The search for Dirk, son of Rex and Mythra, was conducted in earnest.
Even if it was not successful...the effort should nonetheless be displayed.
xxxx
It was one day after Dirk had run away from his home.
Needless to say, Pyra was the only member of the family attending the academy that day: out of a sense of duty, more than anything else.
When she explained to the rest of the staff that neither Mythra, Mio, nor Glimmer would be attending today, there was naturally an inquiry. When she explained what had happened the night before — with as much discretion as was needed, to be sure — most were understanding.
'Most', being the key word. "That boy was trouble for so long," murmured an older science teacher, her wrinkled face curdled into a frown. "I thought working patrol duty had gotten him to settle down...but apparently not." Furry Gormotti ears twitched with some measure of irritation as she remarked, "Well...I suppose every family is entitled to one bad apple."
Pyra stared flatly at her subordinate, mustering every ounce of self-control to not set her on fire. (It wasn't close at all, but it was
still vexing to hear.) "And you're entitled to your opinion, Miss Morgan. But for your sake, I recommend keeping that opinion to yourself around my sister...and our daughters, for that matter."
Miss Morgan sighed, relenting on the argument. "I'm only saying that your family deserved better; what's wrong with that?"
Pyra let it go, because there was nothing to gain in belaboring the point. After all, the other members of her family were far more engaged with the search for Dirk than she was, busy as she was picking up the administrative slack on Mythra's behalf...
xx
At the family household — still bearing an open hole from Mythra's dynamic entry the night before — it seemed as though a war was about to break out.
"What do you
mean you won't put out a Missing Persons Alert?!" roared Mythra, glaring daggers at Nia. "You're the flipping
Queen of our country, you can do it if you want!"
"Because that will officially make Dirk a person for Gormotti and Leftherian Security to
actively pursue if they see him," reiterated Nia, not budging in the slightest. "If he's hiding anywhere around here, it'll only chase him off! And besides, he ain't kidnapped...and I don't think you suspect him of a crime, or as the victim of one for that matter."
Mythra scowled. "What are you getting at?"
Nia put her hands on her hips. "I haven't sat on my blasted throne without learning
some things, you know? Even though he wasn't old enough to be an adult, Dirk had to be legally emancipated just to
take that bloody patrol job, since there was active combat and threat to life and limb involved. So we don't even have an appropriate reason to file a report on him, because we know that he
voluntarily left."
"
He's missing," snarled Mythra, pounding her hands on the kitchen table.
"He's not
missing; he
left," repeated Nia, not backing down from her line of argument.
Rex looked back and forth between his wives, trying his damnedest to be neutral (a tall order, indeed). The sad part was that he could see the merits of both their points. "Let's be civil-"
"Oh we're being
plenty civil," grumbled Mythra.
"Indeed," replied Nia. "And spending state resources to track down a young man who doesn't
want to be found is something I would have to justify."
"Again, you're the
Queen."
"Because neither
you nor
Pyra nor
Rex wanted the bloody job!" hissed Nia, her ears twisting backward with budding anger.
Ah Titan's rump, we're dragging up old stuff. Time to intervene. "And we all agreed that it was for the best at the time," interrupted Rex, grabbing both of their attentions. "We all agreed that, even though Pyra and Mythra no longer had the power of Pneuma or the Conduit, putting an Aegis into a role of political power would have been too...
provocative. And I was just a salvager by profession; trying to make me a king just because I was the Driver of the Aegis? Not the sort of precedent we wanted to set." (After all,
no one truly knew if Pyra and Mythra would return to their emerald Core Crystal upon Rex's death; even if that day was long in coming, it was still something they had to consider.)
"But Nia was not only a Blade native to Gormott; she also had a familial tie with the last Lord of Echell. There was no better choice at the time...and I think we can
all agree she's done pretty well. But bringing up old arguments ain't gonna help with Dirk, or with how you're feeling about it."
Mythra huffed, crossing her arms. Nia's ears went back to their default upright position, even as she calmly got her breathing back under control. "Listen, Mythra...what do you think will be accomplished by chasing the boy down and dragging him back?"
"Because Moebius D isn't someone he should be
struggling with on his own," she retorted, as one stating the obvious. "Look where running away got me! Or you! It wasn't until we finally stopped running from the people we love that we got over our issues!"
"...I'm not disagreeing," relented Nia. "But you're skipping over a lot of stuff that happened for us to finally
get to that point. If I had never run, I'd have never joined Torna...and I'd have never met Rex, or Pyra and you. If you hadn't 'run' after the fall of Torna's Titan...Pyra would have never existed." Glancing over at their husband, she added, "And that big lunk knows a thing or three about running away, eh?"
