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It had been a month now, a month since those damnable savages had the gall to not only overthrow Garlean rule in his homeland of Doma, but in Ala Mhigo as well. A week since his late sister’s weakness had given the savages the chance they needed to do the unthinkable. Murder Zenos yae Galvus, his hero who had saved him all those years ago. The one who had ushered in peace for Garlemald’s territories, the crown prince who by all rights was invincible and the standard that all Garleans should aspire to.
And yet, he had reportedly been felled by the savior of the savages, the Warrior of Light and their damned companions. They had not only dared to bite the hand that fed them, that kept them safe, but they had the audacity to commit the highest of treasons!
Of course, a body had yet to be retrieved to prove the reports and he had held out every hope that their lord would return, none the worse for wear and ready to invoke every possible retribution upon the savages.But with every hour passed, that hope was consumed by the ravenous anger that swelled within his soul. The thought that the savage’s savior could continue to breathe was an insult. Not just to Garlemald, but to the memory of Lord Zenos himself!
His anger had become such that when he wasn’t at one of the training fields, working out his rage on whatever poor dummy caught his eye, he was pacing about in his quarters. Uttering every curse he could muster, both in the Garlean tongue and that of his homeland of Doma. For perhaps even if he himself or the might of Garlemald were currently incapable of extinguishing the life from the savage’s precious hero, perhaps the kami would heed his prayer and invoke disaster upon them.
But with that anger came many a sleepless night, unable to rest while that rage, that fire burned within him. And while he would never tell a soul of what happened within his chambers, the nights had been growing more frequent where he swore he saw the visage of Zenos. Simply staring at him behind that helm, watching him as though he were waiting for something.
At first it was only quick glimpses in the corner of his eyes, instances that could be played off as simply a trick of the light or a mistaken shadow. But as time marched forward, as his mind parted further and further from sleep, the sight of his Lord became more and more frequent. Always silent, his expression impossible to read, he was close to believing that the visions were his punishment for not being at his Lord’s side when Ala Mhigo was attacked!
But it hadn’t been his fault, events had transpired so quickly after they lost control of Doma, it had been mere days afterwards that the Alliance’s forces and their Doman allies had set siege to Ala Mhigo! Well before anyone had considered the possibility that Lord Zenos would require aid, his brilliance, his ferocity, nothing about him had ever been called into question before now!
And yet, these strings of failures, these defeats and losses had given the Populares the fuel needed to try and sue for peace! But as long as the savages were free, independent from Garlean rule, there would be no peace! “I swear, everyone has suddenly become a mewling whelp! If Lord Zenos were still with us then he would-”
“Then I would include you among the whelps.” He froze from his pacing, looking at Lord Zenos who had once again been watching him. So shocked was he that he failed to realize that he had been rambling around about his fellow countrymen.
“My lord, were it within my power to avenge your demise, I would do it without a second thought! I would rend those savages limb from limb, make them weep a thousand fold and make them know suffering like they had never known!” His voice was much louder than he had anticipated, the anger rolling off of him in waves.
“And yet, despite your zeal, your ravenous hunger, you remain here. While lesser men seek to stave off the hunt, you simply sulk within your chambers. Your blade kept sharpened in it’s sheathe, unable to be drawn at proper prey.” The words came with their usual calmness and yet they carved at his very heart.
“I do not sulk, my Lord I-”
“Then why do you not prepare? Every moment you spend in these chambers is another that those who opposed the Empire are allowed to live free. Comforted that I have been put to the blade.” The words were punctuated by a loud rumble as a storm loomed in the distance, visible from his window. But the sound went completely ignored as he stared at Lord Zenos. Teeth gritting as his hand shakily gripped the sheathed blade.
“Does no one know, who they’re dealing with?” His voice shaky but harsh as he began to draw the blade. Maxima quo Priscus flashing through his mind as the words began to pour from him like a raging river.
“Think I’ll let it go? Forget and forgive.” He could swear that he felt Zenos move in that moment, practically gliding over to him as he began to pace. His free hand clutching at his forehead as he trembled. Blade shaking as it begged to be drawn from it’s sheathe.
“The rage in me-” “Yes?” Is terminal.” “Yes?” “There’s no remedy.” “Yes?” “But to burn them all.” “Burn them all.” He could his Lord whispering in his ear, fueling his blood lust even further as the hand fell from his head. His pacing becoming ever more erratic, footsteps heavier and heavier as he practically stomped on the ground. Approaching one of the walls of his quarters before the blade was unsheathed and a sickening slash could be heard as he cut into the wall.
“I still have a job to do. My mission’s incomplete.” Slash. “Only a traitor could consider making peace.” Slash.
“Their savior has to pay. For what they did that day. For what they took away!” Lord Zenos had been mere ilms from his face, following around as he paced and began to damage his own room. But his material possessions meant nothing in the face of the storm of rage. Tears slipped down his face for a few brief moments as he watched Zenos fade away in a flash of light.
“Storm’s coming! I can see the clouds!” Feet stomping as scattered reports that had littered the floor for days began to whirl around from the sheer force each step contained. “No running’s going to save you now! And hard rain is going to fall down! Like gravity! Like gravity!”
