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It was always hard, visiting Haurchefant’s grave.
Grief was an old friend to Oir - since long before she’d been the Warrior of Light - but this loss was new in so many ways. Time had yet to wear its edges smooth, and never before had someone died for her the way Haurchefant had.
The hole in his shield taunted her.
She knew how much that shield had meant to him; how much his knighthood had meant to him. They’d been a pair of insomniacs, she and him, talking late into the night while their cocoa grew cold whenever he visited the manor.
Yet for all of that, for all that his life and his dreams had mattered, he’d thrown himself in front of her. He’d braced himself against an aetherbolt, only for it to tear through his shield and through him, and why would he do that when she was so much more likely to survive—
Lost in her musings, Oir narrowly avoided knocking into someone as she stepped down from the aetheryte. Then, she noticed the man she’d almost collided with was wearing shorts, snow boots, and nothing else. Though it made her shiver reflexively - the Ishgardian weather was biting; even looking at the man made her feel cold - it surprised the Warrior of Light less than she would have liked.
“Lord Manderville?” she called, for there was only one person in existence this could reasonably be. “I thought you had already departed Ishgard?”
“Ah, Oir!” Godbert Manderville turned with a grin, clapping the Warrior on the shoulder hard enough to rattle her teeth. “It’s good to see you again! With the business with young Gigi, I had to rearrange some of my meetings. Speaking of which, how is my grandson doing in your company?”
Oir, still dazed and wondering what exactly the Mandervilles were eating - because holy shit even Titan’s landslides hadn’t landed like that - took just a beat too long to respond.
“Oh! Sorry, yes - Gigi’s doing just fine,” she smiled apologetically. Godbert, for his part, seemed not to have even noticed her delay. “He’s spending some time with Honoroit at the moment. Nothing terribly exciting about me running errands, and I figured it’d do him some good to start forming a peer group.”
“Ah yes - it’s important for a growing boy to have friends his own age,” Godbert chuckled. “Besides, if what I’ve heard is true, watching out for Edmont’s youngest will be a good start to adventure for the lad.”
Oir bit back a chuckle of her own, tipping her head in agreement. That had been part of her logic too.
“My thanks for taking care of young Gigi, Oir,” Godbert continued. “Julyan’s as well - she’s still adjusting to the idea of having a mammet for a grandson, but I do believe she’s coming around. Besides, we need to thank you anyways for being such a stalwart friend to Hildibrand.”
“There’s no need to thank me for that,” Oir said. It wasn’t like she could just leave the man in whatever trouble he found himself in - and Heavens, did Hildibrand Manderville have a knack for finding trouble.
“Regardless, if you ever need anything, do ask.”
It wasn’t until Oir was half-way down the road, having already given Godbert her thanks and her insistence that it really wasn’t necessary, that it hit her.
“Wait!” she called, turning back to run after the goldsmith. “There is something I need your help with. Not as a favor - I’ll pay, I promise you - but… Would you be able to repair a shield?”
Godbert was uncharacteristically solemn as Oir explained the situation. She was used to him as eccentric and boisterous - insisting upon being massaged with salamander oil or making a dramatic entrance falling from the sky in his smallclothes to land in front of the corpse of a chimera he’d slain. The absence of patented Manderville theatrics rang loud in her ears and pushed her to rambling.
“I know that shields aren’t your specialty, sir,” she said, as helpless to stop the flow of words as she was to still the tides. “And I promise to pay in full - regardless of the cost. Lord Haurchefant was my friend, and I know how much that shield meant to him—”
Godbert held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks.
“There’s no need to worry about that,” he waved her off. Sighing deeply, he shifted his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Count Edmont is an old friend, and I… I am familiar with what it is like to lose a son. Julyan and I were just lucky enough to get ours back.”
Oir swallowed hard, fighting back tears. Count Edmont would not share in that luck.
I’m so sorry, Haurchefaunt, Oir thought. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.
Unbeknownst to Oir, Godbert peered at her curiously.
“You know, my reunion with Hildibrand is owed in no small part to you.” Godbert’s voice, some of his usual cheer creeping back into his tone, cut through her thoughts. “Why, if you hadn’t performed our family dance so expertly, I may never have seen him again! That practically makes you a Manderville yourself! It’s simply bad taste to charge family for this sort of thing.”
He clapped her on the shoulder again, and though it was just as tooth-rattling as before, it was almost comforting this time.
“Thank you, sir. I promise I have no intentions of taking advantage of your kindness.”
Godbert let out a booming laugh.
“Oir, if you’re so insistent on repaying me, just stop by for dinner sometime - gods know Hildibrand never does. Julyan’s the best culinarian in the realm; you won’t find finer cooking anywhere.”
“Okay,” Oir smiled, taking a moment to wipe at her eyes. “I can agree to those terms.”
“Excellent! Now, where is this shield I need to repair, exactly?”
For the second time that day, Oir found herself making the trek up to Haurchefaunt’s grave. It was a significantly shorter trek, however - only about twenty fulms - given that as soon as she’d given the location, Godbert had looped his arm through hers and rocketed them into the sky like it was nothing.
All of Oir’s experience flinging herself off of Allagan launchpads hadn’t prepared her for travel by Manderville Leap - not that she’d expected otherwise. She would have, however, appreciated a warning. Take off had wrenched her shoulder a bit.
The gravesite was pristine - the mountain winds and fresh snow already had obscured her tracks from earlier. She and Godbert took a moment to pay their respects.
“Hmm…” Godbert stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You say you want the shield repaired exactly as it was, yes?”
“I do,” Oir nodded. She had, perhaps, stressed that more times than was strictly necessary in memory of the vase incident. “I do not mean to…wipe away evidence of his sacrifice, but I could not bear to deface the crest of House Fortemps in this, nor compromise the shield’s structural integrity.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Godbert exclaimed. “Oir, I am offended! I am not just a smith, but a Manderville smith! None of those things are mutually exclusive! Nay, when I am finished, this shield shall have all of the properties you seek - and be stronger to boot! Byregot, guide my hammer—”
Godbert was kneeling beside the shield before Oir could so much as blink, his hammer having manifested in his hand. He struck the shield with a sharp clang, a spectacular flash of light radiating out from the point of impact. Oir threw up a hand to shield her eyes.
“Well! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Godbert exclaimed cheerfully. Oir opened her eyes with no small amount of alarm, only for her jaw to drop at the sight that greeted her.
Haurchefant Greystone - with a hole in his chainmail but distinctly not in his stomach - lay sprawled in the snow.
A very much alive Haurchefant Greystone.
Oir stared. Haurchefaunt stared back. Godbert, the repaired shield hanging slack in his hands, beamed.
(Distantly, she remembered Nashu saying something about Godbert controlling the powers of life and death.)
Haurchefaunt, making no move to rise and very carefully not taking his eyes off either of them, leaned rather unsubtly towards Oir.
“‘My friend, why is this man not wearing any pants?”