact.
He had not, of course, factored in a Dwarf with…a bucket.
Haurchefant and the Exarch did not get to react because said Dwarf was still in motion and still speaking.
The Dwarf had leapt from…somewhere...and immediately shoved a bucket onto Arion’s head, covering him from the neck up. They then turned to look suspiciously at Haurchefant and the Exarch, all while keeping one firm hand on Arion’s shoulder and the other on the bucket.
“Okay, here’s what were gonna do! We’re gonna get you over to that Mean place and get you a new helmet made, as quickly as bloody possible. I don’t think many folk saw ya, no problems there. Just these two bigg’uns and I think the smaller bigg’un doesn’t have eyes. So there’s just the bigger bigg’un and I can take him. A good whack will make him forget he saw anything. Actually, I’ll whack them both, just in case. And I am absolutely not going to tell anyone that you were walking about with your face out! No one’s gonna know!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Arion shouted, though his voice was muffled by the bucket. He struggled to shake off the Dwarf and remove the offending article from his head. Haurchefant moved to help and barely missed getting hit with a war hammer.
“By Halone, you were serious about the whacking,” he said, backing off and wondering if he was going to have to square off with the diminutive warrior to rescue his beloved from the confines of his wooden prison.
Luckily Cyella appeared to intervene.
“ Giott for the love of…! Stop that! Get that off his head!” the Barmaid shook the Dwarf off by grabbing her hammer and knocking her off balance. “And you can’t just threaten to bludgeon the second in command of the Crystarium Guard or the Crystal Exarch for having eyes!”
Giott staggered back while Cyella knelt and carefully pulled the bucket from Arion’s head. “Oh no, your flowers…”
Arion blinked, because for a moment, Cyella (who Arion had only ever seen wear two expressions -- neutral and stern) looked like she was very distraught. He quickly cast a small rejuvenation spell and the flowers on his crown fluttered back to shape.
He turned his attention back to the Dwarf named Giott. She was looking at them with complete and utter shock , which was portrayed by her entire body, since her face was completely covered by her helmet.
Giott shook her head, then perked up and pointed at Arion. “ Oh! This is a test! Prove that even though I’m not at Tomra, I am still adhering to the ancestor’s laws. Well, not to worry! You can run along and tell everyone I’m all fine and good! But…maybe stop with the illusion, you’ll freak everyone out. Like I did.”
Arion stared blankly at the Dwarf. Cyella just sighed and held her head in her hands.
The Exarch cleared his throat.
“Tomra… you’d be of the Tholls, then, correct Giott?” he asked, kindly.
“Oh aye! You can tell by my wonderfully full beard!” she replied proudly. Arion and Haurchefant exchanged a look. Arion wondered if maybe he’d gotten a head injury when she’d slammed the bucket over it.
“I see. Well, we in the Crystarium are always willing to foster cultural exchange, and it has been quite some time since any Dwarf -- Tholl or Gogg -- has visited. However,” he gestured to Arion as he continued, “you cannot just assume that everyone you meet adheres to the same traditions as you. For example, Arion is neither Gogg or Tholl -- he’s not aware of your ancestral laws as he wasn’t raised among either tribe. As such, he does not wear a helmet.”
Giott was thoughtful. “I assumed he was a Gogg,” she muttered. “I guess if he was a Gogg I probably should have hit him with my hammer and not the bucket, really…” She looked up at the Exarch. “I’m assumin’ yer that Crystal Fella? On account that you’re mostly it?” The Exarch gave her a smile. “I’ll be! Beggin’ yer pardon then, didn’t mean to threaten ya or nothin’. Just was trying to look after one of me own.” She peered at Arion again. “Well. Thought ‘e was. But he’s not. So I’ll go mind my own business. Good day lads!” And with a crisp salute, she trotted off…toward the Wandering Stairs.
Cyella followed quickly after. “I am not giving you ale, Giott! It’s not even the 9th morning bell!”
They watched the pair leave, then picked a table as far away from where Giott had perched as they could.
“My most sincere apologies,” the Exarch said to Arion. “It never once crossed my mind to instruct you on the culture and traditions of the Dwarf Tribes. Or thought to get you a helmet. In hindsight, this was a horrible mistake. At a minimum, I should have taught you enough to be able to explain why you aren’t helmeted.”
Arion shook his head. “I honestly don’t think it’d have made a difference. Even back home, I feel more kinship to Miq’ote and Roegadyn than fellow Lalafell sometimes. It would have been obvious I wasn’t ‘following Tradition’ or whatever Giott was getting on about. And I was certainly made aware of the helmet thing when I first got here, I just forgot. Though it seems very important to her, and I assume Dwarves in general?”
“Absolutely. While it is considered acceptable to remove one’s helmet around kin or members of the same village, it is an egregious offense to do so anywhere else. Before the Flood, a sign of an exiled Dwarf was one without a helmet.”
And they exiled Dwarves for stupid fucking reasons, Ardbert quipped to Arion.
The Exarch frowned. “I…realize another major folly of mine. Arion, you may be the only Dwarf on the First who doesn’t live amongst the Tholl or Gogg. I…don’t think any of the Exiled survived the Flood.”
