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Newly appointed Flame Captain Horizon looked down at his notes and licked his lips. It was a nervous habit, not that he had anything to be nervous about in this particular case. It was a relatively routine matter, involving an ordinary soldier under his new command. It was just that it was a new command. He’d worked in Ul’dah before… fifteen years ago, when the company was fresh and new and offering a decent salary for a fourth son of a mercenary family.
He’d done his basic training in the city before getting sent to Blackbrush and surviving Cartenau. A turn in Scorpion Crossing, then a promotion out in Bluefog, some terrifying times in Operation Archon, then in Ala Mhigo… one thing lead to another, and here he was again with a fancier title, a shoulder that ached before it rained, and a lot of decision-making power over Flames he’d never met before.
But a lot of people under his command seemed to have met this one. It made him… well. Not nervous, certainly, but a bit cautious . People talked about people they knew, so he wasn’t about to make any decisions without plenty of due diligence. Hence the reports, hence the interview.
There was a firm knock at his door. He bid her enter.
“Sergeant Bride, I…” The words slowed in his mouth as the woman closed the door behind her, “...assume…?”
She saluted, smart and crisp in her officer’s coat. “Yes, sir.”
“I thought you’d be… taller.” He ventured.
“I get that a lot, sir.” She replied. She kept her back straight and head high, for all the good that did her.
Sergeant Defiant Bride was considerably shorter than he’d expected. By about… two or three fulms, when she couldn’t be more than five in total. He hadn’t intended to look down on her, but it was impossible to avoid, even seated as he was. If he stood up, they’d both hurt their necks making eye contact. She was also far scalier than he’d pictured, cream-colored and pebbled, framing a round chin and soft cheeks and presenting a pale crest on her forehead. She had a single curved horn and a single smooth stump, and a heavy-looking tail that he could only just see from his vantage point. It wasn’t the only heavy thing about her.
The Captain surreptitiously glanced at her profile again. Now that he was really looking for it, there it was--Defiant Bride, 29, Abalathia’s Spine, Raen Au-ra. He must’ve read it, but apparently forgot when it came time to conjure a mental image.
“Adopted, sir,” The woman volunteered, her voice soft and a bit deeper than he would’ve expected, “As a b-babe. I was raised in the Spine as a Bride. I learned of the old magicks at my mother’s feet and walked the fires to temper my soul. ”
He blinked. It was strange, hearing the lilt of archaic Roegadyn coming from a mouth so low to the ground, but the words themselves were flawless. She had a hint of a Dravanian accent.
Bride smiled at him and he smiled back before catching himself. It was an infectious expression. The Captain coughed to regain his composure, and shifted in his seat.
“I see, yes, yes… right, at ease, Sergeant.”
She shifted her posture and he shuffled the papers on his desk, eyes flying over them for any other vital facts he might’ve missed. Nothing jumped out, but that hardly meant anything. Right, right. Right. Nothing to do but continue.
“I called you up to discuss your request, you understand. There’s no issue with it, but…” He looked at her, “I like to know the folks under my command, and you can’t really know someone just from reading their records. Consider this… just a social chat. Putting a face to the name and all that.” A correct one.
“Understood, sir.” She dipped her head, relaxing not a single degree. “I’d be happy to talk about anything y-you have in mind. In truth, I regret I wasn’t able to greet you more formally b-before now.”
“Well, seems we’ve just been missing each other, is all.” He gestured to the seat in front of his desk, flipping through the papers as she got seated ( oh, she had to hold the tail aside. In her lap, huh? Never seen a miqo’te do that ). “...you’ve been out of the Halls a lot over the past few moons.”
“Yes, sir. Though I think I’ve kept up fairly w-well on things via correspondence. I d-don’t like t-to leave too much work to my fellows if I can help it.” She smiled again, though he was ready for it this time.
“Doing much while out and about?” He asked, eyeing her.
“Not much,” she returned, not rising to his bait, “I just had… a b-bit of vacation time saved up. It seemed a g-good time to use it, and I feel it gave me a c-chance to broaden my perspective a bit. And I think there was a Chirugeon’s note involved…?”
There was, clipped neatly to the time off report. A lot of words that added up to something along the lines of “this woman needs to get the fuck out of Ilsabard and go somewhere else before her heart explodes or she dies of frostbite or both.” Seemed Defiant Bride had done good work in the contingent, but it hadn’t been very good for her.
“Right, right. So you were away a bit, came back, and now… you’re interested in some new responsibilities.” He watched her carefully, but there was no hint of nerves on that gentle face.
