“Sword + Sorcery; or, Striking a Balance”
May. 30th, 2021 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verpurr~
“Sword + Sorcery; or, Striking a Balance”
As they say, everything’s for sale in Ul’dah. The trick is not to end up paying too much.
I first came to the city to win glory, to earn myself a mountain of gil, to make something of myself. My sisters, my aunts, my mother...I didn’t want the life they led. I didn’t want to be one of a dozen girls in a nuhn’s harem, contenting myself with hunting sandworms out in the middle of nowhere while I carried child after child, and saw my own daughters destined to the same fate. And so I left my tribe as a young teen, before that could happen, before I wound up stuck somewhere I didn’t want to be, and headed to the Jewel of the Desert: Ul’dah.
Once there, I joined the Gladiator’s guild. Of course, no one wanted to take a chance on a no-name kid from the desert, so for a while I was stuck doing odd jobs, running errands, killing the star marmots and snapping shrews and such around the city, all while training as much as I could.
The Guildmaster noticed me after a month or two--part of me has always thought that it was because he had a young daughter of his own, that I reminded him of her even though she was a fair few years younger than I was--and after he put me through my paces, he decided to train me in earnest. I’m a quick study when it comes to that sort of thing, and before long, I was getting put into matches. I won my first, lost my second, and then for a long time after that, I won every match, though not all of those victories were pretty.
For ten years, I fought my way to the top ranks of the Coliseum, proving my skill and mettle on the bloodsands in match after match. And I did well for myself. Not quite as well as the Bull of Ala Mhigo did, of course, but I was still both well-known and popular, a definite fan favorite. I was quick more than strong, and it made for exciting fights, seeing a delicate-looking girl like me taking down muscle-bound men three times my size. They called me “the Viper of the Bloodsands”--fitting, or maybe more ironic, considering my clan’s name. I was showered in coin and lavished with praise and attention, with my pick of handsome company, fine foods, and even finer wines any time I happened to want them; the top members of the Weaver’s guild even came to me to request the honor of designing some sunsilk dresses specifically with me in mind. It was everything I’d wanted as that lean, sand-blown, hungry-eyed girl who’d first walked in through the Gate of Thal a decade before.
Then, a little more than seven years ago now, the old Guildmaster died. Poison, they said. It was an awful scandal--that bloody aurochs Aldis was blamed for the murder, when anyone who knew anything about him should’ve known that he couldn’t have done such a thing--not for love nor coin, and here in Ul’dah, that’s saying something.
Mylla, the Guildmaster’s daughter, took over the guild after that, and while she and I got on well enough, it wasn’t the same. All of the joy had gone out of it for me--I was angry, I realize now, grieving the man who’d been almost as a father to me--and for a time I was fighting just to fight, as if I could bring the Guildmaster’s true killer to justice somehow just by taking down my opponents in my matches more quickly, more viciously. All the things that I’d wanted so much, that I’d reveled in, the coin and company and cuisine, all just seemed hollow somehow...because they weren’t what I really wanted any more.
That was when he showed up, and once again, my life changed completely, and by far for the better.
His name was X’rhun Tia, an Ala Mhigan, the sole remaining member of the Crimson Duelists. It had been thirteen or so years since the Black Wolf had brought down Ala Mhigo, but thanks to all the refugees constantly flooding the city, I’d heard my fair share of stories about them when I’d still been a struggling would-be gladiator. About him. It wasn’t quite hero-worship on my part--I was far too skeptical at the time, showing open scorn for anyone who played at being altruistic--but their fighting style sounded intriguing. In my own pride, I couldn’t help idly wondering who would be quicker with their blade, one of those famed Crimson Duelists, or myself.
Of course, when he came, it was just in time to see me at my lowest.
I had two matches that day, and while I could’ve fought the first in my sleep (Leavold was nothing without Aldis at his side), the second was a trial. It was against another fighter who used speed and skill rather than brawn and brute strength--and what was worse, she was the sort who didn’t know when to stay silent. She pushed me beyond my limits that day, taunting and teasing and haranguing me over this and that--but then she made the mistake of saying something inappropriate about the old Guildmaster, followed up with a comment about his death, and I saw red. I hardly remember the fight after that, other than the heat of blood on the bare skin of my hands and being pulled off her at the end of things; if Mylla hadn’t been there to stop me, I’m certain I would’ve killed her.
Victory didn’t taste at all sweet that night, and I wanted no part of the usual celebrations and congratulations. So I left the city with nothing but my sword on my hip and a bottle of wine to keep me company.
This time when I say “left the city,” I don’t mean for good. I simply let my feet wander, wanting to be anywhere but surrounded by people singing my praises for what I’d done, which was really only lose my temper and nearly kill some bloody fool in a fit of pique. In the end, I wandered out to Nophica’s Wells--I’ve always liked the waterfalls there, so soothing--then kicked off my boots, planted myself on a rock, and soaked my feet in the water while I began to work my way through that wine.
I’d scarcely gotten through more than a third of it when I heard footsteps behind me--and not the clicking patter of a scaphite or thickshell or the slap and splash of orobon fins, but the crunch of boots on loose stone. Already in a foul humor after my show in the Coliseum, I was in no mood to entertain anyone else that evening, and decided to give whoever’d made the mistake of following me out there fair warning.
