Rise of the Dynast-King, Scenes 1-4
TITLE: Rise of the Dynast-King, Scenes 1-4
FANDOM: Final Fantasy XII (backstory), Romancing SaGa (postgame)
CHARACTERS:
* FFXII: Raithwall Iskandar ("King Raithwall," "The Dynast-King")
* RS:MS: Claudia, Gray, Myriam ("Miriam"), Diana, Barbara, Galahad
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: First four scenes of the storyline, bridging the gap from Romancing SaGa to Ivalice. Intermingled with entries from Raithwall's diary.
Scene 1: The group decides to split up and disappear.
Scene 2: The destruction of Estamir and the weakening of the other nations forces them to change that plan.
Scene 3: An explanation of the mechanics of Nethicite and Fatestones (i.e. what exactly did happen when Ghis stuffed the Dawn Shard into that engine?), and the group decides to go North.
Scene 4: Claudia's decision.
SPOILERS: Character plotline spoilers for RS:MS, Some FFXII spoilers (these will get worse as time goes on)
This project is historical fanfiction in the Final Fantasy XII timeline, as well as crossover from Romancing SaGa: Minstrel's Song. It was inspired by the similarities between two place names: Rozarria, and Rosalia. Indeed, they are pronounced almost exactly the same, and there are geographical similarities. The role of women in Rosalia matches relatively closely with that of women in Rozarria, although the parallels are not exact (Neidhart is either polygamus or a pimp. Rudolph and Albert are neither. Diana and Aisha are both treated as so much chattal insofar as their personal lives are concerned, whatever they may do outside of home and hearth). Let us also not forget the startling similarity in national attitudes (both nations believe strongly in manifest destiny, militarism, and fishing in troubled waters), and there are _some_ geographical similarities, enough to make the connections.
At first I was of the belief that the two games were close in time, with RS:MS falling perhaps 50 years before FFXII. However, the oil rigs in the Yensa Sandsea, as well as the Fatestones of Romancing SaGa (Deifacted Nethicite), demand that the gap be much larger.
As a result, I set out to write a crossover fic between the two games, with an eye towards developing the Dynast-King as an actual character, and I am using characters from Romancing SaGa to take this look, as well as to flesh out the connection between the two games.
The Fatestones of RS:MS are Nethicite, although instead of absorbing all magick, they absorb specific types of magick. They were used to imprison Saruin.
Note: Dates are based on the Romancing SaGa timeline, from the founding of Romancing SaGa 2's Avalon. (The order of the SaGa timeline, as far as I can tell, is Romancing SaGa 3, Romancing SaGa 2, Romancing SaGa 1/Romancing SaGa: Minstrel's Song, Unlimited: SaGa, SaGa Frontier 2, SaGa Frontier 1.)
I - Where to Go?
“What do we do now?”
Diana gave voice to the question on everyone’s mind. They had stayed there on the cliffside for an hour or more after the sun had finally peeked out from behind the Khalams, staring at the destruction that had been wrought. Although they knew their victory had been necessary, and that their escape had been a great deal luckier than they had any right to be, there was still an immense weight upon their spirits.
One does not lightly kill a God after all. Not even one as twisted and corrupt as Saruin had been. Small wonder that Mirsa had only imprisoned him a thousand years previously!
God-killer? I can live with that. Gray’s braggiciado ripped through his mind, mocking. God-killer he certainly was, but the title was one he would take no pride in. This wasn’t the fault of the Demonbrand, for that devil was dead. He and the others had chosen to do this, and they would live with it. Which brought him back to Diana’s question.
“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing his chin in old habit. It was an unusual admission, and under other circumstances, Myriam, Galahad, and probably Claudia would have been staring at him in shock. Imagine, the lethally competent Gray not knowing what to do. Preposterous! Instead, the three of them just nodded.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Myriam asked, pulling off that pointed hat of hers. She set it on her lap, bending the point this way and that. “I want to go back, to make sure my city is still standing, but I don’t want to be recognized. Not for this.” She waved her hand at the ruins, and a general murmur of agreement sounded from the party.
“We could always go back to Jelton, you know,” Galahad said. He seemed to have aged another ten years during the fight, for his mane, merely speckled with grey before, was now shot through with streaks of white. “Scavenging for treasure would be a relief after all this.”
“Thanks, no,” Gray said. “One cursed blade is enough for me…and do we really want to be anywhere near Death after killing his brother? He seemed a decent enough fellow, but I’ve had enough of Gods, light or dark, for my lifetime.”
“Mmmmm, true,” Galahad rumbled. “What of you, Claudia? Will you not return to Melvir and assume your throne? Your father and your country have need of you, more than the rest of us are needed by ours. I would certainly accompany you, if you wished.”
Four sets of eyes turned to regard the green-and-gold-clad brunette. It had come as a shock to all of them that she was, in fact, the daughter of the Bafal Emperor, lost since the day she was born. To her, it was an unwelcome surprise, and she hadn’t taken it well. Gray paused for a moment to consider why that was.
She’d been raised by the Witch of the Mazewood, Eule, and kept away from all other human contact. After Gian had foisted Gray off onto her as a bodyguard, she’d (mercifully) grown comfortable with him and the others, but she was still high-strung and flighty when in crowds. Worse, she still seemed to be incapable of putting herself forward for anything selfish, however much her instincts and training drove her to help others.
Around men (other than himself and Galahad), she was even worse than she was in crowds. She wasn’t comfortable around them, especially the ones who found her attractive - which, to her chagrin, nearly every man they met did. As soon as Gray saw her stare at the ground and heard the hesitation, he knew what her answer would be. And the reason. Not that he blamed her - Gian was a bastard, and she’d never survive being tied down to him, or the Empire.
“No. I never asked for any of this - the royal line, the Fatestones, Saruin. I just want to live my life the way I always have - in freedom and obscurity. I just want to go home.”
“What?!” Myriam exploded. “You could be the Empress! Think about it, it’s like a dream come true!”
“Your dream, maybe,” she said, brushing back that errant lock of hair that always seemed to drop into her eyes. “Not mine. I grew up in the Mazewood, and I thought I’d always stay there. Eule sent me out to see the world, and now that I have, I find that I don’t particularly like it. Lust, greed, and hate are everywhere, and that is all I would see if I went to Melvir, Empress-Heir or not. So I’m going back to the Mazewood, to make sure she remains safe when everything starts to fall apart. Which it will, mark my words.”
The bitterness in her voice was plain, and the others nodded their agreement. “You are all, of course, welcome to come with me, if you like.”
There was silence for a moment. “No,” Gray said. “I think it may be best if I just wander for a bit before deciding what to do. I’m still not ready to settle down.” It surprised him that he was unhappy with the prospect.
