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The sun filtered through the canopy, a speckled pattern of light and shadow against lush grass and dirt paths. Fafnir leaned against the small fence that blocked off the top of the rise. Down below, several people cultivated large pumpkins and squash in all imaginable colors. Someone's chocobo — a real one, not a daemon — was helping carry fertilizer. A song bird daemon provided jovial songs for the workers to enjoy.
Fafnir breathed deep. Autumn was settling over Gridania. After so many years wandering, he had started to settle under the boughs of the Shroud. He was starting to be accustomed to the way the leaves changed color and the chill that weaved its way through the smallest crevice in the sturdiest of shelter. It was much different than the sea salt spray he had grown up near, but on good days he hardly thought about La Noscea’s rolling green pastures or high cliff tops.
Sebek, his komodo dragon daemon, was sleeping at his feet. As the season spun into winter, they would become more and more sluggish. Fafnir knew that they’d still muster up enough strength to complain about the cold until Fafnir agreed to carry them around, as if they were a small puppy and not a large lizard.
"Oh! Are you lost?" Someone asked.
Fafnir turned. It was a lalafell in the uniform of the Botanists' Guild, short brown hair tucked under a straw hat. She had a squirrel daemon perched on her shoulder, his tawny coat streaked with silver. She stood several feet away as it was the only way she could look at Fafnir without hurting her neck.
"The Lancer's Guild is that way. Go down the path until you reach the Shaded Bower, then turn north. You'll see a ferry and a large building — that's the guild." Her tone was so kind and so certain.
He nodded, though he was right where he wanted to be. Fafnir had stopped at the Lancer’s Guild and done basic tests the first month they arrived in the city. He was a full member, though not one that any expected great things from. Certainly he was no Gridanian native, not with his horns and tail marking him as Auri.
But he knew when he had overstayed his welcome.
"Good day," Fafnir murmured. He turned and left, tail cutting a path in the grass behind him. Sebek, ever the loyal daemon, followed behind with only a slightly annoyed expression at being woken from their nap.
—
A few days passed and the pumpkins would be ready for harvest soon. At least that was what Fafnir, in his very unprofessional opinion, thought. His stomach rumbled and he wondered if he could scrounge up the coin for a good stew for supper. Adventuring might have been good work, but it didn’t pay.
His lance was leaning against the fence next to him. It was freshly cleaned. Something told him that bringing it to the glade covered in blood would be a bad idea.
"This is dull," Sebek muttered, tongue flicking in and out.
Fafnir looked at them. He raised an eyebrow. They looked back and then huffed.
"I fell asleep once. It wouldn't happen if we had things to do. We can pick up some leves, maybe. Mother Miounne—"
"Sorry about the wait," a voice called out. Fafnir blinked as a lalafell with a straw hat appeared. She was holding out a bundle of herbs. It was the same lalafell as before, though he couldn't recall her name. Had she even given it? "Just had to finish counting the cuttings myself. But you tell Ywain that Fufucha herself took stock on his behalf."
Though he was not there for a delivery, Fafnir decided it was best to go along with it and nodded. The bundle was tightly packaged with medicinal herbs, though Fafnir knew no more about them than that. After a thought, he gave her a sloppy bow. She waved as the two walked off.
"Someday we will stop being everyone's errand person," Sebek muttered once they were out of earshot. Fafnir shrugged. It could be worse. At least they weren't being asked to hunt down smelly cheese or expensive wine.
—
"Why do you like it here?" Sebek asked one day as Fafnir took shelter from the rare autumn heat by hiding near the Botanists’ Guild. Technically they were several yalms away, closer to the aetheryte than the hut that made up the base of operations. A large willow tree hung over him, a few leaves scattered in his hair. "It's quieter in the Shroud, more comfortable in the inn, and more exciting by the main aetheryte. Though it isn’t like home, is it?"
That was certainly one way to think of it. Fafnir had grown up in Limsa Lominsa. The degeneracy there was familiar and predictable. It came in and out with the tides — sometimes literally as ships set out or got stuck in harbor. But while Gridania could not match Limsa Lominsa, those ports were not home anymore and Sebek knew it.
They saw the expression on Fafnir’s face. Sebek let out a low hiss in apology, nuzzling against Fafnir’s chest. “We will go back someday. It will be okay.”