“Word of advice: sneaking up unannounced on someone who literally fights for a living is a great way to lose your head. Or various other body parts.” I’d said that much without looking back to see who might be standing behind me; as I went on, I turned my face just enough to flick a sideways glance back over my shoulder. “So, whoever you are, let’s at least have a...name…”
I trailed off there, the rest of my challenge dying on my lips, because the man standing behind me was nothing at all like what I had expected. When you’re a well-known gladiator in a city like Ul’dah, full of plots and power-struggles, you expect to have someone try to catch you alone and do you in every so often. Someone from the Syndicate, a rival fighter, or a disappointed bettor--I’d had all three make various attempts on my life over the years.
But this was no desperate Stonesthrow ruffian, no duskwight freelancer, nor even a seasoned mercenary. This man, a Seeker of the Sun like myself, looked more like a performer than any sort of adventurer, wearing an almost outlandishly bright red coat and pants, with a fancy white-feathered hat to match. Black thigh-high boots and elbow-length gloves completed the ensemble, and after a decade in Ul’dah, the base of operations for the Weavers’ guild, I couldn’t help but notice how well it all fit him. Every cut was flattering, every line clean, every buckle and clasp polished to a fine bronze shine...and as I continued to stare (slightly open-mouthed, I’m only a little ashamed to admit), I suddenly realized that I had no idea what this man was, much less why he was there.
Though I’m certain he noted my speechlessness, the other Miqo’te merely smiled down at me, amiable and unreserved, and did as I’d demanded: he introduced himself.
“I am X’rhun Tia, a pilgrim of sorts. And you, if I am not mistaken, are L’asha Khen, the so-called ‘Viper of the Bloodsands,’ a gladiator of some repute.”
By that time I’d gotten over my initial surprise and recovered some of my usual social graces, at least enough to banter at him a bit.
“And you,” I replied with a smirk, “are a handsome, mysterious stranger dressed in bright red.” Wine or not, I wasn’t even close to drunk, and my eyes went to the intricate sword sheathed at his hip, and the odd, elaborate bauble resting on the other. “...With a very interesting weapon, and an Ala Mhigan accent…” A flicker of memory lit up somewhere in the back of my head, from years ago when I’d first arrived in Ul’dah not long before that flood of refugees from Gyr Abania...and I suddenly recalled the stories they told of a certain group of heroes who fought against evil and tyranny with a seamless mix of spells and steel. Staring at the red-garbed traveler hard, I took a chance. “...A Crimson Duelist, by any chance?”
That earned me a flicker of surprise, or mayhap gratification, as well as a polite dip of his head. “Ah, interesting that you would have heard tell of us, when you are clearly not from Ala Mhigo yourself.”
“As you might imagine, I wasn’t always a champion of the Coliseum. Ten years ago, I was down in the dust with plenty of folk from your homeland.”
“That would certainly explain your knowledge of red mages. Now, you have my sincere apologies if I am intruding, but even so, might I have leave to speak with you at length?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t leave,” I shot back with another smirk, intentionally layering my voice with a suggestive tone as I added, “But you’re more than welcome to join me. I could stand to learn a bit more about red mages...both in general as well as in particular.”
Despite the fact that I’d pointedly looked him up and down, letting my gaze linger rather lower--I did mention how fantastically those pants fit him, didn’t I?--he wasn’t put off by my words, and seated himself beside me without any sort of acknowledgement of my provocative tone. I wasn’t certain if he’d simply seen through my ploy, if my attempt to put him on his back foot by flirting had been too heavy-handed, if I had missed the mark entirely, or if he simply wasn’t interested; but regardless of why, he didn’t shy away from me, or sit particularly close either. When I offered him the bottle of wine, he accepted with a broad smile that was even broader when he passed it back.
“I must say, while I find the ale served at the Coffin & Coffer most agreeable, this is certainly of a much higher quality.”
Taking a drink myself, I set the bottle between us and idly paddled my bare feet in the water. Though I’d been tempted to say something else coquettish, it hadn’t worked before, and I was curious besides. “...So...what business does a Crimson Duelist have with a bitter, possibly unstable gladiator?”
At that, X’rhun went quiet, his brow furrowing pensively. For the space of a few moments, there was naught but the sound of falling water and the nighttime calls of insects.
“I wear a sword, as you can see, but I am not partial to violence,” he said at last, seeming far more repressed than he had thus far. “However, I was visiting an acquaintance here in the city, and chanced to see your bouts this evening.”
I felt a sudden impulse to reach for the wine and down another third of it right there, but stayed my hand, though it was impossible to keep my shoulders from hunching reflexively.
“...I wish you hadn’t,” I admitted, so low that the ambient sounds of the area nearly swallowed my words. Hands clenching into white-knuckled fists in my lap, I added a little louder, “I wish no one had.”
“...Then it would seem my concern is less appropriate, and my interest more so.”
I blinked at that, my expression asking a silent question, and X’rhun explained:
“When I watched your first match, I recognized that you are a masterful swordswoman, with the potential to be magnificent, provided you underwent the proper training. And yet, as I watched your second match, I saw all the former finesse and agility of your every move fade away, overwhelmed by acrimony and rage, and other even more destructive emotions. You lost control--nay, you gave up on maintaining that control.”
He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but that didn’t mean I liked hearing it.
“If you have something to say to me, then say it.”
My tone was defensive, undoubtedly hostile, but X’rhun didn’t back down, didn’t so much as flinch despite the glare I’m certain I was giving him.
“You are quite simply out of balance, L’asha Khen. I know this, for I sense in you a kindred spirit. I also sensed something decidedly off about the atmosphere of the Coliseum, and asking around yielded what I take to be the pertinent information...”
I wanted to hear this even less, but I set my jaw and let him continue to speak.
