Chapter Text
Yes, the world has ended.
Again.
Kind of.
And he’s left everyone behind… again, and also kind of.
Truth to be told, Eleven’s not even sure what he wants to accomplish here. And especially how he wants to get around doing it. Because, even though he wants to give this a try for Hendrik’s sake, and did what he could in advance... Let’s be honest here.
Things he knows about Jasper are few and far between. He’s the strategist of a kingdom, so he’s smart. Like, really smart… and perfectly willing to be a general nuisance, or to fuck with people. Pretty? And petty. Capable of being as much of a shittalker as Veronica, Erik, and Sylv put together. And angry, viciousss… aaand the literal embodiment of envy.
This is going to be difficult, isn’t it?
Despite all of these factors, he still should get going, because the world won’t save itself. And, although his body needs a little warm-up before getting over that unplanned hiccup during the Yggdrasil fiasco, he does not have all the time in the world, either. (Quite literally, in this case.)
And yet, he’s been standing at the gates of the Last Bastion for what feels like half an eternity. The very simple reason for it is the sneaking suspicion that this will be the place where he and Jasper run into each other at last. He also expects to see Hendrik. Just because it would complicate things to beyond saving.
Once Eleven takes heart and does enter, greet Gemma, his mother, and the rest of the village, and eavesdrop around, however… it becomes apparent that the rumors spreading about the knight of Heliodor present are indeed about Jasper. Someone found him half dead near the waterfalls, and while no longer hospitalized, he tends to stick to his quarters still. Good enough pointer for a start.
On the other hand… Hendrik is goddess knows where, and King Carnelian is not here, either. Which is really worrisome information, because… it's just that out of the ordinary.
Eleven cannot help but wonder whether the two of them are… dead. He never asked them where exactly they ended up after the fall of the World Tree when this first happened, and he definitely cannot ask now, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe they would appear the same way at the same place, right? Veronica surely didn't change the spell.
Or did she?
It's awkward to know he had himself get caught again despite already remembering enough at the time to know what to look out for. At the very least, he's certain that everyone is fine.
Everyone he really wanted to be fine, at the very least.
The train of thought is better left at that for the time being. They all have better chances at surviving in this world than the initial one, after all, and both missing men can take care of themselves.
Yet, there’s a foreboding feeling in Eleven’s guts he cannot ignore. It's quite a setback, too; not only for him, but also the notably greater number of survivors of the slightly-less-catastrophic-than-could-be present. Which, well…
He looks up at the morose sky. Yggdrasil is beset by darkness and is considerably closer to the ground than it should be. According to some people and judging by some familiar fiery debris he saw on his way in, it has lost a few big chunks that day. A part of its ailing crown peeks out from beyond walls that seem to be intent on swallowing the tree whole. Must be a citadel similar to the previous one. Then there's Heliodor, which was once again unfortunate enough to be run down by an army of monsters and take substantial collateral damage, and the black skies also tell of the presence of those monsters who bore the six colored orbs before.
All in all, there are a number of odd irregularities to consider by now. He did manage to wound Mordegon gravely before getting the business end regardless, so that may be the reason as to why the floating island is losing itself in bits and pieces.
This is the main reason Eleven feels pressured to move on with haste. If parts of Yggdrasil are falling, then the rest of it will follow sooner or later, and preventing that would be nice, to say the least. He also has to wonder whether those sentinels will be as much trouble as the first time around. The only thing he knows for sure is that at least one of them will be a mystery opponent, the original guy being down here and all.
And, speak of the devil: finally found him. Having walked around the entire encampment, Eleven runs into Jasper outside at the gates at last. He's not keen on visitors by the look of things. While there are a couple of people at an arm’s reach, everyone seems to keep a few steps distance from the watchtower his target, —who's glaring either into the flickering light of the torch in front of him, or the blot in the sky that stands even darker than the canvas itself,— is leaning against.
Seeing the Luminary has entered the scene with the likely intention to address the knight, the loitering group dissolves fast. All that remains is the crackling of fire and the faint noise of a fine chain jingling; the man must be tugging at the necklace with the pendant on it. Which he hasn't discarded yet, apparently. Knowing its significance, that’s one thing to note.
