Familiar of Light - ZnT/FFXIV

[NexusTheDark]

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Eorzea; land of conflict and calamity. Where Adventurers of every class and creed have united time and again, dedicated to the defense of the realm. Amongst them stands a figure, shrouded in myth and legends, who has put their life on the line to hold back the tides of Darkness.

Halkeginia; land of nobility and impending war. A world where the division amongst it's people is boiling ever closer to overflowing, whilst the plans of many figures are slowly played out. Amongst all in this land is a certain pink haired young girl...one with a propensity for pyrotechnics with her magics.

And this is a tale...a tale of what happens when hard-heads clash and Void meets Light.

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INDEX

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7

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[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light

Part 1

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Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière was a very confused and scared little noble right now.

Oh yes, her Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual had been completed with only a minor hiccup. That had actually helped elevate her self esteem at the time; she had accomplished a spell that hadn't resulted in anything more than an explosion. It was a feeling that had filled her with elation.

That elation had faded when her apparent Familiar had actually appeared through a rather large cloud of smoke.

A tall imposing individual, with red-tinted skin - not tanned like that blasted von Zerbst, actual blood-red - and long raven-black hair which carefully framed her face before ending around the mid-back. The eyes….by the founder those eyes, twin orbs of burning gold that had gazed into Louise's own with a mingling of cold analysis and burning curiosity. It was like being eyed by some sort of predatory beast rather than a person, one wondering whether it was best to devour her or merely observe.

Their manner of dress had at first seemed to be that of a barbarian; a massive axe holstered across their back, their armour laden with furs and rather wicked looking spiked sections of metal.

Oh, how her classmates had gotten a good laugh out of that one; Louise the Zero, summoning some barbarian. The shame of it had caused her cheeks to burn as the students whispered. Of course, once they noticed the dark red skin, their whispers had ceased to be about barbarian commoners and turned to panicked thoughts about strange firstborn, possibly even elves!

Then there had been that flash of light, so intense and blinding that Louise had to look away with her eyes forced shut.

Blinking away coloured spots from her vision the pinkette had turned back to the tall stranger...and her's, along with every other student's jaws, dropped.

Where before there had stood a barbarian in furs and spiked armour there now stood the same figure, red skin and black hair...except they were wearing robes. Not just any robes but probably the most finely ornamented robes Louise had ever seen; deepest black cloth that seemed to absorb the very light around it, inlaid with deep purples and golden accents. The robes were capped off by a hat that had a slightly crooked tip to its long pointed tower.

It also seemed to do something...strange to the newcomer's eyes. They had been golden before but now they almost seemed to glow beneath the deep shadow cast by the hat.

What truly drew all eyes though was the long staff held in the figure's gasp. A staff of shining silvery metal, capped at the top by a crystalline effigy of a dragon in flight, it's great wings spread wide. The staff's base also held a crystal, though this one was fashioned into a sharp spike.

Raising the staff to their eyes and examining their attire, a smile quirked the red-skinned woman's lips. "Well good, that still works."

Those were the first words to leave the stranger's mouth, spoken in perfect - if somewhat accented - Tristanian. It was enough to finally knock those present from their stupor, including Professor Colbert, who had been about to speak before the flash of light had interrupted him.

"Milady, you speak Tristanian?" The professor asked, adjusting his spectacles slightly with one hand while his grasp upon his own staff tightened, almost imperceptibly.

"I speak many languages...or rather, I suppose I should say you hear me speaking your own language as I hear yours in my own tongue. It is a gift I possess." The woman was still examining her surroundings, eyes roaming around the courtyard and her expression growing more confused and irate with every passing moment. "I'm afraid I don't recognise this place; would you be so kind as to tell me where I seem to have found myself? By the greenery I would mark this as Limsa Lominsa but I know full well it doesn't possess a structure of this size outside of the city itself. And the architecture is all wrong for Gridania, not to mention the lack of trees."

Louise was currently a rather large bundle of terror and awe; on the one hand, she had completed her spell, to a greater extent than she had thought possible...on the other, judging by the robes and staff, she may have just summoned a noble. Such a thing wasn't merely unprecedented but unthinkable to both herself and to any student present.

On the other hand, if she had summoned some Tristanian noble, then why were they acting as though the Academy was some alien place to them? The pinkette had never even heard of these places she was speaking of; what did she mean by 'the lack of trees'?

Colbert looked just as confused as Louise did at the moment, though he put on a better show of hiding it to his credit. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with these lands you speak of; you are in the kingdom of Tristain, upon the continent of Helkeginia. This is the Tristain Academy of Magic...and I do believe young Miss Vallière is responsible for your summoning."

Louise winced as those golden eyes turned upon her again, scrutinising her from head to toe.

"I see. And what exactly was the purpose of this summoning?"

Choking down the lump in her throat, born of fear and nervousness at being put on the spot, Louise managed to take an unsteady step forward, forcing her mouth to function. "I-I s-summoned you..." A steadying breath later and Louise had managed to eliminate her stutter. "I am the one who summoned you here, to be my Familiar."

The expression on the red-skinned womans face went from curious if perturbed to one of surprise, golden eyes widening. That lasted for all of three seconds before those eyes narrowed and her face became set in a glare of irritation.

"I am Fyrgeim Fianbraenawyn of the land of Eorzea...and I would very much like to have a few questions answered." The woman held out a hand as a small globe of fire burst to life above her gloved palm, crackling softly as she tossed it up and down before dismissing it just as quickly as it was formed. "Before 'Cast Meteor' becomes the answer to everything for the foreseeable future."

---

Or: Do Not Poke A God-Killing Hero.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light

Part 2

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Fyrgeim POV

Fyrgeim Fianbraenawyn was not a happy Roegadyn at this moment.

This was not a strange thing as she had indeed been upset before, more than once in point of fact. Hurts that still ached to recall had driven her to the brink of despair and to the ragged edge of snapping more than once in her lifetime, ever since she had first picked up a weapon and resolved to answer the call of adventure. Those compounded sufferings had led to her normally rather cheerful and curious persona gaining more than a few cracks in it, through which irritation and anger were want to slip through.

Finding oneself potentially miles away from home was a pretty good way to draw those emotions out.

The moment that she had emerged in this place, this 'Academy' she had reached for the power of Teleport and found it unresponsive. This was distressing enough but could be explained; the spell was unreliable at times, usually refusing to function due to an imbalance in the Aether or if she was too far from an Aetheryte.

A brief change of her equipment - if she ever met the Magus who crafted that spell she would kiss him, or her, full on the mouth for the convenience of being able to so quickly shift her wardrobe - to her full compliment of Black Mage gear and Crystal confirmed that other forms of magic were still functional. Beyond the wardrobe spell she could feel her connection to the Void simmering in the back of her mind.

Now, the surprise at these people - they had to be Hyur, probably Midlander children judging by the heights on display, though she wasn't sure what to make the menagerie of odd creatures accompanying them - speaking a different language was another point of interest; it wasn't Doman, she had met enough of the easterners to be certain of that, which narrowed down her possible locations somewhat. The fact that to them she was speaking if perfectly wasn't a concern, the Echo had helped her treat with everything from the most heavily accented pirate in Limsa Lominsa to the insectile Gnath without issue. Even Gobbiespeak, a dialect most people couldn't make head nor tail of without extensive study, was as easy as speaking her own mother tongue.

Hearing that she was on a continent that she had no knowledge of though...that gave Fyrgeim pause.

Learning that her summoning had something to do with becoming the 'Familiar' to a young girl - who in the name of Hydaelyn tries to summon a Voidsent at such a young age? - had pushed her over the edge and motivated her to seek answers.

In retrospect, perhaps threatening one of the single most devastating Black Magic spells on a group of schoolchildren and their apparent teacher may not have been the most diplomatic of maneuvers.

Still, it earned her answers.

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Louise POV

It was a testament to Louise's resolve and determination that she hadn't started crying quite yet. This woman - Fyrgeim Fianbraenawyn - was a mage if not a noble. She had summoned a fireball without even an incantation and dismissed it just as easily. The pinkette had decided right there that she did not want to know what the imposing woman meant by 'Cast Meteor'.

It sounded rather unpleasant. Not to mention probably fatal.

That act, the summoning of a fireball without speaking, had produced a few startled cries and a lot of shouting from the students in the crowd behind Louise.

"Louise the Zero summoned a mage?!" "It has to be a trick or..something. She didn't even use an incantation." "Could it be…" "No, she can't have summoned an elf of all things! Elves don't have red skin...do they?"