“A Squadron, y-yes.” She nodded, “I would like the opportunity to form a new adventurer’s squadron. I know t-there’s been some d-discussion of new recruitments… and I know it’s usually reserved for higher officers, but I b-believe I meet all the qualifications to be considered for the leadership. Sir.”
Captain Horizon sat back and licked his lips, thinking. Here was the trick, then. She did, by and large, meet the qualifications… but it was unusual. And he was new. There were too many opportunities for a new officer to get himself into trouble when it came to an established pecking order, if he wasn’t careful. Approving an unusual request might bring up resentment or whispers of bias ( and at a glance, he could imagine the whispers about why he’d favored her ). He could promote her, but it hadn’t been an explicit part of the request and there were other officers eyeing Chief Sergeant. He could simply deny it, but then people might whisper about him not giving her a fair shake. Office politics, what a thrice-damned nightmare. The only way out was to have an iron clad reason for whatever decision he was going to make.
From the top, then.
“You’ve been with us… eight years now, Bride?” He flipped all the way to the back, the start of the records. “What brought you to the Flames, then?”
Defiant settled her tail in her lap, giving it a pat before she began. “A-about the same thing that brings most Hellsguard, I think, sir. I w-was fresh down from the mountains and Ul’dah was a bit… o-overwhelming, ehe. I wanted to l-learn swordsmanship but I had no talent for the arena. T-the Flames offered me a chance t-to make a living and hone my skills, and I liked the thought of doing some good for the world.”
It was dizzying to try and take in--the sounds, the smells, the PEOPLE, more than she’d seen in her entire life before then. She could barely hold her sword when people looked at her, barely hold a conversation with Momodi. Everything was terrifying, everything overwhelming… and then she’d happened across the rally, and she’d SEEN him. The gleaming black armor, the bull’s head, a profile carved from stone, more muscles than any of the boys back home. His voice had been like lightning down her spine, and she’d known immediately she wanted to be under his command. She’d been first in line for new recruits.
“Right, right. Started out full-time, I see… Eastern Thanalan, huh?”
“Mmn. I d-did my training in Drybone, and then took up station in the Golden Bazaar. Patrolled Little Ala Mhigo, too. M-mostly Amal’jaa skirmishes. S-some voidsent.”
Captain Horizon looked over the lines that said as much. His eyes caught on something, and his stern expression melted a moment.
“...you were involved in…” He cleared his throat, “I see. I'm… very sorry. I knew Corporal Rivers. He was a good man. You… did a good thing. For him.”
Def’s eyes flit to the floor. She nodded. “He was… h-he was a very good man. I… wouldn’t b-be here without him. It was… he… h-he was a good man.”
…until his final moments, when flecks of foam were on his lips, the muscles of his neck taut as he roared at her, fighting the grasp of his former men, the fires burning in his eyes. He had been a good man when he’d caught the smell of smoke and warned them before the arrows came down. He’d been a good officer when he sent them to run for reinforcements. She’d remembered his strict lessons as they fought their way out, barked orders to her fellow privates like he would have. They wouldn’t have survived if not for Rivers. And he had survived only as a husk, the shape of a good man possessed by an all consuming flame that animated what was left, calling for them to burn. He had exalted the Lord of the Flames until his last breath. She heard his voice in her nightmares, even now.
“...not an… easy thing. For anyone.” Horizon said, reading further, “...no small injuries. That why you changed tracks?”
“No, sir. Not… e-entirely, sir.” She amended, “I heal well. It was just… l-life circumstances. With this and t-that, I realized I’d d-do best in the Free Brigade, so I applied f-for the transfer. It was a hard decision.”
“I imagine so.”
Which injuries were listed? The stabbing, likely, the peiste bite that’d shown her what her insides looked like. Only maybe the horn, maybe the ahriman. It must not mention the incident, the company driven from the bazaar, the jagged bite that’d cut through thigh muscles and left her unable to stand for a week. She’d cried until her eyes were sore, realizing she couldn’t go back. She missed the Bazaar, and the people, and the rain, but she’d chosen the Tide. And she had gone with it, for better or worse.
“I t-think it was for the best, in the end.” She said, her tone measured and introspective, “I saw a lot m-more of Thanalan after that, not just the East. I learned a lot a-about Ul’dah on patrol, sir. I don’t think I would’ve e-experienced it the same way had I not left.”
