[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

Hn.

"Grew up well enough", huh?

Rudolf's nostrils puffed as he rubbed at the ear the redheaded goliath a seat down had flicked, but he said no more after his questions received their answer, popping the cube of potato into his mouth and chewing the whole thing over. Give the others their space to ask what they need, once the big picture concerns were as addressed as they ever would be. The roast vegetable was wonderfully-seasoned, a light coating of spices cutting through the rich butter that dressed it, but the words tasted too bitter on his tongue.

[color=c0392b][i]I know a few people here who would hardly agree, if they were around to say it.[/i][/color]

His eyes rolled over to the empty seat, now void of that giant cousin of his, bid for a long ride north in what was basically the blink of an eye. With him, Wulfric had carried out the last of Rudolf's chance to offer his team a palatable alternative, a trade up by basically every measure—

Impulses he'd already warned some of them about, and even had questioned in response. He had every reason to be confident, by all rights, that he was just living in his own head when it came to the subject— hardly any ill will had come his way in recent weeks. Galahad, who knew the full[sup]1[/sup] story now, had even rescinded basically all their prior tensions. He'd even bridged the gap, found some measure of common ground, in offering support.

Even so.

That man had felt like an escape hatch. Somebody who, if it all went to hell, Rudolf could have pointed at and said : [i]"If you're not happy with me, just bring this guy along in my place. He's everything I am, but better, and he doesn't make mistakes."[/i][sup]2[/sup]

That had been half his courage... and he'd let it slip. It fit, in a way. 

[i]Wouldn't be you if there was an easy out, now would it?[/i]

He shoveled more food into his mouth, gathering what he had left of his ideas, now each a piled of shards at the feet of the crisis at hand. It was true. He'd have to do it the hard way, with the Kirins all stuck with him, and him stuck with [i]however[/i] it changed the way they considered the strange young man they kept on board. Skael was shaping up to be a real shitshow, so, if he had to set a deadline...

With some effort, he brought his eyes up to share a mildly befuddled glance with Esben, as the earl took his leave. After learning that his family had been keeping up a charade to a rhyming tune with "the illness that had nearly killed him in infancy resurged" after his exile, the story developing into Rudolf being sent to a colder, crisper, and more isolated part of the world wasn't as big a shock as it could have been, per se. Cadmon did mention, deep in the text of their communications, that he had been working on a new arrangement. Knowing that much, the track was easy enough to follow to a point.

But for all the apparent familiarity the tall Skaeller held for the Viscount... he was just as lost as to what the man could have possibly "had" in store for either of them.

They both returned to their food, Esben following his countrywoman's input, but both silently agreeing that they'd just have to find out when they got there. For the rest, he did as he was bid, quietly shoveling down the tastes of...

"Home", he supposed.

————

The next day saw them set out in earnest early into the morning, with a short farewell at the castle gates to mark the Warriors' return to proper deployment. It had taken some fussing over the issue internally, but in the end Rudolf's childhood chocobo, Argo, had remained stabled in Castle Demet rather than joining the fresh flock at Goug's reins. It had been good to see him the day before, if only for a little while— but a warbird like him was hardly suited for ferrying freight, and he'd be an extra hungry mouth as they made tracks toward sparse frostlands[sup]3[/sup].

Close to noon, he saw the all-too-familiar pillar of stone crest the horizon in the distance— and felt an all-too-familiar pit sink, deep in the bottom of his stomach. Their timeline having sped up like this, their course south had now been charted to cut straight through the one place he had hoped to avoid entirely—

[color=c0392b]"I'll take the lead through this stretch. We'll want to get through the ruins as quick as we can, and I've spent more time in there than anyone reasonably should."[/color]

Lunaris. Not the Lunaris that was the clan Demet's seat of power, the city of the western reaches of Edren that offered lifesaving respite for many a traveller or trader— [i]Old[/i] Lunaris. The ruins of the protoculture. An ancient, ancient Empire, so long-dead it barely survived in stone, story, and a select few traditions, however mangled they'd been by time[sup]4[/sup]. He shouldered his way to the front, setting pace for a forced march. His tone sharpened and tensed, but any dissent that may have came fell on deaf ears— as far as he was concerned, he held the same authority as back in the days of playing armed escort to intrepid archaeologists.

