Chapter Text
Limsa Lominsa. It was like something out of a bedtime story. I'd only half-believed the tales of the city built onto, into, through, and around white-pillared stone monoliths. It truly did perch above the sea like a tern's nest.
Looking at the shining white stone and sharp-eyed officials in yellow, it was hard to imagine cutpurses and murderers lurking in the alleys. Still, the crowd churning over the docks gave me pause. So many people; so many races and costumes and voices. Miqo'te, lalafel, roegaedyn, even goblin travelers crowded the waterfront. I didn't see any Au Ra, but that was no surprise. We were a long way from Ilsabard. I did recognize the red Maelstrom coats. I guessed that each pirate crew also had their own color and style. It all blended together into a rainbow melange of moving bodies superimposed on the white stone, blue sky, and green sea.
My feet automatically fell into a military rest as I stepped off the ship. With a huffed sigh, I kicked a heel across the gangplank, then twirled recklessly. My skirt flared. A skirt. I hadn't worn a skirt since I was little. It felt decadent, indecent, and I loved it. I felt like I could walk anywhere, talk to anyone. Maybe adventurer was something I could don along with new clothes. I could be a new person. I'd always wanted to smile easily, and say yes , and have a helping hand or a wink ready when someone asked. That was the person I thought of as an adventurer.
Who I'd been before… as far as anyone other than me knew, she was dead. The woman walking into Limsa today could be anybody at all.
I tried a smile. It felt pinched at first. But the wind gusted around me, tugging at my ragged hair. Thunder sounded, far off, the first hint of a storm on the horizon. It whispered, destroy the old, that something new may spring forth. Rhalgr's blessing, if I thought I needed it.
Adventurer . I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin. Braced a hand against my hip. And with a grin, I strode into Limsa Lominsa.
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"'Ave to 'ope they buy that. Damn Yellowjackets breathin' down every hardworkin' 'venturer’s neck!"
I took a seat at the bar, my heart still hammering in my chest. Far, far too close to being hauled off and interrogated for my liking. "Aye, here's to hoping.”
The Drowning Wench (bloody grim name, in my opinion), seemed as much Guildhall as tavern, well-lit and well-guarded. The yellow-shirted enforcers keps wary eyes on me from the edge of the room even after Baderon blustered them into a retreat. With so many boisterous adventurers and passers-by, surely they would lose interest soon. The old barkeep's wry grin soothed that worry to nearly nothing. I mustered a grin and a nervous huff of laughter. “So, Baderon… anyone you know looking to hire a swordswoman?”
"Not much call for swords n'ese parts," Baderon commented. "More of'n an Ul'dahn weapon. Seafarers like axes- an' firearms- though th' arcanists 'ave made 'emselves a place, too. An' you'll find plenty o' rogues with daggers n'th shadows," he grumbled. "But you seem like a canny sort! I'm sure you'll find your feet n'get swingin' soon enough."
I rubbed my neck, fully aware that I didn't even have a shield. "Arcanists? They use magic?"
"Y'never heard of 'em? They're the canniest o' Eorzea's mages. Thaumaturges might 'ave th' raw power, and Conjurers th' wisdom, but Arcanists are smart about it all. Tactical. Th' Admiral set 'em to inspectin' cargo to catch smugglers ‘n such."
I fingered the hilt of my sword, aware that the cheap piece of flash might bend at the first swing. And I imagined… magic .
“And where can I find these Arcanists?”
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I had to fiught my way into the busy customs office, pushing past disgruntled merchants and burdened porters. One rowdy soul had tried to grab me. "Does she look like a bloody merchant," one of her fellows had retorted. "Don't go pawin' at the lady as might be settin' your tariff, you looney." I'd just smiled and given her a wave. Spending the rest of my days inspecting cargo crates sounded like a special hell- I was only here for the magic.
After the crowded entry passage, the central room soared upward through the heart of the spire. Shafts of southern sunlight pierced down through windows high above. Books lined the walls on balconies above the main floor, while booths held spectacled officials on the main level. No Yellowjackets here. I assumed the Arcanists were well able to defend their own peace.
