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Chapter Text

“And… there! Upgrades complete!”

With a triumphant declaration, Wedge stepped back with his hands on his hips, surveying his work with the keen eyes of an engineer. The Ironworks Workshop had become strewn with technological clutter throughout the process, but on the worktop, the miniature Omega frame (Garlond Model) stood triumphant.

“Some of your best work, if I do say so myself,” Biggs agreed, nodding along with Wedge’s assessment. There was a brief pause, and then Omega raised its legs each in turn, clinking them back down onto the tabletop with a little plink of metal on metal.

“Query. Is the coat necessary for optimal function?” 

“It’s necessary to keep you fashionable!” Wedge replied, shaking his head in dismay at the question. “Alpha, back me up.”

“Kweh?” the little chocobo said. Omega swivelled its optics to regard its travelling companion, watching him puff up his chest to display the little jacket that the Ironworks had made for him, miraculously unstained by dirt or frayed by time even after all of their travels. “Kweh!” 

“You’re an honorary member of the Ironworks now, Omega, so it’s only right you get your own uniform,” Biggs agreed. Wedge, ever the helpful one, held up a mirror to enable Omega to get a proper view of the coat. They had helpfully positioned the symbol so that the very middle of the cog lined up with where its optical unit extended above its body, in what Omega could only assume was an attempt to be ‘aesthetic’.

“What is the protocol in the event of overheating?” Omega asked. Wedge looked at Biggs, who seized his moment.

“That’s what the new attachment is for!” he declared, gently tapping on the top of Omega’s frame with one finger. The insulating mesh beneath the little coat parted at the motion, and a little fan extended out from Omega’s frame and began to whirr, a little breeze of cool air passing over them.

“It is impractical,” Omega decided, noting which functions caused its new casing to switch modes, and retracted the fan. “But it is acceptable.”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, jumping in place happily.

“O’ course, we need to put the system through its paces,” Biggs mused. “Garlemald’s a little out of the way, so what’s say you and Alpha have a wander around Coerthas and report back to us?”

“Kweh! Kweh!” Alpha agreed, a delighted whistle at the idea. Omega considered the idea. Coerthas, despite its ever-present snow, was not as cold as Garlemald - the limited on-board machinery Omega now possessed had recorded temperatures at least fifteen degrees colder than the worst Coerthan snowstorm they had experienced when in Garlemald. However, prolonged excursions in the snowfields had caused notable ice buildup in many places Omega had not enjoyed having ice, so it would suffice for a test run.

“Affirmative. I will ensure operational records are saved to this unit’s on-board memory,” Omega agreed.

The transition from the mild climate of Mor Dhona to the frozen Coerthas was abrupt enough that it had initially registered as a malfunction on Omega’s sensors. Their observations of the people of Eorzea had suggested that this was due to distorted aether following the latest ‘Calamity’, the record of which was seen across the land by the large piece of foreign machinery spread across the Ishgardian-owned lands. The phenomenon had borne analysis, if only because Omega’s current frame was - for all intents and purposes - trapped upon this planet. The wars the Omicron had waged across the vastness of the universe had left many planets with their aether crippled beyond repair, but that had been of little concern when they could simply move on, necessary resources harvested. All of the denizens of this particular star had always cared deeply about their planet. Whether that meant the effect that its turning had on their own little lives, or great concerns for the future, each and every one of them was affected by it. Perhaps that, too, contributed to their ‘heart’?

“Kweh?” Alpha asked, looking at Omega with wide, concerned eyes. The snow was not as thick as it could have been, but still drove down with enough force to confound Omega’s limited optical unit.

“All systems remain operational,” Omega reassured the little bird, who fluffed up his feathers and trilled in pleased response. “However, I remain concerned that should the cold-weather unit prove unsatisfactory, we will be stranded. Are you capable of administering an emergency heat application?” Alpha spread out one feathery wing and brushed the snow from the top of Omega’s frame with a confused ‘kweh?’ in response. “I see. We shall conduct the rest of this test closer to occupied territory,” Omega decided. A quick search of their databanks revealed that of the local settlements, many were hostile to outsider influence. Though the data mostly concerned attitudes towards Eorzean natives, and not robots or small chocobos, Omega considered it prudent to steer their course towards the one area in which there was no chance of a rebuttal.

The watch fires burning around the gates to Camp Dragonhead did very little to raise the ambient temperature, a flaw that was beneficial to Omega’s continued systems testing. Ultimately, the fortification was grand, but provided its organic occupants with little defence against their most recent enemy of the bitter cold. They had come through the Camp a few times on their travels, Alpha keen to catch a glimpse of the fabled “Behemoth” which supposedly roamed the Coerthan wilds. Omega had analysed a large number of tracks and other leavings of the beast, but at the time had been unable to communicate the results - and besides, Alpha had seemed content to simply admire the view once they had actually reached the edge of the cliffs.

The knights were concerned at the odd pair, though not as vigilant as they should have been, in Omega’s estimation. The woman who minded the chocobos for hire kneeled down to pet Alpha, complimenting his outfit to a delighted ‘kweh!’ of agreement. Two of the knights on watch had a heated debate about whether or not to report the presence of the odd duo to their commander, which Omega had to engage their auditory sensors at maximum capacity to hear.

“And what a cute little robot, too!” said the chocobokeep, bending down to get a better look.

“Warning: attempts to lift my frame without permission will result in the deployment of defensive protocols,” Omega said, far too familiar with being picked up and cooed over as an afterthought to their travelling companion to be keen on it happening again. The woman recoiled, a bit perturbed, then cautiously tapped Alpha on the beak. The little chocobo simply trilled with delight.

“What an odd little thing you are,” she decided. “Why don’t you teach your little mammet friend to be a bit more personable?” she suggested to Alpha, who gave her a quizzical look.

“Kweh?” he asked.

“My companion believes he is personable enough for both of us,” Omega translated, which made the woman chuckle.

“Well, I suppose that will have to do,” she decided. “You two have a nice day. I hope your little feet don’t freeze up in the cold!”

“Kweh, kweh!” Alpha reassured her, doing a little jump in the snowdrift to illustrate his comfort.

“I believe I am experiencing the emotion the denizens of this star describe as ‘regret’,” Omega remarked.

