Chapter Text
The golden sunlight of the early morning hours spilled over shining metal, and the mechanical door of the descending dropship opened with a heavy whir, allowing it in.
General Verstael Besithia sneered. Had his pilot not been so careless, he wouldn't be a sitting duck for a potential assassination attempt. At least their location was so far into the old Empire that it wasn't a real concern.
Making a note of who to deal with later, he pulled on a pair of thin tinted glasses just as the door forced the light into eternally bloodshot blue eyes. Of course, he could have waited with his pilot until they had landed, but after all, the message he had received was addressed directly to the "Most Esteemed General", so a certain amount of presence was... expected. Not much could distract the him from his duties, that was well known, save for findings like these.
Just as the dropship touched ground, Besithia made his way to the edge of the door and stepped off, timing it perfectly, noting how much lighter his feet he seemed without his usual armor on. The occasion called for more discretion, due to its nature and purpose, so he sported a howie coat under his usual insignia. Dust already blew in from the outside, catching in blond hair riddled with flyaways but tucked back in an attempt to appear professional.
A fringe archeological site stretched out before him. The place was a mess, at least to his standards. More a set design for a movie or, even worse, a stage play. They had set up camp down in the bottom of the gorge and started tearing away the dark green vines that covered the craggy surface, not bothering to remove them from where they had fallen. Now they lay there, shriveling into dark veins between scaffolding and boxes. What had they been looking-- Yes. Of course. He could see the way the rock had been carved through the green stumps.
In his professional opinion this was desolate. It had to have been the most pitiful he had witnessed to date. Although very expansive, next to no one seemed to be present, much less aware of his arrival. There were so many locations just like this that the would-be-researcher had mostly given up on the last traces of ancient Magitek to exist in Gralea. And this one was a textbook example of human incompetence. He withheld another sneer.
He was not impressed.
From where he stood, the harsh shadow the sun created obscured any real detail Besithia could’ve gleanes from the motives they freed from the overgrowth. They were starting quite abruptly at a column hewn into the wall and illustrated a stretch that was at least as long as the scaffolds reached, and at least as high
He made his way down toward the gorge and it’s stone structure, stretching on before him like the back of a amphitheater.
Only a few workers were here, selected individuals. They had not been hired because they were trustworthy, but because they were disposable, and the arriving ship had been largely ignored by all of them but one, a tall man with wide shoulders and hair the color of fresh liver under a straw hat. He lifted an arm and waved towards the newcomer.
Smoothing over his growing irritation, Verstael straightened and motioned to the pair of soldiers still aboard the dropship to hold, before crossing over to greet the man.
"I assume you must be the... Mister Izunia who reached out about this find of 'great importance to the Empire'?" Verstael's tone was harsh, as he couldn't help but notice with every step closer how much taller this man was in contrast to his own height. He stopped a few paces away, eyeing the straw hat wearily. Was this a joke?
"That is little old me indeed. You honor me with your presence, mon général." He tipped his hat in a way that registered to the military man as honorific, but both terribly civilian and old-fashioned. Golden eyes and a golden voice from a tan face, a dusty white shirt with the sleeves rolled up under a vest. "Ardyn Izunia, at your service."
The man, as this whole undertaking, would have fitted better into a black and white photograph than into this reality. Ridiculous.
Trying to figure out the man before him proved a challenge. For all his facial structure and build seemed to suggest, his movements were far too graceful to be associated with manual labour, as noted in his flourish. The general tucked this useless knowledge away, before shifting his gaze away from the golden one meeting his own. Sizing up the surroundings, he noted a nearby encampment.
"Do realize, Mister Izunia, that I have visited many an archeological site on behalf of the Emperor." He removed his glasses pointedly, looking back at the strange man, "and it has fallen to me to find and reclaim whatever we can of ancient Solheim for the glory of our great Empire." He spoke a practiced speech, letting out the slightest breath of exasperation as he did so. "I do hope that you have brought me here to discuss how this... structure of yours, and yourself, can be of use.” He looked up at the man with relative doubt.
"Ah, so you wish to go straight in media res. Ever the military man, even though I've been told that the wise general studies the battleground before he leads his men. But who am I to doubt you, the one I have been waiting for?" A great big smile with very white teeth.