I approached the single uncrowded booth, holding fast to my adventuring confidence. The receptionist started speaking without looking up from her book of diagrams. "Welcome to the Arcanists Guild…" she commented blandly, as if reading from a script. I tried to note everything as she spoke. Arcane geometries , I thought with a twitch, looking again at the symbols in her book. Magic, constructed from shapes and numbers. The magitek engineers would tear at their hair to hear about it.
I want to do that.
"Might you," the woman looked up from her ledger and frowned. She glanced at my rough clothing and scars. With even less enthusiasm, she went on, "...consider enrolling yourself as an initiate?"
"Please." I leaned on the desk. "Where do I sign?"
"...As I predicted. Before we proceed any further, however… If you've an appetite for knowledge, let me first whet it with a morsel of guild history." She launched into an explanation of the founding of the order, the theories behind it, and the role of the practitioners in Limsa Lominsa. "The complex and demanding nature of arcanima remains the greatest threat to its own survival," she finished. "If you invite such cerebral challenges, then you have but to reaffirm your commitment to joining our guild." She looked down at her ledger in an obvious dismissal.
I waited, then tapped the desk in front of her.
"Well." Skeptical, she said slowly, "have you decided to enroll in our guild? Or are you intimidated by the thought of excessive thinking?"
"Where do I sign up," I repeated, keeping my voice bland.
"Your sound judgment is to be commended," she drawled, meaning none of it. The tart receptionist directed me to the interim guildmaster (and didn't that tale sound interesting). The tone in her voice implied that she might not be able to turn me away, but surely Mistress Thubergeim would find me wanting.
She could eat her words later, I thought to myself. Once I was an Arcanist with magic dancing from my fingertips. The fact that I'd never spun a spell in my life didn't matter. I was Eorzean by birth, and by every right I could.
"Mistress Thubergeim," I had her attention immediately. With a start, I realized that she had been aware of me long before I'd approached. "I want to learn Arcanima. I've no experience with magic, but I've a fair bit of technical expertise."
Her greeting was far warmer. I decided that I liked this acting Guildmaster: she spoke clearly, to the point, with none of the disdainful undercurrents of the receptionist. "The core of the discipline is found in the pursuit of effective solutions to any potential quandary. Even on the field of battle- nay, especially on the field of battle- this principle takes precedence."
Wait, was my grin a touch too bloodthirsty? I smoothed my expression. Strategy, tactics: those were things I could understand. After years of feigning incompetence to avoid notice, I was done pretending I didn't.
"The study of arcanima will test your mental faculties to the point of perplexity. Are you ready to reason your way through predicament after predicament?"
"Yes," I insisted. Third time's the charm .
Moments later I found myself in the base of the pillar, grimoire in hand, looking over the heads of Arcanists, their familiars, and a sea of incoming goods. A round, sandy area seemed to be the place for instruction and training. Several robed mages stood there, carbuncles at their sides, aether shining from their tomes.
So the magic is channeled through the book, I thought. From the aether inside me, through the symbol, then released. I opened the grimoire to the first page, then sighed. It was just a repetition of the same principles that I had heard twice already. I flipped one page after another, until the irregular lines and curves of a magical sigil spread across the paper. I focused on it, trying to fix the design in my mind and push my will through it. All I got was sweat at my hairline. I tried to find the place where I could touch my inner aether- was it in my chest? The palms of my hands? If I traced the lines of the sigil with my eyes…
Some time later, head aching, I closed the grimoire. The Arcanists on the sands didn't have to look at their books, I noted. It seemed so natural for them.
Down here, with the waterline close and the stone all around, the damp chill made me wish I had their heavy robes. I tucked the damn book at my hip and moved back to the stairs. I'd find a spot in the sun and try again. Steps hard, I climbed the stairs and squeezed past the incoming queue.
Outside, the last sunlight dimmed on the horizon. Stars twinkled high above.
Had I spent all day… No wonder my head hurt. I threw my hands up in a stretch, happy just to have the sea wind blowing in my hair. I thought I remembered a balcony garden, high in the spires. Maybe up in the open air I'd have better luck with magic.
I grabbed something to eat wrapped in a greasy paper packet as I walked, nearly inhaling it with how hungry I'd gotten. It gave me a chance to count my few remaining coins. I'd have enough for a room tonight- two nights, if it was a cheap berth. This adventuring business better start paying before then.