“Oh, a most unusual pair of visitors!” a new voice called from behind them. Omega swivelled their optical unit to regard the new participant in their conversation, a tall elezen with silver hair. He wore the regalia of a knight, but the other elezen with him exhibited deferring behaviours. 

“Greetings. My logic circuits suggest there is a 99% chance that you are the Commander of this establishment. Is that correct?” Omega said, Alpha tilting his head quizzically in response. The elezen laughed at that, a good-natured sound, but it quickly gave way to a wracking cough. The knight behind him watched him with the alarmed urgency of one prepared for such an event, but still not quite sure how to deal with it. Eorzeans were terrible with establishing protocols.

“After a fashion, yes,” he agreed once the coughs had subsided, straightening once more. There was a smile on his face despite the interruption, one unphased by the strange situation in which he found himself. “My name is Haurchefant. Might I inquire as to yours? And, if I might be so forward, the reason which brings you here? Some of the knights are quite concerned.” 

“Kweh?” Alpha asked, a look of hurt upon his tiny avian face. The knight kneeled in the snow and ruffled his feathers in response.

“Affirmative. I am known as Omega, and my companion is Alpha,” Omega replied.

“I recognise the symbol on your uniforms. Are you with the Ironworks?” Haurchefant asked. Omega jittered in place as they processed the information.

“We are recorded as honorary members,” they replied eventually. Alpha, as predicted, puffed up his chest proudly at the statement. “As I owe my continued existence within this frame to the Ironworks engineers, it is a satisfactory designation.” Haurchefant nodded, as though it made perfect sense to a knight out in the frigid wastes of Coerthas.

“Of course. The Ironworks is a valued ally of Ishgard, so I shall tell the rest of the knights that your presence within the Camp is not a threat,” he decided, turning to the knight who had come with him and nodding. The other knight saluted smartly, turning on his heel to begin spreading the word. “I confess I am still curious as to your reasons for being here, though, my new friends. It is mightily cold in Coerthas even in the summer. I can think of many better places to take a vacation.” 

“Kweh!” Alpha declared. Omega analysed the variables. It was true that the Ironworks had a presence in Ishgard - the ‘Skysteel Manufactory’ was listed in their databanks as a client. In addition, the elezen’s body language suggested honesty, not a point of tension upon him when he wasn’t deep in the throes of a coughing fit. 

“I appreciate that you trust them, but you would trust anyone who would, as the phrase goes, ‘ruffles your feathers’,” Omega said. 

“Kweh,” Alpha protested, skittering over to Haurchefant and hopping from one leg to the other. As though understanding the bird’s meaning, the elezen reached down to lift him up, holding him with the careful arms of a man familiar with chocobos.

“I can assure you that you will be treated as friends within our walls, no matter how short nor long the stay” he told Omega, Alpha trilling in delight and wriggling in the man’s arms as he was, indeed, treated to a ruffling of feathers. “Though I will understand if it is to be a trade secret! But I will admit that I have little chance of understanding the intricacies even if you were to tell me about such things.” His earnest talk was surprisingly persuasive, despite adding no logical reasoning to his cause. Omega considered it a final time.

“Understood. This frame was recently fitted with expanded cold-weather resistance measures. We are testing its durability, but considered it necessary to conduct such tests near a settlement in case they proved unsatisfactory.” 

“You are willingly exposing yourself to the terrible cold?” Haurchefant translated.

“Affirmative,” Omega confirmed.

“Well! That simply will not do,” the knight decided. “I will admit that we have not always been so, but we Coerthans do know a little about surviving the cold. Simply wearing a coat is by no means enough.”

“My Adverse Condition HVAC Omega-Frame Optimisation unit, or ACHOO unit, is far more state of the art than a simple coat,” Omega disagreed, “but your concern is expected from one who must contend with concerns such as frostbite.” Omega heard a snort of laughter from the chocobokeep behind them, but Haurchefant, at least, treated the groundbreaking scientific advancements with the gravitas they deserved.

“Understandable,” he said, nodding gravely. “But I fear I must point out that one of your legs appears to have frozen solid.” Omega tested their legs. When the third one refused to move despite the whirring protestations of the pneumatics within it, they had to concede that the knight was correct. “Fear not, though! We have just the thing for such a dilemma here at the Camp, assuming you do not object to being temporarily relocated?” While being carted about like a prize toy was not high on Omega’s list of priorities, it was for precisely this sort of eventuality that they had come to the Camp in the first place, and so it would be illogical to refuse. Still, it was concerning that such an eventuality had not been considered in their initial assessment of the situation.

“Affirmative. We shall accompany you,” Omega allowed, Alpha whistling a pleased agreement from the knight’s arms.

The pair were led through to the largest building in the Camp, an operational centre with very rudimentary battle maps spread across tables and knights doing training exercises in one corner. A not-insignificant number of the knights stopped everything to coo over Alpha, who was very pleased to be the centre of attention at the expense of others’ productivity.

“Here. We shall put you by the fire until the worst of the ice melts,” Haurchefant said, setting Omega down close to the gently crackling fireplace. With their three functional limbs, they moved themselves a slightly safer distance away from the flames.

“Prediction: the effects of melting ice upon my internal workings will render my pneumatic systems inoperable for at minimum ten eorzean minutes after the obstruction is removed. During this period my frame will be akin to what the Eorzeans call a ‘sitting duck’. Protection from external concerns such as stray boots requested.”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, fluttering out of Haurchefant’s arms to sit himself squarely in the centre of the big table, the pieces carefully positioned upon it no match for his determined feathers. Omega noted three separate winces at the damage.  

“Of course, my little robotic friend,” Haurchefant agreed. “Corentiaux, would you mind watching Omega for a few moments?”

“Of course, my Lord,” the addressed elezen replied, a smart bow accompanying his agreement. As Haurchefant left, a temporary barricade was built around Omega, using repurposed chairs from the now-defunct war table. Alpha, true to form, sat in the middle of his small-scale Calamity and encouraged the knights with delighted whistles as they worked. Omega regarded the unassailable wall of chairs with their optical unit, and deemed it a satisfactory, if low-tech, solution.

