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Aymeric woke to the sound of the window latch and smiled. Ah, his bedmate had returned from deployment. No doubt there would be wild stories over breakfast of daring deeds, continued in the evening over ale. He snuggled deeper into the covers, waiting for the sound of maille being hung on a rack.
But it didn't happen. He realised the steps were wrong. Aymeric rolled over and sat up, adrenaline and cold air waking him fully. A man in spiked maille did indeed stand there, but he was not Elezen.
"Good evening. I have heard that Ser Yuhelmeric is believed to be lost to Dusk Vigil. You are rumoured to be next Lord Commander. I think it's time to tell you this story."
Aymeric blinked. A story? In the small hours of the morning? After breaking and entering? Keeping his tone even and polite, for Fury only knew what this madman wanted, Aymeric said, "I thank you for coming to tell me, but would it not be better for you to come during the day hours? When I am truly awake?"
The man snorted and turned his head slightly. Aymeric could now see the wicked points on his horns, by his chin.
"This is not a story for the light of day."
Aymeric's eyebrow rose. "I see. In that case, please allow me to rise and fetch a dressing gown, lest I fall asleep. My bed is rather too comfortable for me to stay awake." His eyes flicked to where his dressing gown hung. The man's eyes must have followed.
"Do you think me stupid? I can see it's next to your sword and maille from here!" The man stalked over to the dressing gown, bundled it, and threw it at Aymeric. Aymeric tried not to startle, as the fireplace's glow picked out the man's pale skin and glowing green eyes. He wasn't entirely sure the man was not a ghost.
"Get up, if you must."
Aymeric followed him to the chairs in front of the fireplace, watching as the man stoked the flames.
"May I offer you some refresh-"
The man grabbed the wash jug, gulped twice, and slammed it back down on the sideboard.
"Consider me refreshed. Sit."
Aymeric did. One did not argue with fully armed and armoured men when one wore sleepwear and had no sword. The man glared at him and pushed the other armchair out of the way, so he could stand and pace.
"So. Do you know of the Au Ra?"
Aymeric nodded.
"Do you know much?"
A shake of the head.
"Right. I am of the Au Ra, the Orl tribe. 30 years ago, we ran from Garlemald when they invaded Doma, our homeland. We had only a vague destination of 'Eorzea'. We travelled through the frozen wastes of Ilsabard, arriving in Gyr Abania. Some continued on, others stayed a while, until the just before the fall of Ala Mhigo. My parents and our kin heard that Garlemald was at the border, and they had no wish to be caught in another war. At least this time, they had a destination: Coerthas. The group that had gone on before had found a plot of empty wasteland in which they could keep karakul and worship the Twelve. A few had been found intelligent enough that they had been accepted into the Scholasticate, with scholarships for tuition and board. It was understood that in taking these places, they may end up secluded in the city of Ishgard, but it was seen as a way for us to work towards acceptance."
The man's face showed exactly what he thought of such acceptance and charity.
"My parents and our kin made their way through the Shroud and into the Central Highlands. They brought their Gyr Abanian flocks with them, with hopes that they could be bred with the Coerthan karakul to make a unique, hardy breed that would secure them a stable lifestyle. All was well. We reunited with our lost kin, the breeding attempts began, and we settled in. This was the life I was born into." He stopped a moment, a softness coming over his face at the thought. Aymeric realised just how young he was.
The man shook himself and began pacing again. "But the Ishgardians did not take kindly to a whole tribe arriving on their doorstep. A handful of Au Ra they could tolerate and convert, but a whole tribe? No.
We were constantly patrolled by your adored Temple Knights. They stole our karakul, "requisitioning" them for their meals. A couple of years later, the attacks began, on one pretense or another, usually for "harbouring heretics". Ishgardians believed us to be part dragon, and therefore more susceptible to the heretic's stories. Pah! Those maniacs daren't come near us, for we chased them away. We tried to forgive and forget, tired of running and hoping that we would eventually be accepted." He paused again. Steeling himself for the next part.