“The old Guildmaster of the Gladiators’ guild recently took ill and passed away, suddenly enough that foul play is not only suspected, but nearly a certainty. And when those whom we care for, whom we have fought alongside and learned from through both high times and hard, are unexpectedly lost to us forever…” He paused a moment, brow furrowing farther and mouth going tight, before he continued with a bit more difficulty, “...And even worse, when the cause of that loss is someone whom we trusted…”
Shaking his head, X’rhun cleared his throat, and when I offered him the bottle of wine again, he didn’t refuse. Taking the time for a drink seemed to calm him somewhat, because when he resumed speaking, his voice was steady and even once more.
“It is a difficult thing. Vengeance is called for, but pursuit of that, and only that, will leave even the most pure of heart too much in the darkness without an equivalent balance of light. Far too soon, that light will be more and more difficult to embrace...which is not a fate that I should wish on anyone, much less someone with your potential.”
His mouth turned in a wry smile, and he took another sip of wine before returning the bottle to its place between us.
“Although, seeing as you are a proud, wealthy Ul’dahn gladiator, you are perhaps not quite so possessed of an altruistic mindset as myself or my former comrades, I daresay you do have an innate flair to your fighting style. Perhaps that is why I felt compelled to seek you out...or perhaps it was because I sense that we are more alike at heart than one would first assume, and as ever, I could not ignore the plight of one who I am certain would benefit from my aid...or rather, my instruction.”
He was talking too much, too fast, and I wasn’t sure if I was following everything that he was saying. I didn’t know what he meant with all that talk of dark and light and balance, and his mention of the old Guildmaster’s passing had struck a nerve--or torn a poorly-wrapped bandage off a gaping, still-raw wound, morelike. I wasn’t in a state of mind to play word-games, still too close to drowning in my grief and anger to sit and think about everything he’d said.
“What do you want from me, X’rhun Tia?” The words wavered out of me, shaking with half a dozen different emotions, and without realizing it, my hands had come up to cradle my elbows, my body reflexively folding in on itself.
“Ah, but what I want is not what’s most relevant here. On the contrary, it’s what you want that is of the most import.”
“...I...I want...I don’t know what I want any more.” I felt tears burning at the back of my eyes and swallowed hard, determined not to cry in front of this too-curious man, but it was still a surprising amount of honesty to show a stranger. Then again, I’ve always been a bit too honest, even without half a bottle of vintage Bacchus Wine loosening my lips.
“What you want is justice,” X’rhun informed me, immediate and matter-of-fact, “and you cannot see to any way of getting such; therefore, you fight more and more brutally, and temporarily sate your anger in that way. However, I fear that such methods will only prove detrimental in the long run, and that soon blood and conflict will be all that brings you any sort of relief. Unhealthy, to say the least, and dangerous--for others more than you yourself.”
I drew a breath to ask, again, what he wanted, what he was even saying, but he cut me off before I could repeat my questions.
“I cannot help you find justice for your former teacher, my friend, but if seeing justice done is something that interests you in a more general setting… As I said previously, you are quite skilled with a blade, and if I am not mistaken, you have the proper aptitude to wield powerful magicks as well. In addition, the intensity of the training would give you something productive to focus on, and as red magic is all about balance and control, and powerful energies being used to stem the tides of destruction and reclaim a future for the dispossessed...yes, it is a far better fit than I had first thought.”
Minorly wine-addled as I was, for a long moment I could only stare up at him. “...What...what are you saying?” I managed at last, suddenly feeling like the world was tilting beneath me. I’d never had all that much interest in casting spells and the like--far better to trust my blade and my speed, rather than having naught to protect myself with other than a long string of words and a fancy ornamental stick. No one from the Thaumaturges’ guild had ever looked my way twice, much less approached me about a potential apprenticeship. And yet, here was this handsome stranger doing exactly that, if I hadn’t misunderstood him...and I hadn’t, as it turned out.
“Have you any interest in the art?” he pressed, suddenly all verve and eagerness. “I suspect you would make an exceptional red mage!”
Once again, I found myself gaping at X’rhun quite gracelessly. “...You’re joking.”
“On the contrary, I am deadly serious. The thought of allowing a swordswoman of your potential--nay, or anyone--to descend so far into bitterness and grief that you should be permanently lost to it is unconscionable. And as I have a fitting method to prevent such, I am unwavering in my offer. Be warned, however, that I am not yet so experienced an instructor myself, and that my method shall thus be a practical one─I will expect you to join me on my journey, and assist me in aiding others. Accept those terms, and I will bestow upon you the accoutrements of a red mage.”
...It’s what you want that is of the most import.
Out of the deluge of words X’rhun Tia had flooded me with this evening, those were the ones that were ringing in my ears now. What did I want? And what was more, why had I never considered just how much I’d limited my choices up until now?
I thought of everything waiting for me back in Ul’dah. The fame, the fortune, the finery, the friends. And honestly, part of me still wanted all of that, and only that. To continue to embrace the easy life I’d won for myself, and float along, uncaring of the rest of the world. But another part of me that was steadily growing larger and louder cried out that it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough, not any more, because I wanted something else.
Freedom, to go along with the justice X’rhun offered.
“Are you familiar with soul crystals?” he suddenly asked, pulling me from my thoughts as easily as he pulled something from some hidden coat-pocket. “This particular stone is attuned to past wielders of red magicks, and will fill your mind with a firm foundation of technique. You need only reach forth your hand.”