“Is that so?” Captain Horizon left it at that. He continued scanning the next line, scowling at what he found. “...the Fourth Brigade, then.”
“Yes, sir. I saw a lot of a-action with them, sir.” Here she had to keep her voice perfectly steady, her expression blank. She pushed on. “I w-was with them during Baelsar’s Wall.”
He flipped to the next page, then stopped again, looking from the note clipped there to the woman in front of him, eyes widening. He was staring at her chest, though she didn’t hold it against him--she could guess what was written.
“--I w-was very lucky, sir.” Defiant said, touching a hand over her coat, “But it w-wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”
She wouldn’t know. She hadn’t been conscious when the healers got to her. Later, she’d be told it was a miracle. The bullet had passed through clean, they said. Not fractured, not pierced through her heart (though she'd been certain it had, given the pain). She’d lost a lot of blood, but she was tough. Most fortunate, the Elementals had permitted her to live. She couldn’t tell if it meant something or had just been a passing whim, but the conjurers had been allowed to go all out to save her life, and they had. Moons later, she’d behead the woman who had shot her. All that was left was a scar on her breast and a heart that didn’t work as well as it had before.
“And it d-didn’t hinder me much in Ala Mhigo.”
The captain lowered his papers to meet her eyes. He’d read this next part well enough to trust his memory. “I’d say not. To be frank for a moment, Sergeant… you’ve got a damn near talent for bouncing back from the brink, don’t you? Magnet for bullets, or what? And how bad’s a broken tail, while I’m asking?”
“It--” Defiant winced. “...it… um. It’s bad? I-it’s mostly painful… I wasn’t trying t-to get hurt, I mean, s-sir…”
Pain. Searing pain, burning pain, cold pain, pain in the bones, the muscles, the nerves, the guts. She never tried to seek it out, but maybe she didn't run from danger like a sane person would. She took to the front in every fight, held her shield high, and did what she had to to make sure she was the one bandaged up and not the person behind her. The healers knew her intimately by the end.
“You weren’t?” He tapped the papers in thought, “...and you don’t wear the Mythril Scales?”
“N-no, sir! I was just… I-I’m just better at keeping other people f-from getting hurt. Is a-all. And… no, sir.”
“...why not?”
Silence stretched between the two of them. Defiant wasn’t meeting his eyes, Horizon noticed.
“...I was j-just a Private. I f-felt… it was ostentatious of me.” She said, not really lying.
Silence again. Horizon didn’t pry. Instead, he flipped the page, moving on to something else he’d read quite thoroughly.
“...right, right. That’s how it is. Let’s move along to this matter of… Thal’s Hatred . And your involvement with them.” His brow furrowed, “I can read the sanction til my eyes cross, but it’s just words. Damning words, but they clearly saw fit to give you another chance. If you’ve got anything to say about the matter, Sergeant, I’d be quite interested in hearing it.”
She had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, but she’d prepared for it anyway. It didn’t make it much easier for her to force the words out of her throat.
“I…” Her chest was tight, but she spoke even so, “...don’t deny w-what I did. It was a b-betrayal. I w-was greedy, and… angry. I… made a c-choice, and I’ll live w-with the regret of that c-choice til my dying day. I’ve done my b-best to… to prove I’m worthy of trusting again. S-since then. It’s m-my hope that I’ve done so, sir.”
It had been too easy. Pass along a little information, listen, act in Alonzo’s interests even for a moment… and people would finally SEE her. See her deeds, see her valor, see her hard work for what it was. She’d been a private for so long, and she knew WHY, and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with HIM. He’d been so fucking BLATANT about it, and what he was doing to her… and tempted with another way, she took it. She was Chosen. She had felt her soul crystal dim, knew the sin she was committing, and she’d done it anyway, chasing the promise of reward. And what a reward she had earned: they’d seen her, certainly. They’d seen her, for all her deeds. She had been damned.
Horizon let her stew like that. She was a bit pale, but she didn’t sweat, he noted. And she didn’t avoid his eyes, nor try to make excuses. He didn’t think of himself as any exceptional judge of character, but she didn’t seem like much of a liar, and it had been years. He let her go.
“...it’s good to see a soldier willing to admit to her weakness.” He added, tone softening a hair, “...and your record is strong, otherwise. This was around the time the Fourth disbanded, yes? You were free of it by then, it seems. Good. Good.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a slight shift in the air, a certain weight no longer hanging over Defiant’s head. He wouldn’t hold it against her, then. It wouldn’t be an issue.