“I will come with you,” Galahad said.
“This should be fun,” Myriam added.
They stared at Diana.
“Well of course I’m coming with you. You think I want to go anywhere near Crystal City?” Everyone laughed. She’d been colorfully vocal about the fact that she didn’t want to marry Neidhart.
Claudia brought herself to her feet, pulled her cap over her hair, and picked up her bow and sword. “I am going to take ship from Yeoville to Bruelle. After that I’ll head for home.” She looked at them fondly. “I will miss you all, and you are always welcome to visit the Wood, even if she is closed to everyone else.”
“Well don’t go disappearing quite yet,” Gray said, strapping on the Demonbrand. “We’ll come with you at least as far as Yeoville.”
She smiled.
Drakemoon Fourth, 3856 Avalonian
An odd dream last night, I know not what it portends. In it, an ashen face, with aught but eyes of glowing red faced me. I could see little else, for he - it filled my vision. When he spoke, I could not understand.
Elsewhere, it seems that we have won at least some small victory over the monsters. Father’s general reports that, for the very first time, they broke and ran. For once, the walls were not breached.
I only hope that our work with the Clans will prove effective in keeping them away.
II - Change in Plans
Gray wiped the Demonbrand’s blade on the cloak of the dead Kjari and waved his free hand in front of his face to ward off the charnel stench. The patrol had come over the hill loaded for bear, and Myriam had wasted no time in torching three of them. A tremor to knock them off their horses, and blade and staffwork had done the rest.
“I think this one’s still alive,” Myriam said, using her toe to nudge the one she’d clobbered with her staff. The unconscious soldier groaned.
“Let’s see if we can get some answers out of him, shall we?” Diana said. “There’s no reason they should be out here, and I’d like to know what we’re getting into.”
“You got it.” Myriam waved her staff, and the soldier snapped awake. He started as he saw her standing over him. “Look,” Myriam said, holding the end of the staff against his throat, “I don’t care who you are, but you’re going to answer some questions for me. If you piss me off, I’ll just kill you, Kjari, but if you behave, I think we can let you go. Clear?”
The soldier nodded, all grogginess blown away.
“Good. What were you doing out here?”
“Trying to get away from the city,” he said. “We saw you and thought you were with them.”
“With who?”
“The Estamirian Rebels, of course.”
The staff twitched. “What rebels?”
“How can you not know? The damn Estamirians swarmed out of the sewers and temples during the victory parade last week. It was almost as if they’d been waiting for this moment to throw us out of the city. Neidhart, Theodore, and Wuhan were all dead before anyone knew what was going on. It was a bloodbath!”
Diana’s face turned white, and Galahad looked little better.
“What the hell were Rosalia and the Knights doing in my city anyway?”
“Have you been living under a rock this past month, woman?”
She pressed the staff into his throat. “We’ve been…occupied. So be nice and tell me what they were doing there.”
He gulped, and in a rush, spelt out the events surrounding the attack on Estamir. How the monsters had marched down the New Road in numbers never before seen. How the Knights had first come to their aid, while Rosalia hesitated and dithered. How just as the walls were breached, the Rosalian Army had appeared on the horizon with Neidhart at its head. How the monsters had been destroyed almost to a man.
How, during the victory parade, men in the garb of Rosalians and Kjari and Knights had attacked the column, killing all three leaders.
“And you thought we were with these rebels? Two Rosalians, an Estamirian, and…Gray, where did you say you were from again?”
Gray looked up from where he was looting the bodies. “That’s still not going to work.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned back to the soldier and lifted the point of her staff away from his neck. “Obviously, we’re not with your rebels. We’re just travelers passing through. Go back to your bloody clan and make sure they know to leave us the hell alone. If I ever see you or anyone from your clan again, I promise you won’t live long enough to regret it. Now git!”
The soldier leapt to his feet and fled. Myriam spat at the ground. “Kjari! Scum every one of them!”
“I’m sure they think the same of you,” Gray said from behind her.
“No doubt. But I think we’ve got a bigger problem right now.”
****************************************
A day or so later, they stood atop a hill adjacent the New Road, looking down at the smoking and burning ruin that had replaced South Estamir. The bazaar appeared to be gutted, and the Temple of Yucomb had half-collapsed. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to ash, and parts of the city were still burning. The walls still stood, yes, but the breaches the monsters had created, stained a dark red, stood testament to the fierceness of the battle. Human rioters had done the rest. A column of smoke rose from the other side of the Bograsul Straits, indicating that the destruction had not been confined to just the one side.
“’Rivers of human blood shall herald the return of Saruin,’” Gray said. “Remember that?”
“Scorn didn’t even have to do anything. Human idiocy by itself was enough to slaughter the city.” Diana sighed. “Maybe Claudia was right.”
Galahad disagreed. “This was not base human instinct. There has been talk of rebels in Estamir for a long time, almost since the day Kjarat moved in. That they should strike now, when everyone’s guard was down, does not surprise me in the least.”
“It does me,” Myriam said.
Everyone turned and stared at her.
“What?” she continued. “Yes, I was with the resistance. Almost every true Estamirian, except Wuhan’s whipped curs, was. Even his wife was one of us…the idiot actually married one of our people, thinking it would bring us meekly to heel. Except that the sick bastard was also buying up every slave girl he could get his hands on, locking them in the Temple, and disporting himself on them every chance he got!” She was quivering with rage.
“So of course we wanted the bastard dead. But Neidhart and Theodore?” She shook her head. “No, we had no quarrel with Rosalia or the Knights. Sure, we hated their guts for not coming to our aid when Kjarat moved in, but not enough to do something like this.”
“So, what do you think happened?” Gray asked.
“My best guess? Someone got overenthusiastic, or else this was another one of Strife’s little surprises. And there’s really only one way to find out which.”
As it turned out, there wasn’t really any point to going into the city. Estamir, once the mightiest trade city in the South, was gone. Sure, some people might still be living in the ruins, but the fires had burned too long, leaving nothing but ash in too many places. The docks on the north bank seemed to be at least partly intact, so there was some hope that the city itself would recover, but this side of the city would probably be written off for a long time to come.
“So, what do we do now?” It was the first time Myriam had spoken since they’d ridden into South Estamir the day before. They’d spent the night on the same hillock from which they’d first seen the wreckage of the city - nobody wanted to sleep in town, even if there was some place they could have done so. “I mean, it’s going to be just as bad across the river, and anywhere else we go around here.”
“What about the Knights?” Galahad asked. “That Kjari said that they had gotten themselves out. Maybe we should go to see them, find out what they can tell us.”
