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rose_in_winter2009-05-11 07:23 pm
lassarina) wrote in rose_in_winter2009-05-11 07:23 pm
[Final Fantasy IV] Every Light Casts A Shadow, Chapter One: A Whisper Upon the Wind
Characters: Kain Highwind, plus cast
Rating: R (overall); PG (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Wordcount: 7,500 words this chapter.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward. Kain returns to Baron, and finds himself caught in a plot he cannot even begin to perceive in its entirety; he, Cecil, and Rosa must work together to avert disaster.
Beta:seventhe, and celeloriel
He could feel the change in the air, the hint of a chill underneath the warm breeze. Most wouldn't have noticed it, but he was a Dragoon. Moreover, he had spent months subject to the tender mercies of the Fiend of Wind. His skin crawled when he thought of her, remembering her laughter; yet she had given him a great gift, as well, to know the air as she did.
Winter was still some months off, to be sure, but the taste of it was in the air. He gazed northeast, to Baron--to home. He had been doing that more and more often of late, his attention drawn there as steel was to a lodestone. Sometimes he rather fancied he could hear the accents of his homeland carried on the wind, a faint susurrus of sound that always hovered just beyond comprehension.
He looked down from the summit of Mt. Ordeals, seeing the expanse of forest spread out beneath him, so green it nearly hurt his eyes. He had been here two years, and twice had watched the verdant mass shift to gold and crimson beneath a stunning azure sky, before crumbling to brown dust and bare black arms against pristine snow, then springing back to life from the palest green mist to summer's bounty. For two years, he had pushed himself to the limit of his Dragoon skills in an effort to prove himself worthy of his name; for two years he had held himself away from those he loved most in the world, whether as penance for himself or punishment for them he could not say.
It was a glorious warm morning in late summer. Kain took a deep breath, filtering through the scents. There was the tang of smoke from the fire he had built to cook his breakfast, but it didn't quite blot out the smell of so many growing things at the base of the mountain. If he really concentrated, he could isolate the stink of decay from the undead creatures that flocked about the lower slopes of the mountain. Though he stood atop the mountain and not within it, there was a faint scent of a cave, the taint of heavy minerals and a sense of stillness, despite the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair. He attributed that to KluYa's sanctuary at his back, for he had not encountered it elsewhere on the mountain. It was a familiar scent, but not a comforting one—the scent of Lunarian magic would ever bring to mind Golbez, and slogging through the depths of the moon on Cecil's quest for purity and righteousness.
Kain turned to look off the other side of the mountain, savouring a view he would not see again for many years, if ever. He had lived upon the summit of Mt. Ordeals for two years. He had grieved for the loss of King Odin and mourned the wedding which had rendered Rosa forever unattainable to him. He had raged against Golbez and Zemus and the Lunarians as a whole for the despicable actions he had performed under Golbez's control, and castigated himself for not being strong enough to resist. Eventually rage and grief had given way to exhaustion, and at the last, a kind of peace.
He still despised himself for his weakness and jealousy, but he was ready to face his friends again, though their forgiveness cut him anew every time he met Rosa's kind expression or Cecil's steady gaze.
The playful breeze swirled around him, sending strands of his hair snapping into his eyes and tangling with his beard. Kain brushed them away irritably. He would not dare appear in Dragoon uniform unshaven, but a dagger did not make a good razor and he had grown used to the beard, which kept him a bit warmer in winter. He supposed he would be sorry to see it go.
He kicked out his fire, packed his few belongings into a bag and donned his armour. He had trained each day, keeping his jumping skills strong and his weapon in good use slaughtering the undead. They were not a worthy target, but they were better than naught, and less damaging to his weapon than unyielding stone. He took a few moments to ensure that the traces of his long habitation were at least lessened, if not fully erased, and started to dismantle his small cabin. Leaving it here in this holy place felt wrong to him somehow. He undid the canvas walls easily enough, but the ropes holding the poles in place had become permanently knotted from swelling with rainfall and then contracting as they dried. With a muttered curse, he clambered up the nearest support pole and drew his belt knife to cut the ropes at the top.
From here, he could see straight down the mountain to the forests below. There were foul undead swaying and stumbling along the paths. Beyond them, he saw the forests he had studied from afar. He paused, knife in hand, about to cut the ropes. The thought that he would not see these forests on the morrow was strange to him. He had grown as accustomed to their constant presence as he had the constant hiss of Golbez's magic or the ache whenever he thought of Rosa.
He recalled himself to his task and cut through the ropes, springing free of the poles as they clattered to the ground to land lightly nearby. He had no rope to leave for any future pilgrims to reconstruct the little cabin, but what he had would have to do.
He stood a moment on the windswept plateau, staring at the door of KluYa's sanctuary. Though he had lived literally right next to the squat, moon-white building for two years, he had never approached the door, never attempted to enter. Partly, he avoided it for Cecil's sake; he had no wish to intrude on the other man's lone connection with his father. Then, too, he had no desire to give up his Dragoon's skills in favour of a holy blade. He did not deserve such a blade, nor could he uphold the way of a Paladin. Cecil and Rosa were suited to holy trades, to the bright light that glowed from within and illuminated all in their vicinity with reflected goodness. He was merely a fallen Dragon Knight, hardly worthy of his spear.
Kain laid his hand lightly on the door to the sanctuary, feeling the power that hummed through it. It was the same vibration as the magic that surrounded Golbez, an invisible aura of power. Yet where Golbez's magic had felt unclean and slimy as it wound its tendrils around his limbs and sank cancerous roots into his skin, this felt bright and strong, like the glow of Excalibur's blade. He let his hand rest there, taking a deep breath. "Thank you," he said aloud. "Perhaps one day when I am more worthy, I shall return."
He turned away from the door. His bag weighed very little when he settled it on his shoulder; testament to how isolated he had been up here, where the nearest town was two days' journey on foot. He pulled on his gauntlets and started across the bridge that led to the path downward, gripping his spear.
The undead troubled him very little, though he was astounded as always that their numbers never seemed to decrease. Surely there were not enough adventurers foolhardy enough to dare this mountain and die in the doing to keep the population constant. Did undead breed? Kain winced at the thought, banishing horrifying images of baby zombies from his mind, and continued downward. Those few undead foolish enough to approach him died swiftly; their omnipresent stench of rotting meat mixed with the pungent odor of burnt flesh where the edges of his holy lance left seared wounds. In his hands, even a holy relic became tainted with death; it was merely one more example of everything he touched turning to ruin.
He moved further down the path and quickly reached the forest. It was far different seeing it from this perspective rather than an endless sea of greenery viewed from above. There were a few fruit trees whose boughs were sagging beneath the weight of green fruit just beginning to ripen. He thought about picking one or two of the apples, but he knew they were too green yet. Still, he'd not had fresh fruit since last fall, when he'd discovered three apple trees on the north side of the mountain, and the sight of them made his mouth water. The air down here seemed heavier, dense with the humidity of the Water Crystal in Mysidia and almost too thick to breathe. He had grown too accustomed to the heights of the mountain. The air was hotter, too; at the summit this season meant pleasant warmth, while down here it was closer to a tropical jungle. Already he was damp with sweat beneath his armor.
The forest was dense with masses of leaves and thick vines. Through the trees, he saw a pair of does grazing with their young. Farther away, he saw a rabbit racing away from some fright. A narrow path snaked through the trees to the south, leading to a place where he remembered chocobos dwelt. He glanced at the clearing and pathway that wended its way eastward, toward Mysidia. He could make the journey either on foot, or by chocobo. The latter would tax his worn boots rather less, but at the same time, he was unsure that he wished to return to civilization that soon. He had been atop Mt. Ordeals for two years. Surely two more days would not make a difference.
Nonetheless, he found his feet carrying him toward the southern path. The occasional twig snapped beneath his boots, though years' worth of loam was soft and yielding underfoot. He caught the faint sweet-sour scent of gysahl and paused. He tucked his gauntlets into his pack and picked a handful of gysahl leaves from a tree a few feet off the path.
The chocobos gathered perhaps two miles from the base of the mountain, and today there were a handful of them roaming around. The white females ran when he approached, cowering shyly behind the trees, while the larger yellow males kept their distance but eyed him with curiosity in their bright gaze. He simply stood still, holding out the gysahl leaves in an open hand.