Jasper must take note of the sudden silence and Eleven’s stare, because he checks behind him in a few seconds' time. His indifferent expression drops sour at the drop of a hat. “Oh. Fancy meeting you here… Luminary. Or Darkspawn. Whichever you prefer,” he sighs with an ultimately detached voice, leaning back against the wooden pillar. “With the news spreading, I should have figured we’ll run into each other sooner or later. Not that it makes a difference to me.”
Eleven hasn’t been directly addressed as either title in what feels like forever. It’s… oddly nostalgic. Especially the memory of Hendrik’s passionate-aggressive yelling, which almost brings a smile to his face that he tries his best to suppress. Breaking out in laughter would be extremely ill-advised right now. He has a very vague idea of what he should expect from this endeavor, after all, and a move like that just screams faux pas.
Anyway, as suspected, he's not exactly a welcome sight. And, with no concrete topic to go on with unless he wants to appear an omniscient creep, he suddenly finds himself at a stalemate… The silence is getting increasingly awkward by the minute, too. Small talk may help.
“I’m… a little surprised you ended up here, to be honest,” he says eventually. Even with his sixth sense, it felt like too ironic of a choice, to be frank. But here they are.
The blonde grunts upon hearing that. “As am I… an odd twist of fate. And one tasteless joke to boot,” he complains, with disdain clearly audible in his voice now. “Not that anywhere else would have been better… but being saved by the very people I abandoned is insult to injury.” He flips his bangs and heaves another sigh. “It seems you don't intend to out my status, but I doubt you would seek me out with no reason, so start talking, boy. Spill what you came for, and let me be done with it.”
For some reason, words come to Eleven even harder than usual… at fault could be the tingle in his palms, which urges him to be ready to fight Jasper at any moment. Indeed, every time before, the guy has been nothing but bad news, and Eleven's found him in a foul mood once more. It is a first that they have a chance to meet under relatively calm circumstances, isn't it? That, and to actually just… talk, really. At any other given time, Jasper was out for blood. The boy’s or Hendrik’s, depending on his momentary priorities.
Plus, his demeanor just seems… off. Eleven cannot quite put his finger on it, but the man appears to be not only morose, which is not much of a surprise… but also more fidgety than before. In fact, he takes hold of the pendant he dropped a minute ago, ready to return to playing with it as soon as this situation is over with.
The former tactician of the kingdom doesn’t need to wait a lot for it to happen, because said situation is cut short by a soldier jogging up the hill with a few more people lagging behind, one of whom is seemingly out of breath.
“Sir Jasper, and you too, young man, please go inside,” the first man bows, ready to hurry on as soon as he’s done with his hasty report. “A scout’s arrived, and by the looks of things… we must prepare for an attack.”
Just like that, Eleven is ready to follow in tow without a word— at least until he notices that Jasper remains by the tower.
“Another siege, huh,” the man mulls under his breath as the group passes, not looking like one to leave any time soon. He stares a hole into the grey cliffs.
The boy steps just a little bit closer than where he stood a minute ago. “Are you not coming?”
A suspiciously belated, tired sigh is the initial answer he gets. “What for?” Jasper drawls then; “The days of mankind are numbered. Even if we were to fend off the hordes of monsters now, there will be more to come. Every man who falls is a new soldier for the enemy. One might win a few dozen fights, but victory is out of reach. This war simply cannot be won.” He takes a reluctant look at Eleven and raises an arm. “Or are you truthfully meaning to say there is a fighting chance? That you wish to face Lord Mordegon once more?” He shakes his head. “A fool's errand. Even if you stood a chance before, and even despite that wound, there's no man left in Erdrea to face his might. Let it go.” He turns then around to cross his arms and stare out towards the eternal twilight once more.
Eleven cannot help but blurt out the initial thought upon hearing that. “I thought you tougher than this.”
Eleven really… did. He expected someone restless and furious, or maybe in pieces, not… this eerily passive and defeated.
The comment certainly seems to have hit a nerve, though. And Eleven is not sure whether he should be proud of himself, or start running.
Because the look Jasper flashes at him a second later screams bloody murder.