“Hey, that is a good idea,” Diana agreed. “I’d like to see Raphael and Constance again, too.”
“If they’re still alive,” Myriam whispered, almost to herself.
II - Drakemoon Fifteenth, 3856 Avalonian
Again that same figure haunts my dreams, this time silently. I perceive that he possesses not humanity in any measure, but I cannot guess at his true origin. He seems to be watching me for something, I know not what. That he has appeared three times in eleven evenings portends that this is more than mere happenstance caused by an overworked mind.
Father has ordered clans Aunas, Byunni, Arakes, and Forneus to hearken to the North, along with the militia. Many of the monsters fled from the great battle on Drakemoon Second nest in those hills.
III - DINNER WITH THE KNIGHTS
“Gray! Myriam! Diana and Galahad! It is good to see you all!” The young man, not more than 23, rushed down from the throne to greet the party as they were shown in. “Where is Claudia? Don’t tell me she…”
Galahad clapped him on the shoulder. “And you too, Raphael. Don’t worry, Claudia’s doing fine. She’s gone home to the Mazewood.”
“Oh.” Raphael was obviously disappointed. “That’s too bad, I think Constance was looking forward to seeing her again.”
“We’ll let her know. How are the two of you?”
“We’re doing wonderfully. The wedding’s next month - won’t you stay for it?”
“We’ll see, boy, we’ll see.” The way Galahad called him “boy” never bothered Raphael. After all, here was a man dedicated to the very ideal on which Eugen had founded the Dominion.
“And you must tell us what happened at the Isthmus. I mean, I know that you won and all, but we don’t know what happened. And…” He trailed off into silence.
“And?” Gray asked.
“And we could really use some good news, something to bring the people’s spirits up. Have you heard what happened in Estamir?”
“We just came from there. What a nightmare.” Myriam, justifiably bitter, said. “I’m sorry, I know that you lost Lord Theodore, and many others, but it was my city.”
“I know, and the news from elsewhere isn’t good, either,” Raphael said. “Lord Heinrich, Lady Flammar, and her sister are in the castle trying to hammer out some sort of strategy for keeping what’s left of things intact, but it’s hard.”
“What has happened with Rosalia?” Diana asked. She might not want to return home, but one’s country is one’s country.
“Why don’t we take care of all these details over dinner? They’ll be able to fill you in.” Raphael suggested, leading them to the door of the Great Hall. “I’m sure they’ll want to hear about Saruin as well.”
As the servants cleared away the dessert dishes, Diana was finishing up her retelling of their battle with Saruin.
“…and that’s about all there is to it. The shrine vanished, we blacked out and found ourselves back aboveground when we came to.”
“You’re certain that he died?” Lady Flammar stared at them intently. “He didn’t hide himself?”
“I can’t say for sure, my Lady.”
“He did,” Myriam said quietly. “Die that is. I felt…I felt him go.”
“And you said that the darkness he had gathered over Estamir vanished at about the same time, right Raphael?” Lord Heinrich asked.
“As far as I can tell, yes,” the earnest young man said.
Freilei leaned back. “Then it’s certain. Saruin is no more.”
“That’s wonderful! We must do something in honor of this!” Raphael exclaimed. “If Saruin is indeed gone, then the monsters will return to normal, and-“
“No.” Gray said. It was the first time he had spoken during the meal, except to ask the steward for drinks. “No, Raphael.”
“But why not?”
The four of them looked at each other. “Because…because he was a God,” Gray finally said. “I’ve seen a lot of battles, Raphael. Done some pretty horrible things, and not for the best of reasons. But this? No. And there are other reasons, besides guilt.”
“You wish not to be embroiled in this chaos?” Flammar asked him.
“Exactly.”
“The story will out,” Galahad added, “and there is nothing we can do to prevent that. But if we take a hand in these wars, then we are little better than Saruin, enforcing our will on the world. And that is exactly what will happen.”
“I can just hear the speeches now,” Diana said, sarcasm tainting her voice. “’Our great protectors, the ones who defeated Saruin, will support our cause!’ Faugh, it’s enough to make me spit.”
“You are right,” Flammar said, “but by not taking a hand, are you then any different from Elore?”
“There is that, but also something else. These Stones aren’t feeling quite right,” Myriam said. She pulled off the bracelet she wore around her wrist and slid it across the table to Flammar. It was made of silver and a single blue-white gem was set into it. The gemstone shimmered as Flammar picked it up. She concentrated for a moment, murmuring under her breath.
She gasped. “I see why all of this happened. This is one of the Fatestones, the Moonstone. Except that the Fatestones are supposed to negate their opposing magick…and this one is barely doing that.”
“It was still good enough to protect me.” Myriam shuddered as she remembered the battle with Saruin. She’d fallen early on, and he’d felt his hands try to reach inside her, trying to puppet her soul, but the Fatestone had repelled his magicks, at least for long enough for someone else to get her back on her feet.
“It would be. But I don’t know how much longer that will last. The stone is brimming over with Mist.”
“What do you mean?” Galahad asked. He was the least adept at magick, so it was only natural that he would want to know.
“Hand me that glass,” Flammar said, gesturing at Galahad’s wineglass. “I think a demonstration is in order.”
Setting Galahad’s glass down, she poured what was left of her glass into Galahad’s, slowly. “Here we have the Fatestone. When it is exposed to its opposite class of spell, it absorbs it, adding it to the total that was already absorbed.” She poured just a bit more in to demonstrate. “That is why the opposite spell school doesn’t affect you while you wear it - it is being soaked up by the stone. Similarly, the Fatestones have been absorbing part of Saruin’s energy for the past thousand years, keeping him imprisoned.”
She poured a bit more in, filling the glass to the brim. “Now, what happens if you add wine to a full glass?”
“It spills over?” Gray asked.
“Almost,” she corrected, adding the tiniest of dribbles. The glass brimmed. “It can handle a bit more than it should. But if we add it too quickly...,” she quickened the flow, and the glass spilt over. “That is what allowed Saruin to begin to break free of his prison. The Fatestones could not absorb any more of his energy.”
“I see,” Galahad said.
“It was something I should have suspected, but nobody knew exactly how Mirsa used the Stones,” Freilei said.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Heinrich coughed. “Any of us could have made the same mistake.”
“Still...”
“Enough!” Raphael ordered. “Continue, Lady Flammar.”
She nodded. “Now, what happens if we suddenly add too much magick at once?”
"Then you do get a spill. A big one."
“Exactly." She poured more in to make her point, splashing wine onto the tablecloth. "And if we somehow concentrated even more energy…” She tipped the glass over.