Arion thought about how insistent Katliss had been about him not joining the group that went to rescue Lia. And realized that her point now made a whole lot more sense. Not only was he the only Dwarf in the Crystarium Guard, he was also the only Dwarf on the whole star that followed no tradition or tribal law. She’d been right -- he was more obviously out of place than a Goobbue in Limsa.
Also it appeared that Giott drank like a fish, and Arion wondered if that was also common with Dwarves. If so, it’d just be another point against him -- as everyone was well aware, he couldn’t hold his liquor at all.
“Maybe I should just wear my Dragoon helmet. Or my Dark Knight one,” he muttered. “Covered, but obviously not Tholl or Gogg? Neither look like Giott’s in the slightest.”
The Exarch contemplated this, unsure. Haurchefant just shook his head.
“I think we just explain it to people -- say you were adopted by a Mystel and a Galdjent, and so you don’t know Dwarf tradition because you weren’t raised in it. And otherwise, folks assume you’re ‘from the Exarch’s homeland,’ which has completely different cultural nuances. It’s not a lie,” he said, shrugging. “If people have issues, they can take it up with me.” The Exarch nodded. “Additionally, you are a Crystarium resident until you no longer wish to be. You fit right in with all the other oddballs and misfits.”
The Exarch frowned. “My people are not odd,” he said, sternly.
“There’s a homicidal maniac that runs the Hunter’s Guild who also happens to be a Moogle. I’ve seen literally no other Moogles in my six going on seven years here.”
“...Clan Nutsy is the exception…” the Exarch muttered.
“Bjorn is convinced you're a time-traveler with a giant robot in the basement,” Arion added. “Also, no offense, but you’re literally half crystal and bound to an Allagan Relic you somehow pulled from a completely different world . You probably don’t consider anyone in the Crystarium odd, sure, but your frame of reference is odd enough.”
The Exarch sighed.
“Not saying there’s anything wrong with being odd,” laughed Haurchefant, clapping the Exarch on the back. “Trust this misfit. It’s more fun than being normal.”
They broke their fast (at least Arion and Haurchefant did. The Exarch had a cup of tea, which he mostly just stirred absently instead of drinking), and then went their separate ways. Arion back to the Pendants to change into different clothing and prepare for his unwanted and unexpected ‘class’; the Exarch to finish the few tasks he needed to before meeting up again with Arion to also attend the ‘language lesson’; and Haurchefant to…about thirty fulms up the short staircase that led to the bar Cyella was currently occupying.
“Ser Greystone, what can I do for you? Other than apologize again for Giott’s behavior?” Cyella asked when he approached. He shook his head and waved off the comment.
“The Exarch explained a little about Dwarvish tradition. No harm, ultimately,” he said. He produced the hunt bill and set it on the bar. “However, I could use your assistance. The Exarch has suggested that I assist any folk who come looking to take down the Cardinal Virtues. I assume they’ve already started to gather?”
Cyella glanced at the bill and nodded. “I wondered which one of you was going to badger the old man into being allowed to participate. I’ll admit, I thought it was going to be your husband. I’m relieved to be wrong.” Haurchefant tilted his head at this, but she continued as if she didn’t notice. “Well, unfortunately, you already met one hunter in a rather embarrassing fashion. Giott accepted the commission from her tribe - the Tholls - to investigate the Virtue known as Sophrosyne.”
“Well, that certainly explains why she’s here, and not in…Tomra, I think it was called,” Haurchefant said. He looked over at where Giott sat, happily munching on a full breakfast…somehow (she was still wearing the helmet).
“Lue-Reeq Chalah, an archer,” she continued, gesturing to a well-dressed but slightly nervous appearing Mystel across the way, “hails from Eulmore, and intends to seek out the Virtue Andreia.” She pointed out another man, “Cerigg Morpurse, also an archer, has his sights set for the Virtue Phronesis. Unfortunately for the three of them, these Virtues, who had been quite active of late, have since gone silent. They all are currently looking for leads.” Haurchefant nodded. Cyella paused. “The Virtue known as Dikaiosyne has been sighted recently -- apparently it appears to be looking for something. Granson Ketchthane mentioned he’d be setting out today to find it.” She pointed, and Haurchefant followed her hand to see the last Virtue-Hunter.
Granson stood well away from every patron of the Wandering Stairs, finding the exact place where the most shadows met to take up residence. He leaned back against the wall, partially obscured in darkness. The part of his face that was visible held an expression of apathy. And he, of course, was clad in black armor and had a greatsword strapped to his back.
Oh no, Haurchefant thought. That is a Dark Knight. That is absolutely a Dark Knight.
Is there a problem? Ratatoskr asked.
Haurchefant thought of Sidurgu, Fray, and Arion with Esteem. And the slight dread all three (well, not Arion, but Esteem) brought him.
Nope! He thought back to her. The dragon just sighed.
“Meaning no offense, but I’m very glad you’re going to be going with him, Ser Greystone,” Cyella said quietly. “I do not doubt Granson’s abilities, but I worry that he may not…” she hesitated, trying to put into words her thoughts.
“Where I come from, folks who bear weapons like that have a very specific reputation about them,” Haurchefant said. “So…let’s just say, I absolutely understand. And,” he pushed himself away from the bar, put on his best smile, and nodded to her. “It appears it’s time I make a new friend!”
Cyella watched him go and wondered if maybe she should now be more worried for both their sakes.