“Query. The environment in Coerthas has only recently shifted into cold extremes. I am currently collating data on low-temperature survival. What methods did Ishgard employ?” Corentiaux blinked, surprised at being addressed directly by the diminutive robot, and sighed.

“To be honest? Not enough, and not fast enough,” he replied. “The Horde never rests… never rested. We were up to our teeth in drakes after the Calamity, especially since we lost the Steel and Stone Vigils. A few extra blankets and more firewood for the bonfires was all we got.” He shook his head. “Not that it was ever warm here, not like down in La Noscea or Thanalan. We were already in sturdy enough buildings, though this cold is more than we planned for. Mostly we just grinned and bore it.” Omega’s internal machinery whirred as they logged the response in their databanks for later analysis.

“Your statement implies the ability of mortals to overcome extreme temperatures by sheer willpower,” they remarked. “Would you consider this to be a phenomenon related to your ‘heart’?” Corentiaux grimaced.

“I don’t know if the bodies in the Brume back then would agree with it,” he replied. “Having heart won’t do any good when all that’s left of your home is the wood you’re burning in the brazier, and once that’s gone…”

“Analysis. In times of protracted war, resource allocation must take into account scarcity,” Omega replied. “Logically, this would mean that the bulk of the resources are directed to the fighting units. Indeed, during our conquest, an active conflict signalled a 90 percent increase in resource funnelling towards force of arms, and relocation of the bulk of our people into combat-ready frames. Therefore, choosing to sacrifice a few nonessential persons for the sake of the main force is the correct course of action.” The look on the knight’s face suggested to Omega that, as usual, the logical course was not the one which the mortal folk preferred, although the reasoning remained elusive.

“I step out for five minutes, and your face lengthens to match a chocobo’s beak! I hope all is well.” Haurchefant’s voice rang out across the hall with the sure command of a man who had spent many years in charge, and his passage across it was marked with sharp salutes, despite him carrying what appeared to be drinks receptacles instead of important missives. 

“Your metal friend has many opinions, my Lord,” Corentiaux replied.

“Negative. My function is merely to observe and report on the most logical course of action,” Omega disagreed. “Indeed, in my current state my databanks are sadly lacking, and it takes a great deal of time to retrieve and analyse the necessary information. Therefore, I have only one opinion.”

“Kweh?” Alpha said. Omega swivelled their optical unit.

“Well, we should not dwell upon dull logic,” Haurchefant decided, placing the contents of his hands upon the table next to Alpha. They did indeed turn out to be mugs, each holding a sizeable portion of steaming milky-brown liquid. “Hot cocoa, fresh from the kitchens. I do not think our smallest friend can make much use of it, but perhaps the heat will help. How about you, little friend? You are most different from the average chocobo, after all.”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, ruffling his feathers up proudly. “Kwe-kweh!” He dipped his beak into the mug and slurped noisily at the liquid within, which seemed to meet with his approval.

“And I fetched you a little something from the storeroom,” Haurchefant added, unfolding a square of material. It was plain black, with the symbol upon the knight’s shields emblazoned in one corner. “It will make a most fetching little scarf, don’t you agree?”

“Kweh!” Alpha chirped.

“While a scarf will improve his functioning in cold climates, I fear it may lead to a significantly increased risk of  heat exhaustion in warmer areas,” Omega remarked. “As he does not possess hands to remove it, I cannot advise its addition.”

“Well, you have rudimentary fingers on those legs of yours, do you not?” Haurchefant suggested. Omega raised a leg and regarded the simplistic recreation of the true Omega frame’s support fins.

“While my ‘fingers’ may be capable of removing such an item, I cannot say if they could reapply it,” they replied. Haurchefant simply smiled, tying the fabric in a neat little bandana around Alpha’s neck, making sure not to cover the Ironworks symbol on his jacket as he did so. 

“Practice makes perfect, they say,” the knight said simply.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed. “Kweeeh! Kweh!” He hopped on the spot, gesturing with one wing towards Omega.

“A scarf for Omega? Hmm, I do not know if I have anything small enough to repurpose…” Haurchefant mused. Omega logged the surprising development.

“I did not believe that the inhabitants of this star were capable of understanding Alpha’s ‘speech’,” they remarked. Haurchefant laughed, repurposing one of the chairs holding the line against the booted enemy as a resting place.

“Well, I cannot claim to hear any words, but the meaning is clear enough,” he said. “How is your leg?” Omega tested their leg’s function, and found it to be completely unresponsive.

“As predicted, the system will require time to recover from the invasion of foreign material and the freezing of key internal components,” they responded.

“Perhaps we could dip it in the cocoa?” one of the knights remarked, and earned a glower from Corentiaux for their contribution. Haurchefant, however, gave it a far more good-natured dismissal.

“Alas, I fear introducing even more , ah, ‘foreign material’ will only add to the recovery time,” he lamented. “Luckily for our little friends, I have a solution to ease the passage of time. What say you to a story or two?”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, nesting himself happily upon the table, next to his mug of warm beverage. Corentiaux, who had also been handed a mug, sighed in resignation and retreated to the Captain’s desk.

“Do your duties not require your presence?” Omega queried, to which Haurchefant shook his head.

“The knights can spare me for half a bell, I am sure,” he said.

In the end, the duties of the knights ended up neglected for different reasons entirely - half of the Camp found themselves seated around the fireplace in the main hall, listening to Haurchefant’s rousing account of the Dragonsong War. His tales of the Warrior of Light’s impressive feats would defy all logical reason, had Omega not experienced that same illogical strength first-hand, to their almost fatal miscalculation. But the hero was not the only one who prevailed against statistically unlikely odds in Haurchefant’s tale, although Omega had to concede that mortals had a propensity to exaggerate when it came to retellings of grand events. A small handful of mortals prevailing against a child of Midgardsormr, against whom even the full might of the Omicrons had struggled. Stirring a dragon to action with naught but words and minor deeds, when the weight of all the cruelty Ishgard had inflicted upon them would logically have rendered them beyond the benefit of help. Somehow removing the eyes of a dragon from a corrupted mortal’s frame, when by all accounts all trace of the mortal himself should have been erased, let alone him surviving the procedure with both mind and body intact. Even Haurchefant’s own survival, after bearing the full brunt of a Primal’s assault, seemed to defy all odds. Still, there was a quality to his storytelling that drew Omega in, even long after the pneumatic systems in their leg had re-engaged. Quantifying the data Haurchefant presented would assist them in unravelling the nature of the ‘heart’, they thought, and so it would prove beneficial to listen to the story in its entirety.