The room was deadly quiet. Spilt wine, such as that being soaked into the linens, was one thing. A “spilt” Fatestone was another thing entirely.
Myriam nodded. “How bad would it be if one were released?”
“You or I could probably level a city with it. Galahad or Gray would at least take out a decent-sized town. That does not even consider the aftereffects of that much Mist being unleashed in one place. It would poison the land and anything around.”
Everyone looked sick.
“Of course, anyone who released a Stone would die. That goes without saying. However, I do not believe they could be released more than once in any reasonable length of time. Trying to concentrate that much energy at once is impossible.”
“At least right now,” Diana said.
“What do you mean?” Heinrich asked.
She looked around. “I have to swear all of you to secrecy on this.”
The others all nodded.
“The Crystal Cartel has started experimenting with machines powered by magickal energy, instead of the simple steam and hydraulic engines we have now. Supposedly, they’re getting the designs from across the Kelp Sea.”
“That’s a problem, because I was going to suggest taking them there,” Gray said.
“Why?” Freilei asked. “You could keep them to yourselves down here, disappearing like your friend did.”
“Because nobody has ever heard of the Fatestones, or Saruin, up there.”
“How do you know?” Raphael asked.
“I’m from Rabanastre.” Shocked silence answered him. “I lived in Ivalice for fifteen years, and never heard the story of Saruin or the Fatestones until I came down here. And what nobody knows about…”
“Nobody can try to take or use,” Heinrich finished.
“It is a dilemma,” Freilei said. “If we keep the Stones down here, we face the problem of people trying to use them, and you. If you take them to the North, they would be safe from use now, but someone might stick them in one of these devices sometime in the future, and that would be far worse.”
“If these devices are coming down here, does it really matter?” Gray asked.
“It won’t for a while,” Diana said. “If Rosalia is as hurt as you say it is, there won’t be many machines being imported.”
“What would happen if someone combined the Stones and triggered them?” Raphael asked, idly.
Flammar, Freilei, and Myriam stared at each other, and all the color drained from their faces.
“I take it from your silence that it would be disasterous.”
They nodded in unison, unable to speak.
“I think that solves the problem. Between you four and Claudia, you have, what, four of the stones? If you take them to the North, and we try our best to keep the others separated down here, it should prevent them from being combined.”
III - Wyrmmoon First, 3856 Avalonian
Again the apparition haunts my sleep. Again he is silent, and again he watches. I wish to know more of he who would intrude upon my private thoughts this way.
We hear tell that Rabanastre, Archades, Landis, Nabudis, and other city-states suffered attacks within a few days prior to the battle of Drakemoon Fourth. Not all cities have survived. Father has promised aid and comfort to all nearby cities in their efforts to rebuild.
This will, of course, bind them tighter to us.
The hunt for the monsters in the North Hills continues. Aught of luck thus far.
IV - The Mazewood
A nudge startled Claudia out of her sleep.
She did not, however, fall out of the tree.
“Claudia? What are you doing all the way out here?” a voice below her asked.
“Gray?” she replied, recognizing him. She looked over the branch-shelf she had been using as a bed and saw the others standing beneath her on horseback. “I could ask you the same thing. Weren’t you heading to Weston?”
“We ran into some difficulties on the way, so we decided to come back,” he told her.
“That part about difficulties is about right,” she replied, swinging down to the ground from her perch. “Eres and Cyril have closed the Mazewood. Not even I can get in right now. I just want to go home, and they won’t let me.” She was clearly upset.
“Actually….that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Gray said seriously. “We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“Leaving the continent. I’m going back to Rabanastre, and we’re taking the Fatestones we have with us.”
“Are you-“
“We don’t have a choice. These things,” Myriam said, gesturing with her wrist, “are too dangerous to have roaming free. And since Flammar and Freilei can’t take care of them…”
“…it’s up to you.”
“And you.” A new voice spoke. The five of them looked in the direction of the wood as a large grey wolf padded over to them
“Sylvan!” Claudia cried. “Oh, Sylvan!” She hugged her close, burying her face in the soft fur of the wolf’s neck.
“Claudia, look at me,” the wolf said. She complied, staring into the wolf-god’s black eyes. “You know who I am, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re actually Eres, but I always knew you as Sylvan.”
Diana raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. The others merely waited. She’d not been with them when this particular bit of information had come their way.
“You remembered. That is good. You also know that for a hundred or more years, Cyril and I have left the task of guarding the Mazewood to Eule.”
Claudia nodded.
“You cannot take her place.”
Claudia was crushed. “Why not?” she demanded.
“Because you would not be happy here, and there is no need. We are sealing the wood, until the turmoil has died down. No one will enter, and no one will be able to leave.”
“Yes I would be! All I have wanted since this whole thing started was to return home and take Eule’s place. I want peace, and freedom, and to just live as I once was! I’m tired of wars and greed and the outside world, and I don’t want any part of it!”
“Child, look inside yourself. Is that really what you want, or are you just repeating what you think you want?”
“It’s what I want,” she said, petulant and unconvincing.
Sylvan thumped her tail against the ground. “Completely alone. Nobody will enter. Nobody. Anyone who does enter must leave or die. We could let you in and keep you here, alive and hale, but that would be the price. No exceptions for anyone.”
Gray put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t push him away. “Claudia…” he said.
“What? You too?”
“No,” he said. “Listen to what she’s saying. If you go in there, you’ll never leave. Ever. You’ll never see us again, and we’ll never be able to visit you. I know you want to be alone, but do you want to be that alone? Do you want to spend the rest of your life here? If you do this, that’s it. There will be no turning back.” He looked at Eres/Sylvan. “How long do you expect that the wood will remain sealed?”
Sylvan looked back at him. Gray wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a trace of surprise in her eyes at being addressed directly. “I cannot see, but I would say at least twenty years, more likely a century. The future is in too much turmoil right now. The removal of Saruin has made it so that other forces can take a hand in the future of the world. His Minions still roam free, if mortal and stripped of their power. In the north, ones stronger than we are stirring, seeking to twist men and history back to their ends, and they focus upon one man in particular. Here in the south, everything is in chaos, and I cannot say how it will end.”
Gray nodded. “A hundred years, Claudia,” he said sadly.
“I know,” she whispered, eyes closed tight.
Four humans and a wolf stared at her.
“I’ll come with you.”
IV - Wyrmmoon Ninth, 3856 Avalonian
I awoke just as it seemed the apparition would deign to speak to me. Not an intake of breath, but he yet seemed to wish to say something. I was too weak to perceive.
On Third Wyrmmoon, Father ordered tariffs between Galtea and those cities that stood by us at Drakemoon Fourth be eliminated. Outland merchants have protested almost daily in our halls, but he heeds not.
