A Tale from a Doomed World
Delwyn’s knees ain't what they used to be and the long days on the road are not easy on him. He can’t complain, they need workers at the Crystal Tower, and they promise food and shelter, you don’t see that much nowadays, what with the realm on fire and all.
He sits down, someone hands him a piece of stale bread and a cup of hot chocolate, it ain’t much, but it’ll keep him going.
“Oy, mister!” a voice calls behind him.
“Mister, tell us about the Warrior of Light!” says a beaming boy with a dirty face. Many others flank him.
“All right, lad, what would you all like to hear? How about the time the Warrior of Light met his equal in battle?”
“Zenos zos Galvus was his name. A fearsome swordsman big as an oxen and with teeth made of iron, some say he could even see the future. But our hero was not deterred; he strode through Ala Mhigo defeating his soldiers single handedly...”
When he looks around he sees that not only children, but grownups are getting close, slowly and shyly at first, and like an avalanche later.
“So the Warrior of Light kicks the door to the throne room open and sees that the evil Zenos had defaced the treasures of our Ala Mhigo. Zenos turns to face him, his eyes full of cruelty and malice. He says, ‘Ah, my only friend, my prey...”
It was a party now. The children still at his feet listening intently, two young men play at being Zenos and the hero in front of an audience, he never heard of the Warrior of Light wielding a book, but there are a lot of stories, who knows?
“Just when it seemed it was over, Zenos lifted himself off the ground, the wound on his chest seemingly not a bother anymore. He looked straight at our hero and let out a deafening bellow. He transformed into his true form, a dragon the likes of which the realm had not seen since the Seventh Umbral Calamity.”
“What did the Warrior of Light do!?” the children yelled.
“A true hero does not lose heart! He scrambled back his feet and rushed to the enemy ahead. They fought for what seemed like an eternity, he dodged fang and claw, the fire and lightning could not touch the graceful hero, and when he saw his chance, the Warrior of Light climbed the tail of dragon, sliced the wings off the beast’s back and they went into free-fall...”
He knew to leave them with bated breath right before finishing a story.
“The dragon struggles and the Warrior of Light holds on for dear life while they plummet back to the throne room. When they reach it, the dragon lets out one last gasp and is silent forevermore. Zenos’ discarded sword has lodged itself into his own heart.”
Everyone claps and yells, they thank him for this small respite.
The man next to him hands him a bottle of wine and says, “What do you think happened to him?”
“Who knows? We don’t even know if he really existed.” He sighed. “But without his tales those kids wouldn’t be going to bed with a smile on their faces. Just that makes him deserving of the title of hero”
(Gaelicap)
To friends I have made, friends I have lost, and friends I have yet to meet
To the friends I have made, the friends I have lost, and the friends I have yet to meet,
The days we have traveled together throughout The Source, I have found joy fighting beside you as we bring light to the darkened corners of the realm. Even as we travel the foreign soil of The First and bring darkness to the weary world of white, I know that in our hearts, you will help me carry the burden of hope as we deliver our hefty bounty to the people so in need of it.
For this and for so much more, you have my eternal gratitude and friendship.
Your companion throughout the reflections of time and space,
Aachi Suto
________
prize selection - Noble Barding
Where Our Journeys Take Us...
Where do our adventures lead us?
I have often pondered over this question ever since I first took to Eorzea and her myriad peoples. My journey started out not unlike any other adventurers’, nor does it hold any import to the time of the present. Yet in all the time I have spent traveling & seeing the many wonders of Hydaelyn, the question still lingered, especially one fateful day in Limsa Lominsa.
I received a summons from my dear friend & rival, Alia Mewrilah, whom I met during my earliest days of dueling in Wolves’ Den. Alia requested a meeting at the lower decks of Limsa, stating only that they had someone they wished for me to meet. I could only wonder who this stranger was, though anxiety plagued me. After being in a slump and on a personal hiatus from the Den for the winter, I worried myself with thoughts of a new challenger looking to train with me and the many duels that would ensue, yet still I made my way there.