Ignoring the working girls and their prospective clients, I settled under the only scraggly tree on the small platform of the anchor yard. I pulled the grimoire into my lap, but I didn't open it. Instead, I craned my neck back to watch the stars.
What must it feel like, to be a mage with the power of, say, Louisoix? I remembered his incantation at Carteneau. The Twelve answering his call to try and bind Bahamut, sigils the size of houses writ against the sky and enough power to steal the breath from our lungs… To be able to call the power of heavens and earth to your hands and shape your will from pure energy? To feel the lifestream weave across the land, a tide as imperceptible as it was powerful, and as inevitable as the sea? If I closed my eyes, I could imagine it. I had dreamed it, I remembered with a jolt. On the ship, as I'd met Brennan. There had been a feeling of- of purpose. That power had filled me, head to toe, fingers tingling with repressed energies. As natural as breathing, I recalled. As if I had never realized that I had two hands instead of one. The aether was a part of me, no different from my hand. It was within- between- behind- words couldn't describe how the magic filled and yet was separate from me. And I knew exactly how to grasp it.
I opened my eyes and snapped. Sparks skittered from my fingers. I rubbed my fingers together, testing the burned patches of skin. So that's why mages used staves. Raw and unbound, the aether was as likely to hurt me as my target.
Grinning like a gaelicat, I pulled open the grimoire and found the first sigil.
"Ey, mister!" A miqo'te girl pulled against the pirate who held her wrist. "I'm not a bleedin' parcel. Lay off!"
"Why so cold all'v'a suddn'," he drawled. "I made ye a nice offer."
She pulled again, ears flat. "I know your colors, and I've no interest in workin' wit' yer kine. So shove off an' leave me be!"
My mind ticked back to Baderon's mention of kidnappings. Eyes narrowed, I looked again from my grimoire, to the handsy pirate.
"Tha's no way t'treat a customer, eh? Why don't we jus' take a lil walk- gah!" He flinched away from the spell that splashed across the side of his face.
I climbed to my feet, book in hand. "Maybe you ought to listen to her. Never know when a girl's got friends," I drawled.
He dropped her hand to pull out a pair of thick punching knuckles. "Aye, an' a pirate's always got friends. Boyos!"
The miqo'te dashed to the exit- I stood my ground. Two other pirates, a Roegadyn with a massive axe and a Hyur with knives, both stepped forward. Their fellow danced on his feet, metal knuckles covering his meaty fists.
"Maybe now would be a good time for backup," I mumbled. The next page had a new sigil. Carbuncle. I channeled through it even as the axe-wielder charged forward. I won't say I made a good showing. I took more wounds than I gave. But I kept them distracted, bouncing off each other in their efforts to catch me. I splashed a ruin wherever I could, and my Carbuncle was a true agent of chaos as it bounded between their feet.
As I ducked another swing of the sea wolf's axe, I could only hope that if I distracted them long enough, the Yellowjackets would make for the ruckus. No such luck came my way. The knife-man sunk the tip of his blade into the meat of my calf. I stumbled back to my feet- stupid. To think I might end my short, unremarkable time as an adventurer trussed in ropes, victim of some kidnapping scheme… or even gutted in an alley. Hells, no. I'd lived through too much already. No Eorzean savages from the edge of the world would take me down- they'd tried and failed already-
Teeth bared in a bloody grin, I pulled against my aether, wary of the crackle underneath my skin- when help arrived. Not wearing yellow. No, the silent rogues slipped out of the shadows with daggers in hand, taking out the pirates before they could shout for help. I let my spells dissipate and panted for air.
One of the newcomers sauntered over to pat me on the back. "Well done, missus mage! Y'nearly had 'em."
"Don't- don't flatter me," I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
"Right then, I won't. Yer a sorry excuse fr'n Arcanist and ye'd be dead if we hadn't swooped in. Yer guild oughta keep ye onna leash until ye've got th' wit t'not pick fights ye can't win. Better?" He clapped my shoulder again. "But, we owe ya one for helping our dear sister o' the cloth. Drop by if y'decide to trade your piddlin' magics for real weapons. Ye've a good head in a fight." He turned to go, still grinning. "Just say ye're a friend of Jacke at the Dutiful Sisters of the Eidelweiss," he said as a parting shot, before melting into the shadows again.