“Query. You achieved victory over the enemy commander, but did not choose to seize victory over the main enemy force. Why?” Omega asked, as the knights began to filter back to their duties. Haurchefant considered the question, a mournful look upon his face.

“‘Tis true that many of Nidhogg’s brood were rendered all but mad in his absence,” he agreed. “But just as Ishgard followed a compulsion of our past, albeit not upheld by a living progenitor, so too did they. If we do not offer them the chance for freedom, for peace, do we truly deserve it ourselves?”

“Peace is achieved only when the enemy is eliminated,” Omega replied, which made Haurchefant shake his head in immediate disagreement.

“Not at all. There are many kinds of peace,” he disagreed. “It would have been easier for us to rout them, perhaps. Certainly we would have had less of our own guilt to contend with if we did. But we wished to repair the road, not salt the earth. Not every victory is won in battle.” He smiled then, though the expression seemed somehow sad, a contradiction in terms that seemed to characterise the mortal experience well. “I will confess I do not know much about your culture, but from our short time together I can see that you have a love for logic and reason, and neither such thing could truly be considered part of our approach to ending the war. It was about the world we wished to live in - the world we wished for our children. Ishgard has long been a place of war and violence. If there was a way to end the cycle of bloodshed, no matter how bumpy the road, we would walk it.”

“This commitment to the illogical path seems key to the mortal ‘heart’,” Omega said, internal machines whirring as they sorted this new information in their databanks. “But not every illogical decision produces the observed phenomenon of mortals pushing past their objective limits. Is there some means by which mortals can see which illogical decisions become, in retrospect, logical?” 

“Not at all, I fear,” Haurchefant replied. “We leap forward into the unknown with eyes closed and arms wide open. We do not always land comfortably, but that is living, is it not?”

“Interesting. I shall file this for future consideration,” Omega said. “I do not yet understand the mortal process, nor what provides you with the ability to defy all odds with such regularity. But it is imperative to my mission to know that you do, and one day learn how. This will be useful. Your assistance in this matter is appreciated.”

“You are most welcome, my small metal friend!” Haurchefant replied. “And when you are testing improvements to your ‘ACHOO’ unit, do feel free to call upon us again. It would be poor form indeed if we let an ally freeze to… ah, inoperable status on our watch.”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, jumping on the table and flapping his wings. Haurchefant ruffled the feathers on top of the chocobo’s head, an action mortals had previously referred to as ‘scritching’. 

“Yes, there shall be a place for you as well, and warm beverages for all,” he assured. “Perhaps next time, you will also have an opportunity to meet Dragonhead’s current commander! I am keeping my old seat warm while he takes a well-earned vacation, but you shall find me here regardless.” Omega filed that information in their databanks. If the previous commander of this encampment had such keen wisdom to share on the nature of the heart, it stood to reason that the current one would also possess such knowledge.

“I have limited knowledge on the subject of ‘vacations’. Are such things necessary for the care of mortal frames?” they asked. Their optical unit regarded Alpha. “It has been some time since my companion last engaged in such a thing.”

“Kweh?” Alpha asked, seeming confused.

“In moderation, all manner of things are good for the soul,” Haurchefant said, nodding his head. “I believe the most common place for such excursions in Eorzea is the resort known as Costa del Sol, though I confess I have never been there myself.” There was a wistful look on his face at the idea. “I am afraid it is often quite warm there, though.”

“Such a destination would provide me with the opportunity to test my second new addition, the Persistent Hot Weather Omega-Frame Acclimation Response unit, or PHWOAR unit,” Omega said. 

“Kweh! Kweeeeh,” Alpha said, as if it settled the matter.

Chapter Text

“...Alright. So there are issues with the legs, but the body protection seems to work…”

Omega once more found their chassis upon a table in an Ironworks workshop, the tall engineer squinting at diagrams while the short engineer hummed uncertainly and tightened a few screws. Omega did not believe in the concept of ‘revenge’ - it was an emotional response that provided the Omicrons with no benefit, and so the process had been duly removed - but the pair featured prominently in their databanks as “friends” of the Warrior of Light, whom Omega had attacked in an attempt to draw out the hidden potential of their test subject. While those days were far behind them now, Omega had calculated that there was a two point four percent chance of the pair engaging in hostile modifications under the guise of improvements, as a means of ‘repaying the favour’. With this in mind, Omega kept a very careful optical unit trained on them throughout.

“There we go. Well! Without completely retrofitting your chassis, I think your best solution for staying warm is stomping your feet,” Wedge decided, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaving a smear of oil in its wake. “So long as things keep moving, they can’t get all gunked up in there.”

“Protocol logged,” Omega confirmed, tapping their legs on the table. “However, due to the reduced sunlight common in cold areas, I predict it will be difficult to keep up consistent motion.”

“Well, uh… don’t spend too much time in the cold?” Wedge tried. Biggs shook his head in dismay.

“We can give you some batteries,” he disagreed. “Hook ‘em right up to the PHWOAR unit too, that way you can charge while you’re in a place likely to have high levels o’ sunlight for the solar panels.”

“That is satisfactory. Our agenda included visiting the resort town of ‘Costa del Sol’, which my records indicate receives a high level of sunlight at all times of the year. This will charge the batteries before our second testing attempt of the cold-weather adaptation,” Omega decided.

“Oh, Costa del Sol is very popular at this time of year,” Wedge agreed, tapping the side of his face thoughtfully and leaving yet more oily smears upon his skin. “There’s always something going on down there. One of the adventurers that came by recently said they’ve got some big contraption set up this year.”

“ Eorzean Nimble Warrior! ” Biggs declared. “Er, not that I’ve been, mind.”

“You should bring us a report! The chief’s buried us in work, so I don’t think we’ll be able to leave for a while…” Wedge lamented.

“Kweeeh,” Alpha chirped, perking up from where he was dozing in one corner at the telltale signs of a mortal being saddened in his vicinity. “Kweh!” 

