Chapter Text
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Throughout the ages, this realm has been called many names, but in the beginning, it was known as the Underworld ─ the place to which departed souls returned. As water flows to the sea and rises to the sky before raining upon the land once more, the Underworld was a fundamental part of the circle of life. And for this reason, it was regarded at once with familiarity and reverence by men, who, despite their godlike powers, could not claim dominion over it. Wise though they were, they could catch only fleeting glimpses of the realm, channel but a sliver of its power, and do naught to control its ceaseless flow.
However, among those who abided in that age, there were a chosen few who possessed an affinity with the Underworld. And among their number, one stood tall. *
Hythlodaeus knew this to be true as he held his sweet Euryphaessa in his arms. The pair watched from their garden as the skies continued to darken. Clouds fit to burst blew in from all directions, cloaking the bright stars. Soon the heavens opened, and the stars themselves fell toward the earth, raining down hellfire upon the once great city of Amaurot. He felt his Eternal Love nuzzle against his chest, her mask long since abandoned along with his. Euryphaessa's azure orbs wandered away from the apocalyptic scene and peered up to meet Hythlodaeus' celestine ones. Her voice tinged with resignation as her ethereal features fell. “Perhaps it was fruitless of us to put the little ones to sleep.”
Hythlodaeus hummed in agreement, his smile sad as he rested his forehead against her own. “Perhaps. And yet, their peaceful slumber is a mercy. For they rest nestled in the warmth of my Phoenix and your Midgardsormr friend.” Hythlodaeus raised an eyebrow. “You never did get around to explaining how you got the approval to create him. He is of the same nature as Phoenix, and with unborn hatchlings besides.”
Euryphaessa’s somber expression shifted into a mischievous smirk. “I didn’t. He came to me as I traversed on my final journey. He arrived from a distant Star, along with his unborn little ones, seeking sanctuary from the destruction of their home. His tale moved me and I wished to offer him succor. However, I feared the Convocation would turn them away, so I hid them from their knowledge.” She smirked. “Call it my…final act of rebellion after leaving my seat as Azem.” She sighed as though put upon as she nuzzled her nose against the other Paragon. “Nevertheless, were I to be rid of them now, Helios, Selene and Eos will be most cross with me. The little ones are very much attached, and they find Midgardsormr’s eggs fascinating.”
Hythlodaeus smirked in return. “Alas, Hades may have the right of it. I have influenced you, My Heart.”
Euryphaessa's smirk grew into a beatific smile. “And here I thought I have influenced you. Pardon me for the error, my Beloved.”
It was then the Consorts felt the aethereal ruptures, followed by the rumbling of their Star. Things were dark and then things were light, and back in-flux it went. Undeterred by the encroaching destruction, the Bonded pair gazed adoringly into each other’s eyes, taking in their respective love for the last time as they held one another even closer. Hythlodaeus kissed his Dear One’s temple. “Know you are not obligated to do this. What our dearest Eos -what Elidibus has done…it was his choice to make. He walked his path, as did Venat, regardless of how ill-advised it was.”
Euryphaessa hummed as she nuzzled his nose. “You say this as if I were not his mother, as if all I was to our boy was a fellow member of the Convocation. But tell me, will you as his father allow this to continue? Will you not attempt, as will I, to save our boy from his own follies? As parents are not wont to do for their erring children?”
Hythlodaeus shrugged, his celestine eyes glittering with warmth as his voice grew soft. “No. In good conscious, I shall not abandon our boy. I shall stand with you…and save him from himself, Venat as well. I no longer care of the consequences. No matter how long it takes, we shall bring our boy back.”
Euryphaessa’s own azure gaze grew iridescent as she kissed under Hythlodaeus’ chin. “Though we cannot undo the coming end of our Star, though we cannot deter what these new entities shall bring; we can still redirect this…Zodiark and Hydaelyn from their original edicts.” She paused; her gaze molten as she smiled sadly. “Together, let us selfishly commit the most heinous of acts and go against the desires of the many, for the desires of the few. Together, let us thwart these…Primal’s…and take fate into our own hands…together…we shall start anew.”
Her inner Radiance became all-encompassing as the Paragon used her Power one last time. It was unleashed at its fullest potential, glowing as magnificently as the truest of suns. Euryphaessa’s Might swept through the entirety of their Star in a grand circle of aether and magicks. Just then, the two Primal forces of Zodiark and Hydaelyn collided. Euryphaessa reached out for her Bonded one, her voice sonorous. “Come what may My Beloved, forever and always. Whole or shattered, in life or in death, I will remember always. Eternally, I am yours. Until then, Hythlodaeus.”
Hythlodaeus melded himself to his Bonded one’s iridescent form as he kissed Euryphaessa one last time, pouring all of his love for her in that final gesture as he spoke against her lips. “Come what may My Heart, forever and always. Whole or shattered, in life or in death, I will remember always. Eternally, I am yours. Until then, Euryphaessa.”
He offered up his own all-encompassing Radiance to embolden hers. Hythlodeaus’ Power served as a Conduit to his loves Beacon, steadily becoming one with Euryphaessa’s own Radiance. Together, they guided the souls of both the Living and the Departed from the Lifestream. The Consorts pulled all into their focal point of Aethra, at last forming a true lodestone of suffusing Might, Divine and Damning in equal measure. As they redirected the Water’s Flow, so too did they draw both Zodiark and Hydaelyn’s attention. The Consorts effectively changed the Primal’s focus to encompass all of the Lifestream, not just their empty husk of a Star, in their battle of Wills. Successfully giving all who existed on their home world a chance at a new beginning as a new Source for these pair of false deities.
In an instant, all became Wide-Shining.
Hear...Feel…Think…
Then, in a final collision, all was as Light, as was Dark.
…
“Across ten and three were we then divided. Reflections of the Source, each possessed of a Shard.”
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“The pious Ishgardian clergy guide the flock, and the devout knights protect the weak. Yet even the holiest of men succumb to the darkest of temptations.
None dare to administer justice to these sacrosanct elite residing outside of the law.
Who, then, defends the feeble from the transgressions of those meant to guide and protect them?
A valiant few take up arms to defend the downtrodden, and not even the holy priests and knights can escape their judgement .
Pariahs in their own land, they are known by many as ‘dark knights.’
These sentinels bear no shields declaring their allegiance. Instead, their greatswords act as beacons to guide the meek through darkness.”
-Excerpt from: “The Central Lodestone Disciplines of War and Magic; Book 12: The Dark Knight” **
…
The skies above Ishgard were dark this particular evening. Cloud’s fit to burst blew in from all directions, cloaking the bright stars. Soon the heavens opened, and pure white snow fell toward the earth.
An Elezen man of 26 summers took in the weather absently, his broad frame stiff, as he not once batted his teal eyes at the snowfall. Such weather was the norm during this particular season. The young man stood like a sentry near the tall window of his father’s study at de Borel Manor. However, were one to look long enough, you would catch him occasionally blowing away the fringe of his blond curls as they fell upon his handsome visage.
