[Skell]
"Another Luna Noir!" Soleil slammed an empty chalice on the bar table, adding to the lively hall's dynamic racket. "On the triple!"
"Miss, er, Squire," squeaked the meek, thinly mustached barkeep, loomed over by rising shelves of brightly-colored spirits, "that's your sixth drink. In the last ten minutes. Perhaps… a break is in order-"
"Break?" she scoffed, barely red-faced. "You're a riot, ya know that?"
"W-well, might I suggest a lighter beverage?" He tugged at his overly-tight collar. "Our peach chardonnay?"
"She'll live," I assured. "Her heart pumps beer, not blood."
Soleil burped. "So true!" She bumped her shoulder into mine. "So, ya gonna hit the bottle with me yet? I know a few heavy hitters that'll smooth you out like ironed clothes."
"I'll tell you what I told you three glasses ago: I'd rather drink in the atmosphere."
I meant at least half of what I said. The three-story venue hall was as glossy, polished, and excessive as the Citadel's usual M.O. Elbows rubbed on every level: adjutants, aristocrats, fat merchants, representatives, and Templars not leashed by assignments and postings. Sharply-dressed staff cut through blendings of these groups with silver platters of breads and cheeses with names I'd never heard of.
Curiously, most Templars swapped their armor for formal clothes. Selem's upper crust already seemed well-acquainted with them. And I don't just mean the higher ranks. It didn't take long for the first in a long line of rich types to approach us at the first floor's bar.
Conversation quickly veered into what we could do for them. Of course, it wasn't phrased that way. Smiles and slick wording tried to grease our wheels into investing or sponsoring some garbage I tuned out of remembering. I didn't hide my annoyance at their increasing persistence. They either didn't notice - somehow - or plain didn't care.
Eventually Soleil would hic and sway. "Whoops," she'd slur as she spilled cold liquor all over their expensive shoes. "Ha. Guess the booze's gettin' to my head. Real sorry."
The sopping squelches of their shoes as they stormed off in courtly outrage somehow got more amusing with each new pestering parasite. We quickly made a game of it. I'd distract - talk up the piles of rounds I'd definitely give them, make them lean in close like parched dogs in the desert… then Soleil would quench their thirst. In hindsight, that might've explained the barkeep's concern.
Anyway, the other "guests of honor" were off in different parts of the hall. Under the tall glass doors at the front was Hyland, lividly dancing around the specifics of his lowered rank to a few Templars who recognized him.
Ryzza hunched alone in a quiet corner, scribbling in her journal in-between forcing smiles for the same leeches who tried to gorge on us. Center of the floor, a stage of musicians performed near Ormine. She regaled older Templars with drunken stories of her triumph in the Ordeals - slurring loudly so she could be heard.
Cirian laid manicured fingers on the second floor's railing. He chatted easily to a pack of nobles that congratulated his victory. Yamui, though? I doubted he was even in the building. He must've been even less interested in socializing than I was.
"Ya know," said Soleil, drying the bottom of her seventh glass, "I never knew these Templars were able to party. Though it sure is tame. Everyone's dancin like they soiled their bloomers, and no one's lost an eye yet."
But while I half-enjoyed our time together at the bar, the other half of my attention remained outside. I still juggled the same questions I did before - no closer to a resolution.
"What's eatin' ya?" the minstrel asked bluntly, jolting me from my internal debate.
"What do you mean?" my voice cracked. Not my best attempt at deception, I admit.
"You're all keyed-up. Obviously."
"Obvious how?"
She pointed. "Ya like to crack your fingers when you're worryin'."
I looked down. Then I realized I'd been forcing the same knuckle to pop for the last minute.
Shade.
"So what the snag?" Soleil turned, leaning back on the bar table. "I thought you'd be havin' a blast now that the Ordeals are over. What? Is it about you bein' the Order's first dark mage? Your jaw was pretty wide after Lucival mentioned it. Don't tell me ya didn't know."
Would've been nice if Amara told me. Though, that last bombshell she dropped almost made me call it quits. And I guess this isn't as much bad news as it is… unexpected news.
Soleil read the answer off my face as the barkeep poured another glass. "Really? Everyone knows that. Templars fear the dark more than babes do; they're not going to sign on the mages that use it."