Each little sentence was like a knife in the back, slowly carving away another sliver of self-esteem and self-worth from Louise as she listened, eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to spill forth despite all attempts to control herself.

Professor Colbert finally managed to find his voice again as he moved carefully between Louise and the woman. "Madam, I apologise for your inconvenience but I will not permit you to threaten or harm my students. The very fact that you have been brought here is...something of an anomaly."

Louise suppressed the instinct to wince, instead digging her teeth into the flesh of her cheek, letting pain over-ride the shame and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her.

The woman's voice was deep, though not exactly unfeminine; it possessed a certain roughness that hinted that while she may be a mage, she was certainly not nobility. "I rather figured that, going by your student's reactions. I also have to wonder what possess you people to permit children to engage in summoning rituals."

Her words brought forth renewed whispering and brought Louise out of her spiral of despair; how could a mage, noble or not, be ignorant of the Summoning Ritual?

Such a thought must have struck the Professor as well, his next words leading to a rather lengthy round of question and answer. "Which Summoning Ritual are you familiar with, Madam?"

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A number of questions and some time later, Louise desperately wished for a tall glass of wine. Perhaps several.

Professor Colbert had given the other students leave to return to the Academy, allowing himself, Louise and Fyrgeim time to exchange questions. As each one was answered in turn, Louise felt her heart sinking further. It had probably dropped right out of her body around the time the robed woman had begun explaining what a 'Voidsent' was.

This woman's homeland sounded like something out of a nightmare. A blasphemous nightmare on top of everything!

She was familiar with Summoning certainly enough but only in one of two forms; a ritual which involved bonding with and calling forth pagan gods that she called 'Primals' or their lesser aspects. Louise was fervently praying that the woman was lying or at least exaggerating in her claims; the very idea of giant sea-serpents that caused waves enormous enough that they swallowed cities or titanic creatures of stone that caused continent-shattering earthquakes...it was too much to comprehend!

And then there was her description of the Void.

Every noble had some inkling of it; the lost Holy element of the Founder, Brimir. The Void was a sacred thing; it was why the fifth tower of the Academy was unoccupied and unused. It was that same power that had allowed the Founder to establish the kingdoms and nobility as it was.

Fyrgeim spoke of the Void like it was a poison.

It had become evident quickly why that was; what she called the Void wasn't a magical force but an entire other realm.

"The Void is the realm of Darkness itself." Fyrgeim had explained, her face now bereft of her earlier scowl, instead kept carefully neutral as she explained to Colbert and Louise both. "Through ritual and sacrifice it is possible to pierce the veil of reality and open tears into the Void. It is from these tears that Voidsent are summoned from, though if it a large enough tear they can spill forth on their own without outside assistance."

The description she had given of several of these 'Voidsent' seemed much in keeping with some descriptions of demons, though others were just strange. Giant flying eyeballs? Living mounds of slime?

And yet, despite each and every thing Louise had heard, none of this had shocked her as much as what the woman said next.

"You must forgive me for asking, Miss Fianbraenawyn-" Professor Colbert began, halting when the robed woman raised a hand.

"Fyrgeim is quite fine, I understand my surname is a tad hard on the tongue. You've been rather kind to answer all these questions, I feel I owe some small courtesy."

The balding Professor gave a smile in return, nodding his head. "Not at all, Miss Fyrgeim. Now I wished to ask; how has your homeland survived all this time? Between these 'Primal' creatures and these…" The man paused, frowning as he spoke. "'Voidsent.' It seems a most dangerous place."

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Fyrgeim POV

Hearing the old Hyur's words - she thought they were Hyur at least, if this was another continent then they were blessed to be free of Primal threat but it was looking less and less likely, which was worrying - actually brought a smile to her face. Oh, Eorzea could be a dangerous place it was true but it was also a resilient little continent, full of wonderful things to see, do and discover.

Attempted invasions, Primals, Voidsent outbreaks...she had seen it all more times than she cared to mention. If it wasn't for the fact that she had left her homeland in one of it's - admittedly quite rare - periods of peace, she'd be more worried about returning home as soon as possible. As it was, such a thing was still a primary focus but what kind of Adventurer would she be to scorn a new land full of interesting new things?

Speaking of which, it was probably best to give this man a truthful answer; he had done as much with her - and if he hadn't, she would know with a little research - so it was only fair to respond in kind. "Well that's actually quite simple; every time a Primal has shown it's face in recent years or there's been some sort of problem, I've solved it" Tapping a finger against the shaft of her staff, she considered her words, then decided it best to clarify. "And by 'solved' I mean killed."

A soft 'thump' caused both herself and Professor Colbert to turn their heads, seeing the young girl who had evidently brought her here passed out on the grass of the courtyard.

"Hmmm...you don't have many Adventurers around these parts, do you Mr Colbert?"

"I dare say none like yourself Miss Fyrgeim…"

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Count yourself lucky there, Colbert.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light

Part 3

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Fyrgeim POV

In the intervening hours since the young Miss Vallière's fainting and the transport of the girl to her room, Fyrgeim had asked a few more questions of the good Professor Colbert. Every answer sadly found itself leading to more questions, as was often the case where magical mishaps and the like were concerned. Still, despite her ever growing concern that this wasn't merely some far-off continent but another realm entirely - it wouldn't exactly be the first time - this was hardly the worst sort of magical conundrum to ever cross her plate.

Nevertheless, the Roegadyn woman found herself dearly longing for the days when her biggest concern had been inserting Axe 'A' into Enemy Skull 'B' and enjoying the results.

Oh what fun times those had been, before the Mothercrystal and the Primals and all other assorted madness that had resulted from her first forays into the life of an Adventurer. If someone had told her all those years ago that one day she'd be summoned by some upstart young mage she would have laughed herself hoarse...and then probably decked the person in question with a swift right-hook.

It had not been until she had wandered - still accompanied by the good Jean Colbert - into the courtyard of the Academy later that night that her hypothesis about another realm had been confirmed.

The only other explanation for there being two moons in the sky was that she had been sent back in time; Dalamud, the red moon, had plummeted out of Hydaelyn's orbit years prior and unleashed catastrophe upon the world at large and Eorzea most of all.

During her little bout of learning though, she had come across some most curious information concerning the Vallière girl's magical aptitude; that being that she had little to none in as much as the 'mages' here were concerned. From what she had learned from speaking with Colbert, all of the young girl's attempts ended in explosion after explosion, even the simplest of spells resulted in a cacophonous blast.

Now if the girl had been attempting to cast Thaumaturgy or Black Magic, that would be one thing, explosions resulting from those spells were nothing new. Indeed most of the time they were the desired effect...but this world's flow of Aether was strange and it's mage's harnessed it in the most bizarre of manners. Restricted to the base elements and able only to enhance or combine them in a linear fashion.

True, there were some feats common to these people whom back home would have been most difficult; powerful Earth mages were capable of making entire Golems from the earth itself, forged out of metals rather than carved rock with a magicked core. The ability to instantly refine metals or to alter their composition entirely, something Alchemists back home had been striving to do for centuries.

And yet the also struggled to do many tasks which she found so simple. Colbert had been impressed when had spoken of the arts of Teleport and the 'Wardrobe' spells. His shock over the sight of her magicked pack and the abundance of enchanted items it held was surprising in the extreme. Back home, even the most rudimentary craftsman could draw out the inherent elemental energies of their materials to create magicked items. True they usually were aided by small crystals of elemental energy but some of those shards were no bigger than her fingernail, she herself had thousands of the damnable things cluttering her pack.

She had barely even broached the subject of Magitek after returning to the Professor's personal workshop - a little shack attached to one of the towers of the Academy - and that had resulted in a flurry of questions that seemed unending. The man seemed a tad on the obsessed side, truth be told. Still she had done her best, even producing one of the most simple example she had by donning her Machinist attire and allowing Colbert to examine her pistol.

Currently, said pistol was sitting on a table as the man looked over it; she had given him permission to look but not touch, any interior workings would be revealed by her via careful and long-practiced dismantling so that nothing was damaged. "Most fascinating...and you say this device does not require ammunition to use? What feeds it?"