And Haurchefant prayed to anything that would listen that Granson Ketchthane did not have a shade he’d have to learn to deal with.
However, introductions went well, and Granson didn’t question why a member of the Crystarium Guard was offering to help, and, to Haurchefant, the man seemed to know who he was.
“I know you, but it’s very unlikely you would know me,” he said, after watching Haurchefant’s face twist into thought as he tried to recall where he’d met Granson before. “You were in the group with the Crystal Exarch -- the one that came through Wright a few years ago. I was one of the folks who helped get your provisions so you could leave safely.”
“Oh! Well…I’m surprised anyone remembered me in that group,” Haurchefant said sheepishly. “And do you think our hunt will take us to Kholusia, by chance?”
Granson nodded. “Yes. A problem, perhaps?”
Haurchefant shook his head quickly.
“If there is an issue, just understand I may disappear for a moment, but I will catch up,” he said brightly. “Though if our journey takes us to Eulmore for any reason, I will have to wait outside.”
“As would I, so let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” the other man stated. He crossed his arms. “I was going to challenge you to a hunt before we left, to ensure you were up to this task, but I think we’ll skip it.” Haurchefant raised one eyebrow. “If you’re a member of the Exarch’s personal guard, you should be more than capable.”
Well, that wasn’t much to argue against, so Haurchefant just nodded.
“Let us quit this place for Wright, then.”
Haurchefant agreed to meet Granson at the Aetheryte, then went running back to his room to grab his pack and traveling supplies. On the way back, he passed by the Wandering Stairs just long enough to hear Cyella patiently, painstakingly explain to Giott that Arion Artemicion was not Sophrosyne simply because he was a helmetless dwarf who wore white robes.
The trip to Wright was incredibly uneventful. Haurchefant had absolutely met rocks who were more conversational than Granson, not that he faulted the man for being taciturn. A lot appeared to be on his mind.
So he took the time to think. Mostly to go over the different exercises Tezo had taught him, which he’d be tested on when he returned from this hunt (not that the Node…man…ghost? had ever stated this, he just kind of expected it from someone who would willingly throw a fireball at his head without much warning.).
He was only partially concerned that something might happen which would result in him calling on Ratatoskr. He didn’t think it would actually occur, but the concern was always there -- and he wasn’t sure he could explain to Granson in any way, shape, form, or rational excuse if he suddenly sprouted wings. Most everything else would be covered by the already intact glamour and the fact that he could pretend to be a spellcaster as well as a Knight.
Once they arrived at Wright proper, Granson stated the reason they’d started there -- that Dikaiosyne had attacked the village a year ago. Haurchefant almost said he was thankful that Granson had made it out unscathed, but something stopped his words.
Most likely, it was the greatsword coupled with the dark, haunted look in his eye.
So, with dread seeping into his bones, the two split up and Haurchefant went to see if anyone would be willing to talk about the catastrophe.
The answer was -- to no real surprise -- no .
Granson had no real luck either, though it made Haurchefant worry a little less that he easily admit it, instead of trying to cover up his lack of success by some story or another.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” Granson muttered. “That someone else would remember anything .” Haurchefant respectfully remained quiet while the man thought. After a moment, the Dark Knight turned to him. “I lived in Wright, as I mentioned to you before. Up until a year ago. I survived the attack because I wasn’t present when it happened. I was at the shipyards, collecting supplies for Milinda’s most recent project…”
“Milinda…?” Haurchefant asked, knowing the answer wasn’t going to be a good one. There had been no one he’d spoken to named Milinda in town.
“A goldsmith. She worked best in antique restoration. She was in the process of restoring some bloody old bracelet…The Fangs of Orthus or some such,” Granson paused. “My fiance.”
Oh, Ratatoskr stated. That…does not bode well.
No, Haurchefant thought. It really doesn’t.
“Everything was…chaos. Dikaiosyne had come, and that monster set about killing and corrupting all who crossed his path. Everyone…including Milinda.” Granson’s hands formed fists, and he stared into the distance, as if trying to convince himself this was all a horrible, terrible nightmare, and he just had to wake up. “One minute, she was fine. Everything was okay. She was alive. The next…” He took a deep breath and his voice took a hard edge to it. “Dikaiosyne picked up the bracelet. The one she’d been working on. Like nothing else mattered. It just…picked it up and walked away, and all the Sin Eaters went with him.”
Granson looked at him then. “Except…Milinda. She just…stayed still. After she… changed . She didn’t attack, or try to leave. She was just waiting. Like…she knew, and needed me to…” He grit his teeth and looked away again. “For everything she ever did for me, all I could give her was a blade through the heart.”
“I swore then and there I'd have my vengeance. Dikaiosyne would die by my hand! I carved the scars in my flesh to mirror the ones he left on my soul. An enduring reminder of the vow that I never dare stray from the path…”
And then, Granson’s face returned to its neutral state, his fists unclenched, and he shook his head. “...There it is. No need to wallow in it.” He looked at Haurchefant and shrugged. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t relived what very well could have been the worst day of his life. “Have I scared you off, with my story of woe and tragedy, sinner?”
This one is blind to the dark within, Ratatoskr observed. What will become of him, once this hunt is completed?
Haurchefant shook his head. “I’m here to see this through,” he said, voice level.