He had to wait perhaps half an hour, and the morning sun was becoming uncomfortably warm on the Dragon armour he had brought with him from the lunar surface, but he could see the chocobos gradually edging closer as they caught the scent of the leaves in his hand. Eventually one of the males approached, his head bobbing, and pecked quickly at his hand, gulping down the gysahl. Kain rested a hand on the chocobo's neck. He preened his wing and bowed his head, bending his knees to allow Kain to climb aboard more easily. He tried to settle himself so that his cuisse and greaves wouldn't pull at the chocobo's feathers. Once he was seated, the chocobo made his slow way out of the clearing and sauntered along the path that led back to the base of the mountain.
The bird picked up speed as they left the forest, racing across the open grassland. Kain applied light pressure to the right side of his neck and his veered west. The morning sun, reflected from the sea, stabbed into his eyes, a fierce glare that made his head throb. Flipping down the visor on his helm helped a little, but not enough to make a real difference. Eventually the sun rose high enough that it merely beat down upon him in all its midday glory rather than worsening his headache. The chocobo appeared to be unaffected, racing along and gleefully jouncing Kain about as he ran.
The town of Mysidia rose in the distance, squat stone buildings surrounding the tall Tower of Prayer. Kain halted the chocobo a half-mile or so from the town and slid to the ground, patting the bird on the neck in gratitude. It uttered a short squawk and raced off in the direction of Mt. Ordeals, presumably to return to its brethren. He set off down the road, walking past fields and orchards where farmers were working. When he was nearly to the city, he paused, telling himself it was to drink water from his canteen, but in reality, he wanted to delay. He drank some of the water, and rearranged the way his bag hung on his shoulder, but there was only so much he could do.
Kain turned to face the city and took a deep breath. After so long alone, he was wary of approaching people, particularly in a town that had plenty of reason to hate Baronians. If his Dragon Knight accoutrements didn't give him away, his accent surely would. However, he couldn't return to Baron without going through Mysidia; even his jumping skills could not span the ocean in between, and attempting to swim it would merely result in one very waterlogged Dragoon pinned to the sea bottom by the weight of his armour. He was unwilling to discard the fine Dragon armour; it was superior to any he'd ever owned, but it was easier by far to transport it by wearing it than to try to pack the hundred-plus pounds of metal.
In Baron, heraldic flags on the castle indicated whether the King was in residence. Kain didn't know enough about Mysidia's practices to know if the lack here indicated that the Elder was not here, or if they simply did not bother. A short line of people awaited entrance into the town; some he would guess were merchants by their rich clothing, while others had ingrained dirt and carts full of vegetables that suggested they were farmers. It seemed that only politeness kept them waiting, for the heavy stone gates stood wide open. Kain wondered why Mysidia's defenses were so similar to Baron's, when their means of fighting were so different, but perhaps it was simply easier to build a massive wall and rain fire down from the inside.
He straightened his shoulders and strode up to the city gates, grimacing a little bit at the soreness in his legs. He hadn't been on a chocobo in entirely too long, and his muscles were reminding him of it in no uncertain terms. There were a couple of bored young men on watch—they wore armour, not robes, so perhaps they were guardsmen—who waved him through without much in the way of questions or attention, being rather more interested in the sight of three young women in mage's robes giggling and whispering nearby. Two wore white robes, and one the blue robes that in Baron meant black mages.
As he walked through the town, he saw far fewer armoured warriors than he would at home, but substantially more mages—perhaps a third of the population, by his rough estimate. The mages within the town gave him curious glances, but none approached to engage him in conversation or accuse him of treason, kidnapping, murder, and other unsavoury acts. The townsfolk not in robes were much the same.
He did not want to go into the Elder's presence as he was, so he looked around for an inn. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at his accent but took his coin eagerly enough, and soon he was bathed and freshly shaven. He was able to engage a serving girl to help cut his hair, and soon it was combed out in a neat queue as it ought to be. The innkeeper had offered to have his clothes clean in two hours for an additional fee, and Kain was astonished to discover that he kept his word. In Baron, cleaning and drying the clothing would have taken the better part of the day. He wondered if Mysidians would be willing to teach Baronian mages how to do this.
At last he could dawdle no longer, and made his way to the Tower of Prayer. He hesitated outside. He knew the Mysidian Elder bore no lasting ill-will toward Baron for Cecil's actions under Cagnazzo's false orders, but he still felt awkward approaching the man. He could just imagine entering the Tower of Prayer and presenting himself to the Elder. Good afternoon, Elder. I am Kain Highwind of Baron. My brother killed and kidnapped your citizens and stole from you on the orders of our adoptive father. Might I have your assistance in returning to his side? Nevertheless, he approached the massive oaken door, where two mages in blue robes stood guard. "Good afternoon," he said. "If it is possible, I would like to speak with the Elder."
Before the guards could answer, the portal swung inward to reveal a boy and a girl. They wore the robes of apprentice mages, and had glossy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Kain thought they seemed a bit young for mages, as the journeywomen he'd seen at the gate had appeared to be his own age or perhaps a bit older. They were quite short and had faces rounded with baby fat. They couldn't be much older than Rydia had been when they found her in Mist.
The boy made a face, sticking out his tongue, which earned him a swift thwack upside the head from the girl, who then made a polite curtsy. "Welcome to the Tower of Prayer, Kain Highwind," she said. "How may we help you?"
Kain's mouth fell open. "How do you know me?"
"You are Cecil's friend." At his look of surprise, she smiled. "We traveled with him. He spoke of you often."
"I see." Kain had not expected to be recognized on sight; he had been to this town only twice, once before they went to the moon and the second time when he passed through on his way to Mount Ordeals. "I came to speak to the Elder, if he would be willing to do so."
"Come, I will take you." She turned, apparently without looking to see if he followed her.
He followed her into the tower, leaving the boy to close the doors behind them. She led him up several flights of steps to the observatory at the top of the tower and knocked sharply at the closed door. "Elder? Kain Highwind is here," she called.
"Send him in, Porom, thank you."
She opened the door to admit Kain, and the scent of dust and old leather rushed out to greet him, a smell Kain had always associated with his tutors when he was younger. The room was huge; surely it must encompass this entire floor of the tower. There were narrow windows on all sides that admitted bands of sunlight, though most of the room's illumination seemed to come from the generous number of lamps on the walls and the tables. It held floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with volumes of all shapes and sizes. There were several large tables scattered about the room, each piled high with more books and stacks of scroll cases, and each sat in a pool of light. The chairs were likewise buried in drifts of scrolls, save the one that the room's only occupant, an old man clad in the black robes of a Mysidian sage, was using. He rose as Kain entered. He looked like he had once been strong and broad-shouldered, but age had hunched his back until he was a head or more shorter than Kain, and drawn his shoulders inward. He was bald but had a long, full grey beard. Kain advanced three steps and offered the bow of respect reserved for foreign rulers, for if Mysidia had a ruler, surely it was this man.
"Welcome to Mysidia, Kain Highwind. I am pleased to see you returned from Mt. Ordeals." The Elder returned his bow, his gaze straying past Kain to the girl who hovered behind him. "Porom, you may return to your lessons. And if you would, kindly recall your brother to his studies. Livius is growing quite wroth with his inattention." He eased himself back into his chair with a little grunt.
"Yes, Elder." The door creaked shut behind Kain, and Porom's light footsteps faded from hearing. He stayed where he was, unsure how to broach the subject of his return to Baron, and looked about him instead.
Now that he was further into the room, he could see a second man, seated at a desk in the corner behind the door and writing quickly on the scroll spread in front of him. He was younger than the Elder and clad in the same black robes, albeit without the embroidered sash that seemed to mark the Elder's rank within Mysidia. He seemed of medium height and very thin, with a long hooked nose, a weak chin imperfectly concealed behind a short beard, and thin lips. His hair was brown with quite a bit of grey mixed in. He glanced up from the scrolls before him and nodded briefly to Kain. "Greetings, Captain Highwind." He had a soft, reedy voice, one that seemed suited to huddling in libraries with knowledge all about rather than shouting commands on the battlefield. His accent, like the Elder's, was of Mysidia. Behind him was a complicated arrangement of glass bottles and jars, including several that bubbled alarmingly.
"Greetings," Kain replied. Speech felt strange after so long alone on the mountaintop with no conversational partners save the undead.
"Ah. Kain, my assistant, Solon." The Elder gestured at the man in the corner. "He assists me with the governance of the city."
"Not to mention research," Solon remarked.
Kain contented himself with a nod, unsure what response he was expected to make. He had been entirely too long out of court circles, if the easy banter between two mages discomfited him so. Standing between the two of them, he felt rather like a schoolboy called to account for his actions.