The young man’s father, Viscount Cecil of House de Borel, sat in his study chair as he finished the last remaining documents required for his report to the newly anointed Archbishop Thordan VI. He signed the final sheaf with a flourish, folded and sealed it with wax, stamped its surface with the house’s crest, and placed it on top of the small pile as he addressed his son. “All will be well Rainier, tis quite normal that such a process take so many bells.”
Rainier stiffened further; his broad shoulders even tenser than before as he addressed his father. “Indeed. And yet, what if she does not survive? What shall we do then?”
The elder Elezen stood, removing his spectacles and placing them on top of the pile of documents. Cecil took a moment to gaze above the mantle and look upon the painting of he and his wife, Rosamunde, in their youth. After a long moment, the elder’s gaze roved over his son as he offered him a warm smile. “Regardless of the origins for your union, regardless of the orders foisted upon you by our newly anointed, and very much belligerent, Bishop… what says your heart?”
Rainier looked over his shoulder and gazed upon his father’s form in return, absorbing his graying features and kind face. The younger man took a cleansing breath and released it slowly. “Alas, I would still care for the child and raise them as my own.” Rainier frowned, his eyes glittering with hidden power. “However, I shall do so not for him…but for her. She is my wife, she is my love, she is my heart. And it is in honor of that love that I shall take on this duty.”
Cecil’s smile broadened. “As one should. For a Borel Knight’s duty is not to any one Lord, or to any one Master, but to true Justice…guided by the moral spirit held deep within one’s heart. For the heart is where our true Power lies.”
It was then a knock was heard from the study’s door. The older of the pair hummed in thought before speaking. “Enter.”
The door opened, revealing the Viscount’s wife, Rosamunde. She smiled brightly at the pair, her graying, blond features just as kind as her husbands. “Dear Cecil, dear Rainier, all is well. We have a new addition to our family. It is a boy.”
Cecil grinned just as brightly toward his wife as he clapped his son’s shoulder. “Thank you, Rosa. Well Rainier, your heart is decided. Shall we meet my grandson?”
Rainier nodded in agreement, following behind his parents toward the master bedchamber one door over. It was not long before the double doors of the bedchamber’s opened, revealing his fatigued wife as she rested in bed, affectionately holding a swaddled bundle in her arms. His teal eyes roved over her spent form, taking in her sweat dampened ebony hair, skin like freshly driven snow, her bright azure eyes which glistened like diamonds, and her upturned rose-bud lips as she smiled warmly toward her boy. Even exhausted, Rainier found his Dear one a vision to behold. In his humble opinion, his wife would always be the most beautiful Elezen he has ever laid eyes on.
Rainier knew what had to be done. The young knight’s eyes gazed around the room as he spoke, his voice tinged with the strength of a command. “Please leave us for a few moments. I wish to speak with my wife alone.” Obediently the midwife, the few lingering staff, along with the Viscount and Viscountess, left the pair along with the infant. Once alone, Rainier moved to stand before his wife’s bedside, inspecting her form critically once more. He reached out with great care as his fingers carefully caressed his wife’s sweat-soaked locks from her damp forehead. “Are you well Audree? Mother said all was well, and yet you appear rather peaky.”
Audree’s azure eyes at last left her son’s form and gazed upon her husband with a tired smile. “Well, I have been better. However, rest assured, the worst of the pain has passed. I am sorry you were not allowed to stay. Alas, fainting twice would make any forbid you from re-entry.”
Rainier cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Yes well, one is not quite used to such…sights.”
Audree chuckled softly, her gaze resting once more on her son as she carefully ran her own fingers over her boy’s soft ebony strands. “Indeed. Tis not an everyday occurrence.” She fell silent, contemplating her words carefully. “You do not have to do this…I understand as a Dark Knight one must serve as the Shadowed guardians of King Thordan’s throne, and accept any and all orders given by the Holy See…and yet…” Her eyes watered. “For he to go so far as to order you to bond with me and take on the burden of…Tis an abuse of his new station. And you are a good man and a dear friend, Rainier. You deserve a maiden whom can give you a trueborn heir…a wife whom loves you…” The new mother bit her bottom lip, holding the babe closer as she curled into herself. “Not the Archbishop’s harlot and bastard son.”
Rainier cupped her chin, raising Audree’s face to meet his saddened gaze. “He is merely a Bishop, and no Archbishop... yet." His voice fell to a whisper. "Do not ever call yourself by such a demeaning moniker ever again. You are a Lady whose heart simply rested in hands that knew not how to care for a gift so precious. He made false promises and used you. He chose the Miter, power, over a future with you. You, a wonderous woman whom deserves the world. You, a woman whose kindness knows no bounds.”
He leaned forward and kissed Audree’s forehead delicately, his voice soft as he continued. “I am your husband not because of an order, but because my heart wished it so. You are my oldest and dearest friend, and I want nothing more than your happiness. Full glad am I you accepted my hand in turn. And though I yet to earn your love, I however do love you greatly. Perhaps someday, with time, I may prove myself worthy of your returned affections.”
Audree’s tears fell fully as she leaned in and kissed Rainier chastely upon his lips, doing so for the first time since their bonding ceremony. Pouring as much of her gratitude, as well as her blooming feelings, in the gesture. Soon the bonded pair parted as Audree rested her forehead against Rainier’s, her gaze warm. “Perhaps that day is not as far reaching as you might believe.”
It was then the babe awoke from his nap, revealing eyes of identical azure as his mother’s. His gaze looked upon the pair blearily as he stretched. Upon catching sight of the awakened infant, Rainier smiled. “What shall we name our son?”
Audree blushed as she gazed toward her boy once more. “I…I wish to name him after my father. He was a good man, a just man…” She smiled shyly. “I wish for…our boy to follow in his good example.”
Rainier nodded in agreement as he leaned in and kissed the infant’s fragile fingers. “Aymeric was his name, yes? Indeed, I do believe that suits the little one quite nicely. Such moniker will honor your father’s memory well.” His smile softened, his eyes tracing every ilm of the babe. “Welcome home, little Aymeric.”
The Infant Aymeric’s gaze grew distant as his blurry eyes took in the waning glimmers of the ever-flowing waters of the Lifestream above his parent’s heads, his chubby fingers grasping for lights he could not yet reach.
…
No less than a winter later, the skies grew dark over the distant shores of the great City-State of Iselbard. Cloud’s fit to burst blew in from all directions, cloaking the bright stars. Soon the heavens opened, and pure white snow fell toward the earth. Snow was quite the norm for such a frigid climb, even during the second umbral moon, where most other parts of the world expected the first blooms of spring.
Deep within the highest spire of the Imperial Palace, rested an elderly man upon his throne. He was broadly set, with long white hair, and an equally long white beard. His eyes were closed in what appeared to be sleep, hiding their golden hue from the world. Upon his forehead rested a glittering, fully formed ivory third eye, identifying the elderly man as a pure-blooded Garlean. He was dressed in full body armor of onyx shade, and wore a draconic like helm of a crown to match. The elderly man seemed slumped over, resting his chin against his hand on the armrest. His equally dark cane resting just as slumped against the throne.