“Give me a few moments, if you wouldn’t mind, to get myself in order. Then we will head out.”
Haurchefant nodded and moved to a small rocky outcropping a little ways off, to give Granson some privacy.
You are nervous. Anxious.
“Arion…if I hadn’t survived. Would he have ended up that way?” Haurchefant asked no one, even though Ratatoskr was listening. “Is he still at risk of ending up that way?” He looked back at Granson for a moment. “His story…mirror’s Arion’s with the only differences being that it was a Primal, not a sin eater, and I survived, where Milinda did not.”
And, begging all pardon, it seems that your survival is an anomaly, according to the Nodes, the Tycoon, and even your not-mate, Ratatoskr observed. Did not the Shadow say that the Dragonsong would follow you, no matter what path you walked? Even into death? Haurchefant grimaced. I apologize, dear Child. I think he already has ended up the same. The difference is, your beloved still fights to live. That one is waiting to welcome the end.
The only other lead that Granson could think to follow was, unfortunately for both of them, in Eulmore. The original trader who’d commissioned Milinda to restore the Fangs was there, and Haurchefant agreed it was the best path to follow.
Neither of them could follow it, however, so they were a bit at a loss.
“Wait,” Haurchefant said suddenly. “Cyella mentioned one of the other Virtue Hunters was from Eulmore! Perhaps we can ask him for assistance?”
Granson didn’t appear to like the idea very much, but also couldn’t see a better way to go about it. So they both traveled back to the Crystarium and headed for the Wandering Stairs.
Haurchefant had stopped by the Master of Suites to ask if he knew where Arion was, and was only a little disappointed to hear the Dwarf had gone to Holminster to help with the rebuilding (couldn’t he just sit still and rest ?).
He then met with Granson, who had taken up his post again in the only shadowed part of the Stairs. “Which one is it?” the Dark Knight asked.
Haurchefant was about to answer that he wasn’t exactly sure, but then he looked over at the other Hunters and realized it was actually fairly obvious which one they were looking for.
“Leave this one to me, friend,” Haurchefant said brightly. Granson watched him leave with nothing but skepticism on his face. Haurchefant confirmed with Cyella that he was correct in identifying Lue-Reeq before wandering his way over to the Mystel.
“Hello! I understand you are participating in the hunts for the Cardinal Virtues?” he said, after he introduced himself to the young man.
“I am, in fact! …Or would be, if anyone had any idea where Andreia was. Neither me nor the other hunters in my employ have turned up anything,” Lue-Reeq replied, somehow slightly boastful while also sounding dismayed. Haurchefant looked around. There was no one else at Lue-Reeq’s table. “Ah… formerly in my employ,” he clarified. “We have parted ways.”
I think this mite drove them off. Ratatoskr offered.
Eulmorans, Haurchefant replied, sighing. They…really lack any sort of self awareness
Of course, there has to be more to this story. But for now, let’s focus on our current hunt .
“Would you be willing to assist another Hunter in the meantime?” Haurchefant asked instead, following up with Granson's plight.
Lue-Reeq didn’t seem bothered by the request. “That’s easy enough, I will send one of my couriers to ask on your behalf. No worries, sinner. From what I understand, gaining entry to the city becomes a challenge if you don’t already live there.”
That’s an understatement , Haurchefant thought, and Ratatoskr snorted. Out loud, he said, “What sort of compensation could I provide for this service?” he thought for a moment. “Would a trade of services be acceptable? I can aid you in your hunt for Andreia when Granson has put Dikaiosyne to rest?”
Lue-Reeq’s eyes lit up, and offered his hand for Haurchefant to shake. “You, my good friend, have a deal!”
Good , Haurchefant thought. Since I was going to do that anyway.
He went back to Granson to tell him the news.
Lue-Reeq’s informant was surprisingly quick and incredibly factual, and was back within the next day with what the two needed to continue on their journey.
Haurchfant penned a quick letter to Arion appraising him of the situation, hoping he was well, asked how the language lesson went (and if the Ascian was missing any limbs as a result) and letting him know that he was also fine. He was absolutely pleased as peaches when he was able to hail Galette, and the falcon seemed just fine to deliver yet another letter for him.
Granson watched that exchange with surprise and respect. “You have a way with creatures, don’t you?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t say that,” Haurchefant deflected modestly. But he smiled as he watched the falcon take off into the sky, framed by the mid-day light. “I always find that awe inspiring, to see him take flight.” Granson nodded. “Thank you for your patience. To Amh Araeng, then?”
Their luck gathering information in Mord Souq was far more fruitful than Wright. So much so that they actually found the wife of the scavenger who had the Eyes of Orthus.
However, when she told them that her husband had the Eyes on him and he was out looking for more relics near the Wall, both Granson and Haurchefant hoped they excused themselves politely before running out of the city and into the desert.
“Split up, use a flare if you find either of them!” Granson commanded. Even if Haurchefant hadn’t intended to obey, the Dark Knight didn’t leave him much of a choice. Regardless, he split off toward the ruins.
He knew he’d gone the right way when he heard someone begging for their life. He rounded out behind a boulder just in time to see Dikaiosyne stalking forward after a man who was crawling away.
Haurchefant couldn’t clear the distance in time, he knew it. Not by himself. But that didn’t stop him from trying. If he didn’t, the man was going to die before his very eyes.