(It was strange, how something so innocuous had become the equivalent of a family in-joke over the years. But it was heartening regardless.) "Aye. Though to be fair, you and Brighid slapped some sense to me," Rex wryly reminded.
"Details," retorted Nia with a wave of her hand. "But seriously, Mythra...even with all the support we've given him, Dirk was still struggling with D. In the end, he decided that the best way of trying to beat him...was to leave us."
It was a hard truth; one that Mythra was struggling to accept, judging by the depth of her scowl. "...damn it..." Even for all that she had matured with the passage of time, a lively spark of her juvenile nature remained. "...this
sucks," she mumbled, her eyes glistening.
Nia quietly walked around the kitchen table, embracing Mythra and pressing her face against her shoulder. "It does."
It wasn't until Rex saw Mythra's shoulders shaking that he finally felt safe to approach; the danger to life and limb had passed, for now. Wrapping his arms gently around both Nia and Mythra, he rumbled, "And besides, even if we're not gonna do anything 'officially'...it's not like we're not gonna do nothing at all." Shooting a wry little grin at Nia, he added, "Right, my Queen?"
Nia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."
Turning back towards Mythra, he added, "Putting out 'wanted posters' and the like will only make the boy paranoid, and putting out any kind of bounty will only attract less than savory types...but having my boys at Garfont keeping an eye out? Putting out little feelers through any of our friends in the trade guilds to keep a track of where he's gone? I think that's something we'll be able to do just fine."
"...all right," admitted Mythra, rubbing at her eyes furiously. "Ugh, I
hate crying. It always makes me feel awful."
"Well then, we'll just have to make sure the next time you cry will be because of sheer happiness," joked Rex, even as his thoughts turned to what they would be doing next.
Good thing I didn't have to break out Rule Six...
xx
Meanwhile, further inland, Noah was quietly calling the other members of Ouroboros; Mio had gone ahead with Glimmer and Dromarch to try and see if they could get some semblance of a trail (because, from what little they knew, this had been the most
probable direction Dirk could have gone). Privately, Noah had been glad for them to go on ahead; the tension exhibited by Glimmer and the somber aura exuded by Mio had been...deflating. Emotionally, that is.
As he fiddled with his handheld terminal — a spherical communications device marketed by
PonTech, a technological co-operative staffed by members of the major Nopon trade guilds from Alrest — Noah couldn't help but miss the convenience of the Irises. (Then he remembered the fact that Moebius had used those Irises as part of their system of control, and felt less sad about it; even so, getting in touch with his friends was a bit more complicated as a result.)
Still, it didn't take ten minutes before familiar faces appeared on three separate holographic screens: Eunie and Taion on one, Sena on another, and Lanz in-between them. "Thank you all for getting in touch."
"
Hey, it's no big, man," replied Lanz, his hands busy cleaning the metallic portions of his arms with some kind of cleaning solution. As he dabbed a tiny little cotton swab between the grooves on his triceps, he added, "
Where's Mio?"
"It's part of the reason I'm calling..." Having gathered his thoughts by now, Noah gave an abridged summary of what had happened the night before.
"
...well, spark," grumbled Eunie, crossing her arms with a huff. She had let her hair grow out a bit over the past three years; though still younger-looking than she had been relative to the ninth-term soldier of Aionios, Eunie looked a bit more nostalgic (and wasn't
that an odd way of phrasing it?). "
Kind of makes me feel bad for treating him like an arsehole."
"
We've been over this, Eunie," assuaged Taion, looking at her from the side; at some point in the prior three years, he had abandoned his ascot for a similarly-colored muffler. (Yet another nostalgic appearance.) "
Our actions and thoughts at the time were informed by the data we had on hand; once we had new data, we changed our responses accordingly...even if our own feelings took a bit longer to catch up."
"
Yeah, but still," griped Eunie, lightly flicking Taion upside the head with her right headwing. "
I guess it's just hitting harder given our current...assignment."
"...ah, that's right," muttered Noah, recalling where Eunie and Taion were currently. "Reyn and Sharla asked for Oleg's help with Ashera?"
"
Her demeanor, despite Dunban's tutelage, has shown no signs of returning to her pre-Aionios self. Her father would be more accepting if she were less...frenzied. Her mother and sister, on the other hand...are less accepting, in principle."
"
Not that they're treating her bad, or anything," interrupted Eunie. "
But as far as Sharla and Panacea are concerned, Ashera has become someone unrecognizable...and it'd be more tolerable if she weren't so sparking flippant about it."
