Chapter Text
It had been some weeks since she’d braved the snows of Coerthas, and if Elora was honest with herself, she was not looking forward to it. Even attuned to the Aetheryte as she was, a bitterly cold wind assaulted her before her feet even touched the ground at Camp Dragonhead. Huffing in annoyance, she pulled up her collar and began descending the steps to the keep.
The inner chamber was warm, albeit comparatively so, but at least the air was still. She’d barely closed the door behind her when a cheerful voice bounced through the room.
“Elora, dear friend! ‘Tis wonderful to see you!”
She smiled softly. Nothing could dampen the spirits of Lord Haurchefant, it seemed. He’d all but bounded from his chair to greet her, a wide grin splitting his face.
“That you should take time to visit warms my heart. To what do we owe the pleasure, my good lady?”
Elora unclasped the top buttons of her cloak. “Ill tidings, I’m afraid. A shipment bound for Mor Dhona from Camp Dragonhead was attacked and pillaged.”
His smile vanished in an instant, and Haurchefant sighed. “Only moments ago did I receive an urgent missive from Mor Dhona, I was set to open it when you arrived. I assume its contents are on this matter.”
She nodded, shivering. “Most likely.”
Haurchefant’s expression softened as he gestured towards the hearth. “Come, let us discuss this by the fire.”
To be nearer to warmth was enough for Elora, but the Lord of the camp was hospitable to a fault, and soon offered her a goblet of hot mulled wine. She sipped while Haurchefant took a seat beside her and opened the missive, scanning over the parchment quickly.
“A most unfortunate development,” he said quietly, folding the paper once again. “Would that I could say it was a surprise - alas, this is all but expected, given recent developments in Coerthas.” He frowned deeply, lowering his voice as he folded the missive. “Friend… I must tell you: I am sorry. I was the first to hear the call from the other city states when Garlemond attacked. Though I petitioned the Holy See most ardently on behalf of joining the battle to drive back the empire, I had not the power or sway to convince my fellow countrymen.”
Elora looked down at her wine. Many had given their lives to defend Eorzea that day, and she had nearly been among them. She could not pretend she’d not been vexed by Ishgard’s absence on the front. “Had we failed, Garlemond would have had the means to raze the entire continent with little effort.”
A weary sigh pushed past the elezen’s lips. “I am well aware, and haunted by it. Praise Halone that you were there to see them stopped.”
In the glow of the fire, Elora took note of the dark circles that lined his eyes. He looked to be lacking proper sleep, the hollows of his cheeks casting sharp shadows and dulling his usually boundless enthusiasm. “Ishgard’s struggles with violent heretics and internal conflicts are long standing,” Haurchefant spoke. “Even before the Calamity, before the endless winter compounded our troubles.”
Elora blinked, setting her half empty goblet aside. “I’m not familiar with this region of Eorzea, though I have heard that Coerthas was once a lush forest.”
A wistful longing passed over Haurchefant’s features, his eyes softening as they tracked to the glowing embers in the hearth. “It was indeed. A rich land with distinct seasons, my home once was, rolling green hills of proud pines and thick underbrush. As a boy I took particular delight in the year’s first flowers as they blossomed forth from melting snow.” He was silent for a precious moment, his gaze far away in some distant memory. Then Haurchefant snapped to attention once again, smiling. “But it will do little good to dwell upon the past - not when the present so demands our attention.”
And the subject was dropped as Haurchefant returned to the matter of the heretics and the waylaid caravan, though Elora watched him ever more keenly from that point on.
-----
As irritated as Elora was to not be able to pursue the strange woman atop the cliff - who was likely the Iceheart they sought - she couldn’t say if it would have done any good otherwise. There was still too little information - and facing a foe unprepared was a recipe for disaster and death. She trudged back to Camp Dragonhead to relay her findings to Haurchefant. The man’s ever present joyful intensity would be a welcome change from the vicious freeze of Snowcloak.
Haurchefant seemed his usual cheerful self, despite Elora’s troubling report - though the signs of weariness persisted in the bags under his eyes and the way he rolled his neck as though it pained him. He carried a great burden, however little he chose to let it show, bending over a thick stack of paperwork with stiff limbs. As she made to return to Mor Dhona, Elora took a moment to search her bag for a trinket, one she’d purchased for herself. It was meant to give her peace while on her many adventures, but perhaps it would be better suited in the hands of another.
“Lord Haurchefant?”
He looked up from his desk, his quill stilling in his hand, and smiled at her though it was strained. “Is there aught else you require, my friend?”
Elora held out her hand. “Take this.”
Surprise crossed his brow as Haurchefant opened his palm. Elora dropped the item into his hand; a tiny glass phial, sealed tight with a cork, filled with pale green liquid. He brought it to his face and frowned in confusion.
“Fine aromatic oil,” she explained, “Crafted in Gridania. It carries the fragrance of the forest in spring.”
Haurchefant’s eyes widened as he looked from the bottle to her. So intense was his gaze that she found herself flustered.
“This…” he said slowly, reverently closing his fingers around the gift. “And what have I done to warrant such generosity?”
Her cheeks gained a touch of heat. “You were kind to me,” Elora said plainly.
There was a moment where the tension seemed to bleed out of his shoulders, if only a bit. Haurchefant’s smile was gentle, as was his voice. “I shall treasure it.”
Elora nodded at him and left the keep, oddly pleased with herself.
.