Fyrgeim smiled and unhooked the large boxy device strapped to the belt at her hip. It consisted of a large cylinder affixed to one side, a small window inset into it glowing softly as it was moved; the rest was a very large box, capable of being opened up to reveal a number of mechanical devices and small fist-sized orbs with buttons on top "This is an Aetherotransformer. The most basic use of the device is that it draws in the energy of my own body to produce crystalised bullets made of fire and lightning aspected Aether, which is used as ammunition. It also provides that power to my other devices." She reached out, grabbing one of the machines in the box and carefully twisting a few parts, causing the oblong machine to emit a beeping noise and sprout a pair of propellor blades, beginning to lift from her hand and hover in mid-air.

As Colbert's eyes began to light up like a child on the night of the Starlight Celebration, Fyrgeim had to reflect that in retrospect, perhaps showing a man somewhat obsessed with machinery the wonders of Magitek was not the wisest of moves.

---

The Roegadyn woman had finally managed to excuse herself no less than an hour later but it felt like she had been answering questions for a year.

She could admit to some sympathy for the man; from what she had learned Halkeginia was not quite as high on the scale of advancement as her homeland. Oh they had airships, true, in abundance at that. Eorzea had just gotten into the business of developing a fledgling air fleet to match that of Garlemald...but it was a rather large disparity to overcome.

Yet they also lacked a number of basic necessities - No bloody running water. This was going to be a new kind of hell - that Fyrgeim had to admit, she took for granted; a lack of large-scale firearms similar to Ishgard's or Limsa Lominsa's stockpiles, a frightening dearth of skilled healers and chirurgeons who weren't mages and probably most shocking of all, no industrial sectors. Oh they had mining and the like but textile fabrication seemed to be done on a small scale, as was metalworking. The exceptions to this were those sectors owned by the crown and dedicated to the production of equipment for their troops and their fleet of airships. If Tristain did need to mobilise then they certainly could but it would cause the country's economy to suffer considerably and eat into their treasury. Which would also have the effect of raising taxes for quite some time.

The country was by no means backward but a little industrial engineering or greater usage of their working class could lead to a great boom for Tristain as a whole. Plop an Ul'dah-born Lalafell in this country and they would weep for the missed opportunities to make enough money to buy the country's royal palace.

Actually, knowing the deviousness of some of her old companions, they'd then go and do just that if she let them.

Her questions had then turned to the subject of the country's nobility, mostly out of curiosity as to why the Academy seemed dedicated to teaching the children of the upper class. And just when she thought her expectations couldn't dip lower...

According to Colbert, Noble's - those with magic - were considered the right and true rulers over those without, a fact ordained by a religious figure they knew of as 'the Founder'. Evidently, their God had spoken to this man, Brimir, and ordained that those with magic would rule over the common people. The idea was laughable to be entirely honest and she'd had to restrain herself from bursting into peals of loud laughter after first hearing it.

Even Gridania, probably the strangest city-state in the Eorzean Alliance, had a White Mage as a ruler purely by necessity. Kan-E-Senna was one of the best and a Padjal on top of everything else, able to better commune with the elemental spirits of the woods that Gridania depended upon. Were it not for that reliance upon the Elementals, Gridania would more than likely have adopted a more diplomatic form of government similar to Limsa Lominsa.

The closest she could find to an analogue for Ul'dah had been a country called Germania; a land where nobility was something one could purchase if their merchantile endeavours were successful and their mages were not considered the be-all and end-all of industry and achievement. Unfortunately they were also known for being a bunch of in-fighting boors, which wasn't all too dissimilar from Ul'dah in truth, though the Jewel of the Desert was also known for being one of the most industrious and inventive of the city-states of Eorzea.

She winced, recalling those familiar cities as her feet trod across the grass of the Academy courtyard. Home hadn't seemed so far away earlier, when the rush of adventure and intrigue was running hot in her veins...but now, looking up at those damned twin moons overhead, it was hitting home.

'They're going to end up asking for our aid.'

Oh, she had been wondering when this would start…

Sadly, recognising that inner voice did nothing to dispel it. 'You know it for a fact. That simpering girl will probably come crawling to you the moment she awakens, begging a thousand apologies for what she has done. Of course, it will only be because you have magic.'

Sometimes she deeply regretted ever finding that damnable Dark Knight Soul Crystal.

'Regret all you like but it's the truth. Imagine if you had simply remained in the guise of a warrior. Would they expect you to bow and scrape like a servant? Or perhaps merely stay quiet and look interesting, like some exotic pet?'

If nothing else, Colbert had been pleasant company. Fyrgeim rather doubted that all those considered 'nobility' were entirely corrupt or malevolent in nature. Raubahn and Nanamo had proven that assumption wrong, as had Godbert, even if the man wasn't a true Royalist.

'And Teledji Adeledji was so kind as to prove that some are nothing but bastards.'

It took the blossoming pain in her hand to realise that she had just instinctively punched the courtyard wall...and taken a rather large chunk of the masonry besides. She'd have to see about fixing that as an apology.

That was a low blow.

'A necessary one. How often since than have you been deceived by honeyed words and pretty faces asking for our help? Too many to even count.'

Letting a sigh slip past her lips, Fyrgeim turned her head to the moons again...a stranger in an unfamiliar land once more. This really was feeling unsettlingly familiar to those past events; the difference being that now she was no refuge but someone plucked up while going about their daily business - and some may ask why she was in full armour and armed with her axe during said daily business but when it involved gathering meat to prepare dinner one could never be too heavily armed in Eorzea - in a time of peace.

On the plus side, at least this time things hadn't gone downhill after she'd been offered a bloody drink.

More answers were needed; she needed more information on the nature of this world's kind of magic, how it's governments and people worked, what kind of artifacts they had. Someone had created a spell capable of summoning creatures, so there must be a way to send them back from whence they came.

And damn it all, she'd make one if there wasn't.

That moment of conviction under the moon and stars was let down by the protestations of her stomach. Right, she never did get that meat for dinner.

Food first, then perhaps a brief nap.

Then tearing down the walls of this world around the ears of whoever - or whatever - was responsible for dragging her here.

---

I wonder if the Void is sentient. And if it can feel fear.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light

Part 4

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Fyrgeim POV

Wandering the halls of this Academy was proving to be a most irritating activity.

Her plan of finding the kitchen had hit a stumbling block about five minutes later to its conception with the realisation that outside of the courtyard and Colbert's workshop, she had no idea where anything in this building was located. The main building had seemed an obvious starting point but thus far her search had failed to bear fruit.

Perhaps she should simply find an exit and make her way back to Colbert's workshop...but there was no telling if the man was still there or if he had retired to his chambers to sleep. She may be used to running on four hours of sleep in a three day period but that didn't mean that everyone had her hardy constitution and years of training. Or the benefit of being able to cast a sleeping spell upon themselves if they had a minute to spare for a power-nap.

Just when the crimson-skinned woman began debating the pros and cons of hunting for game at night, she stumbled across a potential life saving - a slight exaggeration but her last decent meal had been an entire day prior - find; a young woman dressed in what appeared to be a maid's uniform, carrying a rather sizable load of laundry in her arms. The uniform admittedly differed slightly from the attire she herself was familiar with, having seen the stewards of her own Free Company's property wearing them only on occasion, but the resemblance was there. At worst it would be an honest mistake that may yet yield some hint as to where she might find the school's staff.

"Excuse me, young miss." Always best to be polite on a first meeting, especially with the staff. They were the ones who handled your clothing and food; irking them was a rather good way to have something unfortunate befall you. "Would you be a member of the staff at this Academy?"

Fyrgeim noted the sudden tenseness that shot through the dark-haired woman, her formerly slumped posture going ramrod straight as she fumbled, over-burdened with clothing, to turn and shift her load until she could see.

"Yes, ma'am." The maid's reply was slightly muffled by the clothing in her arms but quite audible. After a few moments of shifting around clothing, blue eyes finally looked out at the Roegadyn woman and of course, widened noticeably, the young woman's mouth hanging open for a few seconds of awkward silence as her brain processed what her eyes were seeing, before closing with a slight 'click' of teeth clacking together. "M-my apologies ma'am, I didn't mean to stare!"

Inwardly, Fyrgeim rolled her eyes but she kept the same smiling expression of politeness upon her face. Did the lass think that she was going to eat her or something, merely for being surprised at her presence?

Although considering how the common folk were usually treated around these parts...and she had demonstrated her Black Magic before all those students.

Oh Hydaelyn-dammit, the poor thing probably thought she was some sort of strange noble from a far-away land or somesuch rot. It was like those damnable street-corner novels all over again. If she ever found out who started publishing accounts of her adventures with all those added tawdry fictions, they would be introduced to her boot in no short measure. Followed up in no short measure by her sword for publishing 'The Hot Jewel of the Desert.'