"I wasn't expecting to find some huge club of dark mages. I just… didn't think I'd be history's first. Though, really, it's no big deal. This isn't the first time I've made waves. Won't be the last."
"That's the spirit. But…" she studied me, "…that ain't what's buggin' ya. There's something else."
…I like you, Soleil. But I can't trust you with knowing that this might be the last night you ever see me.
"Or maybe there's just liquor in your eyes," I flashed a smile. "What's this now? Drink number nine?"
Soleil stopped her chugging. "Eight - smartass." She grinned back. "Fine. Your business is your business. But it's no fun havin' drunk conversation with sober men. What say we catch some fresh air?"
"That's not a bad idea," I pondered. "It'll give us some breathing room from all the snobs, for sure. Though I'll have to brush by Hyland first…"
The minstrel cocked a brow. "Who said we're goin' out front?"
I stood up from my seat. "Where else can we leave from?"
With a smile, she just pointed up.
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"Heat," incanted the minstrel, her hand glowing a mellow red as her ninth drink slowly exuded ribbons of steam. A refreshed sigh spilt from her lips after a sip. "A toasty drink for a cool night. What more could a girl ask for?"
Soleil wasn't the only one enjoying herself. "Wow…" my chin hung slack over the luxurious golden railing. "I never noticed the balcony on this side of the hall. The view's incredible!"
"Helps that we're the only ones up here." She rested on the railing's corner, sloshing liquor in her cup. "Guess everyone's too busy drinkin' to check out a courtyard they've already seen a thousand times."
"I'm not looking at the Citadel; I'm looking at the sky."
"Huh. Never took ya for a stargazer."
"'Stargazing' isn't what I'd call it. Not here. Light from the Citadel's beacon blocks all the stars. But I know they're there. Cloaked behind the glow." I sighed contently, focusing my eyes on the Ring. Besides the moon, it cast the only bastion of natural light in an ocean of darkness. "Still. Even when they're gone, the night sky relaxes me more than any drink could. I missed it."
"Guess we don't see eye-to-eye there," Soleil replied. "Never gave the sky much thought. Always too busy focusing on the ground ahead to stop and look up. But," she turned to contemplate the crescent moon, "maybe there's worse sights to gawk at."
Silent minutes came and went. Eventually I glanced at Soleil, expecting her to have long since finished her cup and died of boredom.
But her drink sat untouched, its steam cooled away.
She still observed the sickle in the sky - seemingly submerged in thought. I couldn't begin to imagine what was on a crazy mind like hers, but just when I noticed this rare moment, she called my name, her orange eye still on the moon. "Remember that chat I mentioned? Nobody's disturbin' us. I'd say now's the best time to have it."
I tore my eyes off her moonlit face. "Oh, right. Almost forgot. What'd you wanna talk about?"
"You. And the way ya dealt with Niles."
…Knew this'd come up eventually.
"You mean how I talked him down."
"Teensy understatement, there. The title of Templar was on the line, and instead of goin' for the win, ya had a heart-to-heart in the middle of a burnin' battlefield."
"I needed to talk to Niles, Soleil. Pacifying him was the only way to escape Briar Patch."
She scoffed. "You're a better liar than that. Somewhere in all those briars, you thought to target his passion. Smart. Ya had all the ammunition needed to crumble his ego and snuff out his flames - after the end of that little story, he was as fragile as a stack of cards. Drive in the nail, and ya would've won for sure. But you chose to take a risk. To make peace."
…You see through me so well.
"Even when his blade was in your hands," continued the minstrel, "ya just gave it back to him. D'ya know how easily things could've went sideways? How one slip would've had him in your ritzy clothes?"
"I do."
Finally her eyes left the moon and turned to me. Our voices were as calm as ever. But her gaze was piercing - not out of malice or anger, but in an attempt to understand.
"You got me," I admitted. "I was ready to burn our bridge and never look back. Really. But… it didn't feel right. I won't forget what he did. But I have it in me to forgive him."
In response, the minstrel took a swig from her chalice. "You'd turn the other cheek to a hypocrite who hated ya?"
