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The tragedy of Haurchefant’s death, thought Claudius, was that Haurchefant made the wrong choice. He’d believed it so long without saying the words out loud – whenever anyone tried to console him for his loss, they’d talk about the nobility and necessity of Haurchefant’s sacrifice, as though Haurchefant had to die for the sake of the realm.
Which failed to console Claudius, because it wasn’t true. Haurchefant died for Claudius’s sake. Haurchefant died because Claudius wasn’t looking when Ser Zephirin tossed a lance of light his way, so the poor fool gave his life for Claudius’s.
It’s not as though Claudius wanted to die. Day to day, he did his best to avoid it. But as an objective choice, between himself and Haurchefant, weighing whose life would mean more … clearly Haurchefant made an error in judgment. Claudius understood why Alisaie struggled not to blame her grandfather, for leaving his grandchildren and getting himself killed in senseless struggles – Claudius didn’t blame Haurchefant, he couldn’t, but the realm was poorer for having Claudius still here and Haurchefant gone. Such a senseless waste.
When Francel spoke of Haurchefant, it wasn’t to console Claudius – he was speaking the truths he’d found for himself, searching for meaning in the meaninglessness of loss. Haurchefant’s sacrifice wasn’t a sad necessity, but it was a choice, and it was a choice his survivors had to grapple with to continue the work of surviving. Francel took his inspiration from Haurchefant, tried to live in such a way that Haurchefant would be proud, and perhaps that soothed the ache of absence – his friend was gone, and gone forever, but he lived on in the choices Francel made for himself.
What surprised Claudius was that Francel took inspiration from them both. “Despite being branded and hunted as a heretic,” he told Claudius, “you ne’ertheless delivered our nation from the throes of war and ushered Ishgard into a new age of enlightenment And Lord Haurchefant – your close companion and mine – in even the most trying times, was ever a friend to the people, regardless of their blood or station. Ever did he strive to bring them joy and a brighter future. And so – as best I could muster – I followed in your footsteps, that I might bring happiness to my countrymen in my own humble way.”
Claudius knew Haurchefant made a mistake, but never considered why he made it. It was not only how Haurchefant died, it was how he had lived – he didn’t make sober calculations about whose life was worth more. Calculations like that were too easy to make, in Ishgard, because there were too many structures and strictures ranking highborn above lowborn, believers above heretics, knights above citizens. Haurchefant was born a bastard, but as a knight and a believer both, his life should be worth more than Claudius’s as a matter of course. But Haurchefant didn’t make his choices as matters of course.
Francel met Claudius’s eyes earnestly, and asked, “Pray tell me, friend – have I done this? Do my contributions to this nation even begin to live up to the legacy that you and Haurchefant have built?”
What legacy? When Haurchefant died, he saw Claudius shaking with fear and rage and the threat of a sob wracking his chest, saw the mess of a man he’d be leaving behind, and he asked to see Claudius’s smile. A smile better suits a hero.
So that was it: the future Haurchefant fought for was one where Claudius could face the future, and smile. Claudius smiled more here, with Francel, than anywhere else in the realm. The same hands he’d trained to the trigger of a firearm, to do battle with primals and the shadow of Niddhog, crafted beautiful music in front of a crowd.
“You have done your homeland proud,” Claudius answered. Not his homeland of Ishgard, but this place in the Firmament with two pianos on a stage, a place Francel built with connections and trade contracts and that foolish faith of Haurchefant’s, the faith that made him decide Claudius’s smile was a thing worth protecting. But look how much he’d done with it, in such a short time. Laughing, Claudius leaned in, near enough for a kiss. “Your homeland should be all the prouder of you.”