Fafnir shook his head. “No, we will not.” And Sebek respected the end of a conversation.
—
On a sunny afternoon spent watching the botanists go about their duties, the lalafell appeared again. She bit at her bottom lip, eyebrows drawn low in worry.
“I’m afraid I don’t recall any orders by the Lancer’s Guild, but if it is urgent I can see what I can do,” she said as she approached. Fafnir and Sebek were idling by the Botanists' Hut, the shade comforting in the humid afternoon.
Sebek had long since given up trying to convince Fafnir to go elsewhere in their free time. They knew they'd have better luck arguing with a brick wall or one of the morbols that terrorized the swamps.
"What is it that you need?" The lalafell asked, bringing Fafnir's attention back to her.
Sebek let out a long hiss, which for a komodo dragon was the equivalent of a sigh. They looked at Fafnir. He looked back at them. He gave them half a shrug.
"We are not here for any orders," Sebek told her. "We like it here."
"Oh!" The lalafell jumped a bit, covering her mouth with one hand. "My apologies. I assumed — oh no ." Several things seemed to click in place for her, which caused a myriad of emotions to cross her face. The final blush across her face was hard to mistake for anything other than embarrassment.
Her daemon scurried across her shoulders, sitting up on his two back legs. He looked at Sebek with some skepticism, but at least he didn’t look like he expected to be eaten. "So you are here for rest?"
Sebek nodded, head bobbing up and down. "It is nice here. Good for a nap."
That was not what they had claimed a fortnight prior, but Fafnir would take it. The lalafell beamed.
"It is, isn't it? If it is not too busy, I tend to nap amongst the fields. You are welcome to do so, save if there are plants that need tending. Although…" She tilted her head back and forth. "If you have free time, you are welcome to join us! The guild is always looking for new members."
"Thank you," Fafnir murmured. He had no intention of doing so. He knew where his talents lay and it would be foolish to pretend otherwise.
“If you need anything, just ask for Fufucha. That’s me,” Fufucha said, pointing to herself. Her squirrel tapped her on the side of her head and Fufucha laughed. “Oh yes, and this is Quercus.”
“I am Sebek and that is Fafnir.” Sebek raised a claw off the ground, shaking it back and forth in a mimicry of a proper hand wave. “You are very far from everything else.”
Fufucha nodded. She was shorter than Sebek when they had their neck fully extended. Most lalafell were. “We need to be so that there is room for the fields. But I am glad that you have found your way here.” She glanced towards the aforementioned fields. “I must be getting to my work, but do not feel like you need to leave.”
Comforted by her words, Fafnir did not mind spending the rest of the day there, breathing in the scent of the rich trees and sweet flowers. He imagined that the wind whistling through the leaves was not all that different from the ocean crashing against rock.
—
"Mister Fafnir, how are you today?" Fufucha asked, walking by with a large bucket in her hands. It was almost as big as she was, and full of rich earth besides. Fafnir shrugged, straightening his back and holding a hand out. She tilted her head. "You do not need to worry about me. I have not been head of the guild for years by letting others take my work."
"Let us accompany you," Sebek said, falling into step next to Fafnir. Fufucha nodded, her own daemon running around the ground.
Quercus blinked up at Sebek, then scurried away. Fafnir's lips twitched.
"This is new fertilizer for the fields. We rotate the crops to keep the ground nutrient rich, but anything we can do to help out is always appreciated by the Elementals. But I get ahead of myself — are you familiar with the Elementals?" Fufucha had a polite tone, so Fafnir felt comfortable giving her another shrug.
"They've been mentioned," Sebek replied.
"Oh!" Fufucha launched into a discussion of the elementals, the Shroud, and the work the Botanists did around Gridania. She didn't seem to question Fafnir following her, walking next to her as she went down the path to the fields.
He listened as she spoke, though he did not offer to help again. She stuck her hands in the bucket, scattering the contents as she wandered through the turned earth. A few other botanists were there and shot Fafnir confused looks, but no one said anything.
Sebek did their best not to tread on anything important. Their tongue darted in and out of their mouth as they tried to sense what they were smelling.
"Why am I smelling egg?" Sebek eventually gave up, asking for answers directly.