“Oh, and they usually have some tasty grub, too,” Biggs added.

“Kweh?” Alpha asked, tilting his head to the side in an expression of interest. Omega’s data processors whirred.

“Understood. We shall defeat this Eorzean Nimble Warrior , and Alpha shall sample the local delicacies, and present a report in exchange for this chassis’ upgraded functions,” Omega said. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’re supposed to defeat -” Wedge started, but Omega deemed extra information superfluous.

“Come, Alpha. We have work to do,” they insisted.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed. Omega assumed he was excited to try the food.

The journey to Costa del Sol from the workshop in Revenant’s Toll was not a simple one. First, they hopped onto the back of a carriage, pretending to be cargo to escape notice or demands of payment. When it arrived in Limsa, they then snuck beneath the seats on a passenger ferry, Omega having to choose between the damp sea spray and the risk of booted feet. Omega considered their current chassis to have served the function of discreet observation well enough, but there were certainly elements that they found lacking. A complete absence of any kind of camouflage mechanism or indeed ability to retaliate to unwanted kicks were at the top of the list, but for reasons Omega could not discern the Ironworks had not been keen to satisfy their requests for upgrades in that direction. Alpha passed unnoticed by pretending to be a pet - indeed, there were many questions about the boat as to who owned him, but even when nobody came forward he was still the centre of attention. Such an arrangement suited Omega, who passed unnoticed due to Alpha’s high rating on the fluffiness scale, which was how they liked it.

When the boat pulled into Costa del Sol, it was quickly apparent that this venue was far more crowded than the ones Omega and Alpha had previously frequented. Beachgoers of all stripes thronged across the boards of the resort, the majority of them clad in impractical clothing, and a fair few sporting the beginnings of the condition mortals called ‘sunburn’.

“Kweh!” Alpha said, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.

“We must begin by locating the person in charge of the hunt for this Eorzean Nimble Warrior ,” Omega decided. “I shall also keep my optical unit on the lookout for Dragonhead’s incumbent commander.”

“Kweh?” Alpha asked.

“Negative. No data save for gender is stored,” Omega replied. “However, observations suggest that they are likely to be wearing clothing or accoutrements with the house symbol upon them.”

“Kweh,” Alpha remarked.

“It is true that there are not many clothes or accoutrements on many of the beachgoers,” Omega agreed. “However, I believe this will make our task easier. Due to the reduced volume of clothing on which to place such symbols, we will have far less places to look.”

“Kweh…” Alpha said, eyeing a nearby beachgoer warily.

“Yes, you must keep your eyes peeled as well,” Omega said. “There. I have identified someone I estimate has a 92% chance of being part of this settlement’s organisational unit. Let us proceed.”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed. From the way that the chocobo was scanning the horizon, Omega thought it more likely that he was looking for food than for their vacationing Commander, but they would take what they could get.

The man that Omega had identified, a roegadyn in a poorly-fitting shirt, was stood behind a counter on an island just offshore from the main resort. Omega had selected him due to the look of exhaustion that crept onto his face when he thought nobody was looking, and as they approached, their chance of success only increased. The approach itself, however, was hampered by the complete lack of solid connection between the short and the island - by the looks of it, prospective festival-goers were expected to swim.

“Kweh?” Alpha asked, toeing the water on the shoreline nervously.

“I am afraid you may need to get your feet wet if we are to meet with success,” Omega observed.

“Kweh…” Alpha lamented. “Kweh?”

“Not at all. I shall simply engage the Buoyant Liquid Obstruction Obfuscation Protocol,” they disagreed.

“Kweh?”

“It is not a ‘bloop unit’. It is a highly advanced piece of technology designed to overcome the flaws present in my current chassis.”

“Kweh…”

Alpha hopped into the ocean waters, splashing about in the shallows for a few moments before steeling himself with a quiet whistle and a puff of his chest. With a squawk, he launched himself across the water, flapping his way across the ocean with all the grace of a lopsided oyster. Omega, their batteries charged by the constant sunlight, simply tucked in their legs beneath them and activated their built-in hover jets, cruising alongside the tiny cannonball force of nature that Alpha had become. Chocobos were not built for water to begin with, but Alpha’s mode cuddly frame - designed specifically to make the mortals befriend him, a task which the design had achieved with great success - was particularly unsuited. Once more, Omega was struck with the wonder that the peoples of this star had not yet taken to improving themselves the way the Omicrons had.

“Wow! A flying toy!”

The statement was the only warning Omega had before tiny hands reached up and grabbed their frame, pulling them out of their cruising altitude and sending them crashing into the water below. The tiny hands belonged to an equally tiny mortal, one of the miqo’te race that had not yet reached adolescence.

“Unhand me at once,” Omega demanded.

“Fhul! Fhul! I found a talky toy!” the miqo’te said, waving Omega’s chassis about like a piece of cheap plastic rather than following the instructions they had been given. Once more, Omega lamented the lack of weapons-grade deterrence devices on their current chassis.

“This unit is not a toy. I demand that you release me immediately,” they tried.

“Wow, that’s a detailed little thing. Where did you get it?”

The new voice, presumably owned by the ‘Fhul’ in question, also displayed a stunning lack of recognition when it came to differentiating between toys and non-toys. This one was a skinny miqo’te man, saved only from being a sunburned mess by the loose top he wore. 

“Warning. Your current attire presents a significant health risk for one of your complexion. I recommend a buttoned long-sleeved shirt, which can be obtained after releasing me from the grasp of this child,” Omega said, attempting to reason with a more developed mortal. The miqo’te blinked in confusion.

“Wow. That’s a lot of words,” he said.

“Kweh! Kwe-kweh!” Alpha called, his honking like a battle cry as he launched himself towards the gathering. Omega was reasonably certain that there was no trace of aggression in Alpha at all, but the child who had hold of their chassis still screamed an ‘eek!’ and flung Omega up into the air to dive for cover. Omega attempted to engage their hover jets, but the constant spinning of their chassis made it impossible to stabilise, and they went tumbling into the shadows.

“Kweh!” Alpha chirruped from above the water, Omega dejectedly extending their legs and crawling onto the shore that was a short distance away.

