The instinct to reflect on my sudden fight was carved into my bones at this point. There was very little difference tactically between fighting a veteran of the Adventurer's guild, an a random blade on the bloodsands. One issue was made clear to me throughout the fight however.
"I didn't have many evasive options, did I?"
...Kweeeh...
Reluctantly, Francesca agreed. Well, the entire reason I was going to Master Matoya was for training. I expected that those options would be areas that she could help me build on, but how could you build with no foundation? I sharply felt the wind of Slafborn's heavy axe throughout the entire bout.
I couldn't parry something like that if it were coming at me full force. My body would've broken in two instantly. Runes could augment my physical ability, but until I could design a way to reinforce myself, without also turning my body into stone, I'd be fighting a war of evasion it seemed like.
My options were far too limited. Displacement was nice, but it was circumstantial. If I missed, my opponent could freely pursue me faster than I could fly backwards.
I gave myself due credit for using the Warp Marker tactically, but if Slafborn had attacked it, or even worse, moved away from where I threw it, then I wouldn't have had an easy time coping with my failure. It wasn't smart to let my opponent have full say over whether I could reach them or not. I hadn't considered such a thing because, why would a mage EVER want to get close to their target? It just seemed stupid. The flaw in my thinking had made itself clear.
If I was fighting someone with ranged capabilities, another mage, an archer, or a swordsman who threw away their blade, my advantage could only be focused and honed by leaning in, not staying away and trading projectiles with varying efficiency.
'...!'
I could feel something lock its eyes on me.
'Don't look, don't look, do NOT fucking look! Don't let it know you're aware.'
I had a feeling that I knew what it was, but I paid no attention to it.
We continued to path across the mountains, heading ever north. The windchill grew stronger and the distance we made from the eyes of Midgardsormr grew further. I could still feel his attention on me. If he wanted, he could manifest a smaller version of himself and make contact, but he seemed content not to. I was odd enough to earn his attention, but not special enough to deserve his words.
'Not that I'd understand him anyways.'
Contact with Midgardsormr was destined to be for the protagonist. At some point in the story, he has to fight with the question of if his plot armor was his own, or a gift from Hydaelyn. As all of these stories went, the answer was of course "my own power all along" or some branch of that. The issue was that question came up at the worst possible fucking time.
---
We continued to march on, deep into the afternoon. The rocky chaos of Mor Dhona began to turn into lush fields of green blades. Grass so verdant that it put Gridania to shame.
'So strange...'
Coerthas.
At some point, we had transitioned into its unique terrain. I was once again baffled by the stark difference between the snowy hell that I knew and the evergreen plateau that I found myself looking out over.
The rocks continued to jut upwards, higher and higher, as if climbing over themselves to reach god. Abalathia's Spine. A line of mountains that cut the continent of Aldenard directly in half. An entire horizon of jagged cliffs that pierced the clouds, and in the distance, even from all the way on the edge of Coerthas, I could see it.
The Holy See of Ishgard. A titanic structure of gray stone and ornate bricks. It was exactly how I had pictured it from the game. It stood as if a mountain used to be in its place. But the peoples chiseled it away and hollowed it out. It was almost as if the city was hiding within the mountain's shell all along.
Large deciduous trees that all seemed to slant or tilt in one direction or another cut sorry figures against the grass that seemed perfectly capable of standing upright. Every now and again, I could see carved stone structures, monuments, buildings, forts, and ruins. They all made up the valley of Coerthas, giving it character, but not as much life as one would expect. There were no caravans or traders, though I could see the occasional merchant on Chocobo cart, seemingly carrying goods from one fort to another. None tried to leave the valley, or perhaps they didn't leave the way I did.
I urged Francesca on, and we descended downwards, allowing the verdant mountain range to swallow us whole.
---
Upright knights stood as sentries, watching as Francesca and I passed through unabated. Their dull gray plate armor made them blend into the scene of the stone forts that they protected. They were ninjas in heavy armor. A funny and busted combination.
