(Chapter 111 Apathetic)
As Tempest strode through the camp, Nahida cradled gently in his arms, his knights and soldiers saluted as he passed, their loyalty unwavering. His boots crunched softly on the dirt path, the morning sun casting long shadows around the tents and campfires. Every now and then, his gaze would drift down to Nahida, who watched the bustling camp with calm eyes, her presence in stark contrast to the hardened warriors around them.
Out of nowhere, Tirpitz appeared at Tempest's side, her Ghost suit flickering as she turned off the invisibility function. Her face held a slight frown, a mixture of concern and duty.
"Your Grace, the Natlans are getting a bit rowdy,"
She reported, falling in step beside him.
Tempest's eyes narrowed in mild annoyance as he walked on, the news clearly not to his liking.
"It has only been a day..."
He grumbled.
"Can't they be grateful for their lives instead of complaining?"
"They are passionate people."
Tirpitz said neutrally, though the hint of frustration in her tone matched his.
Nahida looked up at him, her small voice breaking through the tension.
"We should check on the situation, Tempest."
Tempest sighed heavily, stopping for a moment.
"Do I have to?"
He asked his tone part exasperation, part reluctance.
Nahida gave him a soft, knowing smile.
"Yes, please."
She replied, her words carrying both a request and a hint of authority that only she could manage with such gentleness.
Tempest looked down at her, then back at the tents ahead where a group of Natlan warriors had gathered, their voices carrying over the camp in agitation. He sighed again, this time with a resigned acceptance, knowing Nahida wouldn't let him walk away from his responsibility.
"Fine."
He said, adjusting his grip on her slightly.
"But if they start another argument, don't expect me to be as patient."
Nahida chuckled softly, as he turned toward the direction of the growing unrest.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
She replied warmly, sensing that beneath his gruff exterior, there was a side of Tempest that cared more than he let on.
As they approached, Tempest prepared himself for whatever chaos awaited, feeling the weight of his duty.
The tension in the air was palpable as Tempest approached the group of arguing Natlans and his knights. An old Natlan elder stood at the forefront, his weathered face flushed with anger, his voice trembling with both frustration and defiance. Behind him, a small group of Natlan warriors echoed his sentiments, their eyes full of bitterness as they faced off against Tempest's knights.
"We fought for our village!"
The old man shouted, his gnarled hand clutching a walking stick for support, but his spirit unyielding.
"Me and my people, we gave everything for it!"
One of Tempest's knights, standing firm and composed, replied,
"We all fought, old man. Everyone here risked their lives."
The elder's eyes flared with fury, and he jabbed his finger toward the knight accusingly.
"No, no! We did! We Natlans! Natlan blood! This is our land! You outsiders don't understand!"
The knight, clearly trying to remain calm, took a breath and stepped forward.
"You have to calm down. We're all on the same side."
But the elder would have none of it. His voice grew louder, hoarse with emotion.
"Calm down? The village we bled for is now ashes! We fought to save it! Now you treat us like dogs, herding us like we're worthless!"
"This isn't personal!"
The knight snapped, though he immediately seemed to regret his tone.
"It is! It is personal!"
The old man shouted, his voice breaking.
"It's our home, our pride! And you... you Fontainians, you just come here, drop your bombs, and walk away like it's nothing! Like our sacrifices meant nothing!"
Tempest stood silently for a moment, watching the exchange. His eyes narrowed slightly as he listened to the old man's words.
The tension in the air thickened as Tempest and Nahida made their way through the gathering crowd. His knights, recognizing their presence, immediately parted to allow them through. The murmurs of the Natlans quieted, though a simmering resentment still hung in the atmosphere.
"Your Grace, Lady Kusali."
One of the knights announced respectfully, stepping aside as Tempest and Nahida moved forward.
Suddenly, the old Natlan elder, his face flushed with anger, pushed through the crowd, his steps hobbled but determined.
"You!"
He shouted, his voice raw with fury as he pointed a gnarled finger at Tempest. Before he could get too close, two of Tempest's knights stepped forward, quickly stopping him from advancing any further. Their swords, though sheathed, were a clear reminder of their readiness to act if necessary.
"What seems to be the problem?"
Tempest asked, his tone calm but sharp as he eyed the old man, motioning for his knights to lower their weapons. They obeyed, though they remained close, cautious of the elder's fiery demeanor.
The old man's face twisted with grief and rage as he spat his words.
"You did this! You should've never come here! You and your men, were more of a threat to us than the Abyss ever was!"
Tempest's expression barely shifted, but the cold edge in his eyes betrayed his growing irritation.
"Quite ungrateful, I see."
He replied with a sigh.
"My sincerest apologies for blowing up your village."
He added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"But really, what else could be done? What can we do when faced with overwhelming destruction? Are you truly willing to die for something that was already lost the moment the Abyss arrived?"
The old man's eyes burned with defiance.
"We would've fought! We would've died with honor! Not like this, not like cowards running from our homes while you rained fire on what little we had left!"
Tempest raised an eyebrow.
"Honor?"
He scoffed.
"Tell me, would your so-called honor have rebuilt your village from the ashes? Would it have saved your people from being slaughtered by the Abyss?"
His gaze hardened.
"You're clinging to ruins. I fought to ensure that some of you lived to see another day, to rebuild. You call me a threat, but had I not intervened, you and all your people would be burnt corpses by now."