I looked down at the strange stone resting in his gloved palm, a crimson crystal shaped like a jagged teardrop with an unfamiliar symbol carved into it, and my breath caught in my throat. I’d seen plenty of jewels and gems over the past ten years--Ul’dah was known for both its Miners’ guild and its Goldsmithing guild, after all--but this was the most beautiful rock I’d ever seen, easily putting rubies of any sort to shame with the depth of its rich luster.
My inner conflict must have been visible on my face as I gazed at the stone, obvious longing struggling against the comfort of complacency and the suspicion of the unknown. X’rhun didn’t rush me, didn’t press me to make a decision; he simply sat and observed as I fought my own inner battle, knowing that the personal war being waged inside of me was only my own to fight. But it took only a few heartbeats for my resolve to form, and that must have been visible on my face as well.
“Are you prepared to walk the path of a red mage?” X’rhun inquired once I looked up to meet his eyes with an adamant gaze, his voice lower in volume but no softer, for all that. He was asking something very serious of me, both a sacrifice and a commitment. “One word, and the soul crystal is yours.”
“Yes,” I said, ardently enough that we were both surprised by the force behind my words. But then X’rhun gave me a pleased smile and held out the crystal, extending both his hand and the stone, an open invitation for me to take firm hold of both.
“You will not regret this decision, my friend!” he promised warmly as I placed my hand in his, then he gave a relieved-sounding laugh. “...Gods above! For a moment there, I thought you meant to refuse me!”
With another brilliant smile, he gave my hand an enthusiastic squeeze before releasing it, leaving me holding that stone, a ‘soul crystal.’ It felt warm against my bare skin, and was considerably heavier than I’d expected, and for a moment I could only stare down at it, utterly entranced. Then I shook myself, closing my fingers over the stone as I looked up to angle a teasing, winsome smile over at him, pairing it with a saucy wink for good measure.
“Oh, I doubt many people would refuse you, X’rhun. I certainly couldn’t. Obviously.”
That, at last, earned me a raised eyebrow, though he chuckled at the same time. “How very forward of you, L’asha. Were I now as I was in my younger days, I might have...taken you at your word.”
I couldn’t help it--my eyes widened slightly at that meaningful pause and even more carefully-chosen turn of phrase, my lips parting in silent surprise even as they curved in pleasure at his not-quite-flirting. Well then, that was a point for him having seen through what I’d said before, against me having missed the mark, and perhaps half a point against ‘not interested’.
My smile curled into something private and knowing. That, I could work with. Particularly if we’d be traveling together for a while...
“Now then! The world is wide, and the road calls to us, my friend! Of course, if you would rather, we could stay the night in Ul’dah while you make your arrangements, then leave on the morrow.” Standing, X’rhun turned a smile down at me, offering one dark-gloved hand to help me up. “What say you?”
For a moment, as I looked at that offered hand once again, I considered the options. Tempting as it was to simply leave now without going back to the city at all, to let myself be swept up and swept away in the moment, I soon thought better of it. Momodi was too dear a friend for me to do such a thing to her, and Mylla was struggling with the loss of her father even more than I was; leaving without a word to either of them would have made for an inauspicious beginning to my life of freedom, and seemed somehow incongruous to walking a path that pursued justice and championed protecting innocents from harm.
“I need to go back,” I admitted with a sigh. “There’s a few people I need to speak with before I go, and it would be nice to have a bath and a change of clothes.” Reaching up, I took that proffered hand, using it to help haul myself to my feet--but even once I was standing, I didn’t let go.
“Excellent!” the other Miqo’te said, and though he doubtless noticed my continued grasp on his hand, he didn’t comment on it, or pull away. “We return to the city for the night! Then, once you’ve put your affairs in order-”
“Oh, my affairs are all very well in order,” I purred, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes before I started walking down the long, dusty road back to the city--with my hand still wrapped firmly around his. “Though if you’d like...you could certainly assist me on that front...”
Whether or not he accepted my offer...and whether he ever accepted my offer during the years we traveled together...I think I’ll leave that for you to wonder. A girl shouldn’t always kiss and tell, after all, unless it’s to her closest friend...and don’t think you’ll get the rest of the story out of Momodi, either! Suffice to say, there was a great scandal over my sudden ‘disappearance,’ and the fact that I’d been seen on the arm of a dashing red-coated figure--who purportedly spirited me away to a castle in a foreign land after being entranced by my savage beauty on the bloodsands--the night before I vanished definitely helped sell that rumor, true or not.
Regardless of all that, it soon proved fortunate that I had that firm, steady hand to grasp, having never been outside of Thanalan in all my years as a fancy, big-name gladiator. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I was a big fish in a small pond that had suddenly found itself dumped in the ocean, both in terms of the wideness of the world stretching out before my feet, and the profound depths of the magical secrets hidden within myself and the very fabric of existence. X’rhun was as good as his word, and was an exacting teacher, and I fancy myself a fairly quick study, particularly once he learned to value practical instruction over tiresome lectures. Fencing came to me naturally, and my quick style of fighting was actually far more suited to the rapier than any weapon I’d ever used before. The arcane side of things was a bit more of a challenge at first, until I took to heart what he’d said during our first conversation: rather than pulling in ambient aether like white or black mages, I was drawing from the stores of mana within myself, using both my body and my sword to increase its level of potency--which was not at all unlike what I’d been doing with many of my gladiator techniques. Before long, I had learned proper balance, both in my spellcraft and swordplay: when to cast from afar and when to lunge forward into the fray.
Despite my relatively quick mastery of the basics, X’rhun and I did end up traveling together for a few years after that, venturing far and wide, through many different lands...but that, as well as what eventually caused us to take separate paths, is another story, for another time.