The Sultana was barely even of age! And she knew full well that despite Momodi's opinions to the contrary, no Lalafell could take a night in General Raubahn's bed without considerable injury.

Fyrgeim snapped out of her momentary pleasant fantasy of vengeance fueled murder to return to her current situation; that of the maid with armfulls of laundry who was looking upon her nervously. Blast, she'd gone and zoned out again. "Relax, there's no reason to be so tense around me. For one thing, I can assure you I'm no noble." The maid looked somewhat unconvinced at that but the Roegadyn woman simply smiled and soldiered on. "I imagine the rumours of my arrival have made their way through every member of the staff by now, yes?"

The young maid gave a nod at that; excellent, progress was being made.

"Let me make it very clear than that in my homeland, the ability to use magic does not separate the nobility from the common folk. Nor does it grant some divine right of rulership." A bitter chuckle slipped into her speech. She was attempting her best diplomatic voice but it was a hard thing, she wasn't used to speaking overmuch. "I'm quite used to a little manual labour, young Miss…?"

A few moments passed before the maid spoke, her eyes having ceased their shocked staring and adopted a more guarded look. "Siesta."

"Miss Siesta. I've come a very long way and haven't slept in…" How long had it been? She had spent a whole day in the wilds gathering materials, then begun the next hunting until her arrival here...ah, yes. "Thirty-nine hours. In that span of time I've had one meal, which consisted of raw fruit that I harvested personally from wild growing plants."

That seemed to get a reaction; the maid's expression had swung around right back to surprised.

Holding out a hand palm-up, she gave a slight bow. "I would be more than happy to assist you with your burden, if you would be kind enough to direct me to the kitchens so I might prepare myself a small meal. And perhaps a place to sleep, though I understand if you can't grant me that. I've gotten rather used to dozing with only grass as a blanket."

---

Siesta POV

This conversation had rapidly spiraled out of Siesta's control.

At first she had simply been carrying an abundant load of laundry - noble children casting perfectly good clothes aside because of a small, practically imperceptible stain that could be handled with a brush, the whole thing made her jaw clench - when a voice had reached her ears, one that was a good deal more polite than those she normally heard.

The next she had been staring down the blood-skinned entity that had been summoned this very day.

Panic had seized her at that moment; the rumours had been flying since the first servant to spy the summoning ritual in progress had returned to the Servant's Quarters. The tales had spread amongst the staff like wildfire; that it was a strange noble from some far-off province, a half-giant bathed in human blood that could create fire without incanting or even a strange new kind of elf that would slaughter them all in their sleep. Some even suggested that it was a demon called from the depths of hell to smite the wicked and drink deep of their souls through debauched acts

Siesta doubted that last one but one could never be too careful…more than a few of her little novels had described such things afterall.

Her surprise when the strange woman had continued speaking to her in a polite if rather blunt and plain manner had only mounted. Maybe the theories about a demon were far-fetched but that didn't change the fact that this...woman...could use magic.

She had then proceeded to tell her that she was very decidedly not a noble, nor was magic a mark of nobility in her place of origin. Judging by that bitter laugh, the woman thought the idea was practically insulting. After having those preconceptions turned on their heads, the offer to share the burden of laundry seemed almost a reasonable thing.

The woman could still be a demon of course or even a noble in disguise, attempting to trick her in order to take advantage of the failing in her duties but that possibility seemed a rather small one, smaller indeed now than they had been earlier.

So, having to forgo a bow due to the weight of clothing in her arms, Siesta instead gave her most polite of nods and a small smile in return. "Yes, let me show you to the kitchens. I'm afraid that all you will find available is the remnants of today's leftovers ma'am."

The red-skinned woman merely nodded, before reaching out and carefully gathering a little over half of the clothes from Siesta's arms, carrying them one-handed with ease. "Not a problem, Siesta. I've trained under a chef or two in my time; I could probably make something appetising out of these clothes and some old boots if you gave me the chance, let alone some leftovers. And please, call me Fyrgeim."

---

Siesta stared at the plate set before her.

The leftovers of leftovers was what had been available in the kitchen.

After helping her to wash the clothing that had been brought in - Siesta had tried to dissuade Fyrgeim but she had insisted, considering it a fair exchange since Siesta was kind enough to find a spare bed in the Servant's Quarters for the strange woman, on top of showing her to the kitchens - the woman had looked over what was left to use; a small amount of meat, chunks of various vegetables - 'Too few and not the right sort' in Fyrgeim's words - and the most meager remnants of sauces and congealed fats.

Prepared to at least warm them to give Fyrgeim something to eat, Siesta was temporarily blinded when a bright light washed over the kitchens...and the dark robes the tall, imposing woman had been wearing were replaced by the purest white of a master chef's uniform.

Magic, it had to be. She had never even seen the woman change clothes; had the bright light been meant to obscure the greatest act of quick-changing in existence? Or was it merely part of some strange spell to change her attire wholly?

Those questions were lost when Fyrgeim then produced a skillet of the purest black from a hook on her outfit's belt, alongside a small yet impossibly sharp knife and looked to her.

"Have a seat Siesta, this won't take me too long."

Not ten minutes later the woman had turned back from the stove and set forth two plates of food upon a small table.

She couldn't even recognise the leftovers these had once been; everything smelled delicious. The meat had been carefully heated and re-cooked to return flavour to it. The vegetables, previously raw, had been roasted gently in the remaining marinade and juices to provide a bursting plethora of tastes upon her tongue…

After the first small forkful, Siesta had only been vaguely aware of the fork slipping from her insensate fingers and clattering to the table, a tiny bit of sauce leaking down her lip, quickly followed by her tongue as it darted out to snatch it up greedily without any conscious effort upon her part.

Was this how nobles ate? No, Siesta had eaten the leftovers prepared by the head chef more than once and even his greatest works didn't compare to this. Her sense of taste had died and been taken to the heavens, that was the only explanation.

"Hmmm...perhaps I should have used a pinch more salt. Not bad though, whoever prepared these knew what they were doing." Fyrgeim smiled, seated across from Siesta as she worked finish off the remaining half of her meal. "Siesta, are you alright? I know it's not the best but I worked with what I had…"

Her only response was to seize her fork and set to eating, if only to force down the responses that she would have let fly from her lips.

---

Seriously, in the Level 60 Culinarian Quest you send a guy into Nirvana with your meal.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light

Part 5

---​

Fyrgeim POV

When was the last time she had slept on what could be called an actual bed?

Probably a few months ago, give or take. She'd been too busy in recent memory to afford the luxury of an inn room and every stopover at the headquarters of the Free Company she had established had been business oriented. Always new recruits to train, things to craft or store and then there was the business of making sure their small fleet of airships was properly maintained and outfitted with the best equipment and parts they could either craft or afford to purchase.

The idea of not have a thousand and one things to do every day of the week was actually a fairly sobering one.

Instead, Fyrgeim decided, she would focus herself to the core issues; learning about this world, seeking sources of information and magic and developing a way home. Everything else would act as a facet of those goals for the foreseeable future, until she could obtain some sort of solid lead.

With a nod at this reasoning, she finally swept aside the thin sheets of the bed she'd been shown to and rose to her feet, slipping into the boots of her outfit as she went. After eating dinner last night she had elected to change into a more comfortable outfit. Not something flashy and high-class like she normally used for diplomatic meetings and the like; a simple black leather jerkin over a deep red long-sleeved shirt, matched by black pants with some well-padded black and red boots. The jerkin was mostly there as a little added protection in the event of an unexpected attack...not just because toughened leather was a simple if effective armour but because it had hidden sheathes for her twin daggers. She did have a much more fitting attire for the Ninja job but unless she was going full-on stealth mode, they weren't necessary.

After making the bed she had slept in, the Roegadyn woman turned on her heel with a smile on her lips and a plan on her mind; Colbert had mentioned that this Academy had a library, so she would simply ask Siesta - or if the young maid was unavailable, one of the other servants - for directions to the Headmaster's office and kindly request permission.

And if he refused, well then he would find that her reserves of kindness and gentility only went so far.

She had not, however, expected to walk out of the servants quarters and into the kitchens, which were filled with servants going to and fro, including Siesta herself.

"Ah, Miss Fyrgeim!" Siesta looked over to her, a stack of plates in her hands as she carefully extracted them from a kitchen cabinet with practiced ease. Her call inadvertently drew the eyes of every servant there, Fyrgeim finding herself in that most familiar of uncomfortable situations; everyone staring at her half in expectation and half in curiosity tinged with fear.