Ishgardians were fundamentalists, and unaccepting of outsiders. If I couldn't persuade one to let me into Ishgard, then I would have to run directly through the warzone called the Coerthas Western Highlands. Of course I wasn't going to do that. If I had spend another 6 months coming up with a cloaking rune, then that's what I was going to fucking do! That bridge was my railway, but I needed a ticket. And the only man that could give me what I needed... well, I couldn't just go around randomly asking for him. It'd draw too much attention.
I just needed to find Camp Dragonhead.
---
Glance
'Nah. No shot, haha.'
It was getting dark. One would think that being this high up from sea level would give you an unmatched view of the moon and stars, but the clouds overtook the sky and turned their nose up at me when I asked them to move. Was it because I didn't say please?
Glance
'...'
As a result, the night was close to pitch black outside of the established routes that the knights of Ishgard patrolled. I didn't think I was scared of the dark, but it seems that I was being naive. The moment I stepped away from the campfire just outside of one of Ishgard's watchtowers, it was like my eyes were being forced shut. If I were pushed into that darkness, I'd scream and cry like a child why just saw his stuffed animal fall off the bed and tumble into the circles of hell.
Glance
"Excuse me..."
I could never forget the look in his beady eyes. Bowser, my toy bear, told me that my bed was too small to hold the both of us.
'The floor is lava Bowser. We can make it work!-'
"Excuse me... Do you require aid?"
I turned to face a young sounding Ishgardian knight with surprise on my face. Bowser? Is that you?!
"Eh? You're allowed to talk to me?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Well, I had assumed that the soldiers of Ishgard weren't permitted to speak with wandering adventurers such as myself."
"Oh! You're an adventurer! Hahaha! Please, do not be too hard on my brothers and sisters. The cold has slowed their hearts, but they still beat warmly!"
This behavior...why was it familiar...? Why was a tear coming to my eye?!
"Ahhh, I see. That's a relief. I thought I was stepping on some cultural taboos here."
"No no! Of course not! I'd like to personally apologize for our substandard welcome! Everyone's been a bit on edge for all of this new cycle."
So polite...just who was this guy? Was it... I thought you were dead, you bastard!
"Forgive me for not introducing myself, by the way. I'm Winter Modi."
"Winter Modi...such a unique name...but fitting for an adventurer such as yourself! Superb!"
The young man adjusted his bucket-like helmet and pulled up. I took in the pair of sharpened ears, bright and hardened silverish-blue eyes, and a matching bowl cut of silver hair cut just above his ears.
'Oh my god, it's not Bowser, but I might cry anyways!'
"I am Haurchefant Greystone, squire of Camp Dragonhead!"
The overly enthusiastic young man gave me a strong military salute. Everything clicked into place. It was no wonder, Haurchefant was one of the very few Ishgardians that was friendly to outsiders. His open-mindedness and warmth were sorely missed features for players after Heavensward. I supposed that it made sense he was still a squire. We were looked to be around the same age. Most of the knights I could see, even the youngest seemed to be around Thancred's age group.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Greystone-"
Haurchefant held his hand up sternly.
"No no no! That will not due! I humbly request that you call me Haurchefant!"
"Hahaha~ Very well, Haurchefant. It'd be great if you could call me Winter in turn."
"Of course of course!"
His enthusiasm was contagious and brought a smile to my face. After my interaction with that bastard Slafborn just earlier, I finally found myself feeling light again.
"Then Haurchefant, if you don't mind, I'd like to inquire about something."
Glance
"That thing next to the bridge leading into Ishgard... what is it?"
"Hm? Oh, you mean Camp Dragonhead?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Haha, that is Camp Dragonhead. Tis not mighty just yet, but soon I will turn it into a bulwark that our nation can be proud of!"
The gleeful squire turned his nose up in pride while I gave a deadpan stare at the obvious campsite that should've been Camp Dragonhead. It was a dot located on the otherside of the Gates of Judgement, but I could indeed see a few torches that lit up the darkness.