“…Your Radiance? Your Radiance.” Distantly the elderly Emperor caught the intonations of a familiar rumbled voice, both impatient and most insistent. Drowsily, he opened his eyes, his gaze focusing upon the flow of aether from the Lifestream. As usual, for eons in fact, Emet-Selch’s eyes were met with no brilliant shine but a wan, sickly glow. The Ascian’s face contorted in disgust the further he embraced the waking world. As he gathered his scattered thoughts, he took in the form of his grandson, Varis Yae Galvus.
The young Prince met his grandsire’s eyes with his usual seriousness. “Your Radiance. It is the appointed hour.”
Emet-Selch sighed, his frown causing his golden eyes to gleam like a pair of charged armaments. “And yet you are here. In the throne room. Before me. And not by your wife’s bedside as she risks life and limb for our great Empire once more.” He tisked. “Childbearing is no simple task Varis, and wives are want for their spouses support.” Emet-Selch’s frown melted away, a vicious smirk taking its place as a thought occurred. “Unless our dear Carosa decided to threaten your man-bits with her katana. Aye, I cannot blame you for taking such threat seriously were it the case, she was not former Legatus Augustus for nothing, child.”
Varis frowned in turn. “I am here to fetch you. Carosa gave birth successfully.” He paused. “She has bestowed twin heirs to the throne.”
The Emperor hummed. Taking his cane in hand, he leaned against it to stand. “Ah, excellent, if a bit unexpected. But no matter, let us see them.”
Emet-Selch knew the faster he got this over with, the faster he could return to his nap. He had long ceased to expect anything from his heirs, especially after the loss of his eldest son. Alas, his boy left behind a son of his own in Varis, and now a lineage of grandchildren.
With a short bow, the Prince of Garlemald escorted the Emperor to the birthing chambers. It was not long before the pair of royals met with the sight of an Au Ra woman as she rested in the chamber’s large canopy bed, the Princess Consort, Carosa Wir Celeste. The new mother’s lengthy, golden locks were neatly plaited over one shoulder, exposing her glistening skin and ivory scales. In her arms laid a pair of swaddled infants which her celestine orbs took in warmly. By her bedside stood the Tribunus Angusticlavus of the XIth Legion, Gaius Tol Baelsar, whom was tasked with guarding the bedchamber. For once the Garlean’s horned helm rested not on his head, but under his arm, revealing his handsome visage as his own warm gaze took in the swaddled bundles and the Princess Consort’s tired features.
Upon picking up the sound of their approach, the new mother’s celestine orbs peered up toward the Emperor and Prince through lengthy eyelashes. Carosa offered the royals a small smile and a regal tilt of her head. “Your Radiance. Mine apologies for receiving you in such a manner.”
Emet-Selch moved closer to her bedside, briefly nodding toward Gaius as the Tribunus bowed and stepped away, offering the Emperor respectful distance. The Ascian returned the Au Ra’s smile in kind. “Worry not Carosa, all rules have exceptions. As a man whom has witnessed many a birth of his progeny, it would be most cruel of me to expect a new mother to stand on ceremony.” His smile morphed into a cold smirk. “Now, let’s see them.”
Carosa obliged him, angling the swaddled infants toward the Emperor’s gaze. Emet-Selch gauged the little ones critically, noting the difference in their features. One of the twins had golden locks, much like their mother, and the distinct ivory third eye of a Garlean, with nary a scale in sight. Whereas the other twin had silver spun strands, much like their father, mostly au ra features, if less scales than their mother, and with nary a third eye in sight. Indeed, it would seem the only features these twins seemed to share were their identical pair of celestine orbs, rose-bud lips, and pallor. Emet-Selch hummed, finding the whole thing quite fascinating. He vaguely wondered if the pair’s differences were solely external.
Upon catching his critical eye, Carosa spoke. “The babe with the Garlean features is a boy, and the youngest. The babe with the Au Ra features is a girl, and the eldest.”
It was then Emet-Selch saw it.
No…it could not be…
Though it be a fragment, within the baby girl Emet-Selch saw a glimmer of Radiance not seen in eons.
Unexpectedly, the Emperor reached out and carefully plucked the swaddled babe into his arms, taking her in with great awe in his gaze. Indeed, the truth could not be denied.
It would seem his dearest friend had returned to him.
The last of the Convocation, the former 14th seat.
The Sheppard of their long-lost Star.
Azem…
How was it she always found a way to give me hope, just as I thought all hope to be lost?
Forgetting all others, the Emperor carefully kissed his great-granddaughter’s fragile forehead, just over her bourgeoning scales. His words fell upon the babe in a whisper, completely lost in the moment as he ignored all else. “Tis a miracle indeed. Your presence is most unexpected.” Emet-Selch’s smile warmed, a sight not seen by any within the chambers for a very long time. “But most welcome.”
Taking measure of the Emperor’s smile, Carosa hummed. Her gaze fell briefly upon her husband, meeting his golden orbs beseechingly. As if able to read her thoughts, Varis’ nodded in consent. With a thankful smile of her own, Carosa’s gaze returned to the Emperor. “Your Radiance. We would be most honored if you were to bequeath her with a name. And mayhap her brother as well?”
Emet-Selch hummed distractedly, still quite enraptured by the babe’s natural potential for aethereal manipulation. Most impressive still were the glimmers of the Paragon’s power of the echo, manifested without a starting push by Elidibus nor Hydaelyn, as so many imperfect beings required. Best of all, at least in Emet-Selch’s eyes, his presence made the child deaf to Hydaelyn’s siren call.
It would seem this newest addition held much promise indeed.
Just then, the little one’s Radiance grew blinding. Distantly, her brother’s glimmer grew in kind. Something the Emperor noted with silent glee, contemplating the possibilities their future held. Very much inspired by the display, the Emperor knew exactly what to name them. “She is the only daughter of my Royal line. As such, she shall carry the legacy of the first woman of our dynasty, My Empress. Henceforth, this child shall bear the name of Davina.” His gaze fell upon her brother, still held within their mother’s arms. “And to the boy, he shall carry the lost honor of his maternal grandsire, my once trusted Advisor whom held much favor and promise. Henceforth he shall bear the name of Zenos.” His golden gaze fell upon the infant in his arms, meeting her blurry celestine orbs warmly. “May they both grow strong and wise, and may they bring us glory and triumph. May they hold the title of Yae with pride most deserved, and may they meet my highest expectations.”
Distantly Emet-Selch thought it a shame his dear friend returned just at the cusp of a coming Umbral era. And yet, perhaps it mattered little.
I will simply adjust my plans accordingly to include them both.
…
Many winters came and went. Once again, the skies above Ishgard were dark this particular evening. Cloud’s fit to burst blew in from all directions, cloaking the bright stars. Soon the heavens opened, and pure white snow fell toward the earth. The 13 summers old Aymeric de Borel took in the weather absently, not once batting an eye at the snowfall. Such weather was the norm during Halone’s Feast day.