His movements were becoming more animalistic, furniture being knocked over and shattered without abandon. The floodgates of anger and rage had been opened simply by hearing his Lord’s voice. His anger turned towards several medals and awards that hung proudly on the wall for his years of service as he dashed over to them.
“Eye for an eye says you owe me a debt!” His free hand smashed into the protective glass, leaving a small indent on the wall as the medal crumbled and fell to the ground. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the indignity of it all. “Blood demands blood, going to get my hands wet!” His hand being cut by more and more glass, knuckles red with crimson as he swung again and again at those medals. All those accolades for his service to the Empire that meant nothing in the face of Zenos’s death. “The flood’s coming and now you can bet on tragedy! Like gravity!”
Among the fallen and scattered furniture was a lamp, before it was kicked for being in his path. Crashing against the floor and glass shattering, cracked with no hope of repair. The light flickered against the wall as he stomped towards it. Shadow growing larger and larger until it completely eclipsed him against the light.
“You think you’re their great savior? Will you still when I return the favor?” His blade was now fully drawn and pointed at the wall, trembling as the images danced in his mind. Those beloved Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Those would be perfect tribute, the savage savior’s dearest companions offered up. Their corpses only the mere beginnings of the debt owed for the death of Lord Zenos.
“Take the one you need. Make you watch them bleed. Will you break thinking how you couldn’t save them?” He hissed as he turned around and threw his blade, embedding it into the wall. The sound reverberating throughout, ears ringing as the steel vibrated. Imagining each and every Scion on the end of that blade, life drained from their faces while their hero could only watch.
But what he saw next would haunt him until his dying breath. His Lord Zenos emerging through the wall, walking right into the blade. He could see the blood beginning to coat the blade and staining that glorious armor. Watching as his idol, the one he cherished most be impaled on the blade. The source of his rage, the need for the debt to be repaid, for the reckoning that would come one way or another.
Tears welling up in his eyes as he could only watch, as helpless now as he was when Zenos had needed him by his side. Despite never being called upon once by the man, he believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Zenos would have called upon him in his hour of need. The fact that he never had the chance only made him clutch at his head more, anguish continuing to build.
“Wishing you were there when they needed you. The only soul who’s ever completed you.” Anguish bubbling into that vitriol that spewed from his frantic lips. “Maybe then you’ll get a little heated too. And understand why this is what I need to do!”
He lunged for his blade before pulling it out from Lord Zenos, blood fading away in an instant. Everything still for that one instant, the only sound in the room being his trembling breath and racing heart. The tempest was at its peak as he saw the map of Eorzea that he had plastered on his wall. His obsession to find out how to hurt the savages the most.
“Storm’s coming, I can see the clouds.”
He snarled as he began to lash out at the map, carving into it with his blade. Tearing apart that infernal land, filled with the wretches who had cost him his singular desire! To serve Lord Zenos!
“No running is going to save you now! And hard rain is going to fall down! Like gravity! Like gravity!” He could hear his Lord’s voice again, calmly whispering into his ears as he poured his rage out. As he carved Eorzea into tatters, his storm raging on unabated.
“Eye for an eye says you owe me a debt! Blood demands blood, gonna get my hands wet! The floods coming and now you can bet. On tragedy! Like gravity!”
By the time his rage was spent, the parchment lay in complete ruins, matching the state of his room. Furniture upheaved, completely disorganized and an echo of the chaos that had been swirling and building inside of him for weeks now. His body shaking as he trembled in place, blade shaking with him as if his fury had been passed onto the weapon that he wished to use to carve up every single last-.
His head jolted up at the sound of his door opening, a soldier having cracked it open without any warning. A vein in his temple was throbbing, nearly bulging in annoyance as his rage was directed at that unfortunate soul in that moment.
“What could possibly be so important that you barge into my chambers without warning?!” He swore that if he didn’t get a satisfactory answer, he would follow in his Lord’s example and skewer the wretch here and now. He had gotten himself ready to go on the warpath and now this insignificant speck had dared to interrupt him!
“L-Lord Zenos has returned to the capital! His wounds were severe, but it is said that he will recover! He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible regarding the state of Doma!” In an instant, all the tension, all the rage rolled off of him as the visage of Zenos that had been behind him faded away. But he could still remember those words that they had shared together. How he had encouraged him to fight. To kill.
He straightened his posture and immediately sheathed his weapon, elation filling his soul. At long last, his Lord was recognizing him and was calling upon him to succeed where his sister had failed so miserably. He could barely keep himself from laughing in glee that his deepest desires were about to be made manifest. As it was, he was grinning like a madman at the soldier for several seconds before he forced himself to look composed.
“Such excellent news! I shall need time to prepare myself but rest assured I shall visit him post haste.” He didn’t care that the instant he had finished speaking, the soldier had closed the door a bit harder than necessary before scampering off to who knows where. For the second he was left alone, he began to cackle with such unrestrained joy. Walking with such elation in his step to clean himself up as he kicked the damaged lamp.
Straight into the tattered remains of the map of Eorzea, now caught ablaze in his madness.