Fufucha blinked in surprise. "Oh, you can smell them? Fascinating! But, oh, that is because we use egg shells in the mulch. Look." She cupped her hands together and held up some fertilizer for Sebek to see.
Fafnir peered at it as well. Now that he looked closely, he could see some white specks in the otherwise dark brown.
"Huh," he said. "Why?"
This invoked another long explanation of aether and nature spirits and the balance thereof. It was long and complicated, something that he had never had to care about before. But there was something nice about hearing Fufucha go on and on. She didn’t judge when he asked questions. He didn’t feel stupid.
That night, Fafnir decided it was better to wash dirt out of his fingernails than blood.
—
"You know this was better when no one knew who we were," Sebek mumbled — as best as they could — as Fufucha waved to them down from the fields. She wore a plain apron, a variety of tools tucked in the pouches. Quercus was sitting on her hat. He had a little apron of his own. It flapped as he waved too.
Fafnir snorted as he returned the gesture. "You wanted me to make friends." He was leaning against the wooden fence, a delicate balance between breaking it with his weight and letting himself rest before finishing out his duties for the day.
"Are you friends? Or does she just keep an eye on us to make sure we do not accidentally ruin the corn crop?"
"It's not corn," Fafnir pointed out. Sebek huffed. "We can rest elsewhere if you prefer," Fafnir offered.
Sebek sighed. They twisted around so their tail was pointed towards the fields, crushing a dandelion as they moved. Their claws dug into the earth and all Fafnir could think was how much of a pain it would be to clean them off before the inn room became even more of a mess.
"No, that's not my point. I just—"
Fufucha cleared her throat. Fafnir did not jump in the air, but it was a near thing. Sebek scrambled, hiding behind Fafnir. They tried to pretend it was on purpose, curling around one of his legs.
At some point, Fufuca had climbed up the hill so she was standing near Fafnir and Sebek. She giggled at their combined startled expressions. Even Quercus looked a bit smug, or at least as much as a squirrel could.
"Are you busy today, Fafnir?" Fufucha asked.
"We have a few more tasks to complete," Sebek replied. They tilted their head to the side. "Why? Do you need assistance carrying things?"
Fufucha laughed as if Sebek was not completely serious. “It is very kind of you to want to come to my assistance, but I do not need help with any heavy objects. I was wondering if you wanted to help me weed.”
Fafnir raised an eyebrow. Fufucha simply waited. When Fafnir was fairly confident that there could not be some secret meaning or malicious intent, he nodded.
"Perfect!" Fufucha clapped her hands together. She did not acknowledge how long it had taken him to reply. "Let me show you how to tell the difference between a sprout and a weed. It is very simple once you get used to everything."
"What should I do?" Sebek asked, head bobbing. "I cannot do delicate work with my claws." They held up a foot. It was certainly not designed for careful technique, the claws too long and their toes too stubby.
Fufucha pondered the question for a moment before snapping her fingers. "Of course! If you are alright with it, there are many plots that still need the earth tilled. I'm certain your claws would be helpful for that task, though you may get very dirty."
"That is fine. Fafnir is very good about washing me off," Sebek told her. Fafnir rolled his eyes. He didn't disagree, but he could see the tromp through the river that they'd need to do already.
After a bit of instruction, Fufucha left Fafnir and Sebek to their tasks. It was no harder than learning new lance techniques or hiking across the Shroud looking for a specific creature to kill. They finished well before dinner, though the sun was making its way from the apex.
Fufucha gave them both a bright smile. She handed Fafnir a small pouch that jingled in her grasp.
"For your work today," she said. Fafnir tilted his head to the side. "What, you didn't think that I would have you work for the Guild without pay, did you?"
Fafnir had, indeed, thought as much but he was smart enough not to say anything. He took the gil and tucked it into his pack.
“Thank you.” He looked to Sebek, hoping that the daemon would have an idea of what was right to do. Sebek seemed just as uncertain, kneading the ground as if it had personally offended them.
“Anytime!” Fufucha threaded her fingers together behind her back. “You know that we are always open for new members.”
Fafnir couldn’t stop himself from snorting. He flexed one of his hands. They were rough from the shaft of his lance, the hours spent training ingrained in his flesh. It was impossible to picture himself delicately cutting the stems of plants or identifying weeds at a glance.