"
...sounds rough," murmured Sena, who even in casual wear appeared to be enmeshed in the fineries of imperial life. It was by far the appearance with the greatest separation between Aionios and their new world (which, even six years after the Rejoining, was still subject to different titles depending on where one lived; the governments of the nations seemed to have adopted a policy of "it'll sort itself out eventually"). "
Has she awoken to all of her memories? She didn't have an Ouroboros partner like us."
Eunie shook her head. "
Still pretty hit and miss. She doesn't remember our deal, for one." (A deal which, to this day, no one else was privy to the details of other than Taion.) "
Teach seems to think that he might know her eccentricities enough to at least make her more manageable."
"
...seems weird, thinking of it like that: making people 'manageable'. Like they were pieces on a board," murmured Lanz. "
Sounds a lot like Moebius, don't you think?"
"
That's not what I meant Lanz, and you know it-!"
"
Easy Eunie, lemme finish," retorted Lanz. "
It's like...we're the only ones who had the ability to choose to remember everythin', because of us being Ouroboros. And even then, it wasn't like we knew what would happen once we shook hands. Not that I regret it, of course...but it doesn't sit right." Lanz huffed, scratching at his white hair. "
Bah, my brain's being a mudder. Dadapon's been having me take 'etiquette' lessons with some older High Entia, and it's exhaustin'."
"
...etiquette lessons? Whatever for?" inquired Taion, only to get bumped in the side by Eunie. "
What??"
The way Sena's eyes shifted away said enough about her embarrassment (which again, was far from how the Sena of Aionios would have reacted...but why was he expecting her to be the same person? Why was that mindset so hard to shake off?), which prompted Noah to intercede. "I think I understand what you're saying, Lanz. It doesn't seem fair that so many people haven't been given the choice whether or not to accept who they were in Aionios...for all that that world was never supposed to be, it was
still reality, and it helped form us as we are now. But for a lot of people...who they were in Aionios might as well be completely separate from their original selves. And they can't do
anything about that. They can manage it, they can adapt...but the choice to simply say 'yes', or 'no'...is denied to them. And no one knows why."
"
Research on the Somatic Feedback Resonance Loop is still ongoing. Perhaps a means of finding out the cause is not too far off in the future," reminded Taion.
"
But that doesn't change the reality for people who are suffering now," said Sena with a determined frown. "
It's strange...thinking about the people that are struggling. Not just with this, but with all sorts of other problems. And it just seems like...there's not enough time, to do everything we want to do...what we need to do..."
"
Only so many hours in the day," assured Lanz, briefly wincing as he accidentally broke off the end of a cotton swab. "
We can't stop the clock, you know?"
Taion nodded. "
Lanz is right. We can only change what's within our ability to change...and if that still doesn't satisfy, then we would have to increase our ability accordingly. And if our lives should come to an end beforehand...then it is imperative to leave something behind, for others to take up our mantle."
"The unending Ouroboros, forever devouring itself," murmured Noah. "A legacy that continues on into the future...a future of our choosing." Perhaps that was why he had been feeling so melancholy since last night: though they had utterly rebuked Z's portrayal of Aionios as a world where 'anyone could be a winner, given time'...it had not erased the fact that not everyone would come out ahead, in this new world; that the qualities and traits that had made for effective soldiers in an eternal war might not lead to good outcomes in a life beyond that war. Were such people, marred by scars that continued to persist, capable of choosing the future they wanted? "Right now, Dirk's trying to choose his own future...but there's no telling if he'll have the strength or fortitude to make that choice." Would Dirk ever return to Mio's family? Would it be as a changed man, who had conquered his demons? Would it be as D, having surrendered to his madness? Or would it be somewhere in-between, with nothing have been resolved? "We can only try to move forward, imperfect as we are..."
There was a sense of finality in his words, as the other four were in agreement; they gave their condolences and well-wishes for Mio and her family, along with a promise to follow-up with each on a later date. Thus did Noah find himself with a brief moment of silence, to simply...exist, in the midst of the world: the great peaks and valleys of New Elysium, looming in the far distance; the rolling carpet of forestry that held growing villages and untold mystery; the stoic and unmoving head of the Gormott Titan, its great horns rife with overgrowth; the great blue sky above, rolling with clouds that signified afternoon rain; a calm breeze, so gentle and invigorating that it could make one feel happy just to be
alive...
"I wish I had brought my flute," murmured Noah, thinking back to even how that little aspect was different; he had not been privy to the exact means by which the Off-Seer flutes had been made, and the flutes available in
this world had not been able to capture the same sound...not perfectly. The notes were the same, yet the expression was different; such was life, was it not?
Dirk...what song will your life encompass, at the end? There was no way of knowing, except by living; he and the others would have to do the same...
xxxx
And so, time passed...
xxxx
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9zgrV6Dvw0
It was two years after Dirk had run away from his home.