“Bold of a stranger… to assume things about me,” he hisses. “And were a stranger to pose any guesses whatsoever… then they have already stuck their big nose into places it did not belong.” Discomfort claws its way up Eleven’s legs and back as the man starts raising his voice and steps closer, unfolding his arms. “Well, tell me, Luminary! What is it that you want from me, and why should I pay any heed? What makes you, an everyman bar some unusual magic tricks, any different from those who came before?!”
The burning embers that are his eyes flash in the torchlight as if they were scorching flames themselves. Although Jasper poses much less of a threat than he would normally, there's something in this voice, a part of his very nature, that makes Eleven feel uneasy regardless.
“Is this why you saved my life back there?! You, too, would just dispose of me once I've outlived my use…! Well, nay. I’m done with all of this, and done for. And so will be everything else soon, for all it's worth.”
The discussion ends right there with Eleven receiving a good shove as Jasper storms off to what’s his tent, probably. The initial impression… could have gone worse, he thinks.
However, it also left him with a lot to think about.
‘Disposing’ of Jasper is just… That line stands out like a sore thumb. And it was directed straight at Eleven. It is way too personal to be reasonable, as he’s yet to approach him with any hidden agenda in mind… and even then, it's not malicious intent, quite the contrary.
Then again, Mordegon certainly did use him for all he was worth, but maybe he wasn't the first one to do so… This certainly made it sound like Jasper was hiding another ugly burn mark somewhere.
He doesn't have time to dwell on this new problem as Gemma arrives in a rush upon realizing that something has happened between the two of them.
“Crikey, I hope he wasn’t too mean!” she muses out loud as soon as she gets there, watching the last glimpse of the man disappear around the corner. She turns to her old pal after short contemplation. “Didn't think he'd leave his lair any time soon… I probably should have made sure to keep you two apart in the first place, sorry about that.” Her attention flickers back towards the direction Jasper has gone. “But what a queer man, that Jasper is… It was quite a surprise, you know? Finding out how crabby this gem of Heliodor is under that fancy, knightly shell of his. As cold and cruel as his eyes were when I first had the misfortune to peer into them… as much of a bottomless pit of unfeeling hot fury they are now.” She crosses her arms and looks back at Eleven with a slanted smile. “Does not make him any more pleasant of a kipper, now, does it?”
Eleven nods. He’s… not sure what he expected, overall. Someone colder and more collected… and sleeker, perhaps? Not that he cannot see the traces of these uncertain predictions, of course, but all of it is overshadowed by a sense of weariness. Even in spite of his moping, Jasper is, in fact, very angry. Eleven also recognizes the ugly stains of despair, being familiar enough with it himself. Under the circumstances, it's understandable. As are the flashes of barely restrained rage when he gets on edge.
What worries him, however… is that Jasper seems to go from competent to apathetic to enraged beast without a moment’s notice, that is to say, he’s everything but stable.
Yikes.
After a quick detour to his worried mom, Eleven joins the soldiers preparing for battle. To the side of one chatty group and next to the entrance of what used to be the village shop, he catches a glimpse of unbelievably long golden streaks that can belong to one person only. Without further ado, he carefully sneaks towards his prey until he can figure out what he's up to.
From where he stands, Eleven can hear a couple of higher ranking knights discussing the strategy for the day in the building… or rather arguing about it. And Jasper is not exactly happy with what he's hearing.
The man looks like he’s having the worst headache of the decade. In a way, it’s… funny. And, thinking about it, also the ideal moment to strike.
First things first, spooking the man right now wouldn't do any good so Eleven drops the spy act and goes around to approach normally. Practical jokes can wait for the time being. “I can tell by a single look that you are about to get an aneurysm,” he breathes with a little smile after stepping out of the shadows for good. “Just… let it out. Tell them… well, us, what to do, really,” he shrugs.
“Pardon? Tell… you?” Jasper looks at him in surprise, almost forgetting about both wanting to get away from the Luminary as soon as possible and how pissed he is about the incompetence of this bunch. (It's as if they'd learned nothing under his guidance, really… He was a luxury they took for granted. Idiots.)