“Sword + Sorcery; or, Striking a Balance”
As they say, everything’s for sale in Ul’dah. The trick is not to end up paying too much.
I first came to the city to win glory, to earn myself a mountain of gil, to make something of myself. My sisters, my aunts, my mother...I didn’t want the life they led. I didn’t want to be one of a dozen girls in a nuhn’s harem, contenting myself with hunting sandworms out in the middle of nowhere while I carried child after child, and saw my own daughters destined to the same fate. And so I left my tribe as a young teen, before that could happen, before I wound up stuck somewhere I didn’t want to be, and headed to the Jewel of the Desert: Ul’dah.
Once there, I joined the Gladiator’s guild. Of course, no one wanted to take a chance on a no-name kid from the desert, so for a while I was stuck doing odd jobs, running errands, killing the star marmots and snapping shrews and such around the city, all while training as much as I could.
The Guildmaster noticed me after a month or two--part of me has always thought that it was because he had a young daughter of his own, that I reminded him of her even though she was a fair few years younger than I was--and after he put me through my paces, he decided to train me in earnest. I’m a quick study when it comes to that sort of thing, and before long, I was getting put into matches. I won my first, lost my second, and then for a long time after that, I won every match, though not all of those victories were pretty.
For ten years, I fought my way to the top ranks of the Coliseum, proving my skill and mettle on the bloodsands in match after match. And I did well for myself. Not quite as well as the Bull of Ala Mhigo did, of course, but I was still both well-known and popular, a definite fan favorite. I was quick more than strong, and it made for exciting fights, seeing a delicate-looking girl like me taking down muscle-bound men three times my size. They called me “the Viper of the Bloodsands”--fitting, or maybe more ironic, considering my clan’s name. I was showered in coin and lavished with praise and attention, with my pick of handsome company, fine foods, and even finer wines any time I happened to want them; the top members of the Weaver’s guild even came to me to request the honor of designing some sunsilk dresses specifically with me in mind. It was everything I’d wanted as that lean, sand-blown, hungry-eyed girl who’d first walked in through the Gate of Thal a decade before.
Then, a little more than seven years ago now, the old Guildmaster died. Poison, they said. It was an awful scandal--that bloody aurochs Aldis was blamed for the murder, when anyone who knew anything about him should’ve known that he couldn’t have done such a thing--not for love nor coin, and here in Ul’dah, that’s saying something.
Mylla, the Guildmaster’s daughter, took over the guild after that, and while she and I got on well enough, it wasn’t the same. All of the joy had gone out of it for me--I was angry, I realize now, grieving the man who’d been almost as a father to me--and for a time I was fighting just to fight, as if I could bring the Guildmaster’s true killer to justice somehow just by taking down my opponents in my matches more quickly, more viciously. All the things that I’d wanted so much, that I’d reveled in, the coin and company and cuisine, all just seemed hollow somehow...because they weren’t what I really wanted any more.
That was when he showed up, and once again, my life changed completely, and by far for the better.
His name was X’rhun Tia, an Ala Mhigan, the sole remaining member of the Crimson Duelists. It had been thirteen or so years since the Black Wolf had brought down Ala Mhigo, but thanks to all the refugees constantly flooding the city, I’d heard my fair share of stories about them when I’d still been a struggling would-be gladiator. About him. It wasn’t quite hero-worship on my part--I was far too skeptical at the time, showing open scorn for anyone who played at being altruistic--but their fighting style sounded intriguing. In my own pride, I couldn’t help idly wondering who would be quicker with their blade, one of those famed Crimson Duelists, or myself.
Of course, when he came, it was just in time to see me at my lowest.
I had two matches that day, and while I could’ve fought the first in my sleep (Leavold was nothing without Aldis at his side), the second was a trial. It was against another fighter who used speed and skill rather than brawn and brute strength--and what was worse, she was the sort who didn’t know when to stay silent. She pushed me beyond my limits that day, taunting and teasing and haranguing me over this and that--but then she made the mistake of saying something inappropriate about the old Guildmaster, followed up with a comment about his death, and I saw red. I hardly remember the fight after that, other than the heat of blood on the bare skin of my hands and being pulled off her at the end of things; if Mylla hadn’t been there to stop me, I’m certain I would’ve killed her.
Victory didn’t taste at all sweet that night, and I wanted no part of the usual celebrations and congratulations. So I left the city with nothing but my sword on my hip and a bottle of wine to keep me company.
This time when I say “left the city,” I don’t mean for good. I simply let my feet wander, wanting to be anywhere but surrounded by people singing my praises for what I’d done, which was really only lose my temper and nearly kill some bloody fool in a fit of pique. In the end, I wandered out to Nophica’s Wells--I’ve always liked the waterfalls there, so soothing--then kicked off my boots, planted myself on a rock, and soaked my feet in the water while I began to work my way through that wine.
I’d scarcely gotten through more than a third of it when I heard footsteps behind me--and not the clicking patter of a scaphite or thickshell or the slap and splash of orobon fins, but the crunch of boots on loose stone. Already in a foul humor after my show in the Coliseum, I was in no mood to entertain anyone else that evening, and decided to give whoever’d made the mistake of following me out there fair warning.