I will help! Ratatoskr bellowed. And Haurchefant realized he’d rather explain to a living man what he was than not take the risk, and have a corpse.
He planted his foot as well as he could in the sand, focused on the point between the man and the Sin Eater, let the aether from Ratatoskr mix with his own, and…
Shield ready!
Dikaiosyne’s sword came down hard against his shield, and Haurchefant buckled just a bit before standing firm against the blow. He felt Ratatoskr reinforcing his arm, keeping him from collapsing under the force.
“I…I’m alive…?!” the Scavenger gasped, scrambling back further from Dikaiosyne. “I…”
“The choker!” Haurchefaunt yelled, as he and the Eater clashed, blow for blow. He knew his skin was actually scales now, at least on his arms -- he’d not immediately be doomed if Dikaiosyne landed a hit there. But he saw it -- the Eater was not focused on him.
It was looking for the easiest way through Haurchefant to the Scavenger.
“Wha…?”
“The choker! You need to get rid of it! Throw it into the desert!” Haurcefant barely dodged a blow aimed for his head, and tried to get his own hit in, but it was parried with no issue.
“But…!”
“What’s more valuable? A piece of jewelry or your gods-damned life ?!”
The Scavenger stopped hesitating and threw the choker as far as he could away from them both. Dikaiosyne’s attention followed the artifact.
“Now run! Back to Mord Souq!” Haurchefant commanded. “If you run into a knight in all black, that’s my associate. He’ll protect you!” Seeing that the Eater was distracted, he quickly dropped back, grabbed the Scavenger, and forced him to his feet. “Go!”
The Scavenger ran like his life depended on it. Because it did.
Haurchefant kept himself between the man and the Eater. Dikaiosyne made to charge, and…
With remarkable speed, Dikaiosyne turned, broke Haurchefant’s guard, and planted its foot in the center of his chest, and launched him back nearly six fulms. Haurchefant scrambled to regain his footing, the wind sufficiently knocked out of him, and waited for the next blow.
It never came.
As he watched, Dikaiosyne crossed the expanse of sand, picked up the Eyes of Orthus where the Scavenger threw it, and then…vanished.
Haurchefant was relieved that, when he returned (bruised, exhausted, alive ) to Mord Souq, Granson, the Scavenger, and his Wife all were waiting for him.
“Thank you for escorting this man to safety, my friend,” Haurchefant said, just in case Granson felt any disquiet for not coming to Haurchefant’s aid. The Dark Knight just nodded. Haurchefant turned to the Scavenger “And you…gods be good, I am so sorry to have cut it so close. I didn’t think I’d make it in time.”
“But you did,” the Wife said, coming forward and taking Haurchefant’s hands in hers. “You did , and we are so thankful.”
Haurchefant gave them a small smile, even as he noticed Granson’s face darken somewhat, his eyes taking on a hard glint.
Reminded, perhaps, of his failures. Of how Haurchefant succeeded where he didn’t.
The Scavenger and his wife bade Granson and Haurchefant stay the night with them, to rest before their continued journey. Haurchefant explained to Granson what he’d seen Dikaiosyne do, how he’d still been focused on the Eyes so much so that he’d been able to use them to save the Scavenger’s life.
When Granson tried to ponder why the Sin Eater might have been so focused on possessions, the Scavenger volunteered what information he had -- that he and a group had delved into Il Mheg in search of the royal treasures of Voeburt -- specifically the three artifacts known as the Fangs, Eyes, and Claws of Orthus.
The Scavenger confessed that most of the party had been killed…or driven crazy…by Fae, but the ones who’d survived had gotten the Fangs and Eyes out. For…all the misery that it ultimately led to.
“So Dikaiosyne is specifically seeking the sacred treasures,” Granson muttered. “For…whatever reason. Feasibly, then, it means that he now hunts for the Claws. If we mean to find him, we must find those.”
“They’re probably still in that accursed Kingdom,” the Scavenger said. “Let them keep it, I say! They can deal with the Eater.”
“That might pose a problem for King Titania, though,” Haurchefant said. “And they all just got rid of their Lightwarden.”
Everyone in the small home stared at him, and Haurchefant was once again reminded that life in the Crystarium was very very different than just about everywhere else. Even Granson looked a little confused, and he’d been to Lakeland.
“Uh…have you all heard that there’s someone out there killing Lightwardens?” he asked.
“I thought that was just a fae story,” the Wife said. Granson sighed and Haurchefant made himself comfortable to tell the story of the Warrior of Darkness and ‘their’ mission to rid the world of Light.
That night, while he dreamed, Arion visited with the help of some of the Dreamspinners. Haurchefant was ecstatic that there was a way they could spend time together asleep. Arion just laughed.
“I read your note -- that falcon is very…odd, by the way.” Arion muttered. Haurchefant sighed.
“Why does no one particularly like Galette,” he sighed. Arion laughed.
“Galette?”
“Galette de Rois! It’s what I named the falcon,” Haurchefant said proudly. “He seems to like me enough, and apparently is very smart. I wasn’t originally trying to train him , but he’s figured out being a messenger so quickly.” He paused. “Is that what you mean by odd?”