The boy nods after a short delay. “I trust you’d be able to make the best of me. If someone can win this, then one of the brightest minds of the age. Am I wrong to, uh… think so?” He gets a little nervous by the end; he should probably avoid these sentences which make assumptions. They weren’t received well the first time around, either.
The knight gives him a suspicious squint, and eyes him for another few seconds. Then, he shakes his head and moans. “You are not doing anyone favors with flattery as crude as this. It just makes you sound like… Eugh.”
The chill running down Jasper's spine can be seen with the naked eye, although it isn’t apparent while his face scrunches up in a much more noticeable mix of disgust and anger. After freezing up like that for a second, he clenches his fists and storms right into the makeshift base of operations. “To hell with it, fine!!” he barks to no one in particular while leaving.
The second Jasper enters, any prevailing voice that did not die upon registering that it's him talking in front of the entrance silences itself. In a single moment, the heated discussion turns into ice cold tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.
One of the more involved knights finds it in himself to speak up. “Sir Jasper, we didn't expect your attendance today—”
“Save the excuses and explanation, I've heard enough,” comes the dismissive answer along with a nod. “I shall take care of the strategy myself. Whoever is in charge of all the facts should remain for a moment, everyone else is dismissed and should await orders until further notice. Instruct whoever may serve under you to get in line and make routine preparations. I will see everyone,— and I say everyone— with an ounce of authority around here in thirty minutes, at the entrance of the revine.”
He walks up to the table without further ado. The loitering soldiers and knights’ surprise fades and they start walking out, one after the other. The four more decorated men present look at each other and decide in a wordless staredown which one of them shall be sacrificed for the greater good. The rest leave.
“How are our resources? Number of battle ready men?” Jasper asks as soon as the rattling of armor dies down. He did not go around counting them, but he suspects the manpower being somewhere between sixty and ninety. The makeshift model on the table he’s looking at also doesn't tell him anything concrete.
“We have around eighty men, some more still undergoing training, and twice as many civilians. As for equipment, there is no general shortage regarding armor and weapons. Herbs and the like, however, are scarce.”
Jasper sighs, already bracing himself. This is looking better than it has any business being; with his luck, there’s a catch for sure. “... How many regulars?”
The knight pauses for a second, likewise preparing for the worst. “Twenty-seven, sir. And five skilled knights.”
As expected, Jasper’s sour expression tells of his blatant misgivings, and so does his click of the tongue. Unfavorable, but still doable; if, and if Lady Luck has a change of heart and is on their side. He stops furrowing his brows for a second and steps aside to grab a greatsword, which he presents to the soldier. “Estimated number of monsters?” Oh, it will be high, no matter what. Question is, how high are we talking about?
The man takes the weapon, albeit he’s a little awkward with it as the purpose of the action is unknown. “While… most of the skeletal enemies are easily overcome with little wit, th—”
“Num. Bers.”
If Eleven knew the answer, he would tell it right away. Despite his small stature and weakened state, Jasper certainly has that certain something to be, or at least appear, intimidating if he wants to. This mood of his is like having a lit stick of dynamite sizzling a little too close for comfort.
And he’s not even the one talking to him.
Gathering his courage, the soldier answers at last. “... in the hundreds, Sir. With one or two problem children, including the occasional dullahan or black dragon.”
If Jasper has misgivings, he doesn’t show them.
“Well then… take a couple of these while your men are preparing, and get every single able-bodied person who can lift them with little effort moving," he instructs, pointing at the sword he's handed over previously. "Women, adolescents, the elderly, doesn’t matter as long as they can handle some physical work. And bring me a decent topological map of the area this instant.” From the looks of it, having a number of reliable marksmen may prove vital, and the terrain favors them, too…
The soldier salutes and leaves hastily. Jasper then sweeps everything he deems unnecessary off the table and turns around a second after, acknowledging Eleven's presence with a raise of his brows.
He spreads his arms questioningly a moment later. “Hm…? And, what are you still standing around here for? Seek out the drill master and do what you're told. You just asked me personally to take charge, did you not? Chop chop, Luminary.”
With that, the boy already finds himself shoved outside.
Today is going to be a long one.