The spell that gripped them was dispelled, thankfully, by the shouts of the head chef, a rather burly gentleman - were it not for the tanned skin and more Hyur-like face, she might have mistaken him for a fellow Roegadyn - with a neat beard. "All right you lot, enough of that staring! We've a meal to serve here and you know how the students can be."

Fyrgeim had to smile at that, nodding in turn. "Oh yes, the very idea that they might miss a single meal. I can picture the shock and horror upon their faces, the despair that they may have to go hungry for a few hours."

Her words brought forth a small round of laughter from those servants present and seemed to help ease the tension. The kitchens very rapidly became a hub of activity once more as she gave the chef a nod of respect, though when he did the same his face seemed rather unwelcoming.

"Siesta had a little talk with me about last night's happenings." He said, turning to carefully stir a large steaming pot of rather savoury-smelling soup.

Inwardly, Fyrgeim sighed, though she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't anticipated this; with a magocracy in power it became inevitable that those without magic would be envious and a tad distrustful. "I would like to point out that my wardrobe change was only bit of true magic I performed in these kitchens." She gave Siesta a sidelong glance, the maid making a rather good show of pretending to be utterly interested in the dishes she was setting out on a silver tray. "Nothing went into the food I made, save for my experience as a culinarian and the ingredients I had on hand."

The stirring stopped. "Is that so, eh? Then ma'am if you don't mind my asking, what would you, in your culinarian's opinion, make of this?" The chef stepped aside, leaving enough space at the stove for the muscled woman.

'We have nothing to prove here.' The voice whispered. 'To the hells with this ignorant fool! And if it was that maid who prompted this, then damn her and may the food we made poison her.'

Calm. Serenity...these emotions are a part of us. They are dark and ugly but they are not who we are.

Striding forward, Fyrgeim took hold of the ladle and lifted it from the pot, carefully wafting the hot steam into her nose and taking a cursory sniff, before taking an experimental taste. It was rather good actually; small and carefully simmered chunks of meat added to an already robust and thick stew...but there was something missing, yes. The savory aroma and flavour was just a tad overpowering. "Hmmm...would you happen to have some fresh mint on hand?"

A handful of crushed mint leaves later and a minute of simmering and stirring, the chef - Marteau he'd said his name was - took a careful taste of his own. His dour countenance broke into a smile, before delivering a hearty slap to Fyrgeim's back. "Ha! Forgive me Miss, it's a rare thing to find someone with a love for the culinary arts who's also got magic running in their blood." The impact didn't even register, the woman standing there as sure as if he'd just struck a statue.

"Think nothing of it, Mr Marteau-"

"Just Marteau, please." He held out a hand, which Fyrgeim grasped in turn. Calloused, strong and worn...the hands of people who had done plenty of hard work in their life. Never let it be said that cooking wasn't a taxing job either.

"Fyrgeim Fianbraenawyn." She responded, lips quirked up in a smile once more. "But you can simply call me Fyrgeim."

---

She had declined to assist with the rest of the breakfast preparations, though Marteau had graciously gifted her with the recipe to the stew - it had been rather good, even without the mint - as she strolled out into the corridors of the Academy. Siesta had also been kind enough to provide directions to the Headmaster's office, after apologising profusely for causing the little incident in the first place.

'It's always apologies after the fact...not a one of them has enough sense to not do it in the first place.'

Hush, you.

With that all behind her, she let a hand slip into the pack at her side, drawing forth a small leather-bound journal. She'd been keeping a journal all her life and this was just the latest in a long line of the things, there were probably enough of them to fill a whole shelf or more by now. One day she may actually get them notarised; the Memoirs of the Warrior of Light, with the subtitle of 'Now all you bastards can stop making it up'. If nothing else the profits might make a nice retirement fund.

Of course, that was if she survived until retirement age.

Putting that bleak little thought from her mind, she flipped the journal open to the first blank page she could find, before drawing out a magicked quill and starting to write.

'23rd Sun of the Fifth Astral Moon; I have found myself in a most curious of lands-'

Her writing was rudely interrupted by the tinkling of crystal upon stone. Not the harsh cacophany of something shattering but the dulcet tones that suggested that someone had just let a phial of some sort tumble to the floor. There were footfalls as well, coming from just around the corner…

Rounding it, she found the culprit sitting in the middle of the hallway; a small phial filled with a deep purple liquid. Beyond it, she barely caught a glance at a vanishing figure turning the corner to what she understood was the dining hall…

Oh well, it wasn't exactly her concern at any rate; if the person came asking after it then she'd hand it over but she wasn't about to interrupt her planned day to chase down a careless young student. Reaching down, she scooped the phial up and slipped it into her pouch, carrying on towards the Headmaster's chambers as her quill scratched against the pages of her journal.

'Ah, so we finally agree that chasing after every fool that drops their things is a waste of time.'

Shut up, Fray.

---

And before anyone worries; no, this wont be a Guichestomp.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light​

Part 6​

---​

Fyrgeim POV

Having ascended a staircase or two and taken the provided directions, Fyrgeim soon found herself standing before a rather nicely made wooden door leading into a small office. Said door was currently ajar and through the crack she could spy a young woman with bright green hair.

Good to see hair dye was readily available in this country as it was back in Eorzea. Unless this was all natural...sure some people had hair and skin tinted various colours by their very nature back home but that was usually caused by a slight imbalance of the elementally aspected aether within their bodies. Fyrgeim's own hair was as black as night, inherited from her mother, while she kept her father's deep red skin.

Getting her mind off that little tangent of thought, the Roegadyn woman raised a hand and rapped her knuckles softly upon the wood of the door.

"Who is it?"

Right, best foot forward and try not to screw things up like we seem to with every elderly leader we meet. Reaching out, she pushed the door open and took a few steps beyond the threshold towards the desk before pausing and giving a polite nod. "Fyrgeim Fianbraenawyn, recently arrived as of the previous day."

The green-haired, bespectacled woman behind the desk glanced up from a number of opened books and ledgers, eyes widening for the briefest of moments before she adopted a more relaxed posture. "Ah, you would be the woman who was summoned by Miss Vallière, correct? Professor Colbert mentioned that you may be stopping by."

---

Matilda POV

Keeping a steady gaze on the red-skinned woman, Matilda quietly began to take her measure. Colbert had indeed mentioned her and by now most of the Academy was aware of the strange occurrence the previous day. While she was disinclined to believe some of the more outrageous theories - if the woman was a demon she certainly hadn't made any overt attempts at desecration and destruction - the prevailing one amongst the staff was that she was some sort of Firstborn from a far-off land.

Her little chat with Professor Colbert the previous night - part information gathering on the Academy's vault and part learning of a potential new wrinkle in her plan - had revealed that whoever they were or claimed to be, they were from a land that didn't have mages amongst the nobility. Then there was the strange 'Magitek' that the bald man had spoken of, alongside a pack - she could see it on the woman's belt - that contained much more than any bag that size should.

"That's right, I was hoping I could have a little chat with the Headmaster of this Academy about access to it's library? This is a whole new land for me and I'm interested in learning all that can." The woman's golden eyes gleamed as she spoke, her polite smile hiding a brutal cunning.

Matilda was actually tempted to see if she could steal the thing away but it would be too much of a risk to take right now. The vault and its contents were her main target, other magical curiosities could wait for the time being. Besides, if this 'Fyrgeim' was truly one of the firstborn, then who knows what kind of defenses she may have surrounding the bag. For all Matilda knew the moment she took it, the thing might devour her hands.

No, the Academy would get it's visit from Fouquet in due time. The woman and whatever magical items she had on her wouldn't be going anywhere that she couldn't easily follow.

"Let me see if the Headmaster is willing to receive visitors." She rose from her desk, crossing the room towards the door to Osmond's inner study and opening it up. "Headmaster Osmond, Miss..." Matilda frowned, trying to wrap her tongue around the strange surname. "Fianbraenawyn, is here to speak with you."

Old Osmond was seated in his chair, eyes closed and posture relaxed. If it wasn't for the fact that he had a long pipe held in one hand, with smoke wafting from the bowl at the end, Matilda would have thought he was dozing again. At least the window in his office was open, preventing the scent of pipesmoke from clouding the air unduly.

"Hmm?" The elderly mage raised his head, eyes opening slowly as he did so, free hand rising to stroke his long grey beard. "Miss who?"