Sagramori employment that seemed a lifetime ago, ever since the appearance of blightbeasts had upended every job board from here to the southern tip of solitude in a sellsword's line of work.

He carried that tense silence at the front, as the sun crept towards its midday zenith and the ruins gradually approached into the foreground. As the looming, moss-riddled stonework began to graduate into "surroundings", his eyes flicked to and fro, noting positions of the buildings, all dilapidated brick and column and fragmented terrace, of shadows, of the many branching passages that wound between the heavy stone walls. Nothing out of place, near as he could tell, but nonetheless...

[color=c0392b]"This is treacherous ground,"[/color] he warned. [color=c0392b]"No matter what, the group sticks together while we pass through. Nobody breaks line of sight, nobody takes detours. It's more labrynthine than it looks from out where we are. Believe me. No good comes from chancing the depths."[/color]

He breathed in thickly. On his tongue, he tasted a nostalgic sweetness; on his nose, the inescapable, musty notes of old brickwork, low-hanging fog, creeping moss, and settled dust. The aura of abandoned earth permeated this place... and to his growing attunement to the aethereal, thanks to the second voice within him, a palpable, uneasy edge to that atmosphere. Heavy and foreboding it was, like the eyes of a large animal with a lot of sharp teeth upon him, or a stormcloud appearing over the horizon at sea.

[color=c0392b]"A proud people once lived here, so long ago that their empire had died out by the time 'Edren' was a concept, let alone a kingdom. Stricken by some great calamity— their disappearance swift, sudden, and total. In this city, at least... it could be said that it was wiped out in the span of a night, near as any archaeologist that's been here is able to tell."[/color]

He looked over his shoulder, as if to verify the positions and presence of everyone he had left the castle with that morning. [color=c0392b]"The truth, as it is whenever said civilization is helmed by such a city full of sorcerer-kings, astrologers, alchemists, and other such... [i]boundary-pushing[/i] types, is no doubt messier."[/color]

His eyes seemed to pierce. In the shadows between his skin and his armor, obstinately donned for "until they were through the ruins", an almost mirthful bubble coiled, unknowable to any but Rudolf and his passenger. Old, fond memories, for one— a world-shattering event for another, a mistake that was likely never unmade.

[color=c0392b]"So if there's anything we all know about messy, sudden tragedies, it's that they leave behind ghosts. Old ghosts, that want nothing more than to lure you into what's left of their dominion— If you listen to [i]anything[/i] I say today, let it be this:[b] Heed no voice calling you anywhere but through.[/b] If you can't see who said it, don't you dare listen. Consider anything you hear that you can't place a lie. There are things down there that will absolutely twist you to their own ends if you're lucky, and if you aren't, you'll just outright disappear. They'll prey upon your base desires, upon your fears, upon your most painful and precious memories alike— all to get just a [i]pound[/i] of your flesh."[/color] His words escaped him almost as a bitter growl, once you stripped away the unwavering command they carried.

He turned back to face the front, eyes falling to rest upon the central pillar, a singular column of verdigris that appeared to claw and rend the sky, cast as a talon in its slight lean. If one squinted at the wide field it sat within, they might believe a mighty ziggurat to have once surrounded the spire of aged bronze. They would be right to.[sup]5[/sup]

Hell. He had practically given the game away, just in saying all that that way. May as well get right into the shit while it was the topic at hand...

[color=c0392b]"... I don't say any of this lightly. I haven't quite been forthright as I needed to be with you all."[/color] he began, neither stopping his march nor meeting the eyes of the others. [color=c0392b]"I know a lot of you have pieced this together, and I'm late in addressing it, but—"[/color][sup]6[/sup]

[i]Belay that. We feel that. We should [b]not[/b] feel that. Company we [b]shouldn'[/b]t have, [b]right in front of us[/b]. Do [b]NOT[/b] invoke the pact.[/i]

[i]Feeling[/i] the raw, palpable spike of twisted aether, like a bee trapped inside the base of his skull, Rudolf cut his admission brutally short, holding a hand up and bringing their procession grinding to a halt behind him. His coppery eyes went wide and alert, as his other hand flew down to draw one of the curved blades at his hip. This was what the aethereally-attuned sensed whenever he invoked the blackflame. More than even a borrowed awareness from his hanger-on, Rudolf's [i]instincts[/i] told him this, as the tall, evil scythe split the pooling shadows in front of him. It was a sensation that he would never have forgotten, only growing in strength as the tall, tenebrous jester revealed his full form and launched into a one-act of his own volition———