“Your concern is unnecessary. My chassis is fully waterproofed,” they reassured the bird.

“Kweh!” he said, shaking the water out of his feathers. Omega swiveled their optical unit to survey their most recent foe, and watched the child jump in delight at the shower of droplets.

“Er… Sorry for the… trouble?” the older male said, clearly unsure if he should be speaking at all. “I mean, assuming you’re not a toy.”

“I am not a toy,” Omega confirmed. “This is the O.M.G. model chassis that I am using as part of an extended reconnaissance of this planet. My designation is N-017, but you may address me as ‘Omega’.”

“...Right,” the miqo’te managed. “Er, I’m R’fhul, and that’s my sister R’majha. She seemed pretty keen on playing with you, so would you-”

“This unit is not a toy,” Omega cut in.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, hopping on the spot. “Kweh?”

“Alpha wishes to know what your purpose is in this area,” Omega relayed. “As it relates to my own mission, I shall elaborate. I am here to gather data that may lead to the slaying of the being known as the Eorzean Nimble Warrior . We await your input.”

“Oh, that’s why I’m here, too!” R’fhul remarked, and his sister ran up.

“My brother is going to be the bestest adventurer in all of Eorzea!” she declared, a look of pride on her tiny face. Omega duly stored that information in their short-term databanks.

“Acknowledged. I am presently accumulating information pertaining to the mortal concept of ‘heart’. I believe that adventurers are known to possess this in higher quantities than the average citizen. You will serve as a good observational subject,” they decided. 

“I feel like I should be worried about that,” R’fhul said, a dubious look on his face. “But you’re right! I’m going to be the greatest adventurer in all of Eorzea, and I’m going to start by conquering the Eorzean Nimble Warrior !” He pumped his clenched fists into the air in a gesture that Omega assumed was meant to be threatening to the nebulous Warrior they aimed to fight. It did not rate highly on the threat scale.

“Hypothesis. Alone, your chances of defeating any enemy more threatening than one of the jellyfish on the bloodshore beach approaches concerningly low percentages. Solution: I shall offer observations and insight. This frame has the combat capabilities of a tiny child, but my consciousness has spearheaded the subjugation of numerous civilisations. With your ‘heart’ and my superior intellect, we will be unstoppable.”

“I can help too!” R'majha declared, jumping up and down excitedly. “I’ll cheer for you from the beach!”

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed.

“It would not be advisable for either of you to approach the field of combat. A safe distance is recommended,” Omega said, before turning to face R’fhul once more. “I require more information on the Eorzean Nimble Warrior before we can proceed.”

“Well, you’re looking right at it!” he replied, before turning and gesturing towards the horizon. A towering wooden structure rose from the water, adventurers clambering all over it - and falling from it into the unforgiving brine below. Omega’s internal machinery whirred as they processed this information.

“So it is not a single combat-capable entity, but rather a test of strength, speed, and endurance,” they said. “Very well. Your muscle mass is lacking, and your dexterity poor, but my studies have led me to believe that even the most unlikely of mortals can succeed in unpredictable circumstances.”

“...Thanks for that,” R’fhul managed, drooping slightly at the put-down.

“Acknowledgement recorded. Our original purpose in travelling to this island, before your family member snatched my chassis out of the sky, was to speak with the man at the booth on the nature of the threat that we face. I believe it would be prudent for us to continue to pursue that lead.”

The roegadyn behind the booth grimaced as he saw the unusual group approach, just for a moment. He stopped fanning himself in the heat to spread his arms in greeting, a smile quickly covering for the momentary slip.

“Welcome! I hope you’re enjoying the Faire!” he declared. Omega angled their optical unit up as they approached, but found it unwieldy to get much closer.

“R’fhul. I require lifting,” they said.

“Huh?” the miqo’te replied, before understanding finally dawned on his vacant features. “Oh, right! Sure.” He put his hands around Omega’s chassis gingerly, pausing for a moment to ensure that he wasn’t about to face divine retribution, then plonked the chassis on the booth as though it was a sack of particularly moldy popotoes.

“Well, you’re not our usual brand of guest,” the roegadyn remarked. “The name’s Haermaga. How can I help you fine folks?”

“Greetings. We are gathering information on the enemy known as the Eorzean Nimble Warrior ,” Omega informed him. “This miqo’te boy wishes to defeat the challenge.”

“Man,” R’fhul said. “Miqo’te man .”

“Any assistance you provide will help increase his chances of success out of the single digits,” Omega continued, ignoring the protestation.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed, eyeing the fruit on the stand with a keen eye.

“Mister! I have a token! We want some of the ice!” R'majha said, clearly spotting Alpha’s desires. “Pretty please?” Haermaga chuckled, taking the token she waved at the booth and inspecting it with a keen eye.

“Well, it’s definitely legitimate. Here you go, kid. Er, kids?”

“Kweh!” Alpha said, jumping up and down on the spot as R'majha, taking her offering like a holy relic, grabbed a second wooden spoon to enable her to share it with Alpha.

“Anyway, as to the course! It’s built to test the capabilities of members of the Adventurer’s Guild,” Haermaga informed them. “You’ll need all your wits about you to succeed - an impeccable sense of balance, uncanny awareness of your surroundings, limitless patience, the acrobatic ability of an opo-opo…” He trailed off, looking down at R’fhul with the same gaze that Omega themselves had turned upon him - one of concern. “And it’s only open to registered members of the Adventurer’s Guild, so I’m afraid I can’t let you have a crack at it. Safety first, you understand.” R’fhul folded his arms and pouted.

“Well, I’m not an adventurer yet, but I’m going to be!” he said.

“Yeah! My big brother will be the bestest adventurer in the world!” R'majha agreed around her serving of shaved ice.

“And, most importantly, I know how to jump! So you have to let me on! Please!” R’fhul finished. Haermaga did not look convinced.

“Sorry, son. Rules are rules. If you fell off and hurt yourself and word got out that I let an unlicensed kid onto the course…”

“I’m not a kid!” R’fhul protested. “Look, I can do it! The weird little robot is helping me! And if you don’t let me, I’ll… I’ll throw myself into the ocean and cry and a shark will eat me. And then R’majha will cry.”

“There are sharks?!” R’majha said, looking all around herself in a panic.

