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“It’s not very often that Azure Dragoons come from good families. At least they haven’t in the past 400 years or so. ‘Tis kind of funny when we take into consideration that the first one was a prince.”
“But she’s not a princess, far from it. She acts ruthless, careless, speaks way too loudly, and bless my heart, she’s upright obnoxious.”
“… She beat Vishap, and more importantly, you.”
“Must you consistently remind me of this, Heustienne? I’d much prefer if you didn’t.”
A laugh. “Well, you were upright useless in that fight, all things considered. She really did quite injure you, whether it was intentional or not. But, a year later and you’re almost new, and this girl’s starved for something to do after idly hiding in Camp Dragonhead for months. You know, I saw her help out there every once in a while. Her energy is not nearly as boundless as you assume it is, but she’s capable of working well beyond her limits. I already asked if she could train me in order to face Graoully with the strength I need.” The female dragoon laughed, waved her hand through the air, and turned around to leave. “Though, a bit of her initiative might to wonders among us. You especially lack any kind of self-initiated action lately, and it’s showing, Estinien. You’re growing restless. Let too much time pass idly, and you’ll be back inside Nidhogg’s claws ere long.”
He looked after her with narrowed eyes. They’d been partners while training and both had aspired the title of Azure Dragoon, but until that Adventurer had strolled into the Observatorium to answer Alberic’s call, he had believed that he would be the only one.
But instead of giving him the much more easy to work with Heustienne as this generation’s unpredicted second Azure Dragoon, they had given him Al’nebar’s adopted daughter.
The family had always been more than odd to begin with. Al’nebar had been sent out to do something on some island in the La Noscea region. He’d gotten injured, and the Miqo’te Seeker tribe that lived on said island had nursed him back to full health. Sometime in between getting injured and leaving the island, one of the tribe females had fallen in love with him, and when he left broke all rules of her rather traditional tribe by following him into the unknown. Apparently a renowned dragoon like Sengun Al’nebar suddenly having a Miqo’te along had caused quite a lot of unrest among Ishgard’s elite. Q’lhishian Rofh, a botanist and a very gentle woman, won over hearts very fast however. The appeal of a woman who had grown up outside the city walls and the thin mountain air had been too alluring for many nobles.
Her sister followed her a few years later, although not on her own. Estinien knew little about how Miqo’te tribes actually worked (if there were any within Ishgard’s walls, they were Keepers of the Moon), and therefore didn’t understand what exactly had caused Q’nhex Tia and Q'sanhghana Rofh to leave their cosy warm island in La Noscea for the often harsh mountains of Coerthas.
Naturally, after a few years, those two adventurers had been found dead after the Ixal had raided the small camp of ten people for the crystals they carried around. The only one found alive among that bloody mess had been a girl, Q’lahen Nhex.
Adopted by her aunt and uncle, the girl grew up as Lahen Al’nebar.
Or, as Estinien preferred calling her, a pest beyond the imaginable.
Truly, the girl had sauntered into the Observatorium like nothing in the world affected her, and had ripped a lance out of a dead dragoon’s hands when the horde that had attacked at the time came too close for her flimsy arrows to do any good. Any amateur who had spent a small amount of time among lancers or dragoons could have been able to use this weapon as she did, but after she told Alberic that she had watched her father quite a lot and had spent a small amount of time among the Lancer Guild in Gridania, the man had just decided that this girl would be perfect to look for the Eye (which Estinien had stolen back at the time, but psh, minor details left out for the greater good were nothing new on Ishgardian and Coerthan soil).
He was steaming and left the Forgotten Knight in a hurry, almost bumping into Ser Aymeric on his way out. Only Heustienne and Alberic knew of that little… brawl, for the lack of a better word, between both Azure Dragoons at the Steel Vigil over a year ago. He’d pretended to have gotten into a fight with the remains of the horde under Svara’s command, and people had believed it. They simply needn’t know about the fact that two extremely thick-skulled dragoons had gotten into what could be considered a fist fight with the intent to kill. No, maybe it hadn’t been a fist fight, but it certainly hadn’t been a fight provoked by the both of them on equal grounds.
No, Nidhogg sure had his claws in this, and Estinien still cursed himself for letting him so foolishly take over his body and mind. Resisting the inner dragon while still drawing upon its powers was something even the most basic dragoon (like that Al’nebar brat) was taught. How he’d let rage consume him so was still beyond him – it was ridiculous in hindsight, siding with the voice that belonged to the creature that had wiped out both his home and his family.
Estinien stopped dead when he saw a flash of pink. By the Fury, was that obnoxious girl around right now? Thankfully, the closer the pink came, the older it appeared – it was not the two years younger Miqo’te.
No, it was her aunt… mother… older female parental figure.
A typical botanist, in worn leather clothes fit for scavenging and gathering, with an absurdly long axe and a scythe draped across her back. Were it not for her ridiculously short size, even for a Miqo’te, that woman might have looked threatening somehow.
