Chapter Text
It may come as no surprise that being a public figure as a Warrior of Light has resulted in me having to lay low. In the three months since destroying the Ultima Weapon, rarely a day goes by where I don't hear my name on someone's lips—luckily, few seem to know my face. I've taken to wearing the standard issue black coat and tabard handed out by the Eorzean adventurers’ guilds and, with the approval of Mother Miounne, have taken up the alias Nadia. Sure enough, nary a soul has suspected me.
Considering my current endeavours, this is all the better. On countless occasions while working with the Scions, I found myself wishing that one amongst we champions had a real capacity for subterfuge; above all, the rescue mission at Castrum Centri and the sieges on Cape Westwind and Castrum Meridianum. How much violence could have been avoided? How much cleaner could our work have been?
To this end, I have been working with the Rogues’ Guild of Limsa Lominsa as of late. They are of course little more than a rumour to many, and that is by design: Admiral Merlwyb likes having a hidden dagger in her boot, and the rogues themselves favour the shadows. ‘Twas only by asking Merlwyb about them directly that I was able to get a recommendation. The audacity of asking her, gods, were I anyone else she might have shot me where I stood. Luckily, she likes me, and after Operation Archon she's in my debt besides.
Down in the docks, one can find an unassuming convent, the “Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss,” out of the way of just about anything and pretty much the last place in the city anyone might find themselves stumbling by accident. Where better for a guild of ghosts to make their nest? The Guildmaster, Jacke, was beyond thrilled at the notion that a Warrior of Light sought his tutelage; he would have taken me on even had Merlwyb not specifically requested it. I had a quick time of picking things up, thanks in part to my experience from hunting in the Shroud; the main teething issue I experienced early on was the cant. I swear, if it wasn’t for Celia lending her daddles, I’d still be fumbling my wattles on every prattle out of that dimber damber’s gob.
Still, knives are far from my specialty. I’ve fought with a spear my whole life, dragonblood notwithstanding, and I have to admit that I’m embarrassing myself with the damned things. Kebbe made a remark about the comedy of a Warrior of Light fumbling a dandy pair of stabbers, but Yda and Holdari introduced me to an alternative: while far from making me a full-fledged pugilist, they showed me a few basic forms which I’ve adapted to work in conjunction with my dragonblood. Frankly, just about any martial art is improved with the ability to augment each strike and guard with a jolt of lightning.
Since then, my fellow Warriors of Light have come back together to work with the Scions again: we’ve moved operations to Mor Dhona, delved a strange Gelmorran ruin and brought a powerful necromancer low, and I’ve been in talks with a renowned smith by the name of Gerolt who’s helping me reforge the legendary Gae Bolg. Needless to say, not much time for rest; indeed, Jacke has a new job for me already—one which necessitates not only the guile of a rogue, but also the brawn of a Warrior of Light. Simply put, I’m the only woman for the job.
There is one other factor, however, which I feel I may need some assistance with: Jacke reckons I’ll need a hefty amount of class and charisma, since the geezers we’re filching are chummy with some cutters with blunt pockets—that is, our marks have some upper class patrons. Ul’dahn, he says, with ties to the monetarists that make them untouchable to “roguish diplomacy;” after all, Merlwyb is expected to offer them protection and immunities as foreign state delegates, much as she’d rather toss them starboard-ways, so interrogation at knifepoint in a dark alley is off the table.
The problem is, I’m good as shite when it comes to getting in the good books of anyone with a superiority complex - in other words, I’m going to need to enlist the aid of the best diplomat I know to cover my ass. Much as I'd rather not drag her into this, she may be my best hope.
“I’ll do it.”
“Y-you will?!”
Minfilia smiled at her, as though the request was little more than a simple errand. “Juksie, have you not felled gods numerous times at my request? ‘Tis the least I can do to return the favour.”
Juksie folded her arms. They were alone in the new antecedent’s chamber at the back of the Rising Stones; owing to the secrecy of Juksie’s mission, she could not afford the wrong ears hearing of her plans. She was, in a worst case scenario, asking Minfilia to commit diplomatic suicide by getting involved with something this shady, a fact that had surely not escaped her notice.
“You’re not in my debt, you know…”
“I know,” the antecedent affirmed as she walked around her desk to her. “But nonetheless, I wish to be of assistance in any way that I can. Please, fill me in on the details.”
Juksie sighed through a scoff. “Alright, if you’re sure.”