'WHY IS THERE ANOTHER ONE HERE?! EVERYTHING ELSE IS A HARDENED STONE FORT, WHY IS THIS ONE ANOTHER SHODDY TENT SURROUNDED BY A FENCE?'
I wanted to hold my head and scream. Even out here, far away from what the developers of Final Fantasy XIV had spent the majority of their time developing, they still used these ungodly things.
---
Haurchefant was damn near jumping for joy. He had longed to speak with someone who had braved the fierce world outside of Ishgard. He was curious about what lands had yet to be explored. Which treasures sought to be unburied. What princesses required bold saviors. In his mind, all of these things created the legend of the Adventurer. Bound by non other than the romance of the world, they flew on white clouds to wherever the winds took them.
In some ways, Haurchefant's fantasy was correct, but in other ways it was completely wrong. The squire had ideas of what one of these Adventurers would look like. Grizzled, bigger than even the most well fed Temple Knight, dirty hands and bloody blades, scars that told stories of their heroics.
But this...
Winter demonstrated a different type of hero. A wavy but neatly cropped tinder of hair, soft as clouds and pink as sunset. Eyes that seemed almost alien, lacking a perceivable pupil. A face that was so handsome that Haurchefant's mind threatened to switch sides for it. Not a single scar or blemish dotted his skin. It was objectively perfect. Like freshly dotted snow gracing the most elegant of mountain tops. His cheeks looked slightly rounded and delicate, but his jaw was still prominent and masculine, creating a strange hybrid between the extremes that came to find balance.
But appearances were severely misleading when it came to the young man. When Winter first appeared, almost every knight stationed watched his movements. If he didn't wear those blades, perhaps they all would've been fooled into thinking an innocent civilian had suddenly wandered into Coerthas. But the way that Winter walked, the way he held his poise, his even steps, and his silhouette that seemed to shimmer in the fading daylight, everyone could tell that he was off. Wrong in some way.
He had the confident step of a mage. But his weapons didn't seem to fit that mold. Hells, they didn't fit any mold at all when Haurchefant thought about it. Winter almost seemed to leak out an aura of danger that made Haurchefant pause. It was gone now, but when he had arrived into Coerthas, it was as if the fair skin that he exposed to the world let off steam. His hair moved and waved without any wind in the valley blowing it. The insects grew quiet and Haurchefant's throat grew dry and numb with a seizing chill.
A longsword and shortsword? What style was this? Was it from the east? Beyond the lands of Aldenard? Was that bloodlust? Was it a new kind of magicks? Everything was off!
That shimmering that Haurchefant and the other Graystone bastards had observed, seemed to be Protect. Protect was a well known and common spell all throughout Eorzea. However, it did not last long. So it begged the question, who casted Protect, which didn't last more than a couple of hours, onto Winter? He had been in Coerthas for more than a couple of hours, yet Protect remained active. It was impossible, plain and simple. More importantly than that, what crazy bastard would walk across the hellish mountains of Mor Dhona on Chocobo? Alone at that. Such a journey typically required a band of Ishgard's finest knights. It was so troublesome that most refused such a crazy duty.
'Winter Modi...hells, this is beyond me indeed...'
Haurchefant didn't admit such a thing often. He took great pride in being able to adapt to any situation, but Winter Modi was a very strange man. In a good way of course, but strange was strange.
He seemed... incongruent. Out of space and time. A mage that wielded blades. An adventurer that wore no armor. A beautiful man that had an aura of deadly energy surrounding him. That's how it felt to Haurchefant anyways. Adventurers surely were not like this. But the genuine article was in front of him shattering his preconceived notions.
Haurchefant only felt truly at ease after seeing Winter's smile, it seemed to light up the dark and dispel that terrible aura that seemed to hang about his shoulders like a dark specter given form.