The old man trembled, his anger threatening to boil over, but words seemed to fail him. He stood there, shaking with fury, but the truth in Tempest's cold words was undeniable.
Nahida, sensing the brewing conflict, gently spoke.
"I understand your pain."
She said, her voice soothing and full of empathy.
"You've lost so much. But survival isn't the absence of honor. Sometimes it takes even more courage to walk away from a battle than to die in one. Your people can rebuild, and we will do everything in our power to help you, but only if we stop fighting amongst ourselves."
Tempest raised an eyebrow as Nahida mentioned helping the Natlans rebuild their village. His expression was unreadable, but the skepticism was evident in his voice.
"Help them?"
He repeated, his tone low and incredulous. He whispered to Nahida as he brought her closer.
"Young Pasha."
He whispered, his voice edged with pragmatism.
"I did not come here to build homes for the homeless. I came here for resources, for what Hatsume's project needs. This isn't a charity mission."
Nahida looked up at him, her calm eyes unwavering despite the cold truth in his words.
"I know why you came here, Tempest. And I'm not asking you to change your mission."
She whispered back.
"But while you're here, think of what it means to leave more behind than just scars. Helping them, even in small ways, might earn you more than you expect."
Her tone was gentle but firm, carrying the weight of wisdom.
Tempest frowned slightly, his golden eyes narrowing in thought. "
And what exactly would I gain from playing the benevolent savior?"
He asked, his voice still low, but with an edge of curiosity.
Nahida smiled softly, her gaze steady.
"Influence. Respect. Trust. Sometimes, those things are worth more than resources. You never know when alliances can be forged in the most unexpected places. And while you seek what Fontaine needs, remember this: building bridges, whether metaphorical or literal, can lead to greater power in the long run."
Tempest paused, considering her words. He had always been a man of calculated risks, and perhaps there was more to this situation than just seizing the tangible spoils.
"I'll think about it."
He finally said, his voice a touch less dismissive than before, though his practicality still lingered.
"But don't expect miracles, Young Pasha. These people will need to fend for themselves sooner or later."
Nahida nodded, understanding the limits of his empathy.
"I'm not asking for miracles, Tempest. Just a little hope for them. You might be surprised how far that can go."
Tempest turned back to the old man, his gaze sharp yet steady.
"If you are not satisfied with the food, water, and tents my men provided."
He began, his voice calm but commanding.
"Then you are welcome to leave."
He paused, letting his words settle in the air like an unspoken challenge.
The old man's eyes narrowed but he remained silent.
"But, If you and your people choose to stay, know this: you are all under my protection."
He glanced at the group of Natlans behind the old man, ensuring they heard him clearly. "
I will have some of my men do the hard labor if you choose to rebuild rather than move. That is your choice."
Without waiting for a response, Tempest turned away, still carrying Nahida in his arms as if the weight of the conversation had not shifted anything in his stance. His stride remained firm, not slowed by the murmurs behind him.
Nahida, still resting in his hold, looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"That was better than I expected, Tempest."
He gave her a sidelong glance, his mouth curving ever so slightly into a faint smirk.
"You're learning."
Nahida replied, her tone teasing yet approving.
"I did it because you said so."
Shortly after, Tempest returned to his tent, where he would be asking some question Citlani, about Natlan and the Pyro Archon, and why this nation seems to always be attacked by Abyss.
"Any ideas why Natlan seems to be the only nation being invaded by the Abyss, Young Pasha?"
Tempest asked as he made his way back toward his tent, still carrying Nahida in his arms. His tone was contemplative, his gaze fixed ahead as he navigated through the bustling camp.
Nahida's small brow furrowed in thought.
"I can feel the leylines here are quite weak and unstable."
She replied, her voice soft yet certain.
"That may be the reason, Tempest. The Abyss tends to exploit any weakness in the natural flow of energy, and Natlan's fragile leylines would make it a prime target."
Tempest nodded thoughtfully, his pace never faltering.
"Hmph, fragile leylines... so that's their gateway."
He sighed.
"This is turning out to be far more complicated than I originally thought."
As they neared his tent, he shifted her slightly in his arms, glancing down at her with a rare softness in his expression.
"Thank you for the insight. Let's hope this doesn't complicate things further."
"We'll deal with whatever comes."
Nahida said with a small smile.
"I'm confident you can handle it, Tempest."
Tempest smirked at her optimism but remained silent as they finally reached his tent, still pondering the implications of the weak leylines and what further threats they might invite.
Entering his tent, Tempest and Nahida were immediately met by the sight of Citlali, sitting at a table, a cup of Fontinian ale in her hand, her face flushed and her gaze sharp. She slammed the cup down on the table and staggered to her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Tempest.
"You! We could have saved more people!"
She slurred, her voice thick with the effects of the alcohol.
"You're a coward, Proudmoore! A coward!"
Tempest stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in both confusion and irritation. He glanced down at Nahida, still cradled in his arms, before turning his attention to Citlali's drunken outburst.
"What in the seven hells is going on with her?"
He muttered, clearly unamused.
From the corner of the room, Constantine chuckled, casually lifting his own cup of ale. Unlike Citlali, he appeared perfectly sober, his tolerance far exceeding hers.
"Ah, don't mind her, Your Grace."
Constantine said with a grin.
"I just introduced her to some good ol' Fontainian ale. Apparently, she can't handle it as well as I can."