"At any rate, Captain, we have awaited your return from the mountain," the Elder said. "King Cecil has already paid your passage on a ship to Baron, and we have letters that your friends in Baron have sent to our care, to hold until such time as you should choose to descend."
"King?" Kain repeated. He wondered if the Elder had already read the letters. It was what he would have done, in the same position.
The Elder smiled. "You have been a long time on Mt. Ordeals, Captain. Cecil Harvey has claimed the throne of Baron."
Kain wanted to ask after Rosa, but he feared making himself obvious and casting a shadow upon her. "And when will the next ship sail for Baron?"
"There is one leaving on tomorrow's evening tide." The Elder raised an eyebrow. "You might also consider the use of the Devil's Road."
"No, thank you." Kain mustered a smile. "While I appreciate the offer, I think I will need some time to accustom myself to being around people again."
Solon shuffled through a large bin of scrolls in his corner and extracted a packet of letters, neatly tied up with black cords. "These are the letters for you, Captain. We will make arrangements at the Inn for you to have a room this evening, unless you would prefer to stay in the Tower?"
"I think I would prefer to stay in the Tower," Kain replied, surprising himself. After his time with Golbez, he would have thought he'd avoid any skyward-reaching structure, but the peaceful aura of the Tower of Prayer appealed to him, and he was in no mood for the rowdy atmosphere of a tavern. How rowdy did a tavern full of mages get, anyway?
"Very well. We shall arrange rooms for you." The Elder rose and paced to the windows. "They should be ready in an hour or so."
"That will be fine. Is there somewhere I can go in the meantime? I do not wish to be in the way."
"There is a library downstairs that is open to the public if you enjoy reading, or there are some meditation chambers upstairs—though I suppose you might have had enough of that," Solon said.
Kain shook his head. "I think I would enjoy a chance to meditate," he said.
"This way, then." Solon rose and led the way to the chamber upstairs, which could be opened to the wind—something Kain did as soon as the sage had departed—and otherwise was remarkably like similar spaces in Baron, with a mat on the floor and sticks of incense. He wasn't certain if any of the incense had purposes beyond scent, so he did not light one. Instead, he set aside his belongings and seated himself on the floor, losing himself in the scent of the sea and the many scents—some pleasant and some not—of a town. He would have to grow used to the differences.
A quiet white mage came some two hours later and conducted him to the chamber prepared for him. It was better than might have been allocated to a simple traveler. A door left ajar showed the way to a personal necessity closet, and the room boasted thick feather ticking on the bed and dense rugs on the floor, suggesting that he was being treated as Cecil's foster-brother rather than someone who happened to request shelter. The furniture was well-made and inlaid with different colors of wood in contrasting patterns that he did not recognize. Someone had left a lamp with tinder and flint, unlike the seemingly magic-fueled lights in the hallways, and he had been provided a rack for his armour. A decent amount of care had gone into this room. He hung his armour upon the stand and busied himself sorting and repacking his few belongings for lack of anything better to do.
The sun had sunk low into the west when he heard a knock on the door. Or, to be more precise, a flurry of taps followed immediately by the door being flung open. The young boy-mage he had met earlier was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "The Elder says to join him for dinner," he announced.
"Palom!" Porom hurried up behind him, and twisted his ear, which resulted in a dramatic and exaggerated yelp. "Where are your manners?"
Kain rose. "I would be pleased to join the Elder. Could you please direct me to the proper area?"
Palom elbowed his sister in the stomach and wriggled free of her grasp. "It's that way," he said with a too-helpful smile, pointing eastward down the corridor.
"I will take you there, Captain," Porom said loudly, glaring at Palom. "It is this way." She set off in the same direction Palom had indicated. Kain followed her, wondering why Palom was the only person in Mysidia who seemed to resent him. Perhaps no one else recognized him. Come to that, he was not entirely sure the boy did resent him; he had gathered the impression from Cecil's description of the two that Palom was mischievous by nature, but thus far he had seemed rather more rude than mischievous.
Porom led him through the grey stone hallways, their footsteps muffled by the carpets underfoot, which were plainer than those in the private areas of Baron Castle and also thinner, possibly because of the warmer climate here. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting what he could only assume were scenes from Mysidia's history. The Moon was a prominent theme, and the Lunar Whale ship. Each of the tapestries depicting those images also had the Mysidian Legend woven into the image. Kain's felt his mouth twist slightly as he read the familiar words, etched into Cecil's sword by KluYa's hand long ago. One to be born from a dragon, bearing darkness and light, shall rise to the heavens over the still land. The Moon's light eternal brings a promise to earth with bounty and grace.
Porom led him to a set of double doors carved with a variation on the same theme: a group of five stood before the Lunar Whale. Kain stopped and stared. The carving was new enough to still have crisp edges, and had been painted in brighter colors than he had seen elsewhere in the Tower. Rydia and Edge were carved to the left, she with a serious expression on her angular face and he with a cocky attitude accented by his smirk. Edge had his hands behind his back, rather than somewhere inappropriate on Rydia's person, which amused Kain. He and Rosa stood to the right, and even in the wooden carving light and goodness seemed to radiate from her. His own image wore bright armour worked with the crest of the Dragon Knights, as though he were yet young and unstained. He wondered that they had not branded him as the traitor he was. Cecil was carved in the center, with the crack between the two doors dividing him precisely in half.
Appropriate, really.
Porom pushed the door open. Kain watched Cecil split in half and shook his head slightly to dispel the sense of foreboding that the action provoked.
The double doors led into a vast hall filled with long tables. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but unlike the ones in Baron, they held no candles; instead, crackling balls of light hung from them that he assumed to be magic. The Elder was standing on a dais at the far end of the room before a smaller table, flanked by Solon on his right and another man in black sage's robes on his left. The second man was a head shorter than the Elder, and quite stout. His iron-grey hair and bushy grey beard stood out around his head in a wild halo. He was laughing uproariously at something Solon had said, while the Elder smiled.
Porom led him between the rows of tables and the mages waiting patiently at them. The dining room seemed to be quite full, but none of them seemed to recognize him without armour. The long progress up to the dais reminded Kain most unfortunately of times when he'd been called to King Odin's table in Baron, often for some misdemeanour. He hoped the awkwardness he felt did not show. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Palom strutting behind him, for all the world as though this escort duty made him important. Kain could scarcely believe the number of mages here; he knew that Mysidia was a magic-heavy nation, but there must be ten times as many mages just in this room as Baron could boast in general, ranging in age from children as young as the twins to men and women so old they had grown hunched and frail. He saw robes of blue, black, and white, as well as other colors whose meanings he didn't know, though as their owners sat at the general tables, he guessed it did not denote rank.
The stout sage beamed at him as he approached, while the Elder offered a polite smile and Solon had a grave expression on his face.
"Welcome, Captain Highwind!" the Elder said loudly, and the chatter in the hall died off. Kain was uncomfortably aware of the pressure of many eyes on him as the mages realized who he was. "Please, join us."
Kain ascended the dais and walked to the empty seat the Elder indicated, to the left of the stout sage. There were three more seats between him and the end of the table, but they were unoccupied. Porom went to Solon's right, ignoring the spectacular faces Palom was making at her. Kain wondered why they merited a seat at the head table; most of the other children seemed to be seated at an apprentices' table below, if the seating arrangement here was similar to Baron's great hall.
"May the blessings of the Moon shine down upon us," the Elder intoned, a benediction echoed by the mages in the room. Everyone seated themselves in unison.
The man next to him offered his hand, and pumped Kain's vigorously when Kain completed the shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain. I'm Livius, the Elder's assistant. I keep these rogues in line for him, you see." He had an open, infectious smile.
"Pleasure to meet you," Kain responded automatically. A handful of mages were circulating, bringing platters of roasted meats and baked vegetables to the tables. Kain recognized chicken and pork, as well as spinach, carrots, and onions. Mysidians ate simply, but they seemed to have a plentiful supply of foodstuffs.
"The apprentices take turns cooking and cleaning," Livius remarked, inclining his head toward the pair who were carrying bowls of mashed potatoes and green beans up to the dais. "Helps us keep things in check. Though some of them, I vow," and the sage tilted his head in the general direction of Palom, "are more trouble in the kitchen than out."
Kain chuckled a little. In Baron, he would have used his belt knife to serve himself, but it appeared that in Mysidia they provided very large forks on the serving platters. He dropped his hand from the hilt of his knife and hoped no one had noticed. It was a little more awkward to use the fork, but he managed. "Cecil and I were a bit like that when we were young," he remarked.