This took the General aback, although he wouldn't show it outside of the extra beat it took for him to respond. "Well, then, good sir, show me this 'battleground' of yours." He shrugged, stepping past Mr. Izunia toward the impressive pillar.
"Ah, I'm very much at home here, mon général. Not a battleground for me, but it might be for you, from what I gathered from your essay in Voluminum. I'd love to discuss your views on Solheimian mortality later, if you have the time."
They walked slowly, leaving Besithia enough time to take in the carvings. Long, abstract figures, barely human anymore, holding hands, carrying a thing that did not make sense, a child or an animal or something entirely else. Bits and pieces were missing, destroyed by time or violence, most often the faces and the cartouches that had contained names. Early period, definitely, and maybe, just maybe, this Mister Izunia had indeed found something interesting.
There were few things that could phase General Verstael Besthesida. He had lost dear friends in combat, lived the brutalities of war, and by no means led a sheltered life in his thirty years. However, what few knew, and even fewer validated, was of his passion for the secrets of the Old Empire. Of course, he had discussed it at length with the Emperor enough to be granted his current abilities, but it felt more of a ploy to keep him compliant and on the field.
Upon the mention of one of pieces he had published some years prior, he was thankful the warmth that rose to his cheeks was hidden as he studied the surroundings. It wouldn't do him well to fawn at the mention of his own work, after all. He did nothing but clear his throat, and pressed on to one of the more elaborate carvings they approached.
No, there wasn't a lot that could phase the man, but as he stepped up to the stone, he found himself stalling. There was an old Hymnal said to be written about the Inferian from ancient Solheim that had been lost to time, in a text too old to read. However, unless his eyes failed him - and they never did -, before him, although in faded detail, were depicted figures from before the War of the Astrals. Even more so, uncomfortably so, there seemed to be some sort of buzzing? Some strange vibration? At first her had mistaken it for machinery, but now Verstael realized that it was, in fact, emanating from the stone itself.
He all but forgot his companion, removing a glove and running his fingertips over the rock. It was cool to the touch. The heat of the sun seemed just seemed to get swallowed.
"An altar to Ifrit from before the War of Astrals... how did I miss this?" he mumbled. Only then Verstael remembered himself, snapping a look over to Izunia.
"Some monsters need to be remembered, so that man can learn from their failings. Others, mon général, are deemed so dangerous and unholy that they need to be buried and forgotten. Wiped from history like they never existed." Izunia's hand caressed the cold surface now, his fingers not far from his esteemed guest’s. "How lucky I am to have found someone who is not scared of those."
The way the others' velvet affectation swirled in the air and into his ears hypnotized Verstael like the swaying flute a snake, and he stared at the man's golden gaze. Strangely, a chill threatened to run down his spine as he noticed the proximity of their hands, and he withdrew his quickly. He forced himself to just breathe himself through his earlier sense of misplaced irritation and managed to soften slightly, turning to Izunia for the first time in earnest.
"So, you've read my work."
"I did, and I found your take on a misunderstood Astral rather refreshing. You seem to carry more--," he chuckled, "--sympathy for him in your heart than it is to be expected, and you were brave enough to put that opinion out into the arrows of the more conservative thinkers."
"The Infernian holds the key to the might of the Old Empire, and I have made it my life’s work to unlocking its secrets." Peacocking, Besithia puffed up, "I knew if I published that piece, it could be found by someone who appreciated it. I posit that if a latent energy unrelated to the Crystal can be harnessed, we can...." he stopped short. "Ah, I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps, Mr. Izunia, you can tell me how you came across such a find yourself?"
"Oh," long fingers danced over the smooth stone, "you'd never believe it. Care for a cup of tea? A drink, perhaps? We may only enter at sundown, and there is plenty of time to show you around until then." At the word 'sundown', the general quirked a brow but remained nonplussed, instead giving a quick nod. He had been given leave for a few days to investigate, but hadn't been expecting, well, anything.
---
This was how the young General found himself only a little while later seated in a tented off area, a good distance away from the mystical stones, staring into a cup of impeccably crafted tea. He tried not to eye the way his host's vest fell on broad shoulders, only vaguely jealous of the light clothes under the midday heat.
Izunia was walking around, gathering pictures he had taken, instant snaps of particularly interesting scenes or what he had considered as such.