The youth stood like a sentry near the tall window in his room at de Borel manor. His arms outstretched on either side of him, allowing the 42 summers old house Stewart, Ser Kain, and the 34 summers old head maid, Dame Rydia, access to the cummerbunds of his black dress coat. They too wore black, as did the rest of the house staff.
For not a few bells ago, Aymeric’s grandfather, the Viscount Cecil de Borel, passed away. Joining his dearly departed wife, Rosamunde de Borel, in Halone’s hallowed halls.
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The Viscount was an elderly man of 72 summers when he died. For moons now, his grandfather suffered from an illness he could not well shake. The feeble glimmer of his inner light waning by the bell. It was only yesterday evening Aymeric sat by Viscount Cecil’s bedside. He was frail, certainly, but ever so full of life. At the time, Aymeric was regaling the elderly Elezen of his archery practice with the other Temple Knight Squires over a warm cup of tea. His grandfather snuck a bit of birch syrup in each of their cups as the youth told his tale. It was then that the elderly Viscount gave Aymeric his Feast day gift, offering the boy a teasing wink. “A day early never hurt anyone. Now open it.”
Aymeric did as bid, finding a pair of crystalline blue and gold earrings shaped like dragons’ wings. They looked distinctly Dravanian in make. Aymeric was perplexed by the gift to say the least. His confusion must have clearly shown on his face, since his grandfather laughed brightly as he feebly pat Aymeric’s dark head of hair. “They were your grandmother’s favorite pair. I gave these to her as a symbol of our courtship.”
Viscount Cecil’s smile grew, his teal eyes distant as he recalled the past. “My Rosa was quite the tease, let me tell you. She had me at wits end upon gifting these to her. A Fortemp to the last, she refused to wear them for moons on end. T’was on the eve of Halone’s Feast day that she, at long last, graced these upon her elegant ears. Accepting my courtship for all of Ishgard to see, both in our fair city and out on the fields of battle.”
Aymeric’s cheeks and ears grew red, staring down at the earrings with wide eyes. Suddenly feeling quite shy at the thought of courtship. “Thank you, grandfather…but I have no one to court.”
Viscount Cecil simply pat Aymeric’s head again, his eyes fond. “You will someday, my dear boy. I can only pray they bring Halone’s Divine Light into your life…as my beloved Rosa once did mine own.”
Aymeric looked upon his grandfather in confusion once more. “How will I discern such a thing?”
His grandfather carefully ran his aged fingers over the glittering Dravanian earrings. His teal eyes just as bright and full of mirth. “Well, enlightenment befell me the moment your grandmother stood above my form, as I laid bleeding after the horde’s assault. She offered both healing succor and chastisement in equal measure.”
Aymeric raised an eyebrow at that. “You discerned it when grandmother chastised you?”
Viscount Cecil gave a humored chuckle and a teasing smile. “Mayhap our shared kiss afterwards helped enlighten me, just a little.”
The youth smiled teasingly in return. “Only a little?”
The elder leaned back against his propped pillows, carefully pouring even more birch syrup into his and Aymeric’s tea cups. “Do not let your grandmother hear you say otherwise, lest it ruin me. I have a reputation to uphold, even within Halone’s Halls.”
It was then Aymeric caught sight of two other waning glimmers from the corner of his eye. The youth turned in his seat, catching sight of his mother and father, Audree de Borel and Rainier de Borel, as they came to say their goodbyes to him and the Viscount. The pair would be away for some weeks on a…mercantile trip that will take them all the way to the Sharlayan colony. Though ill-timed, his mother and father claimed the routes were in their favor. Aymeric could recall how the Viscount’s gaze harden with steely resolve as he bade his father take Naegling as a precaution.
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The youth was pulled away from his contemplations thanks to a careful pat of Kain’s hand on his shoulder. He turned to face both the House Stewart and the Head Maid. Aymeric’s bright azure orbs forlorn as he took them in, their own internal waning glimmers hardly registering. Kain offered the boy a genteel smile as he guided the youth toward the doorway. “Come young master, allow me to escort you to your vigil.”
Aymeric allowed Ser Kain to guide him.
Upon arriving to the former Viscount’s rooms, Aymeric took in the candelabra lights, the dark drapery over the tall windows, and the smell of incense in the air. He bravely entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Aymeric’s feet then led him to his grandfather’s bedside. The Viscount’s form dressed in the azure finery of his station; his arms crossed over his unmoving chest, his hands resting above his still heart. His now lifeless corpse cloaked in a gossamer black cape decorated with the Borel family crest.
His inner, waning light long since snuffed out.
Aymeric gently rested his hand over his grandfather’s own and kissed his forehead through the gossamer black cloak. A few silent tears fell from his azure orbs, falling in crystalline droplets over the dark material. Feeling numb and heart-broken.
He then stood straight, like a sentry, and began his solitary vigil.
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The snow fell harder over Coerthas, the winds blistering.
…
Over the years, many Au Ra were mistreated and rumors sprang up of their supposed draconic heritage, fueled by their scaled features. This in turn led to increasing unrest between the Au Ra and the Elezen’s of Ishgard. Many falsely accused of some crime or other by the Temple Knights and the Heaven’s Ward, all to be rid of them and use them as scape-goats to cover up the machinations of the truly guilty. Once the Doman refugees arrived in droves after the Garlean Empire took over their lands, it brought anti-Au Ra sentiments to a boil.
To stop the infighting between both their Ishgardian supporters and their detractors, the newly anointed Archbishop Thordan VII gave the Doman Au Ra refugees a dispensation to use the lands on the outskirts of Coerthas as their own. It seemed a relatively clean solution and once knowledge of the species true Far Eastern origins came to light, it in turn made Ishgardian’s far less nervous of their kind. The Sharlayan Colony also opened their borders to any Au Ra’s whom wished for a safe haven. Those that could make the journey left for the Dravanian Hinterlands. Some Ishgardian Elezen’s and Hyur’s, including Ser Ompagne Bale, left with these refugees. These days, only a few pocket settlements remain in Coerthas’ outskirts.
Unfortunately, less than a moon ago, a dragon horde attacked the village of Ferndale, killing all within their lands save for a young lad whom was spared such a fate thanks to Ser Alberic Bale, Ompagne’s younger brother and current Azure Dragoon of Ishgard. According to his reports, it appeared as if his home village were a casualty of circumstance. The horde did not remain long after the attack and went soon after to a Temple Knight encampment, which lay just beyond the village. After the incident passed, a Temple Knight report claimed that the horde flew from the same direction as one of the Au Ra settlements. This in turn caused many Temple Knights to desire revenge for their fallen brothers and sisters.
Anti-Au Ra sentiments grew once more thanks to the zealous leadership of their number. Which then resulted in the radical members of the Temple Knights to go rogue and plan an attack on the peaceful settlement. The Dark Knight’s received a warning of the impending attack from an ally whom presently served as a Temple Knight. As was his due, Rainier had a private audience with the Archbishop to report his findings. Alas, Thordan VII did not approve of his request to offer the Au Ra aid, stating their lacked evidence to put these supposed traitors to the sword.