Within Echell Palace, Nia was having a private moment with two visiting rulers: Melia of Keves and Niall of Mor Ardain. (It wasn't a well-kept secret that when it came to these various meetings between rulers, Fonsa Myma and White Chair were the most desired, due to both having pleasant climates, and lacking the environmental extremes of Alba Cavanich or Theosoir. As for Alcamoth...it was quite a far distance to travel for most of the native Agnians. A petty reason by comparison, but no less real.)
Officially, the prompt for their gathering had been to discuss the ramifications of Queen Raqura's stepping down from her throne, abdicating in favor of her son Fulgento; however, behind closed doors, they had taken to discussing numerous other matters (both new and old): celebrating the Indoline Remnant's recent accession to the Artifice Arms Reduction Treaty, ensuring that the numerous armaments left behind by Malos would not be used for militaristic purposes (because even though it had been roughly
three decades since the last battle atop the World Tree — bloody hell, where had all the
time gone? — Malos had left a crapton of those mechs behind in his aborted attempt at destroying Alrest; oh, the stories that could be told of the varied malcontents who had tried to yoink one of their own in the years immediately after New Elysium's founding...); gauging societal reactions to the recent wedding of Dunban and Mòrag, from positive to negative and everything in-between; and so on and so forth.
It struck Nia, just how much time had passed.
Wish I could just sod off sometimes and go on a stroll throughout the world, she inwardly mused, still listening as Melia and Niall discussed a recent scientific exchange between certain Alcamoth and Alba Cavanich research institutes.
But that's the thing with being the head honcho: even if you get a break, there are no days off. It was the great irony: she and Melia had helped to provide Ouroboros the keys to unlock the future...and yet, a world of freedom was not without duty or responsibility.
Faced with a world of unending war, where life is capped at ten years...fighting for freedom is an attractive proposition. Yet in the world we've fought for, there are so many choices with consequences both good and bad, that it can be a pain in the arse to choose...and even though we've strived to remain true to ourselves, the risk of misunderstanding and conflict is never absent. Mythra was a prominent example: the poor lass had become rather motherly — to a sometimes
intense degree — to the various students at her academy, which some found rather off-putting; it was a rather odd coping mechanism in Dirk's absence, but it wasn't deemed harmful...not truly. Just a bit sad.
"You've been rather quiet, Nia."
Nia blinked, looking towards Melia. As ever, her superior (not in rank, but certainly in dignity and prestige; for all that they had been the only two Queens of Aionios, it had always been a struggle not to compare herself as coming up short compared to Melia; all those years spent away from her family had not helped with that) seemed utterly composed and regal in demeanor. "Ah. Simply listening. And..." She glanced over at Niall, who was probably the only leader amongst the nations that she didn't feel self-conscious about. (It probably helped that she remembered him as a child even smaller than Rex, and that she had
literally saved his life.) His expression was equally non-judgmental. "...all sorts of stuff on my mind, you know? It's been two years since Dirk left...and the house gets a bit
gloomy 'round this time..."
"Ah. Mythra's son," remarked Niall with a nod. The lad had definitely grown into his position over the years (both literally and metaphorically), now being eye-to-eye with the likes of Mòrag. "As far as the public is concerned, he's still on a 'journey to find himself'." Which wasn't even a
lie, to be fair; that the public had not been told of the less pleasant details...well, it's not like the family's private affairs were for the gossip rags to pore through. "But wherever he's gone, he's done a
real good job of keeping his head down."
"Do you believe he's run afoul of some misfortune?" asked Melia.
"Oh,
without a doubt. Brat was a damn troublemaker; that'll never change," she said with a wry smile. "But I suppose it's the uncertainty, more than anything else, that gets to us...for good or ill, it would at least provide some peace of mind." (Because even if Dirk truly had run afoul of some terrible fate...at least the family would be able to mourn and
move on. It was only Dirk's good intentions that had kept her feelings from becoming bitter.)
Melia smiled wryly, a melancholy look crossing her eyes. "Alas, certainty in life is something we're denied for most things; after all, as Shulk is so fond of saying, there is no single established future. It is our will which gives rise to what will come after us...even if it seems like the present is slipping away as we get older."
"An unusual way of putting it, given how gracefully you've aged, Melia," complimented Niall with a polite smile. "But it is a good point; there's only so much we can do to combat the uncertainties of life. Nothing is guaranteed...yet if the lowliest of individuals isn't spared from the consequences of indecisiveness, how much more for those who represent the entirety of our nations?"
"Indeed, Niall," replied Melia.
There was a strange subtlety to their actions and words; enough that Nia not only caught on, but was downright bewildered by them.