I looked back to the Ring above. "I've been thinking: I'm an outcast. Always will be. If I ever want to be understood by others… shouldn't I start by being understanding?"
She cocked her head. "You're not just talking about Niles."
"Scathing and scarring my enemies… I can't savor it like you do. But after resolving things with Niles, I'm starting to see there's more options than turning tail or spilling blood."
"That so? Won't be long until you're a Knight. Eventually they'll throw ya one of their assignments, and when they do, ya won't be up against a cheery oddball like Niles. It'll be a cutthroat, or a mindless monster. What happens when words don't work?"
I won't be getting that far in the Order. But with my luck, I'll end up in danger anyway on my path to resurrection. And if that happens?
"Soleil, I'm no fool. If my options ever narrow to life or death… I'll survive. Count on that."
"…You'll survive, huh?" Soleil mulled over my words. Then she cut one of her classic crooked smiles. "Well, ya definitely believe what you're saying. Fine, then." She rolled friendly eyes. "You'll just hafta be the starry-eyed one of our duo. And I'll hafta see what I can do about gettin' the same assignments you do. When push comes to showtime, you'll need someone by your side to handle the brutal business you won't."
"Doubt I'll need someone like that. But someone who'll stick by my side to see that maybe, just maybe, her friend knows what he's talking about? That, I wouldn't mind having."
The minstrel chuckled, then finished her drink.
I joined her laughter. As I did, I felt the weight of the future creep closer like stormy clouds on the horizon. But for now, the sky was clear, and even if we spoke of a time that'd never come, presently, there was nothing to concern ourselves with.
At least, 'til the balcony door opened behind us to flush out waves of the venue's noise and light.
Oh, and I almost forgot - it also revealed the hugest person I'd ever clapped eyes on. A lion and eagle roared and cawed atop each of his shoulders, customized along with the rest of the plate to house his giant frame - as wide as a generous doorway. And interestingly, those two weren't the only animals we saw.
Tall horns sprouted from each side of his forehead, curving high to a thick point. Shaggy brown hair surrounded these horns and buried his face, parting only for a black nose and spectacled eyes.
A Wildfolk Templar…? my gaze rose up his hunchbacked body.
"My name is Bi'Yuhl," he bellowed, carrying several thin booklets. "Commandant of the Templars. The descriptions I received indicate you are Soleil LaDeux and Skell Valzo. May I show you to your rooms?"
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"He's gotta be a buffalo," I whispered in Soleil's ear as we followed the hulking Commandant down the spacious corridor.
"Bull." Soleil shook her head behind the rest of the gathered Squires.
"Nah - bulls don't have protruded backs like that."
The minstrel popped her neck, half-focused on her garb in the living quarter's polished floor. "Not a bull. Bullshite. The Commandant's a bison."
"Oh, right. Forgot about them." I leaned in conspiratorially. "Never seen one myself, but I've heard bison are far from peaceful animals. Think he might be dangerous?"
"As dangerous as any Commandant," she shrugged. "Why? Got a bone to pick with Wildfolk?"
"What? No!" I replied louder than intended. The other Squires, gathered alongside us by the Commandant, shot me curious looks. Bi'Yuhl's shaggy brown tail twitched, but he kept walking.
"Urgh…" I lowered my voice. "If anything, I worried you had an issue with them - considering how you cooked Ra'Kol."
Soleil snickered quietly. "Wildfolk and me are good pals. I just had an issue with Ra'Kol's furry hide in particular."
"Well, personally," I tried to tune out Bi'Yuhl's clanking armor, "it's not his race that has me on edge."
"Here we are," rumbled the Commandant, stopping us at a large rectangular corridor. Against the outer wall - patterned in whites and blues so sleek they sparkled - were multiple doors spaced far from the last, looping around the wall 'til it reached us at the entrance doors from the other side. Golden nameplates adorned each.
Enticing me was a small grassy courtyard inside the interior wall, enclosed by glass walls and doors on all sides. It wasn't so grand as the one outside, but its compact nature invited quiet contemplation on its leaning chairs, beside humble trees, at the foot of a tiny pond. Ryzza almost drooled at what'd probably make for the perfect journal-jotting spot.
"Unit Four," continued the Commandant. "This is where the Squires and a portion of Knights live. Nameplates designate your respective rooms. The Ordeals were surely difficult. Rest well."