“Word of advice: sneaking up unannounced on someone who literally fights for a living is a great way to lose your head. Or various other body parts.” I’d said that much without looking back to see who might be standing behind me; as I went on, I turned my face just enough to flick a sideways glance back over my shoulder. “So, whoever you are, let’s at least have a...name…”
I trailed off there, the rest of my challenge dying on my lips, because the man standing behind me was nothing at all like what I had expected. When you’re a well-known gladiator in a city like Ul’dah, full of plots and power-struggles, you expect to have someone try to catch you alone and do you in every so often. Someone from the Syndicate, a rival fighter, or a disappointed bettor--I’d had all three make various attempts on my life over the years.
But this was no desperate Stonesthrow ruffian, no duskwight freelancer, nor even a seasoned mercenary. This man, a Seeker of the Sun like myself, looked more like a performer than any sort of adventurer, wearing an almost outlandishly bright red coat and pants, with a fancy white-feathered hat to match. Black thigh-high boots and elbow-length gloves completed the ensemble, and after a decade in Ul’dah, the base of operations for the Weavers’ guild, I couldn’t help but notice how well it all fit him. Every cut was flattering, every line clean, every buckle and clasp polished to a fine bronze shine...and as I continued to stare (slightly open-mouthed, I’m only a little ashamed to admit), I suddenly realized that I had no idea what this man was, much less why he was there.
Though I’m certain he noted my speechlessness, the other Miqo’te merely smiled down at me, amiable and unreserved, and did as I’d demanded: he introduced himself.
“I am X’rhun Tia, a pilgrim of sorts. And you, if I am not mistaken, are L’asha Khen, the so-called ‘Viper of the Bloodsands,’ a gladiator of some repute.”
By that time I’d gotten over my initial surprise and recovered some of my usual social graces, at least enough to banter at him a bit.
“And you,” I replied with a smirk, “are a handsome, mysterious stranger dressed in bright red.” Wine or not, I wasn’t even close to drunk, and my eyes went to the intricate sword sheathed at his hip, and the odd, elaborate bauble resting on the other. “...With a very interesting weapon, and an Ala Mhigan accent…” A flicker of memory lit up somewhere in the back of my head, from years ago when I’d first arrived in Ul’dah not long before that flood of refugees from Gyr Abania...and I suddenly recalled the stories they told of a certain group of heroes who fought against evil and tyranny with a seamless mix of spells and steel. Staring at the red-garbed traveler hard, I took a chance. “...A Crimson Duelist, by any chance?”
That earned me a flicker of surprise, or mayhap gratification, as well as a polite dip of his head. “Ah, interesting that you would have heard tell of us, when you are clearly not from Ala Mhigo yourself.”
“As you might imagine, I wasn’t always a champion of the Coliseum. Ten years ago, I was down in the dust with plenty of folk from your homeland.”
“That would certainly explain your knowledge of red mages. Now, you have my sincere apologies if I am intruding, but even so, might I have leave to speak with you at length?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t leave,” I shot back with another smirk, intentionally layering my voice with a suggestive tone as I added, “But you’re more than welcome to join me. I could stand to learn a bit more about red mages...both in general as well as in particular.”
Despite the fact that I’d pointedly looked him up and down, letting my gaze linger rather lower--I did mention how fantastically those pants fit him, didn’t I?--he wasn’t put off by my words, and seated himself beside me without any sort of acknowledgement of my provocative tone. I wasn’t certain if he’d simply seen through my ploy, if my attempt to put him on his back foot by flirting had been too heavy-handed, if I had missed the mark entirely, or if he simply wasn’t interested; but regardless of why, he didn’t shy away from me, or sit particularly close either. When I offered him the bottle of wine, he accepted with a broad smile that was even broader when he passed it back.
“I must say, while I find the ale served at the Coffin & Coffer most agreeable, this is certainly of a much higher quality.”
Taking a drink myself, I set the bottle between us and idly paddled my bare feet in the water. Though I’d been tempted to say something else coquettish, it hadn’t worked before, and I was curious besides. “...So...what business does a Crimson Duelist have with a bitter, possibly unstable gladiator?”
At that, X’rhun went quiet, his brow furrowing pensively. For the space of a few moments, there was naught but the sound of falling water and the nighttime calls of insects.
“I wear a sword, as you can see, but I am not partial to violence,” he said at last, seeming far more repressed than he had thus far. “However, I was visiting an acquaintance here in the city, and chanced to see your bouts this evening.”
I felt a sudden impulse to reach for the wine and down another third of it right there, but stayed my hand, though it was impossible to keep my shoulders from hunching reflexively.
“...I wish you hadn’t,” I admitted, so low that the ambient sounds of the area nearly swallowed my words. Hands clenching into white-knuckled fists in my lap, I added a little louder, “I wish no one had.”
“...Then it would seem my concern is less appropriate, and my interest more so.”
I blinked at that, my expression asking a silent question, and X’rhun explained:
“When I watched your first match, I recognized that you are a masterful swordswoman, with the potential to be magnificent, provided you underwent the proper training. And yet, as I watched your second match, I saw all the former finesse and agility of your every move fade away, overwhelmed by acrimony and rage, and other even more destructive emotions. You lost control--nay, you gave up on maintaining that control.”
He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but that didn’t mean I liked hearing it.
“If you have something to say to me, then say it.”
My tone was defensive, undoubtedly hostile, but X’rhun didn’t back down, didn’t so much as flinch despite the glare I’m certain I was giving him.
“You are quite simply out of balance, L’asha Khen. I know this, for I sense in you a kindred spirit. I also sensed something decidedly off about the atmosphere of the Coliseum, and asking around yielded what I take to be the pertinent information...”
I wanted to hear this even less, but I set my jaw and let him continue to speak.