FANDOM: Final Fantasy XII (backstory), Romancing SaGa (postgame)
CHARACTERS:
* FFXII: Raithwall Iskandar ("King Raithwall," "The Dynast-King")
* RS:MS: Claudia, Gray, Myriam ("Miriam"), Diana, Barbara, Galahad
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: First four scenes of the storyline, bridging the gap from Romancing SaGa to Ivalice. Intermingled with entries from Raithwall's diary.
Scene 1: The group decides to split up and disappear.
Scene 2: The destruction of Estamir and the weakening of the other nations forces them to change that plan.
Scene 3: An explanation of the mechanics of Nethicite and Fatestones (i.e. what exactly did happen when Ghis stuffed the Dawn Shard into that engine?), and the group decides to go North.
Scene 4: Claudia's decision.
SPOILERS: Character plotline spoilers for RS:MS, Some FFXII spoilers (these will get worse as time goes on)
This project is historical fanfiction in the Final Fantasy XII timeline, as well as crossover from Romancing SaGa: Minstrel's Song. It was inspired by the similarities between two place names: Rozarria, and Rosalia. Indeed, they are pronounced almost exactly the same, and there are geographical similarities. The role of women in Rosalia matches relatively closely with that of women in Rozarria, although the parallels are not exact (Neidhart is either polygamus or a pimp. Rudolph and Albert are neither. Diana and Aisha are both treated as so much chattal insofar as their personal lives are concerned, whatever they may do outside of home and hearth). Let us also not forget the startling similarity in national attitudes (both nations believe strongly in manifest destiny, militarism, and fishing in troubled waters), and there are _some_ geographical similarities, enough to make the connections.
At first I was of the belief that the two games were close in time, with RS:MS falling perhaps 50 years before FFXII. However, the oil rigs in the Yensa Sandsea, as well as the Fatestones of Romancing SaGa (Deifacted Nethicite), demand that the gap be much larger.
As a result, I set out to write a crossover fic between the two games, with an eye towards developing the Dynast-King as an actual character, and I am using characters from Romancing SaGa to take this look, as well as to flesh out the connection between the two games.
The Fatestones of RS:MS are Nethicite, although instead of absorbing all magick, they absorb specific types of magick. They were used to imprison Saruin.
Note: Dates are based on the Romancing SaGa timeline, from the founding of Romancing SaGa 2's Avalon. (The order of the SaGa timeline, as far as I can tell, is Romancing SaGa 3, Romancing SaGa 2, Romancing SaGa 1/Romancing SaGa: Minstrel's Song, Unlimited: SaGa, SaGa Frontier 2, SaGa Frontier 1.)
I - Where to Go?
“What do we do now?”
Diana gave voice to the question on everyone’s mind. They had stayed there on the cliffside for an hour or more after the sun had finally peeked out from behind the Khalams, staring at the destruction that had been wrought. Although they knew their victory had been necessary, and that their escape had been a great deal luckier than they had any right to be, there was still an immense weight upon their spirits.
One does not lightly kill a God after all. Not even one as twisted and corrupt as Saruin had been. Small wonder that Mirsa had only imprisoned him a thousand years previously!
God-killer? I can live with that. Gray’s braggiciado ripped through his mind, mocking. God-killer he certainly was, but the title was one he would take no pride in. This wasn’t the fault of the Demonbrand, for that devil was dead. He and the others had chosen to do this, and they would live with it. Which brought him back to Diana’s question.
“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing his chin in old habit. It was an unusual admission, and under other circumstances, Myriam, Galahad, and probably Claudia would have been staring at him in shock. Imagine, the lethally competent Gray not knowing what to do. Preposterous! Instead, the three of them just nodded.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Myriam asked, pulling off that pointed hat of hers. She set it on her lap, bending the point this way and that. “I want to go back, to make sure my city is still standing, but I don’t want to be recognized. Not for this.” She waved her hand at the ruins, and a general murmur of agreement sounded from the party.
“We could always go back to Jelton, you know,” Galahad said. He seemed to have aged another ten years during the fight, for his mane, merely speckled with grey before, was now shot through with streaks of white. “Scavenging for treasure would be a relief after all this.”
“Thanks, no,” Gray said. “One cursed blade is enough for me…and do we really want to be anywhere near Death after killing his brother? He seemed a decent enough fellow, but I’ve had enough of Gods, light or dark, for my lifetime.”
“Mmmmm, true,” Galahad rumbled. “What of you, Claudia? Will you not return to Melvir and assume your throne? Your father and your country have need of you, more than the rest of us are needed by ours. I would certainly accompany you, if you wished.”
Four sets of eyes turned to regard the green-and-gold-clad brunette. It had come as a shock to all of them that she was, in fact, the daughter of the Bafal Emperor, lost since the day she was born. To her, it was an unwelcome surprise, and she hadn’t taken it well. Gray paused for a moment to consider why that was.
She’d been raised by the Witch of the Mazewood, Eule, and kept away from all other human contact. After Gian had foisted Gray off onto her as a bodyguard, she’d (mercifully) grown comfortable with him and the others, but she was still high-strung and flighty when in crowds. Worse, she still seemed to be incapable of putting herself forward for anything selfish, however much her instincts and training drove her to help others.
Around men (other than himself and Galahad), she was even worse than she was in crowds. She wasn’t comfortable around them, especially the ones who found her attractive - which, to her chagrin, nearly every man they met did. As soon as Gray saw her stare at the ground and heard the hesitation, he knew what her answer would be. And the reason. Not that he blamed her - Gian was a bastard, and she’d never survive being tied down to him, or the Empire.
“No. I never asked for any of this - the royal line, the Fatestones, Saruin. I just want to live my life the way I always have - in freedom and obscurity. I just want to go home.”
“What?!” Myriam exploded. “You could be the Empress! Think about it, it’s like a dream come true!”
“Your dream, maybe,” she said, brushing back that errant lock of hair that always seemed to drop into her eyes. “Not mine. I grew up in the Mazewood, and I thought I’d always stay there. Eule sent me out to see the world, and now that I have, I find that I don’t particularly like it. Lust, greed, and hate are everywhere, and that is all I would see if I went to Melvir, Empress-Heir or not. So I’m going back to the Mazewood, to make sure she remains safe when everything starts to fall apart. Which it will, mark my words.”
The bitterness in her voice was plain, and the others nodded their agreement. “You are all, of course, welcome to come with me, if you like.”
There was silence for a moment. “No,” Gray said. “I think it may be best if I just wander for a bit before deciding what to do. I’m still not ready to settle down.” It surprised him that he was unhappy with the prospect.