Horrified by his decree, Rainier went to both his wife and his father to speak of the Archbishop’s decision. The increasingly small family suspected corruption within the Holy See for some time, they found many of House de Borel’s traditional responsibilities shifting more and more into the hands of the Heavens ward. It seemed there was very little need for the Just hand of the Dark Knights, their duty growing increasingly moot as the Shadow guardians of King Thordan’s throne. This recent decree by Thordan VII simply proved their suspicion correct. Taking advantage of the opportunity given by one of their mercantile trips, Rainier and Audree set off to quell the assault against the Au Ra. Rebelling for the first time against the Archbishop’s orders and the Holy See and large. Sadly, the bonded pair were not fast enough to save them all. The very Temple Knights whom were responsible for patrolling the lands where the Doman Au Ra’s lived, were also the culprits of the first wave of the massacre.
…
Far away from the city of Ishgard, lay a small settlement in blazing ruins. Two cloaked figures ran for their lives, attempting to outrun a band of Temple Knight’s on a rampage. The shorter of the two, a mother, held a smaller cloaked figure in their arms, their son.
The child’s eyes roved their snowy surroundings. His small, black scaled hands gripped their mother’s robes tightly as he hugged her around her shoulders. His tears reduced to hiccups as he rubbed his face against his mother’s cloak. His fears growing tenfold as he saw the surrounding huts and tents burned to ash as they sped passed to hide in a distant cave. Hoping that the snow would cover their tracks.
The boy vaguely heard his mother speak over the wind. "Be calm, my Sweetling. We will be safe soon.”
Something told him, deep in the pit of his stomach, that such words were far from true.
The child swallowed the lump in his throat, speaking at last. "Mama, Papa, where did everyone go? I thought we were safe."
His mother shushed him, hiding his small head deeper into the hood of his cloak. His mother gripped the back of his head, holding her boy close. The trio soon reached the cave, finding a rock formation in its depts. His mother put him down behind the formation, hiding him within its crevasse.
The shouting voices grew louder.
His father knelt before him briefly. "Be good and wait for us here. And whatever you do, do not make a sound. Once things are quiet, we will return for you."
The child nodded vigorously. He placed his tiny hands against his mouth to suppress a sob, tears falling in rivets. His father patted his head in comfort. His mother then leaned in and kissed his cheeks, her tail swinging in agitation. "Here my sweet one. Hold onto this with your life." His mother gave him what appeared to be a ruby pendant. "Though you are born from ice and snow, remember where you are from."
They hardly had a chance to stand before they were cut down viciously from behind by what appeared to be Temple Knights.
There were four in number. One mercilessly stabbed at his mother with a lance again and again, making certain of her death. While another continued to slash at his father without mercy. Their combined blood seeping through their robes, melting the snow under them. The boy screamed in horror, catching the attention of the band of Knights from his hiding spot. "It looks like we missed one gentlemen. Remember our orders. Let us be rid of this aberration and return home."
The Knight lifted his blade, intent on severing him in two. The boy closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.
But nothing happened.
He heard a gurgling and choking sound, causing him to look up. Only to find the Temple Knight in question stabbed through the chest where he stood by a greatsword. The Knight hardly had the strength to turn around to see the perpetrator. Cussing them with his last breath before slumping and slipping off the blade, falling with a wet squelch.
The Temple Knight’s fall revealed a tall figure dressed in dark armor and a horned helmet. They offered their hand to the child to help him stand. Before he could take the gauntlet covered hand however, a war cry was heard behind the dark armored warrior. A Temple Knight attempted to charge the warrior while they were distracted with the boy. This in turn, caused the child to react as if possessed. He picked up some bloodied snow and threw it at the Temple Knights face, blinding and disorienting him enough for the dark armored warrior to turn and swiftly cut him through. Severing him the same way that very same knight did just moments prior to his father.
The warrior’s movements allowed the boy’s eyes to fall on a second dark armored figure, taller and broader than the first. They swung a crystalline blue and silver blade, killing the last remaining Temple Knights at the scene.
The shorter of the pair turned back toward the boy and finally spoke. "Are you alone?"
He shivered, gripping the ruby pendant tightly in his free hand. Whimpering as he looked upon the mangled corpses of his parents. "I...I... I was with my mum and dad..."
The dark armored warrior tilted their head to peer at the bodies. Au Ra, from what they could gather.
The helmeted head turned back to the boy. "I see. Know that we shall make certain justice is properly meted out to those responsible. Now then."
They knelt to the child’s eye level and carefully removed his hood, revealing the boy’s horns, silvery hair and black scales. Their gauntlet covered hand ran through his hair gently. "Xaela. I see. And what is your name?"
The boy hesitated, gulping nervously before speaking. "My name is Sidurgu."
The dark armored knight nodded and hummed. "Sidurgu? A strong name indeed little one. Did you know that your name is shared by one of the Fury's blessed in her divine court? I have a son whom is named much like yourself."
The dark armored knight patted Sidurgu’s silver head. "Hello Sidurgu, tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You were very brave, creating a diversion for me. You make your namesake and your warrior people proud."
The dark armored knight put their equally dark blade down, their heavy sword landing with a dull thud upon the ground. They removed their horned helmet, revealing the most beautiful Elezen woman Sidurgu has ever seen. The woman was 39 summers old, with raven black hair, skin like freshly driven snow, with bright azure eyes which glittered like diamonds, and a very warm smile. A smile inherited by her son, same as her other features. "Well then little warrior, my name is Audree. Since you are all alone, would you like to come with me? We know of a place where you will be safe. I am terribly sorry we failed to arrive sooner. I am afraid there are many quite corrupt within the numbers of those that beguile others with a visage of justice."
Sidurgu glanced over the woman's shoulder to peer at the taller, dark armored warrior. Feeling the child’s stare, the taller warrior looked his way as he gave a nod and a wave. They sheathed their blue blade and removed their own helmet, revealing an Elezen man of about the same age as Audree, with short, blond curls, teal eyes as deep as any ocean, and a handsome visage. "My wife speaks the truth, little warrior. My name is Rainier. Be not afraid in our presence, for we Dark Knights exist to bring true justice from the shadows, where the light cannot reach."
Audree spoke up once more as she carefully lifted the small child, cradling Sidurgu with experienced arms. "Now then little warrior, let us give these lost souls a proper burial, and a prayer to the Fury for their cleansing and forgiveness. We will also make certain to properly bury your parents, as well as the other villagers. I am deeply sorry to say that only you survived.” She pulled Sidurgu closer to her armored bosom, giving the boy a cursory glance for injuries. “Out of curiosity, have you ever learned the funeral rites of the Fury?"
Sidurgu shook his head in the negative. "...m... mama showed me the rites of the Azim...c-can you...show me?"
Audree nodded in agreement, her smile warming. "I would be most pleased to do so. And would you be most kind as to show me these Azim rites? I would be honored to learn them."