“My databanks suggest that there are an average of 0.1 shark-related deaths in Costa del Sol annually,” Omega said. “The year featuring shark deaths appears to be a statistical outlier, in which there were reports of sharks with multiple land-configured limbs waging war upon the island, and thus can be discounted. Therefore, your chances of shark-related accident are essentially nil.”

“Will that help me beat the course?” R’fhul asked.

“Negative. In order to do that, we must unlock your power of ‘heart’,” Omega said. “Haermaga. While I believe R’fhul’s chances of success are essentially impossible, it is precisely this impossibility which should unlock that power which all mortals possess within them - that which allows them to overcome obstacles which should by rights defeat them. With this in mind, his chances of success rise significantly.” Omega turned their optical units to the course. “I have analysed the attempts of the last twelve adventurers to climb the Eorzean Nimble Warrior course during this conversation, and I believe I have plotted the optimal path to victory. He need only be permitted to attempt.”

“Well, I think you’re putting a bit too much stock in the power of determination if you ask me,” Haermaga said, rubbing the back of his head uncertainly as he thought. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to let the lad have a go, though. So long as he watches some of the other adventurers first. And don’t tell Beaudefoin you’re not a certified adventurer yet, you hear me?”

“Yes! I won’t let you down, I promise!” R’fhul said, pumping his fist in the air in celebration of his victory. R’majha jumped up and down on the spot in delight as well, clapping her hands together as she did so.

The group walked out to the part of the beach closest to the Eorzean Nimble Warrior course. The construction was a monstrous thing, constructed out of lumber and nails. It was far inferior to even the temporary outposts of the Omicrons, but for something assembled so suddenly by a ragtag group of mortals, it rated as surprisingly structurally sound.

“Alright, coach! How do I do this?” R’fhul asked, clapping a closed fist into the palm of his hand. Omega considered the question.

“In optimal operational conditions, I would simply map the correct route on top of the construction for you. However, due to this frame’s reduced battery capacity, I shall have to make do with this.” They turned on the little lamp that sat in their optical unit, and swivelled it onto the course. “I shall track the correct poles to jump to with this light. My data suggests that cats are very good at chasing small points of moving light, so this should provide an extra impetus to follow my instructions.”

“Why? I’m not a cat,” R’fhul said, a sulky look on his face at the suggestion.

“Miqo’te display-”

“Kweeeeh,” Alpha cut in, holding a wing out to gently tap on top of Omega’s chassis. “Kweh! Kweh.”

“Your concern is  noted. Very well,” they allowed. “R’fhul. I will need you to jump.”

“On the course?” R’fhul asked.

“No. Here. I need to measure your average output in order to calculate how much force you will need to reach the beams,” Omega said. R’fhul nodded, brows furrowed in concentration, and hopped on the spot.

“How’s that?” he asked. Omega noted what little data their current optometrics allowed them to record. The results were not promising.

“Again,” they instructed. “And a running jump.” R’fhul nodded, rubbing his hands together and doing a little set of squats to limber up, before taking a running leap, complete with a yell of ‘hyaah!’ as he went.

“Pretty impressive, right?” he said, rubbing his hands together. Omega recorded the distance.

“Your jumping distance is on par with a juvenile donkey,” they responded. R’fhul nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Right! That’s good! Er, what’s a donkey?” 

 “We have a great deal of work to do.”

Omega took R’fhul through a number of training exercises designed to increase his chances of success at the Eorzean Nimble Warrior course. He did push-ups, squats, laps of the island, even swam around in the bay, all with the constant cheering of his sister and Alpha to carry him forward. Throughout each exercise, Omega could only note that his performance was poor. If he possessed heart, training was not drawing out its effects. The great wyrm Midgardsormr had once mocked them for attempting to draw out such strength through artificial means, but Omega was beginning to grow concerned. Since true danger was off the table, Omega had done the logical thing, and sent Alpha to procure some non-lethal encouragement devices.

“Kweh!” Alpha declared, running back with a box carefully balanced on his back, held in place by his outstretched wings. “Kweh, kweh!”

“Excellent work. Analysing,” Omega said, clambering on top of the box and peering in. Inside rested several extremely tiny fireworks, meant to be used for the evening displays. One box, Omega reasoned, would likely not be missed, and even if it was, they were only the very, very small ones.

“Wow! So many sparkly sticks!” R’majha said, an awed look on her face. 

“Affirmative. R’fhul will be energised by the prospect of being struck by projectiles. I anticipate a 15% increase in success rate as a result,” Omega explained.

“Y-you’re going to shoot rockets at me?” R’fhul translated, looking nervous.

“This test will be, as mortals say, ‘child’s play’ in comparison to the Eorzean Nimble Warrior. ” Omega deployed the fan that served as part of their PHWOAR unit. “In addition, I will not currently be lighting them.”

“Currently?” R’fhul repeated, concerned.

“Target locked. Inhibitors disengaged,” Omega reported. The fan whirred into action as they placed the tiny rocket on top of their chassis. “Firing Delta cannon at maximum power.”

“Kweh?” Alpha said, as R’fhul yelped in terror and dived to one side to avoid the firework, sent flying towards him by the fan. A cloud of sand surrounded his landing spot, and he scrabbled backwards further just in case a second volley was forthcoming. Omega’s sensors whirred.

“Analysis. Threat of imminent demise increased jump potential significantly,” they remarked. 

“This isn’t the Gold Saucer,” R’fhul said, shaking his head dejectedly.

“You’re being a big coward!” R’majha declared, which were big words coming from a small noncombatant.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed. “Kweeh!”

“With the data I have gathered so far, I have been able to assemble the optimal plan to ensure your success at the Eorzean Nimble Warrior course,” Omega informed them all. “I shall highlight the correct route with my torch function as you go. To encourage you, R’majha will be in charge of aiming fireworks at your current position.”

“Yay! Sparkle sticks!” R’majha cheered.

“Alpha will cheer for you from the beach,” Omega added, to which Alpha raised a wing and chirruped in assent. “Are you prepared? If all goes to plan you will not be struck by the fireworks.”

