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year 5, quarter 3
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This was cause for a celebration. Mateus had finally returned to civilization after his adventures in the tower and at the divider. A new found sense of joy and pride surged through him like the magic now running through his blood. He had treated himself to all the finest of luxuries: he had his hair detangled and brushed through having his purple tips redyed, he had his body massaged of its kinks and pains then bathed in the finest of milks, and he had bought himself a new set of robes to replace the stained pickled guards outfit he had been wearing for far too long.
Now it was time to feast. For too long had he been living off stale bread and whatever else he was able to scrounge together during his travels. The thought of a Behemoth steak caused his stomach to growl incessantly. He wondered if this city would even carry such a delicacy. Procuring the meat was a dangerous endeavor which drove the price of the meat to ridiculous prices. Still, he still had quite a bit of gold left from his trek through the mountain, and Mateus knew there was always a way to get what he wanted if he tried hard enough otherwise.
The streets were buzzing that day. It was a beautiful day as the sun shone down on the opulence of the capital city. Mateus walked head held high for once his smile matching those around him. It was such a strange but great feeling as he nodded to those who acknowledged his presence with a smile or nod. Things were going well ,and he was fine just enjoying the moment and the day. His future plans could wait to be mulled over the next day.
Mateus was almost brought to the ground as a gaggle of children bumped into him and ran past. His smile faded into a scowl as he watched them continue going past. Not soon after another child began tugging at the bottom of his robes. For a second his heart seized, but upon a second look it was not the young Seeress. This girl was far younger and seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Please, help me. Those older kids stole my doll and won't give her back."
Mateus looked down at the girl no taller than his kneecap. Where were her parents or guardians. It was no problem of his that she could not defend her possessions from those who would choose to seize them. Still, the longer he looked at the girl with her blue hair and tear stained blue eyes he felt his resolve start to soften. Maybe this would help with the feeling of guilt that he had buried but still chipped away during the night. Mateus sighed deeply. His steak would still be there later.
"Come," he ordered still able to see the gaggle of thieves up ahead. With child still clutched to his robes, Mateus swiftly parted the crowds using his height and demeanor. It wasn't hard to catch up to the children as the dipped down a less busy side road. Closing in behind them, Mateus spoke softly but forcefully, "I think its time you give this child her doll back," he reached his hand out waiting for the toy.
"And how are you gonna make me?" the supposed leader of the four said. Mateus just smiled as he crouched down to come eye level with the older boy. He's been hoping for a reason to use his magic. Reaching out his finger, Mateus touched the boy's forehead and sent a shock through him like strong bad case of static electricity. It was a warning that the boy heeded after getting his senses back. The boy dropped the doll and the four ran away quickly.
Mateus held out the doll to the girl who grabbed it and hugged it close immediately. "Be stronger and protect what is yours better next time." he scolded before patting her on the head to send her on her way. He was glad to know that he still had complete control over the intensity of his magic still as a smile graced his face once more. Now, it was time to find that Behemoth steak as he began walking through the streets once more.
The city of Torensten had risen from the ashes since his last visit.
The Warrior of Light let his eyes wander to the beauty and magnificence of the buildings around him. Gone was the fire, smoke, and screams that he remembered from the last time he set eyes on the city. Gone was the immense fear in the people’s eyes. Instead, the streets were filled with all types of people -- merchants, families, children -- talking, laughing, enjoying their days as the sun shone brightly down upon them. The very streets seemed alive, fluid with crowds moving every which way, each to their own exciting destination.
The knight kept a polite pause, standing around the corner of a beautifully constructed stone building. The sight had momentarily stolen his breath, his chest still despite his hammering heart. Though he was shocked, the Warrior was … incredibly relieved. Happy, even. It had been a long time since he’d set foot on this land, and the people were enjoying life as normal. At least, as normal as normal came in their strange world.
Swallowing the immensity of his emotion, the Warrior steeled his nerves, and stepped forward into the crowd.
The murmur of voices surrounded him as he walked along with the people towards the center of the city. The sounds of life, however, did not drown out the loud clinks and clanks of his blue armor as they reverberated off of the nearby structures, nor did the busy day keep people’s eyes from falling upon the knight. Though he kept his helmet removed -- no need to accidentally impale a flag or knock over a flower pot -- the Warrior of Light still stood