Livius poured himself a generous glass of red wine, and filled Kain's cup as well. The Elder's table boasted fine glass, while the cups at the other tables seemed to be made of metal. Kain lifted his cup when Livius did, and drank; the wine was sweeter than was usual in Baron. He couldn't tell from this distance what beverages were served below, not over the smell of the unfamiliar spices on the meat. "You've been living atop Mt. Ordeals, I hear," Livius said.
"I needed some time for contemplation." Kain reminded himself that Livius was not necessarily prying, nor trying to insinuate unsavoury activities, and worked to keep his tone civil. It wouldn't do to start irritating the Mysidians all over again, if indeed they had forgiven Baron for their earlier transgressions. Many of the mages at the tables below the dais were studying him as they ate. Some pretended otherwise, but he was wary. It reminded him of the stares of the men and women who would inherit the Great Houses in Baron, watching as he and Cecil were promoted as wards of the King and eventual heirs.
"The mountain's a good place for thinking, if you can get past the undead," Livius agreed. "I'd imagine you're feeling a bit starved for news, though."
Kain shrugged. "I don't know that I'd say I'm starved for it, but I would appreciate an overview. You seem like a man who keeps himself informed of current news." The flattery came more easily than he'd thought.
Livius guffawed and quaffed half his wine at a gulp, leading Kain to think he'd guessed correctly. "I must admit I'm a shameless gossip, asking questions of everyone. Ah well. Let's see now. Cecil Harvey rules Baron, with his queen Rosa, but I'd imagine you'd know that."
"I could guess," Kain murmured, studying his plate to hide his wince at the reference to Rosa's wedding.
"The Prince of Eblan has taken the throne of his kingdom now. Supposedly he's going to marry some girl from a mountain village nobody's ever heard of. Mist or some such."
Kain raised an eyebrow. "I know about Mist, Livius--as I'd imagine you do, given the size of the libraries here."
"Guilty as charged." Livius laughed, and Kain had the sense he had been tested. He wished he knew whether he had passed or failed. He reminded himself to watch his words; he was not among allies here. "But few outside Mysidia have heard of it, excepting those of you who went to the Moon. The villagers kept to themselves."
"Yes," Kain murmured, thinking of the picturesque little mountain village that he and Cecil had destroyed, hidden behind the thick mists that permeated the cave leading into it. If he hadn't stepped in on Cecil's behalf when Cagnazzo had ordered him to carry the package, he might not have ended up unconscious in the ruins of Mist, and perhaps he might have evaded Golbez's control. He picked up his glass and drank from it, trying to control the shudder that wanted to run down his back. The scars Barbariccia had given him twinged.
Still, the notion of Edge marrying Rydia brought a faint smile to his face. He imagined the two of them would send all other inhabitants of Eblan Castle scurrying for cover when they indulged in one of their spectacular shouting matches. Kain found those amusing, if only because Rydia could wind Edge up so thoroughly in his own inconsistencies and leave the ninja sputtering and flailing ineffectually. Granted, they had been rather less amusing at two in the morning when he was trying to get some sleep on the cold, rocky soil of the Moon.
"Captain?" Livius asked, in the tone of a man who has had to repeat himself several times. Kain shook himself out of his reverie.
"I apologize. I was woolgathering." He pasted the polite court smile back on his face. "You were saying?"
Livius wore a faintly patronizing smile. "You really have been alone on that mountain too long, haven't you?" Kain flinched at the reminder. Livius chuckled and transferred another slice of meat to his plate, much easier with the serving fork than Kain had been. "The High Monk Yang rules in Fabul. I think those are all the shufflings of royalty that have happened in the last two years. Other than that, nothing to compare to your adventures on the Moon."
Kain frowned a little. "What of the Underworld?"
"What of it?" Livius shrugged. "They have returned to their affairs, and we to ours. Though the King of the Dwarves did attend King Cecil's wedding and coronation."
"Indeed," Kain murmured. He wondered that someone so close to the Elder would be so uninformed, else Livius was trying to extract information from him less subtly than before. He elected not to participate. "I imagine everyone did."
"Oh, yes. It was the affair of the year. And Queen Rosa looked stunning; I heard it took six months to make her gown." Livius began to wax rhapsodic about the attire, the pomp and ceremony of the wedding, and the gastronomic delights of the accompanying feast. Kain turned his attention to his meal, interjecting the occasional innocuous mumble and keeping a politely attentive expression on his face. Kain tried to ignore the continued stares of the mages at the communal tables as he ate. The spices on the meat were hotter than he was familiar with, and he was relieved to find a pitcher of water within easy reach, for he did not want to consume too much wine. The mashed potatoes had a tangy flavor and a hint of spice unlike those made in Baron, but were still tasty, and the green beans were fresh and crisp.
The Elder seemed in a deep conversation with Solon and Porom, and Palom appeared to be amusing himself by making faces at the apprentices below when he wasn't flicking bits of food at Porom, until he missed and hit Solon and was summarily banished from the table.
The meal eventually wound to a close, and the dinner plates were taken away to be replaced with some holding a blueberry pie, shockingly sweet on his tongue. After so long on the mountain, eating only what he could hunt and gather, even a simple meal he hadn't needed to cook followed by a dessert seemed decadent to Kain.
At the center of the table, the Elder rose and gestured to him. Kain followed the Elder through the aisle between the tables, painfully aware of the stares that followed him, and out the same door by which he'd entered. He nearly ran into the older man when he halted abruptly only a few feet in front of the Dragoon. "Captain Highwind, there is somewhat I would speak of to you, if you do not mind," the Elder said, turning to look up at him. No one had followed them out of the hall; that did not mean no one had heard. Kain wondered how many people were observing unseen.
"Certainly, Elder." Kain followed the Elder back up to the upper floors of the tower, where the Elder swept scroll cases off a chair to provide him with a space to sit. The Elder himself did not take a seat, choosing instead to pace parallel to the western wall, limned in ruddy light from the glorious sunset outside every time he passed one of the narrow windows. Kain watched him without speaking. If nothing else, he had learned a tolerance for silence upon the mountain of trials.
The Elder halted at the far side of the square room and turned to face him. His expression was unreadable, but Kain noted that he stood with his back to a bookshelf, with one arm behind him that might have held a weapon. The ceiling was not high enough for Kain to jump properly, and he found himself missing his spear. "Forgive me for being blunt, Captain, but I must ask. Do you intend to wreak further havoc upon your return to Baron? The peace there is tenuous at best, and the work of rebuilding after Cagnazzo's ravages proceeds slowly. I cannot in conscience allow you to return if it is your will to upset that balance."
Kain didn't know what he had expected the Elder to speak of, but of a surety, it was not that. He shook his head, almost without realizing it, and made sure to keep his arms loose, away from his sides. "I do not intend to upset anything, Elder. I wish to go home for a short time. I wish to see how Cecil fares, and Rosa. After that, I do not know what I will do, but I have no intention of disrupting anything Cecil has built these two years past."
The Elder nodded. Kain could not tell whether he believed him or not, but his arm came out from behind his back, with no weapon, and he took a few steps closer to Kain. "Very well, then. I hope you are not offended by my question."
"No." Kain grimaced. "It is precisely what I would ask, were I in your place." He looked down, and only then did he see the thin lines drawn almost invisibly on the floor, a sigil that had flared whenever Rosa called down light to bind their enemies in place. The Elder had left nothing to chance.
"Good." The Elder did not smile. Kain was too tired to try to parse this conversation; he did not know if the Elder had expected him to attack. "I will send someone to wake you in the morning, so that you do not miss your ship."
Acknowledging the tacit dismissal, Kain rose and bowed politely, as he would have to King Odin. On his way out, he passed Solon, struggling under the weight of a large pile of scroll cases. "Elder, I found those scrolls on summoning you were looking for," he heard Solon say as the door closed behind him.
He made his way to his room, nodding politely to the mages he passed in the hallway, some of whom had stared at him during the uncomfortable meal. None returned the politeness. His room was dimly lit with a crimson glow, the last vestiges of sunlight creeping in the window, where already darkness held dominion over the sky. The bed had been turned down, and the lamp had been left burning very low. He paused to check over his armour one last time before undressing and lying down on the bed.
He spent a long time lying there, in a bed far more comfortable than his bedroll on the mountain, staring up at the wooden beams that supported the stone ceiling, before sleep claimed him at last. It spirited him away to a dream-world filled with images of Barbariccia spinning in midair, her blonde hair a whiplash across his bare skin, while in the background Golbez's laughter echoed endlessly.