The small Xaela nodded in acquiesces, wrapping his little arms around Audree’s shoulders, hiding his face within her neck. Audree for her part, hummed a lullaby as she held Sidurgu close, glancing at Rainier with a steely gaze full of determination. Rainier moved closer to Audree, placing a hand on her shoulder as he used his free one to gently pat Sidurgu’s head. “Let us take the child to Ser Ompagne. Mayhap the boy will feel comfort in the milder climbs of the Dravanian Hinterlands. At any rate, we planned on going to the Sharlayan Colony to finalize the trade route. I am certain a small detour will not delay us any. And Ser Ompagne has wont of a new student now that his present one is nearly done with their training.”
Audree nodded in agreement. “While we are at it, let us stop by each of the remaining settlements and inform them of this tragedy. If they are willing, we may be able to escort them all to Dravania. I fear what will happen should any Au Ra remain.”
Without another word, Rainier put his helmet back on and carefully helped Audree with her own. The pair soon left the cave with Sidurgu in tow.
They had many Au Ra and Temple Knights to bury, and a vigil to perform.
…
Deep within the Dravanian Hinterlands, at the mouth of the Thaliak river, lay a bustling city-state of scholars and mages; the Sharlayan Colony. The seeds of this once hamlet took root during the sixth Astral era, bringing with it the arts of Succor and Gloom to the rest of Eorzea. Mindfully watched by the bright stars, the colony grew into the mighty city-state that it was today.
Though the skies too were fit to burst with snowfall, many of the Colony’s citizens were out and about in celebration. For they had much reason for jubilation. The Forum has made it known that the peace accords have at last been settled between the Garlean Empire and the Ala Mhigan Kingdom.
However, that was not all the Sharlayan’s celebrated.
For today, in honor of the peace treaty, Sharlayan’s very own honorable son, Fourchenault Leveilleur, shall at last bond with Garlemald’s radiant daughter, Princess Davina Yae Galvus.
Many flocked to the city’s square to catch a glimpse of the regal bride and groom as they danced for the first time as husband and wife. The people knew the bonded pair have a tentative friendship. However, countless believed that surely love would bloom once the bride came of age. Some tittered at how adorable the pair seemed as they twirled in the center, for they were still quite shy on their feet in their tender ages. While some contemplated Eorzea’s and Sharlayan’s future prosperity with the Empire, others wondered as to the many heirs the pair would give the Garlean throne someday. Though they were still quite young and would not consummate for some time yet, most attendees were confident that their future children would be numerous, and prayed for their good health and longevity.
The festivities lasted until nearly dawn, and soon the couple made their way to Leveilleur Manor. After such a lengthy betrothal, they would at long last begin their life together.
And all would prosper.
Distantly, hidden within the cheering crowds of well-wishers, stood a man in white robes. His face was obscured by his hood and a red mask, his eyes following the bride and groom’s carriage as it left his sight. Though he knew not why, deep inside the man in white was most disturbed by the bonding. It all seemed…wrong somehow. The bride in particular felt almost…familiar.
She is meant for another…but whom?
As if from nowhere, a man in black robes walked over toward his compatriot in white. His face also obscured by his hood and red mask. Upon sensing his arrival, the man in white spoke, his voice a muted cadence of wisdom, his eyes not once leaving the horizon. “Quite an interesting development. Would you not say Lahabrea?”
The man in black replied in kind, his tone snide. “Very much so Elidibus. I must admit, I was surprised to learn Emet-Selch gave his prized progeny over to the Sharlayan’s so easily. Whatever could have spurred his actions?”
Elidibus had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself. Still quite disturbed by the bride’s presence. “At any rate, we shall continue as our original design, with a few…modifications. Regardless of his actions, Emet-Selch has set the stage in the Source well enough. This shall not impede us.”
Lahabrea smirked. “If you believe so, then I shall return to my duties and do naught else. The next shard in question is at last at its brink. It shan’t be long.”
Elidibus nodded. “Good, see to it then.”
Soon Lahabrea vanished in a gloom of darkness. Elidibus, for his part, stayed behind.
As much as Emet-Selch tried to obscure it, Elidibus knew that fledgling glow for what it was.
The Echo. Or…perhaps something else…
He knew Hydaelyn too will notice and make her move soon. She shall take this girl as her own, even if she was not hers to take.
For the life of him Elidibus could not quite determine as to why he felt both intrigued…and disturbed by this young bride.
We must have met…perhaps during those bygone days…but who were they?
Flashes of a radiant smile, gentle hands, and a warm laugh suddenly filled Elidibus’ mind. He could scarcely feel the ghostly presence of loving arms encompass him, perhaps a second pair as well. Even now, he could almost hear the soft hum of a lullaby…
“To all of my children, in whom Life flows abundant.
To all of my children, to whom Death hath passed his judgement.
The soul yearns for honor, and the flesh the hereafter.
Look to those who walked before, to lead those who walk after.
Shining is the Land's light of justice
Ever flows the Land's well of purpose
Walk free, walk free, walk free, believe.
The Land is alive, so believe...” ***
The Ascian shook off the thoughts.
Now was hardly the time to entertain flights of fancy.
Elidibus found it unfortunate he must have such a harsh hand against one so young and filled with such promise. Breaking a child’s spirit was always distasteful in the Ascian’s eyes. Alas, Emet-Selch gave him little choice.
If the man simply made his great-grandchild an Ascian as she was always meant to be, then I would have little need to take such measures.
Elidibus knew not where those stray thoughts came from either.
He took a deep breath, growing resolute. He shall do his duty as Emissary and make certain balance is retained. He shall dim the light of Hydaelyn’s would be chosen, and Elidibus shall do so with the very ones meant to protect her. If left unchecked, this Sharlayan Sage’s household may raise a dangerous adversary from the ashes.
He shall be subtle and not remain long, lest Emet-Selch interfere in a misguided attempt to protect his little one.
Her groom may be a good place to start.
Elidibus shall make things right.
And all will prosper.
…
Three weeks came and went. Aymeric, dressed in the black and blues of House de Borel, sat near the burning fireplace of the Viscount’s study. His parents had yet to return from their trip, which concerned the youth greatly. Aymeric took a slow sip of his tea, finding it far too bitter for his palate. The youth reached over and poured a bit of birch syrup into the draught. Upon taking another sip, Aymeric still found the warm drink a tad too bitter. On the opposite chair sat Count Edmont de Fortemps, eldest nephew of Aymeric’s grandmother Rosamunde, and current head of House Fortemps. The Elezen of 40 summers sipped his own warm cup of tea undeterred, hiding a small smile of amusement behind the rim. He found Aymeric’s penchant of adding birch syrup to his tea, as his Uncle Cecil once did, quite endearing.