He said none of this, just crossed his arms.
“I am not one for such work,” he said.
Thankfully, Fufucha simply made a face instead of arguing. She crossed her arms as Quercus ran around her feet. “Well if you change your mind, let me know.”
—
Still, Fafnir helped Fufucha on the days where he was not honing his weaponskills. He wasn’t sure what to make of Yda or Papalymo, the strange people who seem to know more than they were letting on, but at least Gridania was stable. The city was not frozen, but it was a slow growth. After all, an old oak did not concern itself with the matters of the ants at its base. It simply extended higher and higher, reaching for the sun even as it dug deep in the earth.
It was enough to almost make him forget La Noscea, to make him stop raising his head to try to smell the sea. The ocean flowed through his veins but the forests of the Shroud were starting to root him in place.
“You do good work. Your presence is always appreciated,” Fufucha said one evening, handing Fafnir the customary bag of gil.
The jobs paid fairly well, though not nearly as much as clearing out a damp cave or purging the woods of Voidsent. The gil was enough that Fafnir could spoil himself and Sebek on something besides watered-down broth and ale that tasted more of the barrel it was stored in than the wheat used to make it.
"It is a shame that you do not want to join the Guild, because then I could give you proper equipment. And you'd even get permission to harvest plants across the Shroud." Fufucha gave Fafnir an exaggerated shrug. "But since you are uninterested, I will simply wish you a good evening."
Fafnir nodded and headed back to the inn. Sebek followed close behind. Their combined size meant that most people scrambled to get out of their way — an Au Ra with a big scowl and a bigger lance accompanied by a reptile the size of a large lalafell were not that normal to see here, in the shaded boughs. Sebek had the decency to wait until they were seated, real food ordered and on its way, to open their mouth.
"Why are you so insistent that we not join the Botanists?" Sebe asked. Fafnir sighed. "I am serious. We work there almost every other day. Fufucha has said that we can enlist at any point."
Fafnir was given another moment to think as the tavern maid came by with their food and drink. She gave him a wink as she dropped it off. There was no response from him.
"What has you so concerned?" Sebek continued.
"It wouldn't be right," Fafnir replied. He started to dig into the meal. It was a thick stew, bits of roasted dodo and peppers providing a burst of flavor across his tongue. Sebek was a daemon, so they did not need to eat. Fafnir still poured a bit of his bowl into a saucer and slid it over.
Sebek huffed at the bribe but it worked. They were a messy eater and an Elezen and her sparrow daemon gave them equally disgusted looks. Fafnir glared at the duo and suddenly the Elezen had somewhere else to be.
"I don't know why you think that," Sebek continued as soon as their treat was consumed. Fafnir looked up at the ceiling, a quiet Azeyma preserve me sent to nowhere. "How could joining the Botanists' be wrong?"
Fafnir held out a hand, palm up. "What do you see?" He asked.
Sebek's tongue flicked in and out. It glanced across his skin and Fafnir twitched, but did not pull away.
"That is your hand," Sebek said.
"What do these hands do?" Fafnir pushed. "We are weapons. It is what people want."
Sebek shook their head. "I know what others see, but we are capable of more than hunting and killing. Calluses do not distinguish between the shaft of a lance and the handle of a shovel, after all."
Fafnir frowned. Sebek tapped their claws against the floor. The small scratches blended with the general dirt and disrepair that marred the wood.
"Yes, you are good at killing things. That is why the Scions are interested in you. But do you think Fufucha would give two rat's asses if we put down the lance?"
"I thought you did not like her," Fafnir said, shifting the topic.
"I think her daemon is obnoxious, but rodents usually are. But — you are distracting me." Sebek bumped their head against the table. It slid several ilms across the floor. Fafnir's drink jostled and almost spilled. He took a long swig as if to avoid the possibility in the future. "If you like the Botanists so much, just join them. Or don't. See if I care."
Fafnir's lips twitched in a half smile. "You always have cared."
"Someone has to." Sebek shook their head. “Just — if nothing else, at least we would get paid more if we joined the Guild.”
“Thinking with your stomach, hm?” Fafnir gave Sebek a small smile. He reached over and scratched them on the top of the head. “Let me worry about those things.”