“Right, right. Let’s see…”
There was a quiet stretch in the record, there… made sense, that she would’ve kept her head down a while. Ordinary patrols, ordinary paperwork, ordinary supply missions. Building trust, sticking to her fundamentals, the sort of thing he liked to see. Modest improvements, and then…
“Which brings us to… this Sea of Clouds business.” He squinted at her, her expression that blank calm again. She didn’t flinch when he brought this one up. “...you got yourself caught up in quite a mess, didn’t you, Sergeant? And just when you were making your way up in the world…”
On paper, it seemed to be quite a big deal that she’d gone up into the skies when the Flames stayed below… but it also seemed like she’d more or less gotten away with a slap on the wrist and a stern talking to. There wasn’t a full transcript of what occurred, but the notes indicated…
“What, exactly , does ‘Conflict of Oath’ mean, and how would that provide ‘extenuating circumstances’?”
One could almost taste the quotation marks on his words. Defiant drew herself up again and took a deep breath. The memories were still vivid here, but her convictions had never wavered.
“Conflict of Paladin’s Oath, C-captain. I felt, in this situation, that to abandon my c-course would be in violation of my sworn duties as a Paladin. To see justice done, I needed to see things t-through to the end. I did my best to obey my orders otherwise; I believe it’s noted that I didn’t m-miss a single report or shift, other than… t-than one incident.”
The swaying ship, the sneering faces, the blood on her back, the despair in the cells… but she had gone to see it through. She had to. Her heart demanded it--her oath did. The alliance called for her to cut ties, but there was danger in the skies and biting at her own home. There was a family she had to protect, who urged her to take flight, and there was someone’s side she wanted to stay at, no matter what. There was justice to be claimed. There was mercy to be meted. She would have done it again in a heartbeat.
“And you believe that justifies disobeying orders?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe I was following the Sultana’s orders, sir. To the b-best of my ability.” Her hand shifted to her neck, pressing against the stone that hung on a chain below her clothing. It was slightly warm, even through her uniform. “I have a duty t-to the Paladins that have gone b-before me, sir, and I would have been betraying t-them had I walked away. I… made t-that mistake before. I didn't want to make it again. I do regret that it lead t-to a conflict of priorities, sir.”
What a weasley little turn of phrase that was! Conflict of Priorities… she’d gone rouge , is what it was! Somewhat rogue, anyway. She had turned in reports, he couldn’t deny that. And turned up for patrols. Earned some kind of little commendation for a Chimera hunt in the middle of the mess. And though he wasn’t a fan of the argument, it held a kind of weight. The Sultansworn worked with the Flames, but they weren’t one and the same, and if their priorities clashed… well. No good Ul’dahn could blame a Paladin for following their oath in good conscience.
The Captain went quiet, this time to contemplate what was left. A picture was forming, far more accurate than what he’d imagined from the files. What it all added up to… he still wasn’t certain.
“Right. Right, yes. You made it through all that business, and then…”
“...then there w-was the opening in the Hall of Flames, sir.” She said, soft and even. Now things got easier. “I’ve always b-been good at paperwork, so I applied. I don’t believe there were many candidates for the p-position…”
There hadn’t been. Flame Sergeant Second Class was a prize worth pursuing by any Corporal, but not the job that came with it. Paperwork, accounts, reports, bookkeeping--the seat in the Quartermaster’s Office had been empty for months, and there was a massive backlog of busywork just waiting for some ambitious fool to finally deal with it. There’d be no glory on the battlefield for the next Sergeant… just leves to check and requisitions to assign and poorly spelled correspondence from across the land to sort out. She’d be at a desk for hours, even at home. She might not unsheathe her sword for weeks at a time.
It was perfect.
“And that’s where you’ve been since.” Horizon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “A reckless soldier with a death wish turned ordinary pencil-pusher.”
He was pleased to see Defiant grimace at that. Nailed it on the head, then.
“Now, I won’t be unfair, here--a fine pencil pusher indeed. Nothing but praise for your work, across the board! And no more trouble to be found, not a single reported injury.” He glanced down, “...not a single reported injury to you.”
Defiant coughed, her cheeks flushing, tinting her scales pink, “Well, uh--I do make an e-effort not to cause any trouble to the trainees, b-but… um. There’s some lessons b-best learned nice and early, I think? Captain, s-sir…”
It was a favor to her old superiors and comrades, dropping into Drybone to meet the recruits. She had once been told she did a fantastic job with them--get them off their guard, then teach them a lesson about underestimating the enemy. Not that she meant to do it, but there were always a few new privates who couldn’t see past the chubby face and soft curves. She TRIED, but she’d never quite got the hang of how to hold back in a sparring match. And she never did more than concuss anyone, of course! Mostly. Very hard, anyway.