He’s seething as he watches the woman wander off with her bags full of… metal and dyes?
Coerthans! Or, well, in her case, Nosceans.
Camp Dragonhead in winter is something that many Ishgardians avoid. Just crossing the bridge during a blizzard is hard enough, but climbing up half a mountain full to the brim with aggressive birds and snow gobbues? No, not many people make that journey. Even when there’s a convenience called teleporting.
No, Estinien hated teleporting. He was quite fond of airships, but any other transportation than that was something he avoided as if it was dragon blood being forced down his throat.
He’d watched how the Warriors of Light, this band of adventurers, took off for the Sea of Clouds. Hopefully they’d meet one of these dreadful Gaelicats and come home with scratched faces. Estinien did back then, as did Heustienne, as did every dragoon ever dispatched there. Those critters are more ferocious than most of the horde dragons.
He stifled a snicker as he watched Haurchefant de Fortemps come out of his office for once.
Yes, the thought of the Warriors of Light getting mauled by Gaelicats had to be the most satisfying thought he had in a while.
“… Beg pardon, Ser, but you’re in the way.”
Again, the aunt-mother of that adventurer. The ridiculously small woman, again carrying something way too big for her. This time it was lumber, and several rolls of cloth. A split moment of silence, and then an idea formed in his head.
“If I may, good lady. I could help you carry this to wherever you need it.”
The woman, Lhishian, eyed him suspiciously. Her long ears twitched for a second, and she looked around with almost pleading eyes. They were a brilliant orange colour, not unlike one of the eyes that this darned adventurer sported. Suddenly, the woman’s face lit up and Estinien felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I can help her.”
Haurchefant. Of course, it had to be the man completely obsessed with those Warriors of Light.
Only when a second hand squeezed down on his shoulder, Estinien dared looking around.
Al’nebar. The senior one.
The Au Ra, towering above both Haurchefant and Estinien.
Had he not worn a helm, they’d have seen colour drain from his face. No, Auri men were simply too tall to be quite real, and Estinien shook his head.
“I understand. Sorry for overstepping my borders like that.”
Always respect your elders – especially when they’re taller than you. If only that dreadful brat did the same!
Much to his distaste, the only Warrior of Light who ended up with a mauled face was the ninja.
At least the scholar had the humbleness to admit that she only got away unscathed because the ninja’s surprised screech had distracted all other nearby Gaelicats and they had decided to join in on the ninja-mauling action.
All Al’nebar did was complain about the fact that she did have to peel those little bodies off her lance for a day straight, and now it was brittle due to all the blood soaking the wooden part. Maybe the spear would break while she was showing off. That would have been hilarious.
Again, the aunt-mother. This time, she carried gemstones of a sort.
Whatever those Warriors of Light were up to now, it couldn’t be good. Every time they talked to Ser Aymeric, something was happening. Last time they’d assisted in clearing a Trial by Combat, surprisingly Al’nebar had not volunteered to enter the ring instead of Tataru Taru (it had been the ninja, what was his name again, Lorven?). Estinien had assumed that she would hog all that ‘glory’ for herself. No, she idly stood by, cheered on the men inside the ring alongside her scholar friend and Haurchefant.
“You lack initiative,” Heustienne had said, “You could use some of her energy.”
He entered the room, volunteered to come along. Catching heretics? Pah! Child’s play.
The next day they were getting ready to leave, when suddenly someone called for Al’nebar. Her head shot around and she started smiling widely when she saw her uncle-father and aunt-mother approach. If she weren’t such an annoying pest that smile would have been kind of cute, but Estinien simply huffed.
“What are you two doing here? I thought you were off to the Sea of Clouds, Dad!”
“We couldn’t just let you guys leave for something as cold as the Western Highlands, so we made sure to make you all some warmer clothes!”
The Warriors of Light as well as Alphinaud Leveilleur all received accessories and little gifts of a sort. Scarves, mitts, was that even a pair of earrings and an entirely new lance? Estinien rolled his eyes – not even Haurchefant was coddled like that. The parents left after that, and he was still scowling when the airship to the Western Highlands had taken off.
“Hey, Estinien.”
He merely snorted in acknowledgement, but the little pest simply shoved the scarf her parents had made her into his hands.
“What am I supposed to—“
“Just take it. I’d rather not have you freeze out there. Armour or no, it’s the deepest, darkest winter, and we’re not going to see much of the sun. Besides, better to have something to strangle you with should that Eye of yours take over you again, eh?”
With a laugh, she dived back to her friends, who also let out laughs of their own.
That annoying little… brat! Second Azure Dragoon or not, it was simply impossible to work with someone his age. Oh, he’d get payback for this, and for the time she (rightfully) beat him at the Steel Vigil. He just needed some sort of plan. Eventually.