“Ah, no. It’s just…Galette’s aether doesn’t quite match other falcons I’ve seen. It’s very…” Arion floundered for a word. “Dense? Heavy? I’m…not quite sure how to explain it. He may actually be a Fae, or maybe a mage who got really unlucky with transmography. I’ll keep an eye out and see if I can figure it out.” He shrugged. “Oh, the Hive Trio said hello, and I remembered we still need to eat dinner with them.”
Haurchefant flushed and Arion quickly shook his head.
“It’s not like they’ve had time, either. We agreed it may have to wait till all of this calms down.”
“Makes sense.” Haurchefant drew Arion into his lap and nuzzled his head, sighing happily.
“I did have something to say to you, actually,” Arion stated, though he made no move to free himself from Haurchefant’s embrace. “I asked Ardbert about Dikaiosyne. Branden was his name when he was alive.” Haurchefant frowned, but said nothing. “I’m not sure if any of this information could help you, but I might know why he’s seeking the relics. Ardbert’s story triggered the Echo.”
Haurchefant listened as Arion offered what he’d learned about the Knight of Voeburt, guardian of Princess Sauldia. How the Princess had been seeking information about mysterious transformations turning people into monsters.
“He did everything he could, but she got hurt still, and even though she made a complete recovery…” Arion’s shoulders fell. “He lost his knighthood and left the Kingdom. It’s how he met Ardbert and the others. But from what Ardbert mentioned, Branden was incredibly loyal to Voeburt -- So much so that he convinced the group to go back to try to find the culprit behind the transformation. Even though he knew he’d not be welcomed back.” He sighed. “There’s more to the story, I can tell. But I ran out of time and Ardbert had to leave else people would think I was talking to a rock. Next time I can get some space, I’ll try to get the rest.”
“So Dikaiosyne…seeks to return the Treasures to the Royal Family he held so dear,” Haurchefant mused.
“Yeah, exactly,” Arion nodded. “At least, that’s what Ardbert and I think. Which means the others may also have similar patterns. Something to consider, at least.”
Haurchefant nodded as well. “It seems we make for Il Mheg, regardless. And it sounds like we need to seek the Nu Mou.”
Arion smiled. “I’ll tell Feo Ul you’re coming.”
Haurchefant led the way to Pla Enni, waving here and there as they passed fae folk he recognized. Granson stomped along behind him, every bit a dark stormcloud in the midst of rainbows and sunshine. He seemed incredibly nervous, but Haurchefant was aware that’s just how normal people approached the Fae.
He stopped walking, suddenly, and turned around, one hand on the hilt of his blade. Granson followed suit, scanning the path and horizon.
“Did you hear something?” the Dark Knight asked. Haurchefant frowned. He had been sure…
“I thought I saw something following us. Moving between the …” he looked at the large flowers, unsure what to call them. “...Trees?” Granson still seemed to follow despite the fact that neither of them were sure what to call the Fae foliage.
“Dikaiosyne?” he asked. Haurchefant shook his head.
“No, it felt like…” He was at a loss. “I apologize, it seems I have delayed us for nothing.” He could have sworn he’d seen another shadow, for a moment, along with his and Granson’s. But there was no one.
I felt something as well, but as soon as you did, it was gone, Ratatoskr mused. Perhaps it is the Ancient One. Haurchefant wasn’t sure, but it was a likely -- and annoying -- conjecture.
“No worries, sinner. Rather be over cautious than an Eater,” Granson said, shrugging. Without another word, the two continued on their way.
(And tucked away behind a large flowering plant, thinking the smallest thoughts he could, Polaris cen Ceres silently rejoiced that no one would ever be able to tell Doc he’d almost failed a reconnaissance mission because he’d gotten distracted by waterlilies.)
In Pla Enni, Haurchefant thanked his luck that Ma’Kleou was around. The Nu Mou continued to be happy to serve, despite the fact that Haurchefant had to remind them -- again -- that he should be paying his own debt, not into the Exarch’s.
Of course, as usual, Ma’Kleou suddenly became hard of hearing.
Granson watched the whole exchange with fascination.
“The Claws of Orthus? Oh my oh my it’s been ages since anyone saw those,” Ma’Kleou said, after Haurchefant spoke of their plight. “But you say there’s a Sin Eater looking for them, specifically?”
“Dikaiosyne, yes,” Granson offered.
“Can’t say I know that one,” Ma’Kleou mused.
“In life, he was known as Branden. One of the Warriors of Light,” Haurchefant offered. Ma’Kleou perked up at that.
“Branden? Oh of course I know him . He was wonderful, the very epitome of Knighthood. True, pure-hearted, loyal. Yes yes, a good man. You say he’s Dikaiosyne? That’s terrible, so terrible. After everything else, now he bears this!”
“ It’s a monster and needs to be put down,” Granson growled. Ma’Kleou took a step back, nervously.
“Ah..well…I-I only know of Branden, not of any monsters,” they stuttered. “But Sul Oul! They may know more. They served the royal family before the Flood. They will surely be able to help.” They pointed the way, and Granson set off without another word. “Oh dear, oh dear…”
“Don’t worry, Ma’Kleou. I’ll keep him from causing any trouble,” Haurchefant promised, before hurrying after the Dark Knight.
Sul Oul was skeptical about them, which made sense. They seemed to lighten up a bit when Haurchefant explained what he knew about the Knight Branden (to Granson’s continued and growing displeasure).