"Scenes of worship, many of them. The figure of the little one seems central. Here, we have--," he squatted down besides the general and showed him one of a man cut open in the middle, ribcage and heart clearly visible, with two others holding the child-thing into the hollow of his stomach, so very reverent in their stylized positions. "May I ask what youmake of it before I continue?"
Blue eyes focused on the photos, nearly mystified, and before long the would-be-researcher came to take the snapshots and related illustrations from the other, blind to how close they were in that moment, only seeing the rent flesh. "You see, there are similar markings to those on the stone, painted -etched? Onto the skin of the sacrifice. He is a vessel for this..." the blond trailed off, face twisting in frustration, looking up finally to their proximity yet again. Blinking away, Verstael huffed, "that figure, I haven't seen elsewhere. When were these taken?"
"Two days ago, in what I dare to consider the way to the antechamber. Fascinating, isn't it? At first I thought of, well, artificial impregnation, if you will, but that may be a too simple way to read it. Not visceral enough..." A small little timbre in his voice revealed a certain excitement.
"The one that only opens at sundown, you say?" Besithia refused to get let his spirits rise too high, but quickly formulated a plan. "How long would you say you have been here, Mr. Izunia? I will send word to my men that I would be available to aid you with your research for some time, if you would allow." Of course, he could just order his men to commandeer the whole site, but then he might lose access to some vital information and this potential discovery. And at worst, if the whole thing should be a farce, he would just have his cordial host killed and be on with his time off.
"I would be delighted if you took the time off your busy schedule. It is more than I would have dreamed of." Golden eyes looked up at him, thankful and somehow innocent. "And how very pleased I am that the place welcomes you. Too many I have seen fear it, loathe it instinctively in the same manner a kid fears the darkness. It is why I chose to work with only a small team, to decrease the chances of one of them being silly, or even infecting the others with their silliness. Just imagine what could happen if this became more public! The destruction a superstitious fool could cause!" A dramatic little sigh.
Damn, how the poor man looked so sincere. It was a shame really, the number of pleading researchers that had begged him to give their research merit as he had to abandon them to return to the field. And this one had a way about him that the general couldn't admit to disliking, he thought, gingerly pushing down the useless consideration for weakness. Too involved in the next step, he missed how the other had evaded his first question. "Quite understandable. Research of this nature does require a bit of... discretion." He still held on to the photos and papers while he stood. "However, I assume you know this means I will be taking over as Head Researcher of this archeological site and any and all useful information will be taken to Emperor Ideloas himself."
Coincidentally, what Besithia was leaving out that he had no authority to do so until he had quantified proof of a breakthrough for the Empire, but his host couldn't know that, and after that day, it wouldn't matter.
"Oh, I would never be so vain to call myself a researcher, merely someone with a sense for adventure and history, so you are welcome to take that title." He got up slowly, a predator moving lazily through known hunting grounds. A strange difference to the slightly bumbling way he walked before. "But allow me to doubt the Emperor is interested in useful information without plans that allow him to make useof it. Even though a mind like yours will surely find something." A smile filled with adoration.
Only an apt profiler would be able to pick up on the mechanizations of Verstael Besithia's mind. It was coursing at full force, and before he knew it, he was giving his pilot directions, forcefully planting a hand on the man's shoulder as he blew his brains away, silencer and a small handgun all that was needed. The report back would read as a horrible landing accident that he alone had survived. As the last man's breath left his lips, he turned back to this hanger-on, smiling gleefully.
The peculiar Mister Izunia didn't seem shocked in the slightest, a little smirk on his lips. He had been waiting at the opened hatch, close enough to witness the soft thud of the silenced pistol. "Is it the right time for a drink now, mon général? On a fruitful liaison?"
"Ah, yes. I do believe it is time." It was a few good hours before sunset, but the instructions sent back to Gralea were set.
"Do you need shelter for the night or do you prefer your comfortable haven of metal?" He held out his arm like a gentleman would for a lady. Old habits seemed to die hard.
It was only then a noticeable blush visibly graced his cheeks.
"I would like to see any earlier photos you would like to show me before nightfall."
"It will be my pleasure."