“There you are! Come, come! Let me introduce you to a friend I made down at the Den!” Alia made her presence known quickly as I felt my shoulders slump down at the idea of being proven right, however bittersweet of a victory it would prove to be. I made a valiant but vain effort to hide my exhaustion after being told that this stranger was looking for someone to teach them how to be a better Samurai.
“Relax, Kenward! There’s actually another reason I wanted you to meet them.” Alia’s fluffed ears twitched before giving me a look of pure honesty. “Listen, I can't explain it, but I really feel that you and her are meant to meet each other.” With one last playful wink, Alia turned me towards the figure approaching from among the usual Lominsian crowd. A lone Lalafell stood before us, her twin-tailed hair the color of a wild chocobo. She was geared up in Garland Ironworks armor with a katana at her side.
“So you’re Alia’s teacher? Well then, teach me how to be a Samurai! Right now!” She stomped up & down excitedly, catching me off guard. Yet even then, I still found myself gazing at her. It was not her demeanor nor her looks that had me captivated, but her eyes. They spoke to me in a way that, looking back now, I could only describe as one thing.
Confidence.
“I’m only kidding of course! The name’s Adai Nazengine, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ken!” Adai chuckled at her outburst and keenly smiled at me. Alia meanwhile scurried off, mentioning something about browsing the market while we got to know each other more.
And so we did. We talked at great lengths until the sky grew dark, exchanging stories and memories. She told me tales of her journey to Eorzea and through every detail, every conflict, every victory and loss, I could see her growth through it all, the confidence in her eyes giving truth to every word.
Even now I still remember this, the day a dear friend introduced me to my future wife, and the adventures that lead us to where we needed to be on that brisk afternoon in Limsa Lominsa.
(Gaelicap)
Returning to a Realm Reborn
Caduceus steadied his hands. He continued to work the fabrics spread out before him: Serge, Felt, Wool. The fireworks were thundering outside from The Rising celebrations. His listened to them and let his mind wander as he started to work. He shut his eyes as another firework peeled in to the sky; he could not forget that day.
***
Caduceus fled from the meteor. He left Ul'dah with the few gil he could ply from stitching cotton underclothes; the prospect of the calamity bearing down on Eorzea, watching it descend closer each passing day, was too much. He felt his insides twist whenever he looked in the sky. What safety could the walls of Ul'dah provide against a twelves-forsaken celestial moon, Dalamud? Not to mention the imperial forces pouring in to Mor Dhona. He would flee. He had to. What other choice was there?
And so he packed his few belongings and left with his fiancé, Emilia. Most overland travel had ceased between nations when Dalamud's proximity to Eorzea began affecting all wildlife. Beasts were more aggressive, monsters began appearing, and reports of empire scouts waylaying supply caravans made travel, at this point, a dangerous proposition. Regardless, he secured passage through a dear friend. A Miqo'te, who called himself 'Fenrir' who had bade him to retreat to Gridania.
"We'll be there soon." Caduceus said as much to console himself as he spoke to Emilia. She grabbed his arm.
"I hope so." Emilia said. They both stared outside the carriage at the moon for awhile before they began to hear the sounds of battle from afar. First the horns of Grand Companies, then the shouts of men, explosions--screams. Even those not sensitive to aether could surely feel the swirling maelstrom of energy from Carteneau.
And then it happened: a brillant flash above Carteneau, and fragments of the moon, each perhaps a malm long, exploded in every direction. Caduceus and Emilia last shared a glance at a Mercydian nightmare from a forgotten age. Bahamut. They saw one beat of its wings, the flares streak across the sky, and then blackness took them both.
***
"It's already been another year," Caduceus said to himself aloud as he worked the final stitch in a 'fat cat' sofa. He stood up, stretched, and instinctively rubbed at the mark between his shoulder blades. Another year since the Wood Wailers pulled their unconscious bodies from the ruined carriage just beyond the Rootslake. Another year since since he devoted himself to Conjury to repay the mercy the elementals granted him. Another year since Emilia and he took up adventuring together. Another year since Emilia had mastered the secrets of thaumaturgy. And another year since they married in the Sanctum of the Twelve. He felt guilty for fleeing in Eorzea's time of need all those years ago, but he returned. He had finally heard Hydaelyn's call, and he would not forsake it again.
(Noble Barding!)