“The old Guildmaster of the Gladiators’ guild recently took ill and passed away, suddenly enough that foul play is not only suspected, but nearly a certainty. And when those whom we care for, whom we have fought alongside and learned from through both high times and hard, are unexpectedly lost to us forever…” He paused a moment, brow furrowing farther and mouth going tight, before he continued with a bit more difficulty, “...And even worse, when the cause of that loss is someone whom we trusted…”
Shaking his head, X’rhun cleared his throat, and when I offered him the bottle of wine again, he didn’t refuse. Taking the time for a drink seemed to calm him somewhat, because when he resumed speaking, his voice was steady and even once more.
“It is a difficult thing. Vengeance is called for, but pursuit of that, and only that, will leave even the most pure of heart too much in the darkness without an equivalent balance of light. Far too soon, that light will be more and more difficult to embrace...which is not a fate that I should wish on anyone, much less someone with your potential.”
His mouth turned in a wry smile, and he took another sip of wine before returning the bottle to its place between us.
“Although, seeing as you are a proud, wealthy Ul’dahn gladiator, you are perhaps not quite so possessed of an altruistic mindset as myself or my former comrades, I daresay you do have an innate flair to your fighting style. Perhaps that is why I felt compelled to seek you out...or perhaps it was because I sense that we are more alike at heart than one would first assume, and as ever, I could not ignore the plight of one who I am certain would benefit from my aid...or rather, my instruction.”
He was talking too much, too fast, and I wasn’t sure if I was following everything that he was saying. I didn’t know what he meant with all that talk of dark and light and balance, and his mention of the old Guildmaster’s passing had struck a nerve--or torn a poorly-wrapped bandage off a gaping, still-raw wound, morelike. I wasn’t in a state of mind to play word-games, still too close to drowning in my grief and anger to sit and think about everything he’d said.
“What do you want from me, X’rhun Tia?” The words wavered out of me, shaking with half a dozen different emotions, and without realizing it, my hands had come up to cradle my elbows, my body reflexively folding in on itself.
“Ah, but what I want is not what’s most relevant here. On the contrary, it’s what you want that is of the most import.”
“...I...I want...I don’t know what I want any more.” I felt tears burning at the back of my eyes and swallowed hard, determined not to cry in front of this too-curious man, but it was still a surprising amount of honesty to show a stranger. Then again, I’ve always been a bit too honest, even without half a bottle of vintage Bacchus Wine loosening my lips.
“What you want is justice,” X’rhun informed me, immediate and matter-of-fact, “and you cannot see to any way of getting such; therefore, you fight more and more brutally, and temporarily sate your anger in that way. However, I fear that such methods will only prove detrimental in the long run, and that soon blood and conflict will be all that brings you any sort of relief. Unhealthy, to say the least, and dangerous--for others more than you yourself.”
I drew a breath to ask, again, what he wanted, what he was even saying, but he cut me off before I could repeat my questions.
“I cannot help you find justice for your former teacher, my friend, but if seeing justice done is something that interests you in a more general setting… As I said previously, you are quite skilled with a blade, and if I am not mistaken, you have the proper aptitude to wield powerful magicks as well. In addition, the intensity of the training would give you something productive to focus on, and as red magic is all about balance and control, and powerful energies being used to stem the tides of destruction and reclaim a future for the dispossessed...yes, it is a far better fit than I had first thought.”
Minorly wine-addled as I was, for a long moment I could only stare up at him. “...What...what are you saying?” I managed at last, suddenly feeling like the world was tilting beneath me. I’d never had all that much interest in casting spells and the like--far better to trust my blade and my speed, rather than having naught to protect myself with other than a long string of words and a fancy ornamental stick. No one from the Thaumaturges’ guild had ever looked my way twice, much less approached me about a potential apprenticeship. And yet, here was this handsome stranger doing exactly that, if I hadn’t misunderstood him...and I hadn’t, as it turned out.
“Have you any interest in the art?” he pressed, suddenly all verve and eagerness. “I suspect you would make an exceptional red mage!”
Once again, I found myself gaping at X’rhun quite gracelessly. “...You’re joking.”
“On the contrary, I am deadly serious. The thought of allowing a swordswoman of your potential--nay, or anyone--to descend so far into bitterness and grief that you should be permanently lost to it is unconscionable. And as I have a fitting method to prevent such, I am unwavering in my offer. Be warned, however, that I am not yet so experienced an instructor myself, and that my method shall thus be a practical one─I will expect you to join me on my journey, and assist me in aiding others. Accept those terms, and I will bestow upon you the accoutrements of a red mage.”
...It’s what you want that is of the most import.
Out of the deluge of words X’rhun Tia had flooded me with this evening, those were the ones that were ringing in my ears now. What did I want? And what was more, why had I never considered just how much I’d limited my choices up until now?
I thought of everything waiting for me back in Ul’dah. The fame, the fortune, the finery, the friends. And honestly, part of me still wanted all of that, and only that. To continue to embrace the easy life I’d won for myself, and float along, uncaring of the rest of the world. But another part of me that was steadily growing larger and louder cried out that it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough, not any more, because I wanted something else.
Freedom, to go along with the justice X’rhun offered.
“Are you familiar with soul crystals?” he suddenly asked, pulling me from my thoughts as easily as he pulled something from some hidden coat-pocket. “This particular stone is attuned to past wielders of red magicks, and will fill your mind with a firm foundation of technique. You need only reach forth your hand.”