After having recently returned home from his duties at Camp Dragonhead, Edmont found it prudent to visit his cousins of House de Borel after hearing the news of Cecil’s death. He was quite surprise to discover both Rainier and Audree were away on business, and young Aymeric very much alone. Having none of it, the man kindly kept Aymeric’s company for the last few evenings. During these visits, the pair would have tea or dinner together, exchanging small talk or reminiscing about their shared relations. Today was one of those days. Edmont brought with him a bit of Nymeia Lily roots for brewing and a jar of birch syrup, knowing full well Aymeric enjoyed it as much as the deceased Viscount did.
Edmont decided then to break the silence. “My boy, if the Nymeia root be too bitter, mayhap you should add more birch syrup to the draught.”
Aymeric shook his head. “Nay, tis fine as is. I oft wondered as to the fine line between having birch syrup with my tea or having tea with my birch syrup.”
Edmont chuckled at the unexpected quip. “Oft I wondered the same as to Uncle Cecil’s own habits with the sweet. Rest assured, your use is quite moderate in comparison.”
The youth gave the Count a wane smile. He took another sip of the herbal blend, grimacing at its bitterness once more. At the sight of his face, Edmont offered the youth the small jar of birch syrup from the serving tray, which Aymeric accepted sheepishly. The younger Elezen poured a spot more into his cup before taking another sip, finding the draught at last acceptable. Aymeric soon put his cup and saucer aside, nodding in the Count’s direction. His azure gaze contemplated the waning glimmer of the older Elezen’s inner light. “Thank you, my Lord. For the syrup…and the company. Full glad am I for your presence.”
Edmont’s smile grew in turn, taking another sip of his tea before putting his own cup beside Aymeric’s. “Think nothing of it, my boy. It pleases me in turn to have company with whom I can reminisce with. Uncle Cecil was a good man, a good husband to dear Aunt Rosamunde, and a good father to Cousin Rainier. Just as I am certain he was a good grandfather to you in turn.”
Aymeric nodded mutely. “Indeed, he very much was. Stern, yet kind. He always did have a way about him. And it has been quite…lonely now that he is gone.”
Edmont took another sip of his tea. “Have your Mama and Papa not returned from their trade excursion?”
The youth’s gaze fell toward the hearth and its vibrant flames. “No, they have not. Nor do I truly expect them to return so soon. Journey’s to the Sharlayan Colony have always been overly long. However ill-timed their journey may be…I understand the necessity…many people are in need of their services.”
The Count’s smile dropped, a concerned frown taking its place. “Ill-timed indeed. And now they shall return to the sudden burden of a Title. Nevertheless, I am certain your Papa will take to the moniker of Viscount with his usual predilected efficiency, of that I have no doubt. Uncle Cecil has groomed your Papa with the utmost care, and his tutelage will serve him well in the coming days.”
Aymeric shared in Edmont’s frown. “I am most certain he will. However, tis the suddenness of the burden that concerns me. Papa has been overtaxed of late, and Mama does all she can to assist him. I only wish I could be of more use to them both…It would not do for either to grow ill due to exhaustion…as Grandfather did…”
Sensing that this was the root of Aymeric’s melancholy, Edmont gracefully moved toward the youth and knelt beside his seat. “Aymeric…though Uncle Cecil was full of vigor in spirit, he was always a frailer man than most in body. Your Papa is far healthier in comparison. Rest assured, you are of use to your parents as you are. I have heard nothing but the most glowing of praises in regards to your own tutelage. Uncle Cecil has oft commented on how proud he was of your intellect, and your martial prowess as a Temple Knight Squire. I can affirm t’was no easy feat to impress him in that regard, and yet you have. Continue on your path, my boy, for you do your part by walking it with shoulder’s back and head held high.”
Edmont smiled reassuringly. “For the burden of duty is a great one, no matter what form it may take. Perhaps the one you carry now may seem light in comparison to those around you. However, know that someday it shall be your turn to bear your Papa’s. And mayhap a heavier one still beyond that. I dare say, with how dutifully you wear yours now, you will carry the next most excellently. For now, retain the beacon of your fervor and allow yourself the respite of adjustment. The future will arrive sooner than you might think.” The Count then picked up the jar of birch syrup from the tray and placed it in Aymeric’s hand. He closed the youth’s fingers around the porcelain as his smile grew teasing. “And if your only vice is a spot of birch syrup in between bouts of duty, then full glad am I to bequeath the mantle of the future upon your shoulders.”
Aymeric’s own small smile blossomed in turn. “Even if my vice becomes tea with birch syrup and not the way round?”
Edmont chuckled, patting the youth’s head. “Even then Aymeric, even then. However, do be so kind as to not tell Haurchefant nor Emmanellain. I am afraid if their own sweet tooth's grows any larger, they shan’t have a solitary pearl left.”
The youth nodded, warmth finally reaching his eyes.
The pair were interrupted by a knock on the study door. Aymeric’s smile dropped as he gazed around the backrest of his seat. Suddenly quite mentally exhausted as he took in the familiar waning light behind the door. He vaguely felt two other familiar glimmers below their feet. “Enter.”
Kain entered the study sedately, his usual genteel smile absent from his face. Noticing the House Stewarts’s lack of good humor, the pair of cousins grew concerned. The Count stood from his kneeling position, placing his hand on Aymeric’s shoulder. “Is aught amiss Ser Kain?”
The House Stewart cleared his throat. “The Archbishop is here to see the Young Master.”
Aymeric frowned, his confusion evident in his azure orbs. “Why…would he wish to see me now?”
Kain carefully closed the door behind him, moving toward Aymeric and Edmont’s side he bent closer toward the pair, his tone soft as if he feared being overheard. “He stated that he came to see to your wellbeing as promised. Siting his desire to offer spiritual council and succor in honor of Master Cecil’s passing.”
Aymeric crossed his arms and closed his eyes in deep contemplation. Thordan VII came to the manor the day after Viscount Cecil’s passing. Upon finding the youth alone with only the house staff, the newly anointed Archbishop Thordan VII immediately offered the use of his personal retinue to assist in the Viscount’s burial. Aymeric politely declined the generous offer, not wishing to burden him. However, Aymeric did request that the Archbishop kindly offer up a prayer for his grandfather’s departed soul after their vigil’s end. Thordan agreed to Aymeric’s request and promised to return within the following weeks, not truly specifying exactly when that visit would be. However, not completely deterred, Thordan sent the Archimandrite of the Heaven’s ward to check on Aymeric in his stead.
Not that Aymeric minded Ser Vaindreau de Rouchemande’s company. Much like Count Edmont, the Knight was a pleasant man to be around. Not to mention, the Archimandrite kindly offered the youth a bit of sword training to pass the time whenever he visited. It was a kind distraction from Aymeric’s mourning, and the leader of the Heaven’s Ward seemed impressed with the youths bourgeoning abilities and growing prowess as a Squire. Regardless of their insistent and friendly overtures, Aymeric and the staff were very much careful with what they said about his parent’s excursion in the Knights presence. Whenever the Archimandrite would leave, Aymeric would pen a missive to his parents. Always making it a point to inform them of his day, wishing for their safe return home, as well as keeping them apprised of Ser Vaindreau’s visits, and of the Archbishop’s presence in particular.