Rating: R (overall); PG (this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers. Violence and language. Occasional sexual content.
Notes: This fic belongs to the Lucis Ante Terminum arc. Chapter list is here.
Wordcount: 7,500 words this chapter.
Summary: Though it is possible to return home, it is rarely possible to return affairs to their previous state. Sometimes the only course of action is to move forward. Kain returns to Baron, and finds himself caught in a plot he cannot even begin to perceive in its entirety; he, Cecil, and Rosa must work together to avert disaster.
Beta:
seventhe, and celelorielHe could feel the change in the air, the hint of a chill underneath the warm breeze. Most wouldn't have noticed it, but he was a Dragoon. Moreover, he had spent months subject to the tender mercies of the Fiend of Wind. His skin crawled when he thought of her, remembering her laughter; yet she had given him a great gift, as well, to know the air as she did.
Winter was still some months off, to be sure, but the taste of it was in the air. He gazed northeast, to Baron--to home. He had been doing that more and more often of late, his attention drawn there as steel was to a lodestone. Sometimes he rather fancied he could hear the accents of his homeland carried on the wind, a faint susurrus of sound that always hovered just beyond comprehension.
He looked down from the summit of Mt. Ordeals, seeing the expanse of forest spread out beneath him, so green it nearly hurt his eyes. He had been here two years, and twice had watched the verdant mass shift to gold and crimson beneath a stunning azure sky, before crumbling to brown dust and bare black arms against pristine snow, then springing back to life from the palest green mist to summer's bounty. For two years, he had pushed himself to the limit of his Dragoon skills in an effort to prove himself worthy of his name; for two years he had held himself away from those he loved most in the world, whether as penance for himself or punishment for them he could not say.
It was a glorious warm morning in late summer. Kain took a deep breath, filtering through the scents. There was the tang of smoke from the fire he had built to cook his breakfast, but it didn't quite blot out the smell of so many growing things at the base of the mountain. If he really concentrated, he could isolate the stink of decay from the undead creatures that flocked about the lower slopes of the mountain. Though he stood atop the mountain and not within it, there was a faint scent of a cave, the taint of heavy minerals and a sense of stillness, despite the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair. He attributed that to KluYa's sanctuary at his back, for he had not encountered it elsewhere on the mountain. It was a familiar scent, but not a comforting one—the scent of Lunarian magic would ever bring to mind Golbez, and slogging through the depths of the moon on Cecil's quest for purity and righteousness.
Kain turned to look off the other side of the mountain, savouring a view he would not see again for many years, if ever. He had lived upon the summit of Mt. Ordeals for two years. He had grieved for the loss of King Odin and mourned the wedding which had rendered Rosa forever unattainable to him. He had raged against Golbez and Zemus and the Lunarians as a whole for the despicable actions he had performed under Golbez's control, and castigated himself for not being strong enough to resist. Eventually rage and grief had given way to exhaustion, and at the last, a kind of peace.
He still despised himself for his weakness and jealousy, but he was ready to face his friends again, though their forgiveness cut him anew every time he met Rosa's kind expression or Cecil's steady gaze.
The playful breeze swirled around him, sending strands of his hair snapping into his eyes and tangling with his beard. Kain brushed them away irritably. He would not dare appear in Dragoon uniform unshaven, but a dagger did not make a good razor and he had grown used to the beard, which kept him a bit warmer in winter. He supposed he would be sorry to see it go.
He kicked out his fire, packed his few belongings into a bag and donned his armour. He had trained each day, keeping his jumping skills strong and his weapon in good use slaughtering the undead. They were not a worthy target, but they were better than naught, and less damaging to his weapon than unyielding stone. He took a few moments to ensure that the traces of his long habitation were at least lessened, if not fully erased, and started to dismantle his small cabin. Leaving it here in this holy place felt wrong to him somehow. He undid the canvas walls easily enough, but the ropes holding the poles in place had become permanently knotted from swelling with rainfall and then contracting as they dried. With a muttered curse, he clambered up the nearest support pole and drew his belt knife to cut the ropes at the top.
From here, he could see straight down the mountain to the forests below. There were foul undead swaying and stumbling along the paths. Beyond them, he saw the forests he had studied from afar. He paused, knife in hand, about to cut the ropes. The thought that he would not see these forests on the morrow was strange to him. He had grown as accustomed to their constant presence as he had the constant hiss of Golbez's magic or the ache whenever he thought of Rosa.
He recalled himself to his task and cut through the ropes, springing free of the poles as they clattered to the ground to land lightly nearby. He had no rope to leave for any future pilgrims to reconstruct the little cabin, but what he had would have to do.
He stood a moment on the windswept plateau, staring at the door of KluYa's sanctuary. Though he had lived literally right next to the squat, moon-white building for two years, he had never approached the door, never attempted to enter. Partly, he avoided it for Cecil's sake; he had no wish to intrude on the other man's lone connection with his father. Then, too, he had no desire to give up his Dragoon's skills in favour of a holy blade. He did not deserve such a blade, nor could he uphold the way of a Paladin. Cecil and Rosa were suited to holy trades, to the bright light that glowed from within and illuminated all in their vicinity with reflected goodness. He was merely a fallen Dragon Knight, hardly worthy of his spear.
Kain laid his hand lightly on the door to the sanctuary, feeling the power that hummed through it. It was the same vibration as the magic that surrounded Golbez, an invisible aura of power. Yet where Golbez's magic had felt unclean and slimy as it wound its tendrils around his limbs and sank cancerous roots into his skin, this felt bright and strong, like the glow of Excalibur's blade. He let his hand rest there, taking a deep breath. "Thank you," he said aloud. "Perhaps one day when I am more worthy, I shall return."
He turned away from the door. His bag weighed very little when he settled it on his shoulder; testament to how isolated he had been up here, where the nearest town was two days' journey on foot. He pulled on his gauntlets and started across the bridge that led to the path downward, gripping his spear.
The undead troubled him very little, though he was astounded as always that their numbers never seemed to decrease. Surely there were not enough adventurers foolhardy enough to dare this mountain and die in the doing to keep the population constant. Did undead breed? Kain winced at the thought, banishing horrifying images of baby zombies from his mind, and continued downward. Those few undead foolish enough to approach him died swiftly; their omnipresent stench of rotting meat mixed with the pungent odor of burnt flesh where the edges of his holy lance left seared wounds. In his hands, even a holy relic became tainted with death; it was merely one more example of everything he touched turning to ruin.
He moved further down the path and quickly reached the forest. It was far different seeing it from this perspective rather than an endless sea of greenery viewed from above. There were a few fruit trees whose boughs were sagging beneath the weight of green fruit just beginning to ripen. He thought about picking one or two of the apples, but he knew they were too green yet. Still, he'd not had fresh fruit since last fall, when he'd discovered three apple trees on the north side of the mountain, and the sight of them made his mouth water. The air down here seemed heavier, dense with the humidity of the Water Crystal in Mysidia and almost too thick to breathe. He had grown too accustomed to the heights of the mountain. The air was hotter, too; at the summit this season meant pleasant warmth, while down here it was closer to a tropical jungle. Already he was damp with sweat beneath his armor.
The forest was dense with masses of leaves and thick vines. Through the trees, he saw a pair of does grazing with their young. Farther away, he saw a rabbit racing away from some fright. A narrow path snaked through the trees to the south, leading to a place where he remembered chocobos dwelt. He glanced at the clearing and pathway that wended its way eastward, toward Mysidia. He could make the journey either on foot, or by chocobo. The latter would tax his worn boots rather less, but at the same time, he was unsure that he wished to return to civilization that soon. He had been atop Mt. Ordeals for two years. Surely two more days would not make a difference.
Nonetheless, he found his feet carrying him toward the southern path. The occasional twig snapped beneath his boots, though years' worth of loam was soft and yielding underfoot. He caught the faint sweet-sour scent of gysahl and paused. He tucked his gauntlets into his pack and picked a handful of gysahl leaves from a tree a few feet off the path.
The chocobos gathered perhaps two miles from the base of the mountain, and today there were a handful of them roaming around. The white females ran when he approached, cowering shyly behind the trees, while the larger yellow males kept their distance but eyed him with curiosity in their bright gaze. He simply stood still, holding out the gysahl leaves in an open hand.