“It won’t kill you to let someone else worry about you,” Sebek muttered, but Fafnir did not respond any further and the conversation was done.
—
Fafnir went to talk to Fufucha the next day. Quercus was helping sort through cuttings, running them from one side of a large wooden table to the next. She smiled up at him, putting a set of papers down.
“How can I help you, Fafnir?” She asked. Sebek sniffed at a drying bundle of herbs and sneezed. “Bless you,” Fufucha said.
“Thank you.” Sebek shook their head before looking up at Fafnir. “He has something to tell you.”
“Oh?” Fufucha raised an eyebrow. She waited patiently for Fafnir to sort out his thoughts, as if he hadn’t been mulling over what to say for the entirety of last night.
“You want me to join the Guild,” he started. Fufucha nodded. “Why?”
Fufucha tapped her lips. “Well, you do good work. You would be a boon to the Guild. And I cannot lie — you seem happy when you are looking at the plants and doing farmwork.”
“Happy.” The word came out flat. Fafnir had experienced happiness plenty of times. Happiness was when he defeated a monster that was terrorizing farmers. Happiness was the rush of blood when he fucked someone to completion. Happiness was listening to Sebek breath at night, the chime and chirp of insects outside their inn room slowly growing more familiar as the years passed.
Happiness was never, ever returning to Limsa Lominsa and never seeing his parents again.
“Yes.” Fufucha scratched the back of her head, almost looking sheepish. “I hope that is not too forward of me to say. You seem so stoic all the time — which is not a bad thing, mind you! — but botany seems to bring you joy. I know that it makes my day better.”
Sebek nudged their head against Fafnir’s side. Fafnir looked down at them. They didn’t say anything, just stared back. It was a bit unnerving. Fafnir had spent their entire life getting advice from Sebek, relying on the daemon to help keep them steady even as the world fell apart around the two of them. This should have been no different.
“Anyone can be a botanist, you know. No matter how small or how tall. The bounty of the Shroud is available for anyone who asks and pays their respects to the Elementals,” Fufucha reassured him.
Fafnir let out a soft sigh. “I may be bad at this,” he warned.
“Nonsense! You have learned everything very quickly, and that is all the dull information. Let me go look at our spare uniforms — we may need to order one in your size, but at the very least we can get you some tools—” Fufucha kept talking as she walked off. Quercus jumped onto her shoulder. She did not even glance at him, just adjusted her gait so he would not fall.
Sebek chuffed, mouth hanging open. Their tail slapped against the floor.
“You didn’t even want to be here,” Fafnir reminded them. Sebek let out another noise, a sort of cough from the back of the throat.
“I can admit when I was wrong,” they replied. “This will be nice for us. Do you think I can get an apron too?”
“I’m certain we can make one for you!” Fufucha called, halfway in a closet filled to the brim with supplies. “Fafnir, are you 70 ilms tall? I can never tell past a certain height.”
“85,” Fafnir replied, a bit of color rising to his face. Fufucha let out a startled noise. “I can wait for a uniform.” It was the same thing that had to happen with the lancers, who didn’t have armor for anyone as broad as he was.
Fufucha drew out a huge bundle of fabric from the closet. She held it up to Fafnir, who carefully unfurled the offering. It was a botanist uniform, complete with trousers and an apron. At a glance, it even looked like it would fit Fafnir with only a little bit of tightness in the shoulders.
“Welcome to the Guild,” Fufucha said.
“Welcome!” Quercus echoed. There was a lump in Fafnir’s throat and he realized he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I know that being a botanist does not have the same allure as being an adventurer, but I promise that we are just as much of a family. I hope that you come to consider us yours too.” Fufucha pat Fafnir on the hand, a feat that was only accomplished by her standing on the tips of her toes. “I am overjoyed right now — get changed quick so we can start your official training.”
Faced with her enthusiasm, Fafnir was powerless to argue.
They were cutting at trees hours later, the sun filtering through the canopy, when they started to understand what Fufucha had said. Sebek was nosing about the undergrowth, their claws very well suited for digging at particularly tough roots. The air was chilled but not frigid and the creatures did not bother them as long as they did not have their lance out.
It was nice. He was happy. And in the forest, he didn’t miss the sea.