I was left standing over the bodies- corpses? Not a good place to be, I decided. Better to find myself a bunk for the night. And tomorrow… tomorrow I'd have something to show Mistress Thubergeim.
My Carbuncle yawned, snout twitching. I kneeled to offer my fingers, as I would to a pet. A companion, Mistress Thubergeim had referred to it. It had certainly been a good support in our one short battle. "You know, buddy. I think we're going to go a long way. This is just the start."
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Topaz Carbuncle darted in to attack the masked mage at my ragged call, then disappeared as I splashed another spell across the muddy town square- but the black-robed enemy just wouldn't fall. I called forth Emerald- again- but the grueling duel was beginning to take its toll. First the mad dash here, then the battle against the Reavers, and now the mage-
I felt… thin. Not tired, but weary in a way I'd never felt before. Each time I drew aether forth for another spell, it was more difficult to find enough within me. And I loved it. My blood sang with the thrill of a fight that pushed me to my limits.
Y'shtola called out in alarm as the mage focused his energies on a new spell. A summoning. I resettled my feet in the bloody dirt of the street, panting, and ignored the trembling that threatened to drive me to my knees. One more . I pushed my energies through the sigil inscribed in my tome and sent a blast of wind howling at my enemy. It tore at him, ripping his robes, scouring skin and stealing breath- but he didn't falter. He shouted the last syllables of his summoning, and from a shifting rift dark talons clawed forth. A spined voidsent emerged, skin shining wetly in the low light, eyes red sparks.
I looked up at the mage again and felt a flash of memory. Of my dream aboard the ship- joining battle with a mage not unlike this one, but with a mask of red light. Ignoring the voidsent, I ducked around to press the attack on its summoner. This was the enemy the Crystal had set for me.
The rhythm of my spells fell into place under my fingertips, on my tongue, in my heart, and I pressed my attack with new fury. I saw him recoil. Good. Under my renewed attack, he faltered, then wavered, struggling to keep the foul miasma of his spells. The summoning had taken more from him than he had let on.
"Ruby!" I called, and knew it would be the last time. As my faithful companion delivered the final blow, I turned my attention to the voidsent, a bloodthirsty grin of victory on my face. The creature was already flagging from Y'shtola's conjury. My blast of flame from behind was enough to collapse it into a jumble of wet flesh and unnatural joints.
Bleeding from no few places, despite the healing both Y'shtola and I had woven through the protracted battle, I was grateful to be alive. She seemed only mildly perturbed, of course .
"Hey- wait!" I reached out after the damned white-haired Miquo'te as she turned to leave. "What's going on? " I stepped around to cut her off, hands outspread in appeal. "You seem to know more than most. Who was that man, to pull monsters out of nothing? An Ascian, you called him? Why was he after me? " She only smiled and cocked her head, tail twitching. "And another thing- what is this, uh, Crystal of Light, that it seemed so important to you? Why did I see you, in a vision? Wearing that thing you wear around your neck and looking- looking at the aether?!" I shrugged, trying to lose the begging tone to my voice. "I don't want trouble. I just want to know."
"As we all search for the answers to our lives' quandaries," she mused, eyes locked on me. "I must disappoint you this time, however. The Ascian's appearance here and now must be reported to my colleagues, and quickly. The questions you ask have neither easy nor quick answers."
"But you'll tell me," I pressed, hands closing in fists. "Later. Soon. Please."
"On my honor as an Archon," she said with a half-smile.
Whatever an Archon was. But she sounded sincere. "Alright." Taking a deep breath, I stepped back. "Drinks are on me when you do. I owe you thanks for your help with that nasty bastard."
"You could have dispatched him without my assistance, I'm sure," she said easily, though her eyes were still sharp. "You've developed your power significantly in little time." She stepped around me, then paused to look at me sidelong. "I look forward to our conversation. I have a feeling you might answer as many of my questions as I do yours. Until then- Julyana. May you walk in the light of the Crystal."