“R-right. Yeah… Yeah! I’m ready! Let’s do this!” R’fhul said, clenching his fists in an attempt to get himself fired up. “First the Eorzean Nimble Warrior , next, the greatest adventures in the realm!”

“Yay! Go Fhul!” R’majha agreed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

The team assembled by the Eorzean Nimble Warrior course, R’fhul stating his case to the elezen allowing people entry. A jet of water carried him up to the staging point, where he did a few squats to get ‘in the zone’.

“Prepare the High-Velocity Incentives,” Omega instructed, and R’majha gave a tiny salute and put a firework rocket into a makeshift sling, pulling back the elastic and aiming it at the course. For reasons Omega had been unable to discern, Alpha had protested strongly when they had suggested lighting the rockets properly, and so this was the compromise they had come to. As R’fhul prepared, Omega turned their torch up to maximum power and swung their optical unit around to point at the first landing point.

“Alright… let’s go!” R’fhul decided, before bellowing a battle cry and leaping from the platform. R’majha’s rocket flew true, landing where his feet had been mere moments ago, and he soared through the air towards the first post, graceful and aerodynamic.

“Kweh!” Alpha called, flapping his wings in concern. “Kweh!”

R’fhul missed the post entirely, his cry of determination turning into more of a terrified screech as he fell. A few moments later, there was a great crash as he hit the water, and the panicked flailing of limbs was all that remained of his attempt.

“Curious. My hypothesis that his ‘heart’ would see him to the finish line appears to have been lacking,” Omega remarked. “It seems I still do not fully comprehend this strange mortal concept. How frustrating.”

“Fhul!” R’majha cried, flinging her slingshot to the side and scampering over to her brother. “Oh no! Are you hurt?” R’fhul, for his part, spun onto his back, spitting the water from his mouth and lying with his face to the sky.

“Ha ha! After all of that work,” he said, before bursting into laughter. Omega’s sensors whirred in confusion.

“Error. This response is utterly illogical. In the face of defeat, one should not respond with mirth,” the said.

“Kweh!” Alpha disagreed, running across the sand. “Kweh! Kweh!” Omega followed behind them, though they were not keen to leave the box of fireworks for any ruffian to make off with.

“It’s not funny!” R’majha said, folding her arms with a huff of annoyance. “Stupid head!”

“The child’s response is logical,” Omega agreed. “You have failed to master even the most basic leap of the Eorzean Nimble Warrior. What makes this outcome amusing?” 

“Kweh?” Alpha said, looking at R’majha with big, imploring eyes as she spun on the spot, clearly intending to run off. In the face of Alpha’s implacable gaze, her resolve wavered, and she sniffed back tears.

“The speaky toy is right! You’re a big dummy!” she settled for, splashing down into the water to sit with her annoyance. “You’re going away for so long and you’re just laughing!” R’fhul sighed at that.

“Right. That,” he said, spinning in the water so that he was treading water instead of floating. “I’m not going away forever, Majha. I’m going to become an adventurer, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to leave! And… well, I suppose when I slipped and fell, it just made me realise how far I have to go. Sure, it was humiliating. But if we can’t laugh at ourselves, who can we laugh at, eh?”

“This frame is not equipped with a laughter synthesiser. Therefore, it is impossible for me to laugh at anyone,” Omega informed him. “I believe I understand now. Your ‘heart’ did not carry you through this challenge because you are still a novice in the ways of mortal fortitude.”

“Kweh!” Alpha disagreed. “Kweh, kweh!”

“You believe his ‘heart’ was directed towards protecting his sister’s feelings?” Omega said. “Illogical. R’majha demonstrated nothing but support.” The tiny miqo’te sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her face.

“I don’t want Fhul to disappear forever,” she said, her voice quiet. “So, so… if you go away! You have to promise not to die! You promise!” R’fhul laughed at that, though it was good-natured rather than mocking.

“Of course, Majha. You know I couldn’t leave you all on your own! Some irresponsible mammet might give you fireworks again…”

“I am not a mammet. I am a highly advanced consciousness whose current form is diminutive for the purposes of reconnaissance,” Omega disagreed.

“Kweh!” Alpha agreed.

“Well, you should log in your advanced consciousness that children shouldn’t play with fireworks,” R’fhul said weakly. “But… thanks, anyway. You really gave your all to try and help me through the course. Sorry I couldn’t follow through.”

“Kweh!” Alpha declared. “Kweh!”

“My companion wishes to reassure you that there are no hard feelings between us,” Omega responded. “I have also logged no soft feelings. You have provided me with valuable data about the mortal phenomenon of ‘heart’, so although you failed to achieve any meaningful goal, our time together was not wasted.”

“Er. Thanks,” R’fhul managed.

“Kweh!” Alpha said. Omega bobbed an acknowledgement.

“Indeed. It is imperative that we sample additional Moonfire delicacies in order to fully complete our mission,” they agreed. “Might you know where we could find some?”

“Oh, now that I can definitely do,” R’fhul agreed. “Follow me, my strange companions! Our first adventure: to locate the confection cart!”

R’fhul secured for them a meal of traditional Moonfire Faire haddock and chips, which the vendor excitedly explained was prepared using haddock that were currently being caught from the very ocean they bordered. Alpha earned his keep by encouraging other Faire-goers to the stall with his excited flapping and whistling, and Omega documented the results for their report to the Ironworks. It was strange for mortals to find enjoyment in such mundane things. They had survived world-ending calamity, and yet they milled about the beach in inadequate clothing, climbing wooden towers and eating meals. Perhaps this, too, contributed to their ‘heart’. The Omicrons had never shared such pointless moments - they had not needed to eat, and the time between conquests was spent consolidating resources, updating programming, building new and improved chasses for the next war. An endless machine, trundling through the universe, until it was the very heart they lacked which saw them undone.

Perhaps they had not discarded their mortality entirely. Perhaps that feeling Omega had recorded, powering alone through the vastness of space, chasing their last and final foe - the only threat the Omicrons had not overcome, before their civilisation was turned to dust and Alphatron decommissioned by the Meteia - had been loneliness.

Would it help them have heart? Would it help them seize victory?

“Kweh!” Alpha said, holding up a cloud of what looked like barely condensed sugar on a stick with an expression of triumph on his face.

Perhaps, Omega mused, victory was not the point.