“I will come with you,” Galahad said.
“This should be fun,” Myriam added.
They stared at Diana.
“Well of course I’m coming with you. You think I want to go anywhere near Crystal City?” Everyone laughed. She’d been colorfully vocal about the fact that she didn’t want to marry Neidhart.
Claudia brought herself to her feet, pulled her cap over her hair, and picked up her bow and sword. “I am going to take ship from Yeoville to Bruelle. After that I’ll head for home.” She looked at them fondly. “I will miss you all, and you are always welcome to visit the Wood, even if she is closed to everyone else.”
“Well don’t go disappearing quite yet,” Gray said, strapping on the Demonbrand. “We’ll come with you at least as far as Yeoville.”
She smiled.
Drakemoon Fourth, 3856 Avalonian
An odd dream last night, I know not what it portends. In it, an ashen face, with aught but eyes of glowing red faced me. I could see little else, for he - it filled my vision. When he spoke, I could not understand.
Elsewhere, it seems that we have won at least some small victory over the monsters. Father’s general reports that, for the very first time, they broke and ran. For once, the walls were not breached.
I only hope that our work with the Clans will prove effective in keeping them away.
II - Change in Plans
Gray wiped the Demonbrand’s blade on the cloak of the dead Kjari and waved his free hand in front of his face to ward off the charnel stench. The patrol had come over the hill loaded for bear, and Myriam had wasted no time in torching three of them. A tremor to knock them off their horses, and blade and staffwork had done the rest.
“I think this one’s still alive,” Myriam said, using her toe to nudge the one she’d clobbered with her staff. The unconscious soldier groaned.
“Let’s see if we can get some answers out of him, shall we?” Diana said. “There’s no reason they should be out here, and I’d like to know what we’re getting into.”
“You got it.” Myriam waved her staff, and the soldier snapped awake. He started as he saw her standing over him. “Look,” Myriam said, holding the end of the staff against his throat, “I don’t care who you are, but you’re going to answer some questions for me. If you piss me off, I’ll just kill you, Kjari, but if you behave, I think we can let you go. Clear?”
The soldier nodded, all grogginess blown away.
“Good. What were you doing out here?”
“Trying to get away from the city,” he said. “We saw you and thought you were with them.”
“With who?”
“The Estamirian Rebels, of course.”
The staff twitched. “What rebels?”
“How can you not know? The damn Estamirians swarmed out of the sewers and temples during the victory parade last week. It was almost as if they’d been waiting for this moment to throw us out of the city. Neidhart, Theodore, and Wuhan were all dead before anyone knew what was going on. It was a bloodbath!”
Diana’s face turned white, and Galahad looked little better.
“What the hell were Rosalia and the Knights doing in my city anyway?”
“Have you been living under a rock this past month, woman?”
She pressed the staff into his throat. “We’ve been…occupied. So be nice and tell me what they were doing there.”
He gulped, and in a rush, spelt out the events surrounding the attack on Estamir. How the monsters had marched down the New Road in numbers never before seen. How the Knights had first come to their aid, while Rosalia hesitated and dithered. How just as the walls were breached, the Rosalian Army had appeared on the horizon with Neidhart at its head. How the monsters had been destroyed almost to a man.
How, during the victory parade, men in the garb of Rosalians and Kjari and Knights had attacked the column, killing all three leaders.
“And you thought we were with these rebels? Two Rosalians, an Estamirian, and…Gray, where did you say you were from again?”
Gray looked up from where he was looting the bodies. “That’s still not going to work.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned back to the soldier and lifted the point of her staff away from his neck. “Obviously, we’re not with your rebels. We’re just travelers passing through. Go back to your bloody clan and make sure they know to leave us the hell alone. If I ever see you or anyone from your clan again, I promise you won’t live long enough to regret it. Now git!”
The soldier leapt to his feet and fled. Myriam spat at the ground. “Kjari! Scum every one of them!”
“I’m sure they think the same of you,” Gray said from behind her.
“No doubt. But I think we’ve got a bigger problem right now.”
****************************************
A day or so later, they stood atop a hill adjacent the New Road, looking down at the smoking and burning ruin that had replaced South Estamir. The bazaar appeared to be gutted, and the Temple of Yucomb had half-collapsed. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to ash, and parts of the city were still burning. The walls still stood, yes, but the breaches the monsters had created, stained a dark red, stood testament to the fierceness of the battle. Human rioters had done the rest. A column of smoke rose from the other side of the Bograsul Straits, indicating that the destruction had not been confined to just the one side.
“’Rivers of human blood shall herald the return of Saruin,’” Gray said. “Remember that?”
“Scorn didn’t even have to do anything. Human idiocy by itself was enough to slaughter the city.” Diana sighed. “Maybe Claudia was right.”
Galahad disagreed. “This was not base human instinct. There has been talk of rebels in Estamir for a long time, almost since the day Kjarat moved in. That they should strike now, when everyone’s guard was down, does not surprise me in the least.”
“It does me,” Myriam said.
Everyone turned and stared at her.
“What?” she continued. “Yes, I was with the resistance. Almost every true Estamirian, except Wuhan’s whipped curs, was. Even his wife was one of us…the idiot actually married one of our people, thinking it would bring us meekly to heel. Except that the sick bastard was also buying up every slave girl he could get his hands on, locking them in the Temple, and disporting himself on them every chance he got!” She was quivering with rage.
“So of course we wanted the bastard dead. But Neidhart and Theodore?” She shook her head. “No, we had no quarrel with Rosalia or the Knights. Sure, we hated their guts for not coming to our aid when Kjarat moved in, but not enough to do something like this.”
“So, what do you think happened?” Gray asked.
“My best guess? Someone got overenthusiastic, or else this was another one of Strife’s little surprises. And there’s really only one way to find out which.”
As it turned out, there wasn’t really any point to going into the city. Estamir, once the mightiest trade city in the South, was gone. Sure, some people might still be living in the ruins, but the fires had burned too long, leaving nothing but ash in too many places. The docks on the north bank seemed to be at least partly intact, so there was some hope that the city itself would recover, but this side of the city would probably be written off for a long time to come.
“So, what do we do now?” It was the first time Myriam had spoken since they’d ridden into South Estamir the day before. They’d spent the night on the same hillock from which they’d first seen the wreckage of the city - nobody wanted to sleep in town, even if there was some place they could have done so. “I mean, it’s going to be just as bad across the river, and anywhere else we go around here.”
“What about the Knights?” Galahad asked. “That Kjari said that they had gotten themselves out. Maybe we should go to see them, find out what they can tell us.”