Matilda sighed, a small frown working it's way onto her face; she knew full well that Osmond knew who she was talking about. Afterall, she had listened in through a crack in the door as Professor Colbert spoke with him personally about the events of yesterday, telling the old mage things that he'd kept from her ears. "Miss Fianbraenawyn, the woman who the young Miss Vallière summoned?"

"Ohhh, yes, yes." Osmond nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips. "My apologies my dear Miss Longueville, old age can do terrible things to a man's mind. Send her in if you please."

Turning from the door, Matilda twitched as she heard a soft 'Squeak' from below, shifting her foot out to catch the Headmaster's accursed little Familiar but his - likely feigned - moment of forgetfulness had bought the little rodent time enough to escape her range and bound towards his master.

The Headmaster held out a hand near the side of his head as the little mouse, Mótsognir, scampered up his robes and into his palm squeaking into the man's ear. "Hmmm...green with white stripes, is it?"

A rush of embarrassment and frustration swept over the thief in hiding as she choked down a snarl of frustration. The little mouse was an nuisance more than anything else and she'd dealt with far worse in her career of thievery...but damnation the little creature just couldn't be dissuaded by anything! She'd even tried leaving a tiny bit of cheese in the far corner of her office and not only had the wretched thing devoured it with a swiftness that belied its size, it repaid her in kind by letting Osmond know her underwear was torn that day without her noticing.

But no; just a few more days and vengeance would be hers, in the form of robbing this place blind.

Letting the anger fade, Matilda slipped back into the role of Miss Longueville in a moment, giving a polite nod and a smile to this 'Fyrgeim' woman. "Headmaster Osmond will see you now."

The strange woman shot her a look of sympathy before she passed through the door into Osmond's study, the door gently closed behind her until it shut properly, denying Matilda a chance to easily eavesdrop upon the conversation. Unfortunate but not unexpected...now to get back to work on her plan.

---

Fyrgeim POV

'So the 'esteemed' Headmaster of this place is some sort of perverted, doddering fool. Why am I not surprised.'

Still better than the last old man with a long beard who was in charge of things.

'Damning him with faint praise, are we?'

Ignoring the barbed mental voice, Fyrgeim took a seat before the rather Headmaster's desk, giving a short bow before doing so. "Headmaster Osmond, a pleasure to finally get a chance to speak with you."

"Finally, my dear?" The old mage asked, amusement clear in his voice, even muffled as it was by his beard. "You only just arrived the other day, did you not? I'd hardly say this was long in coming."

A smile came to her face at that; right, she had to remember that the fate of the entire world wasn't at stake once again. No need to rush with getting everything prepared before the inevitable battle to protect the realm. No hurrying to speak with everyone and get things ready in time to avoid calamity. She had all the time in the world, for the moment anyway, to sort things through before setting a course.

Thal's balls, what was she going to do with all that extra time?

Shaking her head in exasperation, Fyrgeim allowed her posture to relax slightly. "Sorry, I'm used to having to deal with a thousand things at once. Having the leisure to wait an entire day before an important meeting was a luxury I could ill afford back in my homeland."

Headmaster Osmond nodded at this, fingers tapping on the shaft of his pipe as he considered her words. "Your homeland must be quite a hectic place then, if a good night's sleep is such a luxury." The old mage noted, taking another draw of his pipe as he ruminated on the situation. "Yet I don't think that after coming so far, you would take the time to trade anecdotes with an old man. Especially if you are, as you say, accustomed to being in a hurry to do things."

Fyrgeim's estimation of Osmond climbed several notches at that point. He clearly was more perceptive that first impressions had led her to believe. It led her to wonder; just how much cunning was hiding behind the facade of an old pervert? "You'd be right about that. I understand there's a rather extensive library within the Academy. I wanted to ask for your permission to peruse the stacks. There's a lot about this land I've yet to understand and I can't exactly follow Professor Colbert around exchanging questions with him all day." Though that would be a rather enjoyable way to spend some time. "He has classes to teach and I can't deprive your students of his wisdom."

The elderly mage sat in silence for a few moments, the air growing a tas tense. "Hmmm...there are a rather large number of important and rare volumes contained within the Academy's library, Miss Fyrgeim." Another draw of the pipe, though this time when Osmond let the smoke filter out of his mouth, it came in carefully crafted concentric circles. "They are not easy to replace, you understand."

"I can assure you, Headmaster, that I will do my best to avoid any damage to the books in question." Fyrgeim's thoughts wandered the hefty wallet of Gil coins inside her pack. She wasn't quite sure how this world's economy worked when sufficiently powerful mages could just transmute precious metals but perhaps…

"This may seem an odd tangent but what is the standard unit of currency for Tristain?"

Her question took Osmond a little by surprise, his head tilting to the side just slightly. "Hmmm, well I suppose if you mean in terms of the most widely used, that would be the golden ecu. Why do you ask?"

A smile came to her lips at that. The average Gil coin was the size of a small saucer and while it may not have been pure gold, the additional size and composition of the metals could render it roughly equal. Some time and her alchemy supplies would determine whether or not her little hypothesis was correct, though first she'd need one of those gold ecu. That could wait; knowledge first, financial security second.

Worse comes to worse, she could always make money the legitimate way. By killing monsters and bandits, then taking their stuff.

The gleam of potential in Fyrgeim's eyes, she turned her attention back to Osmond. "Oh, just wanting to make sure that in the event of damage I could make recompense."

A very bushy eyebrow was raised at that. "Hmmm…"

---

Matilda POV

The door to Osmond's study opened after Matilda had finished the last chunk of her current bit of work, closing the ledger on her desk in time with the 'click' of the latch.

Fyrgeim stepped out, turning on her heel to give a polite nod towards Osmond. "You have my thanks, Headmaster Osmond. I'll treat those books better than even my own."

"I certainly hope so, Miss Fianbraenawyn."

Watching the woman close the door, Matilda could fairly easily intuit what had been discussed. The only books in the Academy that would require Osmond's permission for access would be those in the Academy's library. Specifically those kept in restricted sections, normally kept out of the hands of students with too much free time and too little sense when it came to over-reaching in their magical studies.

Before she could open her mouth to inquire and perhaps gain a few little tidbits of information, she watched as the woman opened up the pack at her hip and reached within, bringing out ten small pyramids of shining green crystalline glass. Each was about the size of a thimble and they caught the light streaming in through the office window in the most interesting of ways.

Then the woman placed the handful of pyramids on her desk.

Matilda stared at them, watching the little things bend and refract the light inside of them, twisting it in a most peculiar manner.

"They're called Glamour Prisms."

She looked up, watching as the woman tapped a finger on top of one of the items.

"Place them on top of a piece of clothing, then hold another up to the light they send out. The prism will entrap the image of the item held up in the light and project it upon the one it sits upon." She winked one golden orb. "You're not the first I've seen who's had trouble with peeking familiars. Arcanist students have been using their own to spy on their colleagues choice of smallclothes for years."

Matilda looked down at the items again...if this woman was speaking true, then these 'Glamour Prisms' could project a permanent illusionary effect upon clothing. The amount of gold some would shell out for such a thing was ludicrous. "And they work on any form of clothing?"

"Sadly no, these are the most basic form. Certain vestments and armour, those with powerful magics worked into them, require stronger prisms to contain their form. This type also only works upon cloth, other forms are needed for weapons, armours and what have you." She stamped a foot suddenly, sending a small mouse squeaking and fleeing. "Still, may wish to invest in some pants for yourself, Miss Longueville."

Matilda looked at the little prisms, already quietly formulating several ways she could use them in tandem with her thieving skills.

And also to deny that old fool his jollies, which brought a smile to her face. "Thank you, Miss Fianbraenawyn." She plucked one of the prisms up, holding it to her eye. Fouquet of the Crumbling Dirt would definitely be paying this woman a little visit, after her current business was done. "I'm sure these will prove most useful."

---

Well, that's not fucking ominous or anything.

 

[NexusTheDark]

Familiar of Light​

Part 7​

---​

Louise POV

She was a failure.

Louise hadn't slept more than a scant few hours the previous night, for her mind had been filled with terrorising specters of her own making. She had failed at what was ultimately her absolute last chance to perform some act of real magic, beyond her explosions. The worst part was that she had succeeded at 'Summon Familiar'...in a sense.

But before she could finish it and silence the snickering of her classmates, the strange red-skinned woman she had brought forth had donned a mage's robes. In that moment, Louise had frozen as the desire to prove herself clashed with the entire framework of her world-view; a noble could not have another noble...no, a mage could not have another mage as a Familiar. It was an affront to the order of the world as she knew it.