I looked down at the strange stone resting in his gloved palm, a crimson crystal shaped like a jagged teardrop with an unfamiliar symbol carved into it, and my breath caught in my throat. I’d seen plenty of jewels and gems over the past ten years--Ul’dah was known for both its Miners’ guild and its Goldsmithing guild, after all--but this was the most beautiful rock I’d ever seen, easily putting rubies of any sort to shame with the depth of its rich luster.
My inner conflict must have been visible on my face as I gazed at the stone, obvious longing struggling against the comfort of complacency and the suspicion of the unknown. X’rhun didn’t rush me, didn’t press me to make a decision; he simply sat and observed as I fought my own inner battle, knowing that the personal war being waged inside of me was only my own to fight. But it took only a few heartbeats for my resolve to form, and that must have been visible on my face as well.
“Are you prepared to walk the path of a red mage?” X’rhun inquired once I looked up to meet his eyes with an adamant gaze, his voice lower in volume but no softer, for all that. He was asking something very serious of me, both a sacrifice and a commitment. “One word, and the soul crystal is yours.”
“Yes,” I said, ardently enough that we were both surprised by the force behind my words. But then X’rhun gave me a pleased smile and held out the crystal, extending both his hand and the stone, an open invitation for me to take firm hold of both.
“You will not regret this decision, my friend!” he promised warmly as I placed my hand in his, then he gave a relieved-sounding laugh. “...Gods above! For a moment there, I thought you meant to refuse me!”
With another brilliant smile, he gave my hand an enthusiastic squeeze before releasing it, leaving me holding that stone, a ‘soul crystal.’ It felt warm against my bare skin, and was considerably heavier than I’d expected, and for a moment I could only stare down at it, utterly entranced. Then I shook myself, closing my fingers over the stone as I looked up to angle a teasing, winsome smile over at him, pairing it with a saucy wink for good measure.
“Oh, I doubt many people would refuse you, X’rhun. I certainly couldn’t. Obviously.”
That, at last, earned me a raised eyebrow, though he chuckled at the same time. “How very forward of you, L’asha. Were I now as I was in my younger days, I might have...taken you at your word.”
I couldn’t help it--my eyes widened slightly at that meaningful pause and even more carefully-chosen turn of phrase, my lips parting in silent surprise even as they curved in pleasure at his not-quite-flirting. Well then, that was a point for him having seen through what I’d said before, against me having missed the mark, and perhaps half a point against ‘not interested’.
My smile curled into something private and knowing. That, I could work with. Particularly if we’d be traveling together for a while...
“Now then! The world is wide, and the road calls to us, my friend! Of course, if you would rather, we could stay the night in Ul’dah while you make your arrangements, then leave on the morrow.” Standing, X’rhun turned a smile down at me, offering one dark-gloved hand to help me up. “What say you?”
For a moment, as I looked at that offered hand once again, I considered the options. Tempting as it was to simply leave now without going back to the city at all, to let myself be swept up and swept away in the moment, I soon thought better of it. Momodi was too dear a friend for me to do such a thing to her, and Mylla was struggling with the loss of her father even more than I was; leaving without a word to either of them would have made for an inauspicious beginning to my life of freedom, and seemed somehow incongruous to walking a path that pursued justice and championed protecting innocents from harm.
“I need to go back,” I admitted with a sigh. “There’s a few people I need to speak with before I go, and it would be nice to have a bath and a change of clothes.” Reaching up, I took that proffered hand, using it to help haul myself to my feet--but even once I was standing, I didn’t let go.
“Excellent!” the other Miqo’te said, and though he doubtless noticed my continued grasp on his hand, he didn’t comment on it, or pull away. “We return to the city for the night! Then, once you’ve put your affairs in order-”
“Oh, my affairs are all very well in order,” I purred, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes before I started walking down the long, dusty road back to the city--with my hand still wrapped firmly around his. “Though if you’d like...you could certainly assist me on that front...”
Whether or not he accepted my offer...and whether he ever accepted my offer during the years we traveled together...I think I’ll leave that for you to wonder. A girl shouldn’t always kiss and tell, after all, unless it’s to her closest friend...and don’t think you’ll get the rest of the story out of Momodi, either! Suffice to say, there was a great scandal over my sudden ‘disappearance,’ and the fact that I’d been seen on the arm of a dashing red-coated figure--who purportedly spirited me away to a castle in a foreign land after being entranced by my savage beauty on the bloodsands--the night before I vanished definitely helped sell that rumor, true or not.
Regardless of all that, it soon proved fortunate that I had that firm, steady hand to grasp, having never been outside of Thanalan in all my years as a fancy, big-name gladiator. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I was a big fish in a small pond that had suddenly found itself dumped in the ocean, both in terms of the wideness of the world stretching out before my feet, and the profound depths of the magical secrets hidden within myself and the very fabric of existence. X’rhun was as good as his word, and was an exacting teacher, and I fancy myself a fairly quick study, particularly once he learned to value practical instruction over tiresome lectures. Fencing came to me naturally, and my quick style of fighting was actually far more suited to the rapier than any weapon I’d ever used before. The arcane side of things was a bit more of a challenge at first, until I took to heart what he’d said during our first conversation: rather than pulling in ambient aether like white or black mages, I was drawing from the stores of mana within myself, using both my body and my sword to increase its level of potency--which was not at all unlike what I’d been doing with many of my gladiator techniques. Before long, I had learned proper balance, both in my spellcraft and swordplay: when to cast from afar and when to lunge forward into the fray.
Despite my relatively quick mastery of the basics, X’rhun and I did end up traveling together for a few years after that, venturing far and wide, through many different lands...but that, as well as what eventually caused us to take separate paths, is another story, for another time.