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"Seven hells," I muttered as Merlwyb made her sweeping exit from the Yellowjackets' eyrie, as regal as her entry. Cheeks red, I fanned myself.
"Aye, she's a hell of a woman," the Commodore acknowledged with a laugh.
"Is she married? If I show up to the party with flowers, do you think-" he cuffed my shoulder, and I laughed. "I'm only half-joking, I swear. I wouldn't dare. She might shoot me dead where I stand, before I have the chance to even flutter my lashes!"
"She's not hurting for company. You've seen her right hand," he said.
"Damn. I can't stand up to that," I grumbled. "Man's as broad as-" I cut off the military euphemism.
"Th' broadside of a ship, aye. And proportional all the way, I'd wager," one of the Yellowjackets laughed.
"That's the Grand Storm Marshal you're making lewd comments about, lass," the Commodore said severely. I could still see the laughter in his eyes.
With a dramatic sigh, I shrugged. "A girl can dream, at least. Of having the Admiral's style, if not her favor! I think I'd better see if I can find anything a bit less like a floursack to wear to this fancy gathering." I brushed at the dried grime on my Arcanists' robes. Reaver blood, voidsent ichor, and, for some reason, dodo feathers.
"Check with Baderon," one of the sea wolf girls suggested. "He has an eye for what's a bargain."
"Thanks," I tipped her an irreverent two-finger salute, and she giggled. "And if there's a bounty in this for me, I'll be back with a couple bottles to share. Least I can do for the fine work the Yellowjackets have done today."
"Always nice to know you're keeping us in mind, Vestigal. We'll show you a real Limsan party if you do," the Commodore offered with a long look and a smile.
I felt a mirroring smile spread across my lips. The midlander was a head shorter than me, but not badly built, and moved like he knew his way around a weapon or two. "Have to cater to the high and mighty first. But I'm a simple woman at heart- you know I'd rather be here," I conceded with a wink. The way his eyes crinkled in genuine delight made my heart lift.
With every intention of leaving the Admiral's victory feast early and taking a dashing Commodore up on his offer, I donned my hideously frilly new shoes and the best of my robes. The exact same cut and style as my old uniform. That kept me nervously on my toes. The weight of my past hanging just above my neck. Very quickly, I realized that I hated these sorts of events. Where are you from? Should be simple: Ala Mhigo, the Royal City. Oh, so you're familiar with the Garleans… . I left years ago, it's probably not the same. What have you done since then? I traveled… nowhere in particular…
I spent a lot of time mulling over my cup. And refilling it. And getting rosy-cheeked, tight-lipped, and short-tempered from the strength of the spirits.
By the time the Admiral called order to give a toast, I was fuzzier than I'd been since filching my grandfather's moonshine as a girl. Honestly, I let my eyes glaze over as she spoke. The word Carteneau cut through my fog with icy clarity. I flinched- I know it. And when I looked back at Merlwyb, the same splitting headache and wave of dizziness dropped me into her memories of the worst day of my life.
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The Elder Seedseer stood with serene confidence, surrounded by an eldritch air. She was myth made flesh. It was easy to believe that she embodied the will of the spirits of this ancient forest. I liked her immensely, and feared her no little bit.
Her attendants were no less interesting. The premier guard had a certain air… I looked him head to heels. Thoughtful, I clicked my heels together in a mirror of his. His eyes narrowed as he shifted his stance. I only winked.
I left Nophica's Altar with a lighter heart.
I found a good bottle, big enough to share, and a place to sit above the pathways. I'd never seen such huge trees before. The Shroud would be easy to love. The land felt more alive than any other I'd visited. Ala Mhigo was ancient, steeped in layer upon layer of myth like the striped rock. Vylbrand was wild, each valley and cove its own world. But the Shroud, it breathed and murmured with a thousand voices. I wanted to know what stories they had to tell, if only I sat long enough to hear. Maybe that was the wisdom of the Elementals.
The guard found me there. I poured a cup for him and set it beside me, then looked out over the trees again. "I think I see why you picked Gridania."
"Just as you picked Limsa Lominsa, Merlwyb's representative?"
I sighed heavily and leaned back on my palms. "Did you really come here with your hand near your spear just to interrogate me? Relax. Have a drink. Listen to the trees. That was my plan."