Wait a tic. "...you know, for how married Mòrag is to her work, I always thought it was kind of surprising that she would accept courtship from Dunban." Not that Dunban was a bad
guy, Architect forbid; but even so, for those who had known Mòrag longest, it had seemed rather out of character. "Is there something behind the scenes going on? Pardon the impertinence if it's none of my business."
Niall smiled genially, "Not at all; compared to the speculations of those within and without the Ardianian government, a little bit of frankness is appreciated. To put it simply, we're waiting to see how the public reacts, long-term, to such a relationship between Keves and Agnus. And if the people are even
somewhat amenable..." He glanced over at Melia. "...well, it'll provide a means for us to handle quite a few problems."
Melia nodded in agreement.
...no way. "You mean...
you two?!"
"The succession of the imperial line is something we both must address eventually," said Melia, by way of explanation. "This is something which will further cement the bond between our people, painting over whatever Aionios memories may remain of a time where Keves and Agnus were mortal enemies."
"And after Lindwurm, Brionac, and
other less than pleasant groups...I'm afraid there are few noble ladies within Mor Ardain that I would trust to show my back to," admitted Niall with a self-deprecating smile. "And with how my sister and I have all but kept Sena away from those sorts of machinations, my options in terms of succession are rather limited."
Nia was no stranger to political machinations after so many years on the throne of Gormott, but Melia and Niall's sheer
matter-of-factness...was dizzying. "And this is what you
both want?"
Melia understood the heart of Nia's question. "We want what's best for our people, and to ensure that the symbols of our respective nations will remain clean of scandal, stable for years to come; succession crises are neither of those things. And...we're not guaranteed tomorrow. The longer we wait in hopes of a perfect solution, the greater the risk to ourselves and those we represent."
"It would be irresponsible," concurred Niall. "So, with that in mind, I believe I'll arrange for a private audience with the soon-to-be King Fulgento, to express my well-wishes for his reign."
Melia nodded. "I will likewise extend an invitation to Raqura, to get some insight as to how she views the geopolitical situation." Though she had announced her abdication, an official ceremony was still in the planning, both to mark the end of Raqura's long reign, and the beginning of her son's. "Any pointers regarding unruly nobility will be invaluable...and I'll be able to ascertain as to how Uraya would feel about a potential marriage between us."
Nia resisted the urge to rub at her temples, but just barely.
This is why Pyra would have made a better Queen; so much high-falutin' nonsense...! Sometimes, she just lacked the
patience for such high-minded wheeling and dealing.
As such, once Niall departed, Nia decided to confront Melia with even
more frankness. "Tell me, Melia," she said, moving to the foot of the chaise longue where the Kevesi Queen was resting. "Is this
really what you want? I mean, Niall's not a bad guy or nothing, but...it's just kind of surprising."
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YC4_qx2kqJU
"It is something that we have only discussed in private," answered Melia, quietly sipping from a cup of lukewarm tea. That she drank it without once grimacing was a testament to her ability to keep a straight face. "I believe only Mòrag and Dunban know of our long-term plans; Niall confessed that when he discussed this with his sister,
she's the one who broached the idea of a political marriage with Dunban."
"...of course she would, the self-sacrificing blighter," grumbled Nia with less heat than the word indicated. "And I bet she offered it without hesitation, too."
Melia smiled sadly. "Neither Niall nor I anticipated that the two would become fond of each other...but they're so private that it's difficult to determine what degree of mutual affection they have." Her headwings drooped, but just a little. "I've always feared that Dunban harbors secret doubts of my intentions, that he thinks I sent him to Mor Ardain for just such an eventuality...but he would never say it to my face."
"You're not the kind of person to be so callous," assuaged Nia, lightly flicking Melia on her exposed ankle. "I bet Dunban knows that as well. He's always struck me as a good man at heart."
"He is. But my mind is not so easily pacified."
"Plus, I doubt anyone's expecting those two to have any children." The Ladairs were not in the direct line of succession, so long as Niall and his lineage survived; with Dunban being over fifty and Mòrag being in her fifth decade of life, no one would be pressuring them on that front. "But you and Niall...you're gonna outlive him. And there's that whole two spouses thing that the High Entia have...?"
"My expanded lifespan is one of the reasons he pushed for it; the long lifespan of the Indoline has long been a source of anxiety for Mor Ardain. Any child of ours would eventually ascend to the throne of Mor Ardain, and rule for an untold period of time; such longevity and stability will doubtless comfort those who have feared the machinations of a long-lived people. And as for me..." With a bitter sigh, she added, "The 'Rule of Two Consort's' purpose ceased to be, once Zanza was defeated. And I'm afraid there are no longer any pure-blooded High Entia left who would care about something as silly as racial purity."
"...ah. The whole
Telethia business you once told me about."