And it seemed to be, after he fixed both of them rather stiff drinks, Altissian gin with only a hint of vermouth and some orange peel in water glasses. More pictures and more smiles, spiral patterns and maps of strange stars, yes, that was what they had to be, Izunia explained it quite convincingly, and yes, here was the first man who entered through the door, bashed his head in on the wall inside in a sudden onset of madness, horrible accidents happened, didn't they, no reason to worry.
After a while there was Izunia's hand on his shoulder, cool and heavy and pleasant, and it seemed just his way of talking to people, unafraid of physical closeness, even with one like him.
The sun had begun to set as a slight sheen of sweat came to grace the general's features for the first time, downing at least the third of his host’s mixed drinks of the evening. The tented off area seemed alive, and the young general tried to ignore the heat in his veins as sundown began.
"Oh, and you need to see this!" He found himself being dragged out into the blue glow of dusk. Izunia's hand in his. A rich, decadent fragrance filled the air, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the twilight, he saw a myriad of tiny milkwhite blossoms sprouting from the lush green that covered the walls of the chasm. More and more of them were opening as the sun hid her face, glowing in a soft, shimmering light, fireflies cast into a blossom.
The younger man tried to keep himself from next to giggling as he was dragged on, but found himself silent as sundown ascended. The blue glow illuminated his face as the door opened, and it was only then everything was real. Dumb look on his face, his guide’s hand gripped tightly, trying not to comprehend too hard the shift in the air around him.
"It seems they only grow here," the golden voice whispered. "In small amounts, their pollen incites dreams. In amounts too large..."
"Ardyn..." Verstael began, using his host's name for the first time. "You do realize what this means." He squeezed the hand in his own, voice above a whisper as the stone before them came alive, the earth unfolding before them.
"Pray, mon général, tell your humble servant."
"We might change the world."
"That we will." A solemn promise in those words.
It was then Besithia hit a mental wall again he knew just too well. He felt his airways constrict, noticed his breath dipping shallow and choking him up. His hand dropped down, and he gingerly tried to get to his knees as long as he still was able to do so. His nails dug into his palms. Sometimes the pain brought him back, but this time...
He had never gotten this far, and despite the fact that he was present before all of the potential before him, he didn't feel like he deserved it.
"There, there." Cool hands on his temples. "Look at me, mon général. It will all turn out splendidly. Can you repeat that for me? It will all turn out splendidly." Breathing heavily, a grip came to clutch at the man's shirt. "We shall bring glory to the empire..." the small blond came to whisper into the other's chest, curling up despite himself. The pilot's widow came to mind. Hadn’t he had only just begun to let go of this conspirator’s infractions?
"We shall bring glory to you, the glory you deserve so very much." Thumbs tracing his eyebrows, wiping away a tiniest bit of the stress. A heavy blush stained the young general’s cheeks in that moment. He was completely exposed, and this to a stranger so eager to give him everything he wanted. Mouthing a weak ‘yes’, he came to grasp the hand at his face, proceeding to nod continuously.
"Mr. Izunia, if you would be so kind to take point on this... while I..." the young general trailed off, clearing his throat and trying to gather himself.
“I will find you in ten minutes in your ship, if you would be so kind to collect what you need for our journey.“
The hands had slowly drawn back, leaving a pleasant coolness on the blond's skin.
He continued to nod, more to himself than otherwise, blush sustaining. As the taller man retreated, Verstael blinked hazily, finally coming to his senses.
Besithia found himself back on the drop ship, the distant stirring of daemons in the night around him. In his hand was a redesigned gas mask, built to fit with an elaborate set of magnifying goggles. For the first time in recent memory, a genuine smile graced his features. Gripping the bag at his shoulder with his supplies for a few days, he caught his reflection in a reflective surface of the windshield, splattered with dried blood. With little trouble, he puffed up, admiring himself and pushing down his earlier sense of panic. Upon hearing someone approach from outside, his eyes went to the opened door.
"It would be very appreciated if you waited until I showed you around before you put a bullet to my head. May I?"
Izunia's voice was so very cheery, and he didn't wait until the young general gave his okay. "Shall my people take care of that before even more itsy-bitsy flies join in the feast?" He vaguely pointed into the direction of the ex-pilot.
Besithia blinked flatly over to the corpse in its earliest stages of rot. With a nonchalant shrug, he returned his gaze to his reflection. "If you would," he said, grasping his earlier stoicism again. He began preening, trying to fix a wave in his hair that wouldn't keep from sticking out.