“...right. Well! Can't really deny that…” Probably an entertaining sight. “And there's some praise here for your weapon delivery work, too, so not all pencil pushing. And lastly…”
“Looks like Ilsabard damn finished you off, Sergeant. Why'd you join on? You must've known about the weather and you were doing good work here. Things get too calm for you? Not enough gunfire? Looking for a last hurrah?” It was prodding, but it was the final part he had to try to make fit. He hadn't joined the Contingency himself; too much bad blood. Everything on paper said she should feel the same. The brushes with death, her heroics on the field of battle, clashes with the Garleans time and time again... They'd done their best to kill her, she'd killed plenty in turn. And then she'd volunteered to bring them aid until she couldn't survive another cold snap.
Defiant closed her eyes.
Warm hands. Warm voices. Pearls embedded in foreheads. Oen. Pyr. Conscripts. Resentment. Fear. Longing. Scars. A cannon fired, loyal men crushed beneath the rubble. Gears, churning, oiled by blood. A machine that devoured and consumed, like the fires in a once-good man’s eyes. A chance. Just one chance…
“Mercy.”
In this matter, her voice was steady. In this… she was sure.
“They d-deserved mercy, sir. I swore an oath to see it given, and so I did my best to offer it. The Garleans… d-deserved that much. That’s all, sir.”
Captain and Sergeant were quiet, looking at each other.
“Mercy, Sergeant? You’ve won an awful lot of battles for a woman of mercy.”
“Mercy, Captain. It doesn't mean pacifism, j-just… a second chance, if they’re willing to seize it. That's all, sir.”
“...with all due respect, Sergeant…” and Horizon let out a slow breath, leaning forward over the desk, “ You truly think the bastards deserve it? ”
She locked eyes with him, and her gaze was clear. For a moment, they seemed to flash with some inner light.
“I do, sir. The Empire never seemed to spare much for them. Shouldn't we?”
Captain Horizon had other questions, but they all felt extraneous now. What more was there to say? He shuffled all the papers together and tapped them on the desk to even them out. Her profile sat on top again, neat and tidy.
“...I do believe that's all I had, Sergeant Bride. Was there anything you wanted to say in favor of your proposal?”
She pushed up her glasses and shook her head. “No, sir. I think I put everything I w-wanted to say on paper.”
“Right, right. Well, then.” He shifted to his feet with a soft grunt, and she slipped right back to attention. Pushed the chair in, even. “I think I've taken up enough of your time, then…”
“No, sir, not at all. I’ve always time to c-chat with my superiors,” She smiled and snapped into a salute, “Though I usually p-prefer it be over a pot of tea, sir.”
He saluted back. “Perhaps in the future, then. Dismissed, Sergeant Bride. You’ll hear about the Squadron before the end of the week… And I believe it's been good getting to know you.”
She left as quietly as she'd come. When the door closed behind her, Horizon licked his lips, shuffling to the sideboard to pour himself a drink and put everything in its place.
So. A completely spotty record. Swings between full and part time, bouncing around the field and office, dabbling in every little bit of the Grand Company. A health record that should've killed her a couple times over. A history of working independently, for worse or better, but always coming back to face the consequences. No excuses. No shying away. Honors, but hardly wore them proudly. Ambition, but tempered. And a desire to show mercy. A duty to show mercy.
Her request sat inside his desk, awaiting a decision.
As Captain Horizon eased back into his chair and took a sip, he was surprised to realize he’d been telling the truth. It was nice to get to know the woman. She was an interesting sort, and the type he didn't mind holding a conversation with. And that smile had been so infectious!
Slowly, carefully, he shifted his big stack of reports to reveal a small note at the very bottom, written in a messy hand. The puzzle was complete, yet there was still this one piece, jotted by a trusted Sergeant who’d vouched for Bride. He'd sworn he wouldn't let it influence his decision, that it wouldn't sway his mind… but…
Sgt. Bride. Loyal. Friendly. Likes travel. Brings souvenirs. Mostly food & drink.
And while newly appointed Flames Captain Reg Horizon planned to make a fair and reasoned decision… he also wondered what type of tea Bride liked to chat over. He licked his lips.
He'd just have to find out, he supposed.