The rest of that day in the courtyard was a blur of words and half-remembered images conjured up by the woman's words. They took part in haunting her nightmares, spectres of demons and pagan god-things alongside those of her mother and older sister.

'What would her mother think, when she found out what she had done?' The very thought of it sent Louise into a trembling fit, fighting back tears once again.

She couldn't even stand to remain closed up in her room, awaiting the decision of the Headmaster as to whether to send her home or not - she'd heard nothing on it yet, but surely it must be coming - thanks to the damned pile of straw she'd had brought there in hopeful preparation for her future Familiar. Just looking at it, no even smelling the scent of the straw had brought fresh tears to her eyes upon awakening in her room, bringing with it yet another reminder of what she had done; or rather, failed to do.

So she had fled to the Academy's library as soon as she could do so and secreted herself in a dusty corner out of sight of anyone who might enter the library. She knew full well that most students had never set foot in here unless they were desperately seeking some aid for an exam, meaning for the time being, she could be alone. No von Zerbst to torment her, no Montmorency to join the with veiled little barbs. No one to call the 'Louise the Zero.'

She was doing a fine enough job of that on her own.

Just thinking about it caused a long, shuddering sigh to wrack her body as he placed her her on the table she was seated at, arms wrapped around herself to block out the dim light.

The worst part wasn't the teasing, no, Louise had put up with that for years now and gotten used to the barbed comments and nicknames that had hounded her. Without magic to rely on she had read over every book in the library she could find, seeking for answers and driving the theories of magic into her mind. Every test that was about history, theory or potential application, she had passed.

But it didn't matter.

No, what mattered was that every practical use of her magic was a failure in the most explosive of ways…and that with this latest one she'd be heaping further shame upon her family name. If her mother desired to disown her then she wouldn't even dispute it. As it was she had brought nothing but shame down upon them all with her ineptitude.

In every book she had read about the Academy's history, ever tome of knowledge she had devoured the contents of in her search for knowledge and an answer to her inability to command her magic, she couldn't recall one that had ended in such a way as her own. At least she would be an unprecedented failure.

The double-doors of the library creaking open drew Louise from her self-pity, followed soon by the voice of the Academy's head librarian and wordsmith; Alaina de la Blanchett, the Shimmering Ink.

---

Fyrgeim POV

Ahh, the familiar aroma of musty tomes, filled to the brim with knowledge; it reminded her of time long-spent searching through similar stacks in the depths of various archives of ancient knowledge. Hopefully none of these books would try to devour her, she'd had more than enough incidents with sentient and Voidsent-possessed books for one lifetime. Considering she didn't hear the distinct rattling of chains or the trembling of bookshelves burdened with keeping the usually volatile grimoire's under control, she supposed that was one thing Halkeginia had over Eorzea.

Fyrgeim smiled as she closed the double-doors behind her, noting with approval the various carefully-positioned lanterns on the walls of the library. Kept far enough away from the books so that one tumbled candle wouldn't spark a conflagration and their flames trapped behind glasswork so that they'd be more likely to snuff themselves out if they fell, rather than roll off and ignite something.

Whilst poring over tomes of eldritch lore usually wasn't her cup of tea, she respected those who quested for such things as long as they set to using them for good ends. Oh she had certainly done some research in her time but much of the heavier archival perusing had been done by her allies. She had no idea how they could sift through so much information to find the answers they sought; just looking at all of these books was causing her head to spin. There had to be hundreds of volumes each full of further hundreds of differing subjects.

At least she had plenty of time to learn…

A soft cough shattered her thoughts, drawing Fyrgeim's attention to a desk just to the left of the entrance and a short, unassuming blonde-haired woman dressed in robes which mixed light blues and browns. Her hair was carefully gathered up and pinned in a bun behind her head and judging by the rather prim glasses perched on a short but sharp nose, she wasn't the type to brook any nonsense in her domain.

"Excuse me, Miss." The woman spoke up, adjusting the small spectacles carefully. "I'm afraid that the Academy's library is off limits to those who are not members of the staff or students." Her eyes did widen slightly at the sight of Fyrgeim but by now the story had likely made it's way around the entire school, so the shock wasn't as pronounced as it might have been.

Nodding, the Roegadyn woman reached into her pack and drew out a small scroll, setting it down upon the woman's desk. "I had a talk with Headmaster Osmond about that; he's agreed to allow me to search the library for anything I can find that may aid me in my attempts to return to my homeland. Failing that, I would also simply like a chance to learn about the place that may be my new home for the foreseeable future." Not a snowballs chance in Ifrit's claws of that happening though. The only way she'd be staying is if the search for a way home ended up killing her.

The woman took the note in hand, reading it over carefully. "Old Osmond's signature and seal...well, this seems to be in order then. Please come seek me out if you require assistance in searching for a particular tome."

Giving a nod of thanks, Fyrgeim stepped out into the stacks of books, running her finger down their spines as she read. The language was very different from back home; if it wasn't for the Echo's blessing, she'd never be able to even attempt to read any of these. She skipped over some of the more basic texts for now, more interested in any possible lore regarding artifacts or the like. That and tomes of magical history; if she could find out how the summoning spell was derived, perhaps she could use that to begin devising a way to reverse the effects and send herself home. Failing that, she could at least get one of this world's mages to cast it if the magic didn't respond to her.

---

So many tomes.

Fyrgeim was quickly gaining a whole new level of appreciation for her dear friends; if she had to do this sort of thing for every problem that befell the realm she would have long ago gone mad. She reached out, picking up 'A Treatise on Summoning' from one of the shelves and flipping through it's pages. It did describe the ritual...but it seemed the contents of the book were more along the lines of a proposed correlating factor between mage's affinities and the creatures they summoned.

"Alphinaud, how I wish you and Y'shtola were here right now. The two of you were always more capable at this sort of thing than I." Fyrgeim sighs, closing the book and setting it back upon the shelf. "Hells, at this rate I would take Urianger. The man may have a talent for turning one word into ten but as of right now, I have none to go on…"

Another book skimmed and placed back on the shelf; she didn't need an entire book that went into the benefits of familiars and their various abilities, seeing as she had no intent of becoming one. "Yet here I am, a stranger in a strange land. I imagine by now Tataru is throwing a fit, wondering where I've gone to. If I'm dressed right for the weather, if I have enough to eat…" A laugh, bitter and tinged with sadness, filled the air.

Her hand fell away from the next book, instead resting upon the shelf as she reached up with the other, rubbing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Steady yourself now, you soft-hearted fool, we'll see them again. Probably have to endure another big calamity right as the welcome back party starts, given our luck."

A smile returned to her face, Fyrgeim grasped the book she had been reaching for; An Index of Artifacts Most Ancient. Much better.

After wandering through the stacks for a time, a small tower of books beginning to mount in her arms, Fyrgeim noticed that she was being shadowed. Not very well either; whoever it was, they weren't trying to match her steps at all, which likely meant she wasn't being professionally tailed.

Just before the next intersection in the bookshelves, Fyrgeim turned around suddenly...and found herself gazing down at a wide-eyed and pink-haired face. The obvious marks of crying were there; reddened eyes, trails going down the girl's cheeks.

Louise de la Valliere; the girl responsible for dragging her here.

She couldn't help the frown that came to her face at the sight of the girl. While she might not have born her true ill-will - Louise hadn't meant to pull her here and judging by the failures of her magic it was doubtful the girl had even thought it would truly succeed - Fyrgeim couldn't help but feel displeasure at the sight of the one who was, essentially, responsible for her current situation.

She could also feel Fray tugging at the reigns.

"Louise de la Valliere, why are you following me?" The Roegadyn woman's eyes narrowed as she spoke, struggling to hold the bitterness back. "I have already told you that I have no desire become your Familiar, nor would I even without my concerns for my homeland. Better beings than you have tried to enslave me and failed." She quickly turned her gaze back to the stack of books before forcing her eyes shut in frustration. Damn you, Fray.

'You know full well that we only say what you fear to.'

Yes and it just turns out so well for us whenever you do that, does it not?

"....-ry."

Fyrgeim's eyes opened slowly, traveling up from the cover of the first book upon her pile.

The young girl was bowing, just slightly, her lowered head and long hair preventing a good look at her face. "I…" The girl paused, taking in a sudden deep breath before forcing out her words. "I, Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière, am sorry."

---

Next time; more Louise POV.