He had to wait perhaps half an hour, and the morning sun was becoming uncomfortably warm on the Dragon armour he had brought with him from the lunar surface, but he could see the chocobos gradually edging closer as they caught the scent of the leaves in his hand. Eventually one of the males approached, his head bobbing, and pecked quickly at his hand, gulping down the gysahl. Kain rested a hand on the chocobo's neck. He preened his wing and bowed his head, bending his knees to allow Kain to climb aboard more easily. He tried to settle himself so that his cuisse and greaves wouldn't pull at the chocobo's feathers. Once he was seated, the chocobo made his slow way out of the clearing and sauntered along the path that led back to the base of the mountain.
The bird picked up speed as they left the forest, racing across the open grassland. Kain applied light pressure to the right side of his neck and his veered west. The morning sun, reflected from the sea, stabbed into his eyes, a fierce glare that made his head throb. Flipping down the visor on his helm helped a little, but not enough to make a real difference. Eventually the sun rose high enough that it merely beat down upon him in all its midday glory rather than worsening his headache. The chocobo appeared to be unaffected, racing along and gleefully jouncing Kain about as he ran.
The town of Mysidia rose in the distance, squat stone buildings surrounding the tall Tower of Prayer. Kain halted the chocobo a half-mile or so from the town and slid to the ground, patting the bird on the neck in gratitude. It uttered a short squawk and raced off in the direction of Mt. Ordeals, presumably to return to its brethren. He set off down the road, walking past fields and orchards where farmers were working. When he was nearly to the city, he paused, telling himself it was to drink water from his canteen, but in reality, he wanted to delay. He drank some of the water, and rearranged the way his bag hung on his shoulder, but there was only so much he could do.
Kain turned to face the city and took a deep breath. After so long alone, he was wary of approaching people, particularly in a town that had plenty of reason to hate Baronians. If his Dragon Knight accoutrements didn't give him away, his accent surely would. However, he couldn't return to Baron without going through Mysidia; even his jumping skills could not span the ocean in between, and attempting to swim it would merely result in one very waterlogged Dragoon pinned to the sea bottom by the weight of his armour. He was unwilling to discard the fine Dragon armour; it was superior to any he'd ever owned, but it was easier by far to transport it by wearing it than to try to pack the hundred-plus pounds of metal.
In Baron, heraldic flags on the castle indicated whether the King was in residence. Kain didn't know enough about Mysidia's practices to know if the lack here indicated that the Elder was not here, or if they simply did not bother. A short line of people awaited entrance into the town; some he would guess were merchants by their rich clothing, while others had ingrained dirt and carts full of vegetables that suggested they were farmers. It seemed that only politeness kept them waiting, for the heavy stone gates stood wide open. Kain wondered why Mysidia's defenses were so similar to Baron's, when their means of fighting were so different, but perhaps it was simply easier to build a massive wall and rain fire down from the inside.
He straightened his shoulders and strode up to the city gates, grimacing a little bit at the soreness in his legs. He hadn't been on a chocobo in entirely too long, and his muscles were reminding him of it in no uncertain terms. There were a couple of bored young men on watch—they wore armour, not robes, so perhaps they were guardsmen—who waved him through without much in the way of questions or attention, being rather more interested in the sight of three young women in mage's robes giggling and whispering nearby. Two wore white robes, and one the blue robes that in Baron meant black mages.
As he walked through the town, he saw far fewer armoured warriors than he would at home, but substantially more mages—perhaps a third of the population, by his rough estimate. The mages within the town gave him curious glances, but none approached to engage him in conversation or accuse him of treason, kidnapping, murder, and other unsavoury acts. The townsfolk not in robes were much the same.
He did not want to go into the Elder's presence as he was, so he looked around for an inn. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at his accent but took his coin eagerly enough, and soon he was bathed and freshly shaven. He was able to engage a serving girl to help cut his hair, and soon it was combed out in a neat queue as it ought to be. The innkeeper had offered to have his clothes clean in two hours for an additional fee, and Kain was astonished to discover that he kept his word. In Baron, cleaning and drying the clothing would have taken the better part of the day. He wondered if Mysidians would be willing to teach Baronian mages how to do this.
At last he could dawdle no longer, and made his way to the Tower of Prayer. He hesitated outside. He knew the Mysidian Elder bore no lasting ill-will toward Baron for Cecil's actions under Cagnazzo's false orders, but he still felt awkward approaching the man. He could just imagine entering the Tower of Prayer and presenting himself to the Elder. Good afternoon, Elder. I am Kain Highwind of Baron. My brother killed and kidnapped your citizens and stole from you on the orders of our adoptive father. Might I have your assistance in returning to his side? Nevertheless, he approached the massive oaken door, where two mages in blue robes stood guard. "Good afternoon," he said. "If it is possible, I would like to speak with the Elder."
Before the guards could answer, the portal swung inward to reveal a boy and a girl. They wore the robes of apprentice mages, and had glossy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Kain thought they seemed a bit young for mages, as the journeywomen he'd seen at the gate had appeared to be his own age or perhaps a bit older. They were quite short and had faces rounded with baby fat. They couldn't be much older than Rydia had been when they found her in Mist.
The boy made a face, sticking out his tongue, which earned him a swift thwack upside the head from the girl, who then made a polite curtsy. "Welcome to the Tower of Prayer, Kain Highwind," she said. "How may we help you?"
Kain's mouth fell open. "How do you know me?"
"You are Cecil's friend." At his look of surprise, she smiled. "We traveled with him. He spoke of you often."
"I see." Kain had not expected to be recognized on sight; he had been to this town only twice, once before they went to the moon and the second time when he passed through on his way to Mount Ordeals. "I came to speak to the Elder, if he would be willing to do so."
"Come, I will take you." She turned, apparently without looking to see if he followed her.
He followed her into the tower, leaving the boy to close the doors behind them. She led him up several flights of steps to the observatory at the top of the tower and knocked sharply at the closed door. "Elder? Kain Highwind is here," she called.
"Send him in, Porom, thank you."
She opened the door to admit Kain, and the scent of dust and old leather rushed out to greet him, a smell Kain had always associated with his tutors when he was younger. The room was huge; surely it must encompass this entire floor of the tower. There were narrow windows on all sides that admitted bands of sunlight, though most of the room's illumination seemed to come from the generous number of lamps on the walls and the tables. It held floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with volumes of all shapes and sizes. There were several large tables scattered about the room, each piled high with more books and stacks of scroll cases, and each sat in a pool of light. The chairs were likewise buried in drifts of scrolls, save the one that the room's only occupant, an old man clad in the black robes of a Mysidian sage, was using. He rose as Kain entered. He looked like he had once been strong and broad-shouldered, but age had hunched his back until he was a head or more shorter than Kain, and drawn his shoulders inward. He was bald but had a long, full grey beard. Kain advanced three steps and offered the bow of respect reserved for foreign rulers, for if Mysidia had a ruler, surely it was this man.
"Welcome to Mysidia, Kain Highwind. I am pleased to see you returned from Mt. Ordeals." The Elder returned his bow, his gaze straying past Kain to the girl who hovered behind him. "Porom, you may return to your lessons. And if you would, kindly recall your brother to his studies. Livius is growing quite wroth with his inattention." He eased himself back into his chair with a little grunt.
"Yes, Elder." The door creaked shut behind Kain, and Porom's light footsteps faded from hearing. He stayed where he was, unsure how to broach the subject of his return to Baron, and looked about him instead.
Now that he was further into the room, he could see a second man, seated at a desk in the corner behind the door and writing quickly on the scroll spread in front of him. He was younger than the Elder and clad in the same black robes, albeit without the embroidered sash that seemed to mark the Elder's rank within Mysidia. He seemed of medium height and very thin, with a long hooked nose, a weak chin imperfectly concealed behind a short beard, and thin lips. His hair was brown with quite a bit of grey mixed in. He glanced up from the scrolls before him and nodded briefly to Kain. "Greetings, Captain Highwind." He had a soft, reedy voice, one that seemed suited to huddling in libraries with knowledge all about rather than shouting commands on the battlefield. His accent, like the Elder's, was of Mysidia. Behind him was a complicated arrangement of glass bottles and jars, including several that bubbled alarmingly.
"Greetings," Kain replied. Speech felt strange after so long alone on the mountaintop with no conversational partners save the undead.
"Ah. Kain, my assistant, Solon." The Elder gestured at the man in the corner. "He assists me with the governance of the city."
"Not to mention research," Solon remarked.
Kain contented himself with a nod, unsure what response he was expected to make. He had been entirely too long out of court circles, if the easy banter between two mages discomfited him so. Standing between the two of them, he felt rather like a schoolboy called to account for his actions.