Abruptly short, as far as send-off's went, but his outward gesture confirmed we were cut loose. Nothing else was on today's schedule; we were free to sleep away our exhaustion or kick back in the yard.
And so with that, the Squires bid each other goodbye. We'd faced fire and brimstone together after all. Though I - and Yamui, who'd already vanished into his chambers - didn't join in. Everyone passed the dark mage outcast over, instead looking to find their respective rooms.
Except for Soleil, that is. "Glanced at those papers yet?"
"These?" I raised a handbook, given to me by Bi'Yuhl. Once gathered outside the venue hall, he handed one to each of us Squires. "No. I planned to crack it open once I got to my room."
"Gave it a skim," she flicked through the pages. "Borin' as sin, like ya'd expect - but there's one interestin' kernel in the pages. Apparently, our first official day starts with a tour of the Citadel!"
"That is interesting. We've only scratched the Citadel's surface, really."
And somewhere in this place are those archives Amara mentioned. If anywhere in Lumerit has information on resurrecting the dead, it's there. Shame I'll have to wait 'til tomorrow for them to open for business.
"What? I don't care about that - I'm hopin' the venue hall gives out more free drinks!"
I slouched. "Haven't your kidneys taken enough of a beating? You slammed nine drinks in one night."
"Ten," she held up all her fingers. "Grabbed another while ya weren't lookin'."
"Sheesh, Soleil. You're something else."
"Merci, merci. But, it's high time I hit the hay. Even I get tired after so much tusslin' and drinkin'."
"Yeah," I looked aside, "I could use some shut-eye too."
"C'mon! We both know ya ain't sleepin'."
I didn't let my chills show. "Why's that?"
"Think we were asleep while ya spoke to Niles? Everyone heard about your meet-up with him. Dunno where, but that's none of my business anyway. Though," she grinned, "never pegged ya as one for midnight dates."
I laughed. "Even if I did like men, he'd still make for a better friend. That's not what tonight's about."
"Well, whatever you boys are planning, don't go to bed too late. We got lots of drinkin' to do tomorrow." Soleil spun, strolling down her side of the Unit's hall, waving lazily. "May the sun light your arse, and all that good stuff."
Soleil passed the corner, and as she did, tides of sadness crashed waves about my chest. But I couldn't focus on that feeling. Not then.
Because I'd realized: I never heard the Commandant's heavy footsteps leaving.
A shambling giant approached me as I turned, as wide as two Valérie's and tall enough to shadow me from the ceiling's chandeliers. I didn't let that scare me.
"Squire Skell," addressed the horned Templar. "A word?"
"Yes… Commandant Bi'Yuhl?"
"You were correct. Bison are not calm animals."
Maybe a little spook slipped through the cracks. H-how did he…
"Another fact. Bison are great listeners," he noted, shaggy face unmoving.
Did he catch everything we said?
"I… sorry," my eyes dropped. "I didn't mean to gossip. To tell the truth, seeing another Commandant just made me… curious."
Just my luck - angering a second Commandant before my first official day as a Templar. Hope this guy isn't in the mood to dish out punishments…
"Curiosity?" he leaned back, eerily calm. "Not bad on its own. But I find it must be tempered with education."
Education? Shade, I'm in for it now…
Bi'Yuhl went on. "The unknown breeds fear. Fear breeds hate. Hate between two Templars is unwise. Therefore knowing would do us both good."
…Huh?
"Wait," my gaze shot back up. "Are you not… mad?"
"For what reason would anger take me?" His shaggy face shifted slightly into an expression I couldn't decipher. "I simply wish to dispel any questions you may have of me. Most eye me as one does an oddity. You eye me as a potential threat."
Perceptive… Then again, he's a Commandant - of course he is.
"Again, sorry," I said more genuinely than the first time. "The Ordeals just haven't entirely let go of my nerves yet, is all."
"Events related to your dark magic?"
Instinctively I stepped back. "Y-you know about that?"
"I learn quickly. Adjutants and lower-ranked Templars may not yet know. Rumors and talk take time to spread. But it is necessary for one in my position to remain listening. You have been in my ear since the preliminaries."