Aymeric knew full well of his mother’s past with the Archbishop; of the then Bishop's choosing the elevated seat of the Holy See over a future with Audree. For years rumors have surrounded the youth of his apparent parentage, which Aymeric did his best to ignore. But he no longer could after his 11th summer. On his name day, Aymeric and his mother were at the Jewel Crozier buying the boy a gift, when a woman suddenly stopped at the sight of him. The high-born lady appeared quite disgusted as she spat at him and called Aymeric a bastard for all to hear. The boy witnessed his mother’s righteous fury then as she broke the high-born lady’s nose with a right hook that would make a pugilist proud.
Aymeric had never seen his mother so infuriated after that day…nor so contrite as she gently cleaned her son up after the incident. It was too difficult not to inform Aymeric at that point. Rainier took it upon himself as he pulled Aymeric aside that evening and told him as delicately as possible of the truth of the rumors. Rainier, for his part, did his best to hold fast to his own passionate feelings of acrimony over the whole debacle, as he held Aymeric protectively to his bosom.
“My darling boy. Always remember, this changes nothing. I will forever love you, for you are my son just as I am your father. For blood matters little. I can only hope you can forgive your mother and I for keeping this from you.”
No, Aymeric decided, it would not due to cause Mama and Papa any further distress by keeping these visits from them. Especially not after they were so honest with me, when there was no need for such truths.
Then came his immediate ascension and anointing as Archbishop Thordan VII, after the sudden and untimely death of Thordan VI...
Aymeric was certain his parents already had to contend with feelings of guilt for their ill-timed departure, so it was best to lighten their burden by keeping them as apprised as possible. After all, in Aymeric’s eyes, these visits from the Archbishop and the Archimandrite changed nothing. If anything, the youth grew to love Rainier even more after learning the truth. The man did not have to accept him, and yet Rainier did and loved Aymeric as his own. Something Aymeric and his mother would forever be grateful for.
Now, three weeks to the day, it would seem that his sire returned as promised.
And his parents have yet to do the same.
Edmont gaze rested on Aymeric, concerned once more. “His Eminence has come before? I was under the impression that only Ser Vaindreau graced you with his presence.”
Aymeric nodded, placing the jar of birch syrup back on the tray. “Yes, he came and offered succor the eve after grandfather’s passing. I bade him return after the vigil’s end. Though, I must admit, I had hoped Mama and Papa would have returned beforehand.”
Edmont hummed, noting the boy’s nerves. Not that the Count could blame Aymeric. The youth’s relation to the Archbishop aside, he was one of the few that understood how tumultuous it can be dealing with Thordan VII. Even for a man like Edmont, it was difficult to retain his bearings.
And by the Fury the Archbishop was mine own Uncle. Though Edmont could concede, the greatest paradox of family was within their ease and difficulty of presence.
Aymeric took a deep breath, his eyes roaming the room before it landed upon his grandparent’s portrait above the mantle. The youthful, smiling faces of Viscount Cecil and Viscountess’ Rosamunde met his gaze, as if encouraging him. Feeling emboldened, the youth stood from his plush seat and exit the study with his head held high. “Well, we cannot keep His Eminence waiting. If you will excuse me Lord Edmont.”
Kain bowed to Edmont and followed behind Aymeric with a worried look. Edmont, for his part, simply shrugged and followed behind, catching up to them quickly thanks to his longer strides.
The trio soon reached the sitting room without delay, finding Archbishop Thordan VII seated in one of the wingback chairs. The Archimandrite of the Heaven’s Ward, Ser Vaindreau de Rouchemande, stood at his side. The 53 summers old Archbishop smiled warmly at the sight of Aymeric and Edmont. The man’s azure gaze roved over the Count before taking in Aymeric’s regal posture, his orbs resting on the youth’s identical pair.
Remembering his lessons in etiquette, Aymeric bowed elegantly. “Your Eminence, Ser Vaindreau, please forgive my tardiness.”
Edmont followed suit with his own regal bow. “Your Eminence, Ser Vaindreau, tis an honor as always to be in your presence.”
Thordan’s smile grew wider. “Think nothing of it, my boy. Tis I whom should apologize for not giving your household due notice. And tis a pleasure to see you as well my honorable nephew, I hope my elder brother and your sons are in good spirits.”
Edmont hummed, his smile polite. “Indeed, your Eminence. Retirement seems to suite my Lord Father quite well. And my sons are growing most beautifully in their Squirely duties.”
Thordan own smile grew polite as he offered Aymeric the wingback seat opposite his. “Come Aymeric, join me. And as promised, we shall offer prayer to your dearly departed Grandsire. Honorable nephew, I do hate to dismiss you so. However, I hope you can forgive my brusqueness, for duty comes first.”
Aymeric, suddenly feeling quite shy, did as bid. Once seated, Thordan signaled Vaindreau with a nod of his head, effectively dismissing him from the room. The Archimandrite gestured in turn for Kain and Edmont to follow him out. The House Stewart offered Aymeric a departing smile before exiting the sitting room along with Ser Vaindreau.
Edmont offered the Archbishop a bow once more. “Fret not, your Eminence. I look forward to the honor of your company another time. Aymeric, I hope you have a restful evening. I shall see you tomorrow.” Aymeric gave Edmont a small smile and nod before his countenance dropped once more. The Count gave the pair one last neutral look, before closing the door behind him. Effectively leaving the youth alone with the Archbishop.
Thordan removed his miter, revealing his well-kept, graying blond hair. The man then ran his hand over his long beard, his eyes twinkling with some mirth as he met Aymeric’s eyes once more. “Privacy is a luxury rarely afforded to one in my position, my son. And my apologies for your denied audience during my anointing. I hope you understand, one must stand on ceremony on such occasions. Now then, how are you feeling this eve?”
Aymeric looked away with a sigh. “A bit more at ease now that some time has passed.”
Thordan hummed, then offered his hand for Aymeric to take. “Will your Lady Mother and Lord Father not be joining us?”
Aymeric gaze returned to Thordan, accepting his hand as he shook his head in the negative. “Mother and Father have yet to return from their Mercantile trip to the Sharlayan Colony. However, I am certain they will return soon. They sent a missive a few eves ago in reply to mine own, stating that they ran into a spot of trouble on the road. Which in turn has delayed them and their caravan greatly. However, Mother and Father send their greetings and humblest thanks for your most generous alms to our mourning household.”
The Archbishop hummed in thought once more, squeezing the youth’s hand in reassurance. “I see. Well then, my son, the two of us will have to make do. We shall also offer up prayer for our newly issued Viscount’s and Viscountess’ safe return, as well as their success in their present endeavor. May their mercantilism continue to flourish, and may all of Ishgard prosper for their efforts.”
Aymeric gave him a small smile, squeezing Thordan’s hand in return. “Thank you…father.”
Thordan offered Aymeric another warm smile, its warmth failing to penetrate the ice of his eyes. He then raised his son’s hand to his lips, kissing the slender digits before resting their clasped hands on his seat’s armrest.
And so, began their quiet meditation.
…