Cue awkward silence...and, time to break it. "...those are all good reasons. But you never answered my question. Is this what you
want?"
Melia did not answer immediately. Eventually, she left her eyes unguarded, allowing Nia just a
glimpse of the dolor, compassion, and resignation in her heart. "I love Shulk; this is no secret to you, Nia. However...I have long come to accept that when it comes to matters of romance, his heart is only big enough for Fiora. And I love them too much to try and wedge myself into a place I am not fit for."
"Melia..."
"Shulk is a valued comrade, advisor, and friend...and to be honest, in retrospect, I doubt he has the head for the political intrigue that life as my husband would have required of him," she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "Tinkering away in a lab for hours on end, trying to understand the mysteries and problems of the world...no, he'd do quite poorly in Alcamoth. Or go insane."
Nia bit her lip, knowing that although Melia believed the words she was saying, it nonetheless did nothing for how she felt inside. Such was the cruelty of the heart, at times.
Melia, apparently sensing her melancholy, lightly nudged Nia in the side with her foot. (Nia's ears barely caught Melia whispering "
Starlight Kick" under her breath, which was
just goofy enough to nearly make her burst out in laughter and tears.) "You are very fortunate, Nia, to have those with such big hearts. Do not take it for granted."
"...I won't." It only made her gloom all the more wretched; by all accounts, she and her family were very well off. But the manner of Dirk's departure had nonetheless affected them all, in ways they were
still dealing with. However...that struggle was not one for Melia to bear. So with a sigh and a smile, Nia said, "Then I suppose I'll get Zeke's opinion; he's due for a visit soon, last I heard from Pandoria. But I'll keep quiet if that's what you want."
Melia nodded with all sincerity. "Thank you, Nia. You are a true friend."
"...same back at you," replied Nia with a toothy smile, hoping it masked the uncertainties in her heart.
xxxx
That evening, within a deep cavern deep inside New Elysium — well beyond Gormott's borders — Rex was sitting upon the corpse of a giant Arachno. "Well...that's the big momma down," he muttered, chewing on a stick of Ardun jerky. "Oi, Ethel! Do you and Cammuravi sense anything?"
The Kevesi swordswoman — now going on four years since she had joined the Garfont Mercenaries — shook her head; near her side, her Blade served as a living light source, illuminating the caves they were spelunking. "No, sir. We've not caught any sign of Dirk," she said.
Rex sighed, looking down at his handheld map and striking out yet one more subterranean section. "Blast. Well, at least it's one more den of monsters cleared out...you two mop up before we head out."
"By your command!" exclaimed Cammuravi, stomping the butt of his Heatshimmer Spear on the floor; the collision corresponded with a burst of flame from his hair and armor, briefly enlightening the shadowy rock and crystal around them. Ethel lightly tapped her elbow against Cammuravi's side, which was gesture enough for him to take the lead as they went to wrap up their patrol.
"...pretty rambunctious sort," murmured Rex with a sad grin. "To think a Homs would become a Driver...much less
that girl with
that Blade." The rules by which Moebius had fiddled with Origin seemed muddled in retrospect; some Blades, like Cammuravi, had become part of the Cycle outright; others had had their attributes bred into Agnians (many of which paradoxically
retained those attributes after the Rejoining); a great many others had been stuck in proverbial limbo, their data supporting the foundation of Origin itself. Then again, Origin had been a multiversal engine designed to utilize and process the energy of two universes colliding, so there were
bound to have been glitches...even beyond the gigantic technical error he liked to call 'Z and Company'. Yet, for all those oddities, Silvercoat Ethel had managed to find Smouldering Cammuravi's Core Crystal in the time since the Rejoining...or perhaps the Crystal had drawn her to him...or a combination of the two. "If only coincidences broke in my favor once in a while..."
A familiar yet
very unexpected voice broke through his contemplation. "Then someone
else would be the Master Driver, eh chum?" Without warning, an older yet simultaneously more youthful man plopped down onto the thorax next to Rex. "Most would say that being Driver of the Aegis is already enough of a positive coincidence, eh?" joked Zeke von Genbu.
Rex snorted, adjusting the flashlight affixed to his torso so as to provide ambient light instead of a focused ray; a cozy yellow glow illuminated the Prince of Tantal, revealing someone who was only just
now showing wrinkles around his eyes. (The wonders of Blade Eater physiology.) "And the people who'd say that have no clue what they're talking about."
"Of course." Zeke heartily shook Rex's shoulder, adding, "You're a right difficult bastard to track down, you know? You couldn't have picked an easier cave to explore?"