My frown slipped into a grimace. I suspected word about a certain dark magic-wielding Squire was already making rounds, but for some to have known since so far back?
"You're right," I blinked hard. "Another Commandant wanted me gone precisely because this magic of mine. Because he saw me as a potential threat." I gathered my confidence. "How do you see me?"
He didn't answer, instead looking elsewhere. Eventually he snorted, then quietly shambled past me. The answer basically begged me to follow him down the hall.
Each door that passed us marked an increasingly harder challenge to keep my patience. We turned the interior's glass corner before he finally spoke. "More difficult than expected. This conversation."
I watched Bi'Yuhl strangely. That was about the last thing I thought he'd say.
"But I will answer truthfully," he continued in his unvarying voice. "Your potential as a threat remains to be seen. All the better if benevolent reasons spurred you to bear our insignia. If such reasons are instead malevolent…? What shall follow would be better left unspoken. I myself will make no such assumptions. Presently you are a Templar. An ally. So I again insist you know of I equally as an ally."
An ally…? It's so hard to tell if he's genuine. But… I can't be skeptical of everything.
"Okay… Commandant Bi'Yuhl." I relaxed some. "I gotta say, it's nice to see a Wildfolk in the Order. I was worried there were none. Wildfolk don't seem all that common in the capital."
"We are not. My people tend not to settle down. Even less so in this realm."
"I've heard as much. Your tribes travel all over, right?"
"Across every inch of the Zaveldt Expanse," he stated with reverence. "Windswept steppes. Humid rainforests. Sunburnt deserts. Blackstone ravines. My people migrate to such places as often as the seasons shift."
Then why'd you choose the most static job in the world? I wanted to ask. But I'd gotten casual enough already for a "lowly" Squire. Not every Templar would be as easygoing and hard to offend as Lucival. Luckily, it seemed my face asked for me.
"I enjoy the stability I am afforded," he adjusted his round glasses. "Some see all of us as the same. But we are not a monolith. Neither are we the sometimes-frightening animals our tribes receive traits from."
"…Is that common?" I asked. "People fearing you? Because of how you look?"
Bi'Yuhl's eyes traced the ceiling's rafters. "Reaching this position was difficult. Very difficult."
The Commandant's voice was naturally weighty, but his soft-spoken words then came with an especially contradicting heft. Trudging through a mire of prejudice and contempt rang all too familiar. Except his struggles weren't measured in days, but decades.
Maybe that's another reason he wants to talk. If animosity between Templars reached its boiling point and blades crossed… I can't even imagine the consequences.
"That's sick." Waves of familiar bile came off a tongue that could almost taste it. "Nobody should ever have to suffer twice more trouble than everyone else for something they can't change."
"I must agree. But the past should not be allowed to bog us down. I have met many who's first instinct is to reject what differs. I now see that you share little similarity with them."
"Er, thanks," I smiled awkwardly.
He pushed up his falling glasses. "But I will take no more of your time." He stopped, turning to me. Or rather, behind me. "This is your room?"
I followed his gaze to an azure door, standing at the hallway's corner. Engraved on the nameplate was a name: Skell Valzo.
The Commandant cleared his throat. "Eat and rest well. I myself have a plate of sautéed grass awaiting me in my quarters."
Sautéed… grass?
"Well," I glanced back," you, uh, best get to it, then."
"Indeed," he nodded. Another subtle movement passed over his face, one that took a long time to pin down. In the end, I figured it was his attempt at a smile. Then the Bisonfolk turned to shamble back down the corridor - proving he was the only man capable of making the broad walls feel cramped.
Though somehow, they managed to cleave even closer when I was left alone.
Not a sad lonesome, mind. This was the kind where all the empty space around me was aflutter with thoughts. Thoughts of the surprisingly compassionate Bi'Yuhl. Of the desire to bask in my new room's refreshing respite. But the most pressing had again to do with the Commandant.
Or more accurately, his rank.
Gritty details weren't needed to know he'd faced his own ordeals during his tenure as Templar. Outside of life-or-death battles with undead and their puppeteering necromancers. Yet despite all that, he rose to the Order's summit.
If he could climb so far as a Wildfolk - an outcast among Templars… I wonder?