She hopped up onto the edge of the desk and got comfortable. “The group we’re dealing with call themselves the Bronze Drakes. Massive criminal organisation, worryingly so, mainly based in Thanalan but hoping to plant roots elsewhere. They run the whole gig: smuggling, protection fee shakedowns, illicit dealings… but their main business is human trafficking.”
Those last words were a curse on her breath. With a shake of her head, she continued:
“It seems their boss, the eponymous Bronze Drake, is happy to expand their empire into whatever field they can secure; they used to compete with the Alacran, but ever since they suddenly went belly-up a few months back, the Drakes ate up all their vestiges and have entirely taken their place.”
“An aggressive expansionist, then?” Minfilia asked.
“Seems like it. And to make matters worse, their ringleaders are able to beat out any competition new gangs might attempt, by force.”
Minfilia’s brows raised. “By force? You mean to say that they simply crush their opponents through sheer strength?”
Juksie’s eyes began to wander away from her, her voice falling quiet. “Word on the docks is that their new ringleader in La Noscea was seen near Swiftperch, making short work of a whole Maelstrom squadron on his lonesome. If the prattle’s bob, he was-”
“Wait,” Minfilia interjected. “If the what is what ?”
“Oh. Right. If the rumours are to be believed , he was seen fighting a contingent of yellowjackets alone no problem. Supposedly he was catching axe blades on his bare arm without a scratch, and swinging back with enough force to shatter mountains like he was Titan Himself. And as if that wasn’t enough, he made his escape soon after by scaling a cliff in a single leap.”
Minfilia nodded, waiting for Juksie to say more. She didn’t.
“Juksie,” she gently pressed, “is something bothering you about this?”
“Hm?”
“You are being unusually hesitant on the matter.”
Juksie opened her mouth to say something, paused, and closed it again.
“…Yeah. ‘Tis just…”
She breathed in deep. Held it. Exhaled.
“…They say he's wielding earth magic. Nothing like conjury, or arcanima, or spells of any kind. He just… does it.”
“Like your lightning powers?”
Juksie curled her lip to one corner. “Like my lightning powers.”
Minfilia pressed a knuckle to her lip and thought for a moment. “As I recall, before the Calamity, the Order of Knights Dragoon called upon you after hearing word of your abilities. They knew at once from rumours alone that you bear a particularly powerful manifestation of dragonblood.”
“Ser Alberic claimed that not even the Azure Dragoons before me possessed that much latent potential.” She shrugged. “There are stories about a few of the first bearers of the Eye like Haldrath, but nothing concrete. Nothing until now.”
Minfilia tentatively approached her and rested a hand on her arm. “You fear this ringleader has something in common with you, then.”
Juksie sighed. “Maybe. I'm a little scared to find out.”
Minfilia frowned. She took a seat beside her on the desk. “Even should your blood have some sinister origin, what does it change? You did not choose it. You are not defined by it. What you have chosen is what you shall do with it, and to that end I daresay you have inspired us all, with no shortage of valour and compassion.”
Juksie turned slowly to face her. A weak smile began to show itself.
“You've had a lot of time to think about latent abilities yourself, haven't you?”
The scoff she received from the antecedent was quick to mirror itself in her own features. Minfilia awkwardly looked down at her hands, whose fingers were restlessly wrung together.
“I confess, Hydaelyn’s gift has given me much to consider. The Echo has been a responsibility as much as a blessing.”
“I'll say. It sure would be nice if we had any control over when it happened, at least.”
The antecedent’s eyes flicked back up to her companion. “‘Tis all part of Hydaelyn's plan, I am sure.”
Juksie leaned back onto her hands, exhaling with the motion. “I sure hope so. I'll admit, you're a lot more optimistic about this arrangement than I am.”
Minfilia smiled at her. “I merely have faith in Her guidance. And in my friends.”
“Minfilia…”
Juksie caught herself gazing at her, and shook herself lightly. Her ears straightened, followed by her posture. “So, you're sure you're okay with helping?”
Minfilia nodded. “Not only with these Bronze Drakes, but also with any revelation you may happen upon regarding your powers. Whatever may come, I shall support you in any way I can.”
“Minfilia,” Juksie sighed, “thank you. Really, I owe you for this.”
She scoffed at her again. “If you must, then please consider us even for Castrum Centri.”
“Deal. I'll take you to the guild tomorrow and we can talk business.”
Minfilia smiled and nodded. “I shall look forward to it.”