“Hey, that is a good idea,” Diana agreed. “I’d like to see Raphael and Constance again, too.”
“If they’re still alive,” Myriam whispered, almost to herself.
II - Drakemoon Fifteenth, 3856 Avalonian
Again that same figure haunts my dreams, this time silently. I perceive that he possesses not humanity in any measure, but I cannot guess at his true origin. He seems to be watching me for something, I know not what. That he has appeared three times in eleven evenings portends that this is more than mere happenstance caused by an overworked mind.
Father has ordered clans Aunas, Byunni, Arakes, and Forneus to hearken to the North, along with the militia. Many of the monsters fled from the great battle on Drakemoon Second nest in those hills.
III - DINNER WITH THE KNIGHTS
“Gray! Myriam! Diana and Galahad! It is good to see you all!” The young man, not more than 23, rushed down from the throne to greet the party as they were shown in. “Where is Claudia? Don’t tell me she…”
Galahad clapped him on the shoulder. “And you too, Raphael. Don’t worry, Claudia’s doing fine. She’s gone home to the Mazewood.”
“Oh.” Raphael was obviously disappointed. “That’s too bad, I think Constance was looking forward to seeing her again.”
“We’ll let her know. How are the two of you?”
“We’re doing wonderfully. The wedding’s next month - won’t you stay for it?”
“We’ll see, boy, we’ll see.” The way Galahad called him “boy” never bothered Raphael. After all, here was a man dedicated to the very ideal on which Eugen had founded the Dominion.
“And you must tell us what happened at the Isthmus. I mean, I know that you won and all, but we don’t know what happened. And…” He trailed off into silence.
“And?” Gray asked.
“And we could really use some good news, something to bring the people’s spirits up. Have you heard what happened in Estamir?”
“We just came from there. What a nightmare.” Myriam, justifiably bitter, said. “I’m sorry, I know that you lost Lord Theodore, and many others, but it was my city.”
“I know, and the news from elsewhere isn’t good, either,” Raphael said. “Lord Heinrich, Lady Flammar, and her sister are in the castle trying to hammer out some sort of strategy for keeping what’s left of things intact, but it’s hard.”
“What has happened with Rosalia?” Diana asked. She might not want to return home, but one’s country is one’s country.
“Why don’t we take care of all these details over dinner? They’ll be able to fill you in.” Raphael suggested, leading them to the door of the Great Hall. “I’m sure they’ll want to hear about Saruin as well.”
As the servants cleared away the dessert dishes, Diana was finishing up her retelling of their battle with Saruin.
“…and that’s about all there is to it. The shrine vanished, we blacked out and found ourselves back aboveground when we came to.”
“You’re certain that he died?” Lady Flammar stared at them intently. “He didn’t hide himself?”
“I can’t say for sure, my Lady.”
“He did,” Myriam said quietly. “Die that is. I felt…I felt him go.”
“And you said that the darkness he had gathered over Estamir vanished at about the same time, right Raphael?” Lord Heinrich asked.
“As far as I can tell, yes,” the earnest young man said.
Freilei leaned back. “Then it’s certain. Saruin is no more.”
“That’s wonderful! We must do something in honor of this!” Raphael exclaimed. “If Saruin is indeed gone, then the monsters will return to normal, and-“
“No.” Gray said. It was the first time he had spoken during the meal, except to ask the steward for drinks. “No, Raphael.”
“But why not?”
The four of them looked at each other. “Because…because he was a God,” Gray finally said. “I’ve seen a lot of battles, Raphael. Done some pretty horrible things, and not for the best of reasons. But this? No. And there are other reasons, besides guilt.”
“You wish not to be embroiled in this chaos?” Flammar asked him.
“Exactly.”
“The story will out,” Galahad added, “and there is nothing we can do to prevent that. But if we take a hand in these wars, then we are little better than Saruin, enforcing our will on the world. And that is exactly what will happen.”
“I can just hear the speeches now,” Diana said, sarcasm tainting her voice. “’Our great protectors, the ones who defeated Saruin, will support our cause!’ Faugh, it’s enough to make me spit.”
“You are right,” Flammar said, “but by not taking a hand, are you then any different from Elore?”
“There is that, but also something else. These Stones aren’t feeling quite right,” Myriam said. She pulled off the bracelet she wore around her wrist and slid it across the table to Flammar. It was made of silver and a single blue-white gem was set into it. The gemstone shimmered as Flammar picked it up. She concentrated for a moment, murmuring under her breath.
She gasped. “I see why all of this happened. This is one of the Fatestones, the Moonstone. Except that the Fatestones are supposed to negate their opposing magick…and this one is barely doing that.”
“It was still good enough to protect me.” Myriam shuddered as she remembered the battle with Saruin. She’d fallen early on, and he’d felt his hands try to reach inside her, trying to puppet her soul, but the Fatestone had repelled his magicks, at least for long enough for someone else to get her back on her feet.
“It would be. But I don’t know how much longer that will last. The stone is brimming over with Mist.”
“What do you mean?” Galahad asked. He was the least adept at magick, so it was only natural that he would want to know.
“Hand me that glass,” Flammar said, gesturing at Galahad’s wineglass. “I think a demonstration is in order.”
Setting Galahad’s glass down, she poured what was left of her glass into Galahad’s, slowly. “Here we have the Fatestone. When it is exposed to its opposite class of spell, it absorbs it, adding it to the total that was already absorbed.” She poured just a bit more in to demonstrate. “That is why the opposite spell school doesn’t affect you while you wear it - it is being soaked up by the stone. Similarly, the Fatestones have been absorbing part of Saruin’s energy for the past thousand years, keeping him imprisoned.”
She poured a bit more in, filling the glass to the brim. “Now, what happens if you add wine to a full glass?”
“It spills over?” Gray asked.
“Almost,” she corrected, adding the tiniest of dribbles. The glass brimmed. “It can handle a bit more than it should. But if we add it too quickly...,” she quickened the flow, and the glass spilt over. “That is what allowed Saruin to begin to break free of his prison. The Fatestones could not absorb any more of his energy.”
“I see,” Galahad said.
“It was something I should have suspected, but nobody knew exactly how Mirsa used the Stones,” Freilei said.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Heinrich coughed. “Any of us could have made the same mistake.”
“Still...”
“Enough!” Raphael ordered. “Continue, Lady Flammar.”
She nodded. “Now, what happens if we suddenly add too much magick at once?”
"Then you do get a spill. A big one."
“Exactly." She poured more in to make her point, splashing wine onto the tablecloth. "And if we somehow concentrated even more energy…” She tipped the glass over.
The room was deadly quiet. Spilt wine, such as that being soaked into the linens, was one thing. A “spilt” Fatestone was another thing entirely.