Well, no matter what Winter was, he was also warm and friendly, a rare thing in days like these. Haurchefant welcomed his presence with open arms.
---
"And this is Francesca."
"Amazing! What a valiant Chocobo you have here!"
K-K-Kweehh...
Did she get embarrassed?
Haurchefant Greystone was a critical character for the latter half of A Realm Reborn and Heavensward. A bastard that was thrown out of his house, he eventually stumbled upon a scion being accosted by bandits of some kind. His courage and demonstrated ability to protect those in need, earned him his knighthood. I believe he served directly under the Knight Commander that I needed to speak with to gain entry into Ishgard. As a squire, a bastard squire no less, I didn't expect Haurchefant to be able to get me a card in or help Francesca get back home.
Marching into the Western Coerthas Highlands to die right away didn't sound ideal, so if I had to, I'd teach Francesca how to use a Hearthstone and then sneak into Ishgard through some made up bullshit method. I'd need to assault Thancred and learn how he uses Hide. Hide was a level 10 Rogue ability, I knew that bastard had it at this point, but he refused to use it for questionable means. I was ready to tell every lover in his catalog that he said they were never interested in coming over for dinner with us.
'Let's see you resist me then, you bastard.'
Haurchefant guided Francesca to the stables, where she seemed to get along with the other Chocobo well enough. They didn't squawk at each other at least. Maybe it was a case like how cats didn't meow at each other to communicate after they grew out of being kittens. It was a human exclusive action that they learned to abuse and bend mankind to their will.
"Welcome to my humble abode! Hahaha!"
After accompanying me from the Whitebrim front, the fort that sat on the closer side of the Gates of Judgement, Haurchefant opened his arms wide as he lead me into one of the many buildings that made up The Stone Vigil. I was already plenty familiar with this place as it was almost guaranteed to be a part of my weekly dungeon rotation schedule. I could tank through it with my eyes closed.
Ishgard had 4 watchtowers that acted as vigils that defended the Holy See from Nidhogg's wrath. Though they are called watchtowers, they really acted more as forts and bunkers. The Stone Vigil was a massive and sprawling nest of stone and hardwood. From its insides, hatched hundreds of manic and reverent soldiers of the Holy See. They trained down in the bowels of the nest and marched in lockstep on top of its walls. Everything was styled to be strictly utilitarian, there was no room for luxury. Long candle lit corridors lead to even longer and less candle lit corridors.
"Sorry for the dark, we put in orders for more candles, but they always seem to be running low..."
Ishgard had crystals, but I assumed they were being hoarded by the upper levels of the Heaven's Ward for nefarious purposes.
After the Calamity, The Stone Vigil would directly fall into a state of cold and unending hell, much like the rest of Coerthas. The Dragons would capitalize on that weakness and take the watchtower over, polluting its insides with their spawn and ruining any defensive integrity that the fort once had.
"Do you have any tea preferences?"
"Hm, I like to be surprised."
"Hahaha! Superb!"
---
"So, do you enjoy your position, Haurchefant?"
The bright squire took a sip of tea, a special blend that they produced with dried Coerthan Tea Leaves, Yak Milk, and a spoonful of Maple Sugar. Rather than boiling the tea leaves in water and adding milk later, this tea was boiled in the milk and then strained. The resulting tea was more like a thick cream that coated your tongue instead of something that you could sip over time. Notes of spices tended to come through the milk, but the majority of the taste was sweet to me. In short, it wasn't bad. Not as good as applemelon cider though.
"Well friend, I suppose it'd depend on what you mean by position. I'm plenty satisfied with my work in the Temple Knights, but if you meant enjoying my rank...well..."
"Haha, I get that feeling from you."
"You do?"
"Of course!"
I attempted to take a sip of my tea, but it ended up turning into a swig instead by accident.
"I've come across the odd peer in spirit. People who have the flame of ambition burning brightly in their gut. They all seek to do great things, but are chained by the reality of the world around them."