"Just going in order," said Rex out of defense. "The minerals in these caverns carry a similar sort of effect as Spirit Crucible Elpys...but to a lesser degree. They have to be processed to get better ether manipulation effects. Needless to say, the Trade Guilds have found
quite a market for the stuff."
"So of course, being finder's keepers, you named it
Elpynite," dryly mocked Zeke.
"Hey, if it works, it works! I wasn't gonna name it after myself or my wives or my kids; they'd never let me live it down."
Zeke rolled his eye, still bearing his distinctive eyepatch. "Bah, coward. I would have named it
Zekenium and nobody would have told me otherwise!"
"What, nothing like
Pandorium or
Linkanite?"
"Of course not! If I was gonna name anything after my lovelies, it would be an undiscovered gem of some kind," he retorted. "Not some dirty-lookin' crystal that looks like a poor man's Core Chip."
Rex smiled, relishing the easy banter with Zeke: comrade, mentor, and sympathetic goofball in one. "So...why'd you trail me? Nia told me you were expected soon...but for an official visit, not this little boys' night out."
Zeke, as was his wont, dropped the silly act; his lips contorted into a serious line, as he looked forward into the relative darkness of the cavern. As the sounds of Ethel and Cammuravi fighting off beastly stragglers echoed throughout the walls, Zeke solemnly said, "Pandy's pregnant. Twins."
"Well
shit," impulsively cheered Rex, patting his brother-in-arms on the back. "I'm surprised you haven't made a big deal about it! I remember that when you found out about Linka, you hijacked an Ardainian Titanship just to yell over the skies of Alba Cavanich about how much you loved your wife and soon-to-be baby girl."
"A fact that got me imprisoned for seven days and had me exiled to the couch for months," griped Zeke. "Then, when Linka was old enough to read about it, she
scolded me for being a scoundrel! I mean, I
paid the crew-"
"Bribed."
"-
paid," insisted Zeke. "I
paid the crew to let me 'hijack' the ship. We all had a good laugh about it afterwards!"
"And the fact it provided something for your old man to complain about to Emperor Niall prompted them to move past their impasse on a silly little trade dispute, which was
totally not an intentional side effect."
"Exactly," replied Zeke with a nod. "They should have built a
statue in my baby girl's honor."
"Sure," muttered Rex. "But that's something you could've told us when you got here officially...so why are you
really here?"
Zeke frowned, looking seriously at Rex. Thus did he speak.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TV0uYFPEkks
By the end, Rex was flabbergasted. "You've...
seen Dirk...?"
"Aye. The tyke's had a rough go at it, but he's still chugging along. The crew he's with have been treating him well, far as I could see." Zeke leaned his elbows on his knees, looking intently ahead without focus. "He made me swear not to tell anyone. Still seems intent on trying to find his own way."
"...yet here you are, telling me," murmured Rex.
"Yeah, well...sometimes, fathers tell little fibs because they think it'll be in their kid's best interests. Even if they'll hate you for it if they found out. It's an odd little lesson I've learned, since becoming a dad," he admitted, with not a small amount of self-recrimination. "Knowing when and where to play loose with your words? That takes
real skill...because you run the risk of losing sight of the good intentions. Like how we're still keeping the existence of Polis under wraps."
"Are they still trying to maintain their isolation?"
Zeke nodded. "That's what Astelle's said, at any rate. I'm sure Linka, or
any of our brats, would have our hides if they knew that the Cityfolk had returned...but they have their own reasons for wanting to stay away, at least for the time being." Grimacing with legitimate discomfort, he added, "Not exactly
fun, keeping the existence of that place a secret...and having to lie through my teeth whenever someone asks questions about why I haven't had KOS-MOS around. Nope. Not fun at all."
Rex hummed thoughtfully. "Little lesson you learned from your old man?"
"HEY!" protested Zeke, sounding truly offended. "Hiding the fact that our royal lineage isn't
actually descended from Addam is a mite different from telling my kid that I was 'wrestling Mom in bed'! There's a difference!"
"Ah, that's happened to you too, eh? I can relate."
Zeke pouted, crossing his arms petulantly. "Whatever. You try to do a guy a favor..."
"I'm pretty sure Dirk wouldn't call it that."
"Not just him. You too," retorted Zeke. "I figure if I told one of the boy's mothers, they'd hightail it for wherever he's at.
Especially if it was Mythra."
"Awful confident of you that I won't do the same," grumbled Rex.
Zeke laughed good-naturedly. "Ah, chum, it's because you're the boy's father. If anyone knows the importance of being able to find your own way, it's you."
"...yeah, I suppose so." Rex leaned ahead, focusing on the interplay of shadows cast by the lamp on his torso. After a few seconds of companionable silence, he solemnly asked, "Say, Zeke...if my boy were in trouble...and I mean
real trouble...you'd tell me, right? If he were in a bad way, you wouldn't keep it from me, would you?"