The same as when he had accepted his contract. there was no mistaking what they were in the presence of.[sup]7[/sup]

[i]Ferdiad. [b]Really?[/b] It couldn't have been anyone else? It had to be this kitschy jester that's breaking the rules and [b]manifesting[/b]? What next, do I finally get to see Danube's toes?[/i]

[color=c0392b]"[b]Everyone into the daylight![/b]"[/color] Rudolf bellowed, swiping his steel through the nearest wave of the sprouting, grasping arms, mind racing as he began to reverse-engineer a plan of action. [color=c0392b]"Even if he can follow us there, he'll be weaker in the midday sun than if we stray towards the gloom! He's attuned to primordial darkness— he'd love nothing more than to drag us into a lightless abyss below!"[/color]

[i][color=c0392b]You said his name before he did. You know this guy?[/color]

Regrettably.[/i] the demon within seemed to growl, the shadows below black steel coiling in distaste.[i] More important than that, I know he shouldn't be anywhere close to being able to manage corporeal form.[/i]

[color=c0392b]"Miina!"[/color] Rudolf called, drawing his second blade as he flipped the visor of his new greathelm down, his voice more "metered" than truly "muffled". [color=c0392b]"Prep a Dispel! Treat him like Isolde treated us!"[/color]

[i]Not my point, but worth a try— I wasn't kidding a second ago. If he's walking around, your precious Himstus, Imir, or Danube should be walking around. Let alone me. And last I checked, we don't have any pretty river maidens with dainty feet running around with dominion over our fates, now do we? Don't answer that, this is a function of rhetoric. I know there are creeks that run down this way and that you're lonely—[/i]

With a more forceful growl than usual[sup]8[/sup], the armored swordsman swung again, racing through what options he had yet to call for. [color=c0392b]"Your act is a few millennia out of date, clown!"[/color] he snarled, venom flickering on his tongue. [color=c0392b]"You'd rather let a tough crowd like us go until you've got new material— [i]trust me[/i]!"[/color]

[i]I'm all for provocations, but don't get off-message. Whatever's allowing him this concrete form, your world is going to be significantly better off by having Ferdiad dead, not by convincing him to 'beat it'. I want to make that clear.[/i]

[hr][hr]
[list]
[*][sub]1. Full-[i]ish[/i].[/sub]
[*][sub]2. You're quieter. That's something. Less egotistical, too.[/sub]
[*][sub]3. There's a lot more due emphasis to be put on "hungry", here. Judging from my host's reaction, he had no idea his Chocobo could have ever grown to terrorbird size like this— as if it doesn't make sense that him being the former scion of cavalrymen would naturally mean whatever dinosaur he inherited, provided ample nutrition, would make all "smallness" relative.[/sub]
[*][sub]4. You know what the strangest one is? Sword dowries. That's extant exactly where you think it is [i]these[/i] days, but they got it from right here. It was Lunarian Princesses that kicked the tradition off.[/sub]
[*][sub]5. Massive, megalithic, [i]majestic[/i] it was. The superlatives and alliteration, both my favorite literary tools, don't do the real thing justice. The crown jewel of our nation, the envy of the whole world, and a feat of architecture we thought would last a thousand years. To be fair, maybe it did. Down in the depths of the ruins, where things get nice and, [i]subterranean[/i], keeping track of years goes out the window past the first fourteen or so.[/sub]
[*][sub]6. Hold on, hold on, what the fuck is that? "Raising terror level"? Why?[/sub]
[*][sub]7. Far and away, even with the necessary admission that we're both demons, this is the most distaste I've ever felt for anything said in relation to me for the past century. And I've been privy to every impulse you've had that said "characterize our deal like you were misled in some way", too. But this I won't laugh off. Fuck you. Do [b]not[/b] lump me in with this stupid prick.[/sub]
[*][sub]8. Well, that stung, didn't it? Here's hoping that we do a little better than "sting" when the small red cat tries to recreate that time some compromised asset broad lit most of my essence on fire without even really noticing.[/sub]
[/list]