Myriam nodded. “How bad would it be if one were released?”
“You or I could probably level a city with it. Galahad or Gray would at least take out a decent-sized town. That does not even consider the aftereffects of that much Mist being unleashed in one place. It would poison the land and anything around.”
Everyone looked sick.
“Of course, anyone who released a Stone would die. That goes without saying. However, I do not believe they could be released more than once in any reasonable length of time. Trying to concentrate that much energy at once is impossible.”
“At least right now,” Diana said.
“What do you mean?” Heinrich asked.
She looked around. “I have to swear all of you to secrecy on this.”
The others all nodded.
“The Crystal Cartel has started experimenting with machines powered by magickal energy, instead of the simple steam and hydraulic engines we have now. Supposedly, they’re getting the designs from across the Kelp Sea.”
“That’s a problem, because I was going to suggest taking them there,” Gray said.
“Why?” Freilei asked. “You could keep them to yourselves down here, disappearing like your friend did.”
“Because nobody has ever heard of the Fatestones, or Saruin, up there.”
“How do you know?” Raphael asked.
“I’m from Rabanastre.” Shocked silence answered him. “I lived in Ivalice for fifteen years, and never heard the story of Saruin or the Fatestones until I came down here. And what nobody knows about…”
“Nobody can try to take or use,” Heinrich finished.
“It is a dilemma,” Freilei said. “If we keep the Stones down here, we face the problem of people trying to use them, and you. If you take them to the North, they would be safe from use now, but someone might stick them in one of these devices sometime in the future, and that would be far worse.”
“If these devices are coming down here, does it really matter?” Gray asked.
“It won’t for a while,” Diana said. “If Rosalia is as hurt as you say it is, there won’t be many machines being imported.”
“What would happen if someone combined the Stones and triggered them?” Raphael asked, idly.
Flammar, Freilei, and Myriam stared at each other, and all the color drained from their faces.
“I take it from your silence that it would be disasterous.”
They nodded in unison, unable to speak.
“I think that solves the problem. Between you four and Claudia, you have, what, four of the stones? If you take them to the North, and we try our best to keep the others separated down here, it should prevent them from being combined.”
III - Wyrmmoon First, 3856 Avalonian
Again the apparition haunts my sleep. Again he is silent, and again he watches. I wish to know more of he who would intrude upon my private thoughts this way.
We hear tell that Rabanastre, Archades, Landis, Nabudis, and other city-states suffered attacks within a few days prior to the battle of Drakemoon Fourth. Not all cities have survived. Father has promised aid and comfort to all nearby cities in their efforts to rebuild.
This will, of course, bind them tighter to us.
The hunt for the monsters in the North Hills continues. Aught of luck thus far.
IV - The Mazewood
A nudge startled Claudia out of her sleep.
She did not, however, fall out of the tree.
“Claudia? What are you doing all the way out here?” a voice below her asked.
“Gray?” she replied, recognizing him. She looked over the branch-shelf she had been using as a bed and saw the others standing beneath her on horseback. “I could ask you the same thing. Weren’t you heading to Weston?”
“We ran into some difficulties on the way, so we decided to come back,” he told her.
“That part about difficulties is about right,” she replied, swinging down to the ground from her perch. “Eres and Cyril have closed the Mazewood. Not even I can get in right now. I just want to go home, and they won’t let me.” She was clearly upset.
“Actually….that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Gray said seriously. “We’re leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“Leaving the continent. I’m going back to Rabanastre, and we’re taking the Fatestones we have with us.”
“Are you-“
“We don’t have a choice. These things,” Myriam said, gesturing with her wrist, “are too dangerous to have roaming free. And since Flammar and Freilei can’t take care of them…”
“…it’s up to you.”
“And you.” A new voice spoke. The five of them looked in the direction of the wood as a large grey wolf padded over to them
“Sylvan!” Claudia cried. “Oh, Sylvan!” She hugged her close, burying her face in the soft fur of the wolf’s neck.
“Claudia, look at me,” the wolf said. She complied, staring into the wolf-god’s black eyes. “You know who I am, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re actually Eres, but I always knew you as Sylvan.”
Diana raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. The others merely waited. She’d not been with them when this particular bit of information had come their way.
“You remembered. That is good. You also know that for a hundred or more years, Cyril and I have left the task of guarding the Mazewood to Eule.”
Claudia nodded.
“You cannot take her place.”
Claudia was crushed. “Why not?” she demanded.
“Because you would not be happy here, and there is no need. We are sealing the wood, until the turmoil has died down. No one will enter, and no one will be able to leave.”
“Yes I would be! All I have wanted since this whole thing started was to return home and take Eule’s place. I want peace, and freedom, and to just live as I once was! I’m tired of wars and greed and the outside world, and I don’t want any part of it!”
“Child, look inside yourself. Is that really what you want, or are you just repeating what you think you want?”
“It’s what I want,” she said, petulant and unconvincing.
Sylvan thumped her tail against the ground. “Completely alone. Nobody will enter. Nobody. Anyone who does enter must leave or die. We could let you in and keep you here, alive and hale, but that would be the price. No exceptions for anyone.”
Gray put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t push him away. “Claudia…” he said.
“What? You too?”
“No,” he said. “Listen to what she’s saying. If you go in there, you’ll never leave. Ever. You’ll never see us again, and we’ll never be able to visit you. I know you want to be alone, but do you want to be that alone? Do you want to spend the rest of your life here? If you do this, that’s it. There will be no turning back.” He looked at Eres/Sylvan. “How long do you expect that the wood will remain sealed?”
Sylvan looked back at him. Gray wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a trace of surprise in her eyes at being addressed directly. “I cannot see, but I would say at least twenty years, more likely a century. The future is in too much turmoil right now. The removal of Saruin has made it so that other forces can take a hand in the future of the world. His Minions still roam free, if mortal and stripped of their power. In the north, ones stronger than we are stirring, seeking to twist men and history back to their ends, and they focus upon one man in particular. Here in the south, everything is in chaos, and I cannot say how it will end.”
Gray nodded. “A hundred years, Claudia,” he said sadly.
“I know,” she whispered, eyes closed tight.
Four humans and a wolf stared at her.
“I’ll come with you.”
IV - Wyrmmoon Ninth, 3856 Avalonian
I awoke just as it seemed the apparition would deign to speak to me. Not an intake of breath, but he yet seemed to wish to say something. I was too weak to perceive.
On Third Wyrmmoon, Father ordered tariffs between Galtea and those cities that stood by us at Drakemoon Fourth be eliminated. Outland merchants have protested almost daily in our halls, but he heeds not.