"I swear by my Eye of Shining Justice," stoically replied Zeke, as serious as he'd ever been.
Rex had seen just
how busted the man was without the eyepatch, so that was a damn big statement. "...all right then. I guess that's it." Despite everything, even
this brief summary gave Rex some confidence...and some honest hope. "Thanks, Prince."
"That'll be
King to you." In response to Rex's flabbergasted reaction, Zeke elaborated, "Having twins is a pretty big deal, and I know Pandy's not gonna wanna be moving around like we normally do. Plus, with that announcement of Fulgee taking his mother's place over in Uraya," (And wasn't
that an interesting admission? That Zeke felt comfortable enough referring to Fulgento by a nickname spoke volumes.) "I think it's only proper that I tell my old man that it's time to retire...he's probably been wondering why I've taken so long."
"...duty and responsibility can't be avoided forever."
"Tell me something I
don't know," griped Zeke. "At least with Nia, Fulgee, and Niall, it won't be a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. Speaking of which, I should tell you about the time I pranked Fulgento's guard unit-"
Rex held up a hand, stopping the story in its tracks. "Save it for when you inevitably share the story at our home. That way I won't feel compelled to correct any...
discrepancies between your retellings."
"Ha ha. Real funny," muttered Zeke with exasperation.
The Master Driver laughed at his annoyance, even as an old wistfulness reared its ugly head. "...it's odd. I'm keeping busy, yet I'm finding out about so much stuff by word of mouth," complained Rex, in the way of someone bemoaning 'the way things were', as compared to having legitimate gripes. "You having twins, you becoming King, you finding out about Dirk...it's like life is passing me by."
Zeke lightly thwacked Rex upside the head. "Don't be dense. You're busy enough just with
your life; there's not enough time in the day to keep track of everyone else's. Reading about stuff ain't the same as living it; even watching a video isn't the same as being there in the
moment. It's just...one of the limitations we mortals have to deal with." With a smarmy grin, he added, "Even a guy who's husband to a feisty feline Queen and two lovely Aegises."
"...heh. Fair enough," relented Rex, accepting his point.
Dirk...wherever you're at now...we still haven't forgotten you. He dearly hoped that his intentions would somehow reach his boy...
xxxx
Alas...oh, but alas...
xxxx
It was nearing four years since Dirk had run away from his home.
On a rather unremarkable day, Princess Sena had been informed that an unknown caller was reaching out to her over her
private PonTech terminal. That was ominous in and of itself; hence why she had Mama Brighid and Papa Aegaeon standing just out of view, just in case it was someone nefarious.
It was...at least, someone who had
once been nefarious.
Needless to say, although it was the face of a woman in her late twenties, it was a face that Sena
still recognized. "Wait...
Shania?!"
"
So this number actually was legitimate," she grumbled to herself. "
I thought he was lying out of his arse...damn it, forget about that. You need to get a hold of Dirk's family, now."
Sena, caught on the back foot, nearly fell over from utter bewilderment. "Wait a minute Shania, how are you
alive? And how do you
know Dirk?! I mean,
what?!"
Brighid quickly stepped forward, staring sternly at the woman on the terminal's holographic screen. "Explain yourself: who are you, and how did you get this number? How do you know Dirk?"
"
There's no time to explain! I think that idiot's about to make a damn stupid decision!"
Before Brighid could inquire further, Sena stepped forward, mustering forth her determination. "Shania...what's happening with Dirk?"
xxxx
Elsewhere amidst the vast oceans, atop the corpse of an ancient Titan, its name long lost to the ages...there was a man.
A young man, standing atop a cliff, overlooking a great fall. Had he been in Aionios, he would've been near the end of his tenth term.
"
So...this is how it ends," whispered the ever familiar poison within his mind. "
After all your big talk...you still couldn't hack it. In the end...you were nothing but a loser."
Dirk did not respond, for there was no point. After all...the futility of his struggle had been made more than clear.
In the face of inevitability...why keep fighting?
"Just get it over with," he whispered to himself, staring despondently at the rocky abyss far below. "No need for anyone to worry about your sorry carcass...just one step...and that'll be it."
It would finally put him out of his misery: just...
one...
step...
xxxx
Now...how did we get here?
That's a story all its own...
xxxx
Author's Note: If you're wondering why I'm referencing all sorts of apparently tangential events, it's so I have some material to write about if I ever want to expand on this story's universe. But the focus is still on Dirk, his immediate family, and their struggles.
Anyhow, time for another time skip! Except in reverse, to shortly after Dirk ran away...
/also
//obligatory "Poor Melia..."