"Haha. You speak truth indeed... I've been a squire for over half an epoch. At times, it does feel as if I have been wracked with chains."
"Feeling a bit down?"
"Hahaha! A bit down...you use such interesting sayings."
Haurchefant took a dried ration and dipped it into his tea to soften it a bit, then continued.
"I cannot pretend that I am unaffected friend. The days are long and the nights are dark."
"Do you ever question why you're doing what you're doing?"
"I want to help people."
His response was instant.
"I want to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I want to support my fellow brothers and sisters against the threats that rain down on us every other sennight."
"Mm. I knew it. You have a very strong will, Haurchefant."
"Ah...! Y-You think so?"
"Don't be embarrassed, haha. Willpower is said to be the difference between those who accomplish great things, and those who don't. Talent and a privileged life can only get you so far."
Haurchefant's eyes started to glitter a bit. I could feel the spirit of the man I knew cracking out of his shell.
Final Fantasy XIV's story was masterfully done. Every expansion I played built off of the previous and pulled my heartstrings like hell. Though I could've been called easily drawn into the games I played, XIV was something else.
In-game, the Warrior of Light's greatest fan and most enthusiastic ally could be said to be Haurchefant. The entire game, you get the feeling that outside of the Scions, you are just a grunt that's built to do work, sidequests, and errands. In addition, you didn't get that much screen-time with the Scions, so outside of a "Nice work" here and a "Nice job killing that God" there, the camaraderie was rather bland until Heavensward. That must've been a direct result of the devs actually hiring a proper writing department. The leap in quality was that large, and Haurchefant was your first introduction to that increased quality.
Haurchefant was the second character that I felt like not only appreciated my efforts, but worked to support me even further beyond that. He bent over backwards for the player's convenience, and when the cards were down, he sacrificed himself to save the you from a deadly attack. I was tearing up just thinking about it.
The first character, well, I'd meet him after the Calamity. He and his sister were hell, but they were the characters I was most familiar with.
The entire journey I took here, I kept asking myself the same question every now and again. How could I save Haurchefant? That place where he laid his life down, it wasn't a place that an Echo-less mob like me could reach easily. He walked alongside the Warrior of Light to face down the Heaven's Ward, to right the wrongs of the Dragonsong War.
He died without being able to see that story's conclusion.
"Do you perform any arts, Haurchefant?"
"I cannot say that I do."
"Well, I'd like to impart a method upon you to mull on for but awhile. If you don't mind?"
"Of course, Winter! Hahaha! Please!"
Haurchefant excitedly welcomed my next words. I chose them carefully, seeing to gain the most benefits with the strongest stroke of my pen.
"It's said that the most fantastical works and the most heartfelt of dreams, can only be conveyed under limitations. Limitations of time, of color, of tools, and of instruments. Only when burdened heavily, can a great artist find new inspiration, transforming a great work, into a masterwork."
"..."
I took another unintentional swig of my tea, feeling a bit lame for overshooting the amount not once, but twice!
Haurchefant was hit with an attack that could not be healed. It continued to erode away at Haurchefant's very essence, taking his life in mere seconds after the attack pierced through his shield and deep into his gut. It was an attack that couldn't be blocked by any shield that came to mind. I couldn't just put something stronger in his hands, or have him constantly looking over his shoulder for such an attack to come out at any time.
'Oh, do not... look at me so. A smile... better suits... a hero...'
...Fuck
...Not this time.
I would break the timeline here as well. I owed it to him. I had to. Whatever consequences stemmed from his survival, I'd gladly bear them. I did not consider myself to be a selfless hero. In fact, I was quite selfish, letting many people suffer for the sake of the future that I knew was coming. To foster a Warrior of Light that could bear the weight.
But for those that were too close, for those people that ended up lodging themselves within my heart, whether I wanted them to or not, I could not and would not remove their thorns.
Haurchefant was one of those characters that I was doomed to save before I even met him in this world. What a pain in the ass this guy was... seriously.