 

[MrTartan]

You're gonna end up the next Ryuugi or GreggHL at this rate, Nexus. How many stories is that, now?

 

[Phant0m5]

WHAT.

I haven't read this yet.

But... I know you, @NexusTheDark. I know that I like your stories, because you've pulled me into franchises I usually have no interest in. Primarily Megaman and Sonic.

And now you're writing about FFXIV, one of my favourite sources of lore, and ZnT, one of my favourite crossover setups.

... YES. THANK YOU.

*carpet Like deployed*

 

[daimahou]

dusty corner out of sight of the (mage who acts as librarian). She

Click to shrink...

I think you might want to replace that.

 

[NexusTheDark]

I think you might want to replace that.

Click to shrink...

Fixed that. Can't beleive I forgot to go back and fill that in there.

 

[RJC1212]

Oh my god!!

The crossover I've been waiting for!!!

Yes!!!!

Only way it could be better is if it was a reverse summon but....

YAY!!!!!!!!

Thank you, man! Your the best.XD

 

[minuseven]

Watching. So nice to see more FF XIV around.

 

[Smugraptor]

Familiar of Light

Click to shrink...

So this is what you have been doing for the past month.....

 

[Aku]

So Fyrgeim is... Everything? Warrior? Dark Knight? Black Mage? Ninja? a Culinarian and an Alchemist too, so it's not just the combat Jobs either....

When did She find the time to actually save Eorzea?!

 

[NexusTheDark]

So Fyrgeim is... Everything? Warrior? Dark Knight? Black Mage? Ninja? a Culinarian and an Alchemist too, so it's not just the combat Jobs either....

When did She find the time to actually save Eorzea?!

Click to shrink...

Oh that's easy...the downtime between patches.

Which I like to consider as 'those brief periods of peace and stability before everything goes tits-up again.'

 

[Phant0m5]

So Fyrgeim is... Everything? Warrior? Dark Knight? Black Mage? Ninja? a Culinarian and an Alchemist too, so it's not just the combat Jobs either....

When did She find the time to actually save Eorzea?!

Click to shrink...

Oh that's easy...the downtime between patches.

Which I like to consider as 'those brief periods of peace and stability before everything goes tits-up again.'

Click to shrink...

That, and considering that Echo enhanced adventurers learn and perfect skills unnaturally fast by lore instead of just as a game mechanic (Echo OP plz nerf), a year or more of downtime is plenty of time to become the King of all trades, instead of just the Jack.

Kind of surprised that Fyrgeim hasn't used the Echo's backstory-uncovering ability yet. Where she can see important moments of a person's life, or important moments that happened at a specific place. Because that's a lore-backed ability, too.

 

[NexusTheDark]

That, and considering that Echo enhanced adventurers learn and perfect skills unnaturally fast by lore instead of just as a game mechanic (Echo OP plz nerf), a year or more of downtime is plenty of time to become the King of all trades, instead of just the Jack.

Kind of surprised that Fyrgeim hasn't used the Echo's backstory-uncovering ability yet. Where she can see important moments of a person's life, or important moments that happened at a specific place. Because that's a lore-backed ability, too.

Click to shrink...

It is indeed and it is soemthing you'll see. Just remember that the Echo is a finicky bugger that only really seems to work like that when it wants to, usually after a big emotional thing.

 

[Krazyfan1]

hmm...i havent played FFXIV, not have i heard that much about it....
is this the one where the Primals are evil? i recall something about Bahamut being either corrupted or controlled...but its been a while...
are they dead? do they even stay dead?

 

[NexusTheDark]

hmm...i havent played FFXIV, not have i heard that much about it....
is this the one where the Primals are evil? i recall something about Bahamut being either corrupted or controlled...but its been a while...
are they dead? do they even stay dead?

Click to shrink...

The Primals are not exactly evil, per se. They act as Gods to the various Beast Tribes, summoned by their prayers and lots of crystals to provide Aether.

Some are more stable than others; Ramuh is a sage of the forest who doesn't attack unless his people are threatened and is fairly reasonable...and Garuda is a psychotic crazy bitch who wants to become the one god above all.

Bahamut is...a different and very spoilery matter.

And no, they don't stay dead. Killing a Primal really just means dispersing the Aether that makes up their bodies. Given enough Aether and prayer, they WILL return and the more fervent the prayers, the stronger they are.

 

[Krazyfan1]

The Primals are not exactly evil, per se. They act as Gods to the various Beast Tribes, summoned by their prayers and lots of crystals to provide Aether.

Some are more stable than others; Ramuh is a sage of the forest who doesn't attack unless his people are threatened and is fairly reasonable...and Garuda is a psychotic crazy bitch who wants to become the one god above all.

Bahamut is...a different and very spoilery matter.

And no, they don't stay dead. Killing a Primal really just means dispersing the Aether that makes up their bodies. Given enough Aether and prayer, they WILL return and the more fervent the prayers, the stronger they are.

Click to shrink...

hmm...so, by killing Garuda , she was basically put on an extended time out?
would that change anything the next time she reforms? like, acting that way got her killed, which is presumably not a fun experience and cost her some power, so acting differently would prevent that from happening again?
what do they do when they arent being summoned? do some of them get along? like, plants need water, so would Ramuh have a good relationship with Leviathan, who controls water? likewise, while Fire, and Ifrit...is rather detrimental to the health of most plants, some of them need fire to reproduce, and if there are too many plants, the nutrients would be used up... and of course, most fires need a fuel source
likewise, would the Primals realize that, if they have a good relationship with their worshipers, they would get more prayers?

 

[demonitter]

I would imagine that unsummoned primals are essentially dead as in not concious.

 

[Legend Of Desu]

Primals are gods shaped by the memories and expectations of their worshipers, basically wish fulfillment of crazy religious fundamentalists made real (well, most of them anyway). Ramuh is honorable and reasonable because the Sylphs expect him to be, and Garuda is a crazy psychotic bitch because the Ixali remember her that way. If coolbro Ramuh got killed and before being revived had all his worshipers' perception of him be somehow changed to be like Garuda, come his next summoning he's gonna act just like her.

Concerning Primal relations... it's a bit tricky, as Primals require a lot of aether to feed on and every other Primal is a competitor for that same aether.

Spoiler: The one chance three Primals got to work together...

...was when Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda got cornered by the Ultima Weapon, and even in the face of being absorbed fucked it up royally.

Spoiler: Warning for Titan's nads

 

[Winchester]

hmm...i havent played FFXIV, not have i heard that much about it....
is this the one where the Primals are evil? i recall something about Bahamut being either corrupted or controlled...but its been a while...
are they dead? do they even stay dead?

Click to shrink...

Primals aren't evil. They're manifest spirits formed by sufficiently strong feelings and sufficient quantities of magical energy (usually in the form of Aether Crystals), and their personalities are more or less exactly as the people whose feelings gave birth to them expected. The problem with Primals is that a: they need Aetheric energy to survive, and tend to drain it out of whatever is handy - like the environment - and b: they have the ability to permanently overwhelm the minds of lesser beings with their aura of awesomeness, and turn them into "true believers". This is called "tempering", and it's permanent, irreversible, and not overwritable - once someone is "tempered" by one Primal, another can't do the same. Note that this happens more or less automatically to anyone present when a Primal is summoned, but outside of that the Primal has voluntary control over the process. Which means that if the worshipers wanted their god to be nice, they got a nice god that wouldn't forcibly convert people; most of the time what was wanted was a war god and they get kind of greedy.

Getting rid of a Primal is a difficult proposition. If you kill the Primal but not its worshipers, they'll just summon him again. If you attempt to exterminate the worshipers as well, then you've added sincere panic to the feelings that go into making it manifest, and it gets angrier and more powerful.

If you kill the worshipers but not the Primal, the Primal doesn't vanish immediately. Depending on the personality of the Primal and what it does, it might fade away from lack of aetheric energy, or it might run amok and forcibly create a new cadre of worshipers. Or it finds a permanent source of Aetheric energy somewhere and manages to keep itself alive that way. Sometimes, a Primal leaves such a lasting mark on the human psyche that wiping out the worshipers doesn't help, too many people *believe* in it, without being actual worshipers. Everyone who saw the battle from the FFXIV 2.0 trailer *believes* in Bahamut, but few of them worship him. When that happens, you get an Elder Primal - it's basically a Primal that has survived the civilization that gave birth to it. They're OMGWTFAMIBBQNAO? powerful, and impossible to permanently get rid.