Especially when Haurchefant explained how he knew.
“This friend--your husband--you say he saw a vision of me ? Of Knight Branden, Princess Sauldia? In his mind’s eye, clear as the nose on my face?” they implored. Haurchefant nodded. “Then…is it possible? Could your Arion be the same?”
“Same as what?” Granson asked, looking at Haurchefant and the Nu Mou. Haurchefant wasn’t sure so he didn’t respond.
“I will help you, I will offer my aid, but I first need something from you. From each of you,” Sul Oul stated, ignoring (or not hearing) Granson. “Ser Greystone, I remember seeing you, with those who made to free our King from their endless torment. But I ask for your forgiveness, as I still must be assured that you can handle this threat. This is not a simple matter, after all.”
The Nu Mou spoke of some beasts roaming about near the river, and asked Haurchefant to dispatch them. The Knight agreed, and in the meantime, he left Granson to be questioned by the Nu Mou.
It didn’t take him all that long -- even on his own, the beasts would have been a mere trifle, but with Ratatoskr at his call, it was over in an instant. He decided to stop by Waldorf and meet with the Amaro there for a spell, making sure to give Seto extra pets, before heading back.
Granson didn’t seem very pleased, and neither, really, did Sul Oul.
“We’ve come to an accord, but a rather uneasy one,” the Nu Mou stated bluntly. “But you both have finished my tasks, so I will uphold my end. This way, we make for Lyhe Ghiah.”
Within the ruins, Sul Oul told them a story.
Of the Knight named Branden, and of his Princess that he protected. Of the investigations into the transformations, one of which led to Branden’s self-exile.
Of the band of adventurers who came to Branden’s aid, of his new friends, who followed him back into Kingdom, to prove his innocence and loyalty, and to stop the transformations themselves.
Of the court mage Tadric, who’d succumb to his pride, to his avarice, and released the curse upon Voeburt.
They spoke of the final confrontation. Of the Warriors of Light, of Branden, striking down Tadric and ending the madness. And of Tadric’s last words, his last curse.
They spoke of Branden’s loyalty as a Knight, ever ready to do his Lady’s bidding. Even if that meant killing her.
And then they spoke no more.
Sul Oul watched their reactions. Haurchefant’s eyes were wet, his heart ached. As a Knight, he understood, but he couldn’t imagine… And he thought of Granson, whose story was almost a cruel repeat of Branden’s own.
Granson, however, seemed to be struggling. His anger was evident.
“Why does it matter who it was,” the Dark Knight said suddenly. “Why should I care . It doesn’t undo any of this! It’s still a monster! It still must die!”
Haurchefant and Sul Oul both saw it -- Granson refused to see Dikaiosyne as anything other than the Eater. He refused to believe that Branden was as much the victim as anyone else.
“We must free Branden’s soul from the Sin Eater, yes. Rid the world of Dikaiosyne, yes. But I need you to see…” Sul Oul implored.
“I don’t care!” Granson stated. Sul Oul recoiled as if struck, and Haurchefant instinctively stepped in the way to guard them. “Stop trying to make me sympathize with that monster!” He glared at Haurchefant and Sul Oul. “Tell me where the Claws are, now . I will end this.”
“If I won’t?” Sul Oul said, definitely. To Haurchefant’s displeasure, Granson drew his sword. He could see the other man’s eyes were tinted red.
This is not good .
“I’ll get my answer one way or another.”
Haurchefant drew his own sword, leveled his own shield, at that. “Granson! Listen to yourself!”
“ You listen, Greystone. Don’t you even care what that monster did to me? To my village, to my Milinda? Will you simply forgive it because what it was in ages past?” Granson charged, and Haurchefant repelled him with some effort. Sul Oul, thankfully, waddled for cover.
“I can lament for the man who once was while also acknowledging the beast he was forced to become!” Haurchefant challenged. “You’re so blinded by rage, you can’t even see that !” He parried. “Is this what you think will help Milinda rest? Is this who she wants you to be?!”
Granson roared, seething as he laid blow after blow against Haurchefant’s shield. The Knight waited, blocking what he could, parrying what he couldn’t, dodging everything else.
Until he found his opening.
Granson’s sword fell to the ground as Haurchefant slammed him up against one of the ruined walls. Shield against his torso, sword at his neck, the Knight stared him dead in the eye.
“If you kill Sul Oul for this. If you cut down all in your path on your way to Dikaiosyne….If you succumb to the darkness that seeks to swallow you whole… What makes you different than the monster you seek to slay? ”
Silence greeted him. Granson stared at him, and, little by little, the anger seemed to fade away, to drain from him. The red left his eyes. All that remained was a man. Lost, confused, desperate . But a man.
“I…need some time to think.”
He didn’t say anything more. Haurchefant let him go, keeping him steady on his feet. After a moment, Granson pushed away from him, picked up his sword, and wandered into the ruins, heralded by the setting sun.
Haurchefant lay in the grass and watched the stars as they danced their nightly waltz through the sky.
Sul Oul waddled over and made themselves comfortable near the Knight.
“I am afraid I’m much of a hypocrite,” he confessed to the Nu Mou.