"At any rate, Captain, we have awaited your return from the mountain," the Elder said. "King Cecil has already paid your passage on a ship to Baron, and we have letters that your friends in Baron have sent to our care, to hold until such time as you should choose to descend."
"King?" Kain repeated. He wondered if the Elder had already read the letters. It was what he would have done, in the same position.
The Elder smiled. "You have been a long time on Mt. Ordeals, Captain. Cecil Harvey has claimed the throne of Baron."
Kain wanted to ask after Rosa, but he feared making himself obvious and casting a shadow upon her. "And when will the next ship sail for Baron?"
"There is one leaving on tomorrow's evening tide." The Elder raised an eyebrow. "You might also consider the use of the Devil's Road."
"No, thank you." Kain mustered a smile. "While I appreciate the offer, I think I will need some time to accustom myself to being around people again."
Solon shuffled through a large bin of scrolls in his corner and extracted a packet of letters, neatly tied up with black cords. "These are the letters for you, Captain. We will make arrangements at the Inn for you to have a room this evening, unless you would prefer to stay in the Tower?"
"I think I would prefer to stay in the Tower," Kain replied, surprising himself. After his time with Golbez, he would have thought he'd avoid any skyward-reaching structure, but the peaceful aura of the Tower of Prayer appealed to him, and he was in no mood for the rowdy atmosphere of a tavern. How rowdy did a tavern full of mages get, anyway?
"Very well. We shall arrange rooms for you." The Elder rose and paced to the windows. "They should be ready in an hour or so."
"That will be fine. Is there somewhere I can go in the meantime? I do not wish to be in the way."
"There is a library downstairs that is open to the public if you enjoy reading, or there are some meditation chambers upstairs—though I suppose you might have had enough of that," Solon said.
Kain shook his head. "I think I would enjoy a chance to meditate," he said.
"This way, then." Solon rose and led the way to the chamber upstairs, which could be opened to the wind—something Kain did as soon as the sage had departed—and otherwise was remarkably like similar spaces in Baron, with a mat on the floor and sticks of incense. He wasn't certain if any of the incense had purposes beyond scent, so he did not light one. Instead, he set aside his belongings and seated himself on the floor, losing himself in the scent of the sea and the many scents—some pleasant and some not—of a town. He would have to grow used to the differences.
A quiet white mage came some two hours later and conducted him to the chamber prepared for him. It was better than might have been allocated to a simple traveler. A door left ajar showed the way to a personal necessity closet, and the room boasted thick feather ticking on the bed and dense rugs on the floor, suggesting that he was being treated as Cecil's foster-brother rather than someone who happened to request shelter. The furniture was well-made and inlaid with different colors of wood in contrasting patterns that he did not recognize. Someone had left a lamp with tinder and flint, unlike the seemingly magic-fueled lights in the hallways, and he had been provided a rack for his armour. A decent amount of care had gone into this room. He hung his armour upon the stand and busied himself sorting and repacking his few belongings for lack of anything better to do.
The sun had sunk low into the west when he heard a knock on the door. Or, to be more precise, a flurry of taps followed immediately by the door being flung open. The young boy-mage he had met earlier was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "The Elder says to join him for dinner," he announced.
"Palom!" Porom hurried up behind him, and twisted his ear, which resulted in a dramatic and exaggerated yelp. "Where are your manners?"
Kain rose. "I would be pleased to join the Elder. Could you please direct me to the proper area?"
Palom elbowed his sister in the stomach and wriggled free of her grasp. "It's that way," he said with a too-helpful smile, pointing eastward down the corridor.
"I will take you there, Captain," Porom said loudly, glaring at Palom. "It is this way." She set off in the same direction Palom had indicated. Kain followed her, wondering why Palom was the only person in Mysidia who seemed to resent him. Perhaps no one else recognized him. Come to that, he was not entirely sure the boy did resent him; he had gathered the impression from Cecil's description of the two that Palom was mischievous by nature, but thus far he had seemed rather more rude than mischievous.
Porom led him through the grey stone hallways, their footsteps muffled by the carpets underfoot, which were plainer than those in the private areas of Baron Castle and also thinner, possibly because of the warmer climate here. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting what he could only assume were scenes from Mysidia's history. The Moon was a prominent theme, and the Lunar Whale ship. Each of the tapestries depicting those images also had the Mysidian Legend woven into the image. Kain's felt his mouth twist slightly as he read the familiar words, etched into Cecil's sword by KluYa's hand long ago. One to be born from a dragon, bearing darkness and light, shall rise to the heavens over the still land. The Moon's light eternal brings a promise to earth with bounty and grace.
Porom led him to a set of double doors carved with a variation on the same theme: a group of five stood before the Lunar Whale. Kain stopped and stared. The carving was new enough to still have crisp edges, and had been painted in brighter colors than he had seen elsewhere in the Tower. Rydia and Edge were carved to the left, she with a serious expression on her angular face and he with a cocky attitude accented by his smirk. Edge had his hands behind his back, rather than somewhere inappropriate on Rydia's person, which amused Kain. He and Rosa stood to the right, and even in the wooden carving light and goodness seemed to radiate from her. His own image wore bright armour worked with the crest of the Dragon Knights, as though he were yet young and unstained. He wondered that they had not branded him as the traitor he was. Cecil was carved in the center, with the crack between the two doors dividing him precisely in half.
Appropriate, really.
Porom pushed the door open. Kain watched Cecil split in half and shook his head slightly to dispel the sense of foreboding that the action provoked.
The double doors led into a vast hall filled with long tables. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but unlike the ones in Baron, they held no candles; instead, crackling balls of light hung from them that he assumed to be magic. The Elder was standing on a dais at the far end of the room before a smaller table, flanked by Solon on his right and another man in black sage's robes on his left. The second man was a head shorter than the Elder, and quite stout. His iron-grey hair and bushy grey beard stood out around his head in a wild halo. He was laughing uproariously at something Solon had said, while the Elder smiled.
Porom led him between the rows of tables and the mages waiting patiently at them. The dining room seemed to be quite full, but none of them seemed to recognize him without armour. The long progress up to the dais reminded Kain most unfortunately of times when he'd been called to King Odin's table in Baron, often for some misdemeanour. He hoped the awkwardness he felt did not show. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Palom strutting behind him, for all the world as though this escort duty made him important. Kain could scarcely believe the number of mages here; he knew that Mysidia was a magic-heavy nation, but there must be ten times as many mages just in this room as Baron could boast in general, ranging in age from children as young as the twins to men and women so old they had grown hunched and frail. He saw robes of blue, black, and white, as well as other colors whose meanings he didn't know, though as their owners sat at the general tables, he guessed it did not denote rank.
The stout sage beamed at him as he approached, while the Elder offered a polite smile and Solon had a grave expression on his face.
"Welcome, Captain Highwind!" the Elder said loudly, and the chatter in the hall died off. Kain was uncomfortably aware of the pressure of many eyes on him as the mages realized who he was. "Please, join us."
Kain ascended the dais and walked to the empty seat the Elder indicated, to the left of the stout sage. There were three more seats between him and the end of the table, but they were unoccupied. Porom went to Solon's right, ignoring the spectacular faces Palom was making at her. Kain wondered why they merited a seat at the head table; most of the other children seemed to be seated at an apprentices' table below, if the seating arrangement here was similar to Baron's great hall.
"May the blessings of the Moon shine down upon us," the Elder intoned, a benediction echoed by the mages in the room. Everyone seated themselves in unison.
The man next to him offered his hand, and pumped Kain's vigorously when Kain completed the shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain. I'm Livius, the Elder's assistant. I keep these rogues in line for him, you see." He had an open, infectious smile.
"Pleasure to meet you," Kain responded automatically. A handful of mages were circulating, bringing platters of roasted meats and baked vegetables to the tables. Kain recognized chicken and pork, as well as spinach, carrots, and onions. Mysidians ate simply, but they seemed to have a plentiful supply of foodstuffs.
"The apprentices take turns cooking and cleaning," Livius remarked, inclining his head toward the pair who were carrying bowls of mashed potatoes and green beans up to the dais. "Helps us keep things in check. Though some of them, I vow," and the sage tilted his head in the general direction of Palom, "are more trouble in the kitchen than out."
Kain chuckled a little. In Baron, he would have used his belt knife to serve himself, but it appeared that in Mysidia they provided very large forks on the serving platters. He dropped his hand from the hilt of his knife and hoped no one had noticed. It was a little more awkward to use the fork, but he managed. "Cecil and I were a bit like that when we were young," he remarked.