"Then the Cull happened. A larger contingent of Temple Knights, this time joined by those from the Four High Houses, came to slaughter us. We were such a threat, these farmers on poor soil. Every single man, woman and child was put to the sword. I was eight. The ground was nothing but red mud by the time they got to my parents and me. We were the furthest yurt, and came running in at the screams. My older brother was already dead, next to my sister-in-law. A set of knights grabbed us, pulling our arms back and making us kneel. One came over, his tunic so splattered I could not tell his affiliation. He slit the throats of my parents, and had just brought his sword to my neck when a blast of magic blew him backwards. I was showered with blood, and the heads of the knights holding us fell at my feet. I was stunned. A strong arm came around my waist, lifted me onto a chocobo. A slap, and the chocobo ran, with me holding on for dear life. Later, this man caught us up. He took me in and taught me to fence as a Dark Knight."
The man leaned over Aymeric, bracing himself on the chair's arms.
"I live for revenge, as I am Sidurgu Orl, and I am the last of my tribe."
Sidurgu stopped, looking at Aymeric closely for a reaction. Aymeric's eyes had filled with tears.
"'Tis a harrowing story, my lord." Aymeric wiped his eyes delicately, but then they hardened.
" There are many orphans in this city who seek revenge." Another farmboy turned vengeful spirit came to mind.
"But what would you have me do? Could you recognise these knights? It would have been 15 years ago. A good deal of them would be lost to the Dravanians. Some would have had no say in the matter, simply pointed at your tribe and told you were heretics."
Sidurgu sneered. "Don't play the idiot. No one could tell who they were with those helms. But I found out why we were suddenly a problem. 17 years ago, Ishgard was closing up, due to her new Archbishop's pious policies. We were obviously caught in that, worshipping all of the Twelve and having scales."
Aymeric blanched. "You wish for me to oppose the Archbishop? I am not even named, I will not have that power for many years!" Aymeric stood, forcing Sidurgu to back away.
"And why should I oppose a man from whom I have barely garnered a look?"
Sidurgu looked at him in interest. "Why do you care if he looks at you?"
Aymeric collapsed back into the chair, covering his face with his hands and rubbing his eyes. "My apologies. It is late and I am overtired."
"But that feeling is why you should care. He is your true father, yes?"
Aymeric sighed. "He has never acknowledged me."
"And yet, the rumour persists. Do you know your mother?"
"My only mother is Lady Borel."
"And I'll replace your sire as the next Archbishop."
The glare Sidurgu received should have crucified him against the wall. Sidurgu sighed and went still. He continued in a quieter tone, but the anger still bubbled underneath.
"I mentioned those who went to the Scholasticate. Little was heard from them, but we expected that. There is one whom we do know about. A young woman, who died in childbirth in her second year there. No one knew who the father was. The scandal was hushed up, the baby was given to an Halonic orphanage, and adopted soon after."
"There are many babies that are orphaned and adopted, and the names are changed..."
"And any trinkets from the birth parents burned to 'give the foundlings a fresh life, free from the sins of their fathers.' I know." Sidurgu continued, "but your face is familiar to me. The shape was reflected in the men of my tribe. I think, that you might be the child of that poor Orl woman who went to the Scholasticate."
At the close of Sidurgu's story, he noticed that Aymeric had stilled himself, but he was staring at his arm whilst rubbing it and his hand. He spoke.
"Having Au Ra heritage... yes that might explain it."
"Explain what?"
Aymeric looked up. "I apologise. I have... callouses. Along the outside of my arms and legs, and more bone in my ears than I ought." Aymeric held out his arm, pulling the nightshirt and dressing gown back.
"What do you mean, callouses? I tell you all this and you talk of callouses?"
Aymeric simply extended his arm further.
Sidurgu held his gaze for a moment, before kneeling and grasping the arm fully. He traced firmly along the line of the "callous", and yes, there was some hardness there that did not belong on a softskin. The wavy edge was like the pattern of his own scales, but smooth instead of spiky.
"They hardened when I was a child." Aymeric smiled. "I always thought it was Halone trying to protect me from the other children. They did love to rough me up."
Sidurgu snorted, then clasped Aymeric's ear. The edge was solid, but shaped like a normal Elezen ear. Aymeric's smile changed to shock as he pulled his head away.
"Did... did you not believe your own story? I would not have, except..." Aymeric gestured to his arm. "These callouses may be unformed plates."
Shaken from his stupor, Sidurgu leaned forward and pulled a startled Aymeric into an embrace, deliberately knocking his horn into the side of Aymeric's head. Pulling back, a grin came over Sidurgu Orl's face.
"Well met, Aymeric Orl. It is amazing to find I am not the last of my tribe."