“One must first understand their own demons, before being able to recognize demons in others,” they said. “No one is perfect. That is not the problem. The problem is those who believe they are. Or maybe worse, those who know their flaws, but refuse to acknowledge them.” They looked at him and gave a small smile. “You are actively learning to tame the demons that reside in you, Ser Greystone.”
I would like to protest being called a demon , Ratatoskr huffed.
I think it’s less about you and more about my own darkness, Haurchefant replied, even though he was fairly sure the Dragon knew this.
“I could very well become the same,” he said to Sul Oul, gesturing toward where Granson had vanished. “I almost have, on many occasions.”
“But here you sit, fighting to be a better man. Fighting to live, and refusing to surrender to despair,” Sul Oul looked back as well. “His pain will kill him, he will drown in this, if he does not seek another path. I lament, because I fear he is lost.”
Haurchefant didn’t think Granson was beyond saving. But he had to want to be saved. Either by the guidance of others, or by his own volition.
“To live with a heart full of hate is to live an empty, bitter life.”
Haurchefant and Sul Oul turned around to see Granson as he emerged again from the ruins. He was watching them, his face drawn and tired. “It’s not living, not…not at all.” He stopped a few fulms away from them, watching them both. “Following this path will lead to nothing but further tragedy, won’t it?”
They both said nothing. Granson knew the answer.
“Please, Sul Oul. Haurchefant. Help me lay Branden’s spirit and Milinda’s memory to rest. It’s time that we all moved on.”
Sul Oul had once again sought cover, after providing Granson and Haurchefant with the means to reveal the hidden coffer which held Claws of Orthus.
Once he knew they were both ready, Granson knelt and opened the coffer, withdrawing the Claws and bringing them into the light of day once more.
“By Halone, he’s already here,” Haurchefant exclaimed, immediately falling into a defensive stance. Granson joined him quickly, because, true to his words, Dikaiosyne approached. “Get ready, my friend.”
And, as if on cue, Dikaiosyne charged at them.
It was not an easy fight, not in the slightest. Haurchefant was reminded of facing the Heaven's Ward in the Vault, corrupted and twisted forms of the men he once knew as Paragons. But where those fights had left him boiling with rage, the confrontation with Dikaiosyne filled him with nothing but bitter sadness.
Then it was over. Dikaiosyne lay, fallen, turning into motes of aether and light. Granson and Haurchefant, breathing hard, watched as Sul Oul hurried over to them, so that Branden’s final moments were remembered by as many as possible.
To their surprise, Branden did appear. In the aether of the dying Dikaiosyne, the spirit of the Knight -- the true one, the Warrior of Light -- formed, looking out across Longmirror lake.
He spoke. Of his journey, of his loss, of his life and regrets. He spoke of turning away from compassion, from companionship, from hope. Of how Ardbert, Renda-Rae, Nylbert, and Lamitt helped him realize the folly in his thinking, helped him live in Sauldia’s memory and honor.
“May you find the peace that I have,” Branden said. And then he was gone.
Granson and Haurchefant returned to the Crystarium. They’d left the sacred treasures with Sul Oul, that they may remain with Voeburt until the end of time. Haurchefant had noticed a strange, crystalline object and a small pendant, both of which the Nu Mou and Granson insisted he keep.
The crystal, Haurchefant knew, Arion would know what to do with. The pendant…well, he had his own plans.
Granson confessed he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself now. Haurchefant assured him that whatever step he chose to take, the Knight believed it would be the right ones. And if he ever needed help on his way, Haurchefant would be there to help.
They parted ways. Until their next hunt.
Haurchfant had been right -- the crystal he’d found was a Crystal of Light. Arion actually owned one -- and was happy to keep track of Branden’s until such time as they could find a safe resting place for it.
In the meantime, Haurchefant and Arion stood at the base of the Memory Tree, contemplating the branches.
“Got it,” Arion said, and suddenly he Jumped from the ground to a small cluster of branches near the middle of the tree. Taking the pendant Haurchefant had found, he carefully hung it, nestled safely among the crystal leaves. Haurchefant noticed there was enough space for other trinkets. For the other Warriors, he surmised.
A slight scuff of boots behind him made him turn. Haurchefant smiled as he saw Granson, and gave him a friendly nod. He was only slightly surprised to see Cyella, who he knew wished to see the hunt properly close and the Exarch, who was the Tree’s keeper.
He was most surprised to see Vonwren, Kai-Tao, and Markus. Although maybe he shouldn’t have been.
When Arion landed, he turned back to the group, and went through a similar round of shock to Haurchefant.
“You actually came,” he said. Haurchefant realized it was directed to Markus and Kai-Tao.
“It’s important to Von,” Kai-Tao said, quietly.
“So it’s important to us,” Markus agreed, though he looked a little more nervous about the whole ordeal.
Haurchefant smiled, happy that Arion had found a way to let Vonwren celebrate the people she knew as heroes, when the world only saw villains.
The Galdjent moved quietly past them all and placed a small bouquet of flowers at the base of the tree. She stood there a moment, praying. To Haurchefant’s surprise, Cyella moved forward as well, placed her own lone flower next to Vonwren’s, and said her own prayer.
The rest of them watched, silently. Respectfully.
When both women stepped away again, Arion climbed up on one of the stone benches nearby, and cleared his throat.
“I’d like to tell you all a story,” he began. “A story about a Warrior of Light.”