Chapter Text
The roar in his ears wouldn’t silence, and he moved a hand to push away what was over his face. His gauntlet met hardened visor, and his eyes snapped open. Pain—like thousands of fire ants running up and down his nerves—screamed through his body and the edges of his vision darkened.
The roar was from the fire.
The so-called “Warriors of Light” were already gone—fled from the burning castrum.
His daughter had left him here.
To be fair, Cassandra probably thought I was dead, he thought as he pushed himself up, leaning on his right arm—it hurt less than his left—before finally shifting his weight up until he was at least sitting up.
He held a hand up to his ear set and activated his link shell. “This is Legatus van Baelsar, report,” he called out, ending it in a cough as the smoke seeped in through his armour and air filters. “Anyone?”
Silence.
Is no one left? Gaius couldn’t believe that. Surely…
He looked around.
No, no one could have survived this. The only reason he still drew breath was due to the Ultima Weapon—safe as he had been within the cockpit—and the only other survivor had been those with Cassandra, including the Miqo’te and Au Ra adventurers and—what had Lahabrea claimed?
Ah, yes, they had been the legendary Warriors of Light.
His sword creaked—the metal straining under his weight—as he used it to help push himself to his feet. Heirsbane had never been forged to use as a cane, but he had little other choice. Hopefully, it doesn’t snap, he thought. Otherwise not only do I no longer have my weapon but I’d be truly hard-pressed to find something else to help me limp out of here…
The twisted wreckage of the Castrum had him turned around quickly, but soon he found someplace resembling normal ground, but it, too, burned. Dead bodies were strewn—both Imperial and Eorzean Alliance—around like children’s playthings.
Both caused a pang of heartache.
War was one thing. Sometimes necessary, sometimes not—but as a soldier, it had never been his role to question his orders or to doubt the rightness of what he had been doing. Was it Imperial conquest? Sure, but he never did so out of spite or desire for destruction.
Justice. Order. Equality under a single banner—strong like a braid made of many threads instead of a single weak individual.
These had been his ideals and there was always opposition but his own children were living proof. His unit had been living proof—conscripts given earned accolades. Potential given the chance to grow.
But this…
… Heirsbane creaked once and the tip skidded across the smooth metal floor. Gaius fell heavily, his breath knocked out of him as the gunblade screeched and clattered across the floor. He stared at the floor through his mask and then groaned as he pushed himself up. His left arm gave out and he rolled onto his back again.
His vision darkened, and he blinked furiously as he fought both nausea and his scattering senses from tossing him back into unconsciousness.
Time lost meaning and the sound of metal being dragged across the floor and the ammunition dumped out of his gunblade brought him back. He rolled over again, pushing his back against the wall as he found his feet. He lifted his head and stared at the Elezen—a solder of Gridania, judging by the uniform—now held Heirsbane aloft. He was poised to strike, and Gaius considered letting the blade fall.
A snap of something falling once burnt through brought him back to stark reality.
Lahabrea, thought Gaius. He was never alone.
“Stay your hand,” croaked out Gaius.
“Why should I?”
The Elezen’s voice was a snarl—the question more snapped at him than asked.
“I should say stay it for now,” answered Gaius, tilting his head. “I can get us both out of here, and then I have a proposal—if you’ve the mind to listen to it.”
The Elezen paused, looking around and a troubled look crossed his features. Gaius pushed himself off the wall so he was at least standing on his own two feet, but his left arm protested again and he gasped as he supported it. Dislocated, he thought. Utterly useless and if I don’t do something soon, the pain of it will have me on that floor again…
“You’re hurt,” said the Elezen, lowering the blade slightly. “You need me more than I need you.”
“Oh?” asked Gaius. “Which way is out then?”
The Elezen chewed his lip and then pointed the blade at Gaius. “Only until we’re out of here.”
“We have a deal,” said Gaius, and he took a step.
His vision swam—and for a moment he felt as if everything drifted out from under him. Hands under his arms, and then around his waist brought him back to reality with a snap. “Okay, Black Wolf, which way is out?”
“That way,” said Gaius, embarrassed at how weak and raspy his voice had gone.
The two limped their way out, but as it became apparent that the danger had passed—and as they crept closer to freedom from the ruined Castrum—Gaius found himself drifting and only able to focus on moving one foot in front of the other until his vision swam, doubled, faded… and he found himself on his knees with the Elezen beside him. He could see the other man’s lips move but all he could hear was ringing in his ears—and a rushing sound.
Nausea rose, and he felt chilled to the bone.
I’m going to pass out, he realized. And it won’t be for a short period… I hope… that… he stays his hand a while longer…
There was a blur of red and for a moment Gaius thought it was his own vision and the blood within his helm, but as his eyes focussed one last time he felt lifted by not one person but two. His head rolled, limp on his neck as he stared up at the newcomer and the red—if singed and dirtied from smoke and ash—reaper. “Lord van Baelsar,” said the last person Gaius expected to hear. “Sir, come on…”
“He’s been in and out of it since I found him,” answered the Elezen, coughing as he did so. “He just went down a few moments ago and I haven’t been able to rouse him.”
“From the look of his armour, I am not surprised,” said the other. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” demanded the Elezen.
“The man getting the three of us out of here!” he snapped back. “We don’t have time for this and I’d really rather call you something other than ‘hey you’ but if that’s your preference…”
“Valdeaulin.”
“That’s better, now isn’t it? Help me get him into the Reaper,” said the other. “You may call me Nero.”
Gaius felt his center of gravity tilt and his vision tunneled as everything went distant on him again, but somehow even if by the thinnest of threads he held on to what little he could to remain conscious. The shift from left to right, the clank of heavy mechanical feet on steel. The sudden shift of weight as he was pushed down into the seat and then the sense of near weightlessness of a leap. The answering landing jarred his ribs.
That landing was more than enough for his too exhausted mind and injured body to finally give up on even the thin thread he’d grasped and darkness swallowed him.