He didn't take up my offer, no surprise. I decided to ignore him, and turned my face up to the dappled leafy sunlight. "I don't think I could stay here forever, but…it's a good place. I'm glad to have seen it."
I heard him shift on his feet. When I held up the cup, he pushed it aside. "More for me. Eques?"
He only growled, "you've never held a spear before. I can see the blisters."
"I was asking you," I drawled, then shook my head. "Hoplomachus. But your lancer's guild has been welcoming." I tapped my chest, still trying to bridge his obvious hostility. "Julyana Vestigal, of Ala Mhigo.
"Keeper of the Entwined Serpents. Naught else matters."
"A man of mystery. I can respect that." I downed his cup and set it aside, giving up on my attempt at friendliness. So much for kindred spirits, strangers in a strange land. No, we were both ex-Imperials. We'd had distrust beaten into us. "If you're worried about my discretion, don't. I have no reason to share anyone else's secrets, and only respect for what you've chosen." I stretched my neck, eyes still trained skyward. "If you're questioning my loyalties, well. I suppose that's only fair. For what my word is worth, I bear no love for rabid Wolves and would-be conquerors.
"I won't lie. The Admiral doesn't hold my oath. My loyalties are my own." I shrugged. "I just wanted to see… this . Instead of dying in a battlefield. The rest is happenstance."
He took a moment to respond. "I'm wary of any agent whose only cause is curiosity. " The threat was muted, but not gone. "If you don't fight for a person, a land, an idea… what is to keep you from being swayed?"
"What about you? When your oaths and duties leave your hands tied, how will you break your honor? I've little faith in orders anymore." I sipped directly from the bottle. "But… the way the wind sings in the trees? I'll fight for that. And the markets in Limsa, and the way sailors in Vylbrand sing as they work. Everyone deserves a chance to dream, don't you think?"
I heard the Serpent climb to his feet. "Elementals willing, you will never find Eorzea lacking in wonders."
"Thanalan is next," I reassured him. "And if that fails… the Empire doesn't go on forever. There's a whole world out there. I don't think one land could hold me."
"Guard your steps," the Serpent warned me. "The Twin Adders have eyes everywhere, as do the Gods' Quiver and Wood Wailers."
"I mean to visit Ywain again before I go. He'd be a good keeper," I commented blandly. Kan-E-Senna's guard dog could take his paranoia elsewhere. I had the freedom to sit with the sun on my face and listen to the birds and children chatter.
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"The Iron Bull," I blurted, wide-eyed. " The Iron Bull of Ala Mhigo."
"We're not on the bloodsands, girl," he growled. "I am Raubahn Aldynn, General of the Eternal Flames."
"Apologies," I said quickly. Shaking my head, I tried to find something to do with my hands other than a soldier's parade rest. "Do you know the reputation you have in Gyr Abania? Not just as a Gladiator, but as Flame General- I never thought I'd meet you in the flesh." Under my breath, I added, "Seven hells, you're tall…" His garb was brief enough to set my imagination racing. Were his muscles as taut as they looked? How high up his thigh did that scar go? Was he as commanding out of uniform as he was in it?
Focus, Julyana.
I managed the rest of the meeting without embarrassing myself. If I had a pep in my step, I could say it was the honor of meeting a figure of legend from my childhood. The night air had a bracing chill, and that helped settle my daze. No airship back to Limsa until tomorrow. I considered my savings and my mood, deciding whether to pay out for aetheryte travel instead. No, an evening's delay wouldn't do any harm.
The Adventurer's Guild in Ul'dah had a refined air that the Drowning Wench lacked. Businessmen and artisans rubbed elbows with the adventurers. Making deals of many types, I guessed. The Quicksand seemed a fitting name- quick to drag down the unwary. I grabbed a stool at the bar, a drink, and a meal, and waited for the sharks to start circling. I didn't have to wait long for a bold soul to try to make my acquaintance- an Ala Mhigan with dark, arrogant eyes and a well-used bow. We traded adventuring tales and drinks. She gave a laughing thanks to Menphina when I pulled her into my room, the bright desert moon shining in through the windows. I made sure that was the last talking we managed before moonset.