Livius poured himself a generous glass of red wine, and filled Kain's cup as well. The Elder's table boasted fine glass, while the cups at the other tables seemed to be made of metal. Kain lifted his cup when Livius did, and drank; the wine was sweeter than was usual in Baron. He couldn't tell from this distance what beverages were served below, not over the smell of the unfamiliar spices on the meat. "You've been living atop Mt. Ordeals, I hear," Livius said.
"I needed some time for contemplation." Kain reminded himself that Livius was not necessarily prying, nor trying to insinuate unsavoury activities, and worked to keep his tone civil. It wouldn't do to start irritating the Mysidians all over again, if indeed they had forgiven Baron for their earlier transgressions. Many of the mages at the tables below the dais were studying him as they ate. Some pretended otherwise, but he was wary. It reminded him of the stares of the men and women who would inherit the Great Houses in Baron, watching as he and Cecil were promoted as wards of the King and eventual heirs.
"The mountain's a good place for thinking, if you can get past the undead," Livius agreed. "I'd imagine you're feeling a bit starved for news, though."
Kain shrugged. "I don't know that I'd say I'm starved for it, but I would appreciate an overview. You seem like a man who keeps himself informed of current news." The flattery came more easily than he'd thought.
Livius guffawed and quaffed half his wine at a gulp, leading Kain to think he'd guessed correctly. "I must admit I'm a shameless gossip, asking questions of everyone. Ah well. Let's see now. Cecil Harvey rules Baron, with his queen Rosa, but I'd imagine you'd know that."
"I could guess," Kain murmured, studying his plate to hide his wince at the reference to Rosa's wedding.
"The Prince of Eblan has taken the throne of his kingdom now. Supposedly he's going to marry some girl from a mountain village nobody's ever heard of. Mist or some such."
Kain raised an eyebrow. "I know about Mist, Livius--as I'd imagine you do, given the size of the libraries here."
"Guilty as charged." Livius laughed, and Kain had the sense he had been tested. He wished he knew whether he had passed or failed. He reminded himself to watch his words; he was not among allies here. "But few outside Mysidia have heard of it, excepting those of you who went to the Moon. The villagers kept to themselves."
"Yes," Kain murmured, thinking of the picturesque little mountain village that he and Cecil had destroyed, hidden behind the thick mists that permeated the cave leading into it. If he hadn't stepped in on Cecil's behalf when Cagnazzo had ordered him to carry the package, he might not have ended up unconscious in the ruins of Mist, and perhaps he might have evaded Golbez's control. He picked up his glass and drank from it, trying to control the shudder that wanted to run down his back. The scars Barbariccia had given him twinged.
Still, the notion of Edge marrying Rydia brought a faint smile to his face. He imagined the two of them would send all other inhabitants of Eblan Castle scurrying for cover when they indulged in one of their spectacular shouting matches. Kain found those amusing, if only because Rydia could wind Edge up so thoroughly in his own inconsistencies and leave the ninja sputtering and flailing ineffectually. Granted, they had been rather less amusing at two in the morning when he was trying to get some sleep on the cold, rocky soil of the Moon.
"Captain?" Livius asked, in the tone of a man who has had to repeat himself several times. Kain shook himself out of his reverie.
"I apologize. I was woolgathering." He pasted the polite court smile back on his face. "You were saying?"
Livius wore a faintly patronizing smile. "You really have been alone on that mountain too long, haven't you?" Kain flinched at the reminder. Livius chuckled and transferred another slice of meat to his plate, much easier with the serving fork than Kain had been. "The High Monk Yang rules in Fabul. I think those are all the shufflings of royalty that have happened in the last two years. Other than that, nothing to compare to your adventures on the Moon."
Kain frowned a little. "What of the Underworld?"
"What of it?" Livius shrugged. "They have returned to their affairs, and we to ours. Though the King of the Dwarves did attend King Cecil's wedding and coronation."
"Indeed," Kain murmured. He wondered that someone so close to the Elder would be so uninformed, else Livius was trying to extract information from him less subtly than before. He elected not to participate. "I imagine everyone did."
"Oh, yes. It was the affair of the year. And Queen Rosa looked stunning; I heard it took six months to make her gown." Livius began to wax rhapsodic about the attire, the pomp and ceremony of the wedding, and the gastronomic delights of the accompanying feast. Kain turned his attention to his meal, interjecting the occasional innocuous mumble and keeping a politely attentive expression on his face. Kain tried to ignore the continued stares of the mages at the communal tables as he ate. The spices on the meat were hotter than he was familiar with, and he was relieved to find a pitcher of water within easy reach, for he did not want to consume too much wine. The mashed potatoes had a tangy flavor and a hint of spice unlike those made in Baron, but were still tasty, and the green beans were fresh and crisp.
The Elder seemed in a deep conversation with Solon and Porom, and Palom appeared to be amusing himself by making faces at the apprentices below when he wasn't flicking bits of food at Porom, until he missed and hit Solon and was summarily banished from the table.
The meal eventually wound to a close, and the dinner plates were taken away to be replaced with some holding a blueberry pie, shockingly sweet on his tongue. After so long on the mountain, eating only what he could hunt and gather, even a simple meal he hadn't needed to cook followed by a dessert seemed decadent to Kain.
At the center of the table, the Elder rose and gestured to him. Kain followed the Elder through the aisle between the tables, painfully aware of the stares that followed him, and out the same door by which he'd entered. He nearly ran into the older man when he halted abruptly only a few feet in front of the Dragoon. "Captain Highwind, there is somewhat I would speak of to you, if you do not mind," the Elder said, turning to look up at him. No one had followed them out of the hall; that did not mean no one had heard. Kain wondered how many people were observing unseen.
"Certainly, Elder." Kain followed the Elder back up to the upper floors of the tower, where the Elder swept scroll cases off a chair to provide him with a space to sit. The Elder himself did not take a seat, choosing instead to pace parallel to the western wall, limned in ruddy light from the glorious sunset outside every time he passed one of the narrow windows. Kain watched him without speaking. If nothing else, he had learned a tolerance for silence upon the mountain of trials.
The Elder halted at the far side of the square room and turned to face him. His expression was unreadable, but Kain noted that he stood with his back to a bookshelf, with one arm behind him that might have held a weapon. The ceiling was not high enough for Kain to jump properly, and he found himself missing his spear. "Forgive me for being blunt, Captain, but I must ask. Do you intend to wreak further havoc upon your return to Baron? The peace there is tenuous at best, and the work of rebuilding after Cagnazzo's ravages proceeds slowly. I cannot in conscience allow you to return if it is your will to upset that balance."
Kain didn't know what he had expected the Elder to speak of, but of a surety, it was not that. He shook his head, almost without realizing it, and made sure to keep his arms loose, away from his sides. "I do not intend to upset anything, Elder. I wish to go home for a short time. I wish to see how Cecil fares, and Rosa. After that, I do not know what I will do, but I have no intention of disrupting anything Cecil has built these two years past."
The Elder nodded. Kain could not tell whether he believed him or not, but his arm came out from behind his back, with no weapon, and he took a few steps closer to Kain. "Very well, then. I hope you are not offended by my question."
"No." Kain grimaced. "It is precisely what I would ask, were I in your place." He looked down, and only then did he see the thin lines drawn almost invisibly on the floor, a sigil that had flared whenever Rosa called down light to bind their enemies in place. The Elder had left nothing to chance.
"Good." The Elder did not smile. Kain was too tired to try to parse this conversation; he did not know if the Elder had expected him to attack. "I will send someone to wake you in the morning, so that you do not miss your ship."
Acknowledging the tacit dismissal, Kain rose and bowed politely, as he would have to King Odin. On his way out, he passed Solon, struggling under the weight of a large pile of scroll cases. "Elder, I found those scrolls on summoning you were looking for," he heard Solon say as the door closed behind him.
He made his way to his room, nodding politely to the mages he passed in the hallway, some of whom had stared at him during the uncomfortable meal. None returned the politeness. His room was dimly lit with a crimson glow, the last vestiges of sunlight creeping in the window, where already darkness held dominion over the sky. The bed had been turned down, and the lamp had been left burning very low. He paused to check over his armour one last time before undressing and lying down on the bed.
He spent a long time lying there, in a bed far more comfortable than his bedroll on the mountain, staring up at the wooden beams that supported the stone ceiling, before sleep claimed him at last. It spirited him away to a dream-world filled with images of Barbariccia spinning in midair, her blonde hair a whiplash across his bare skin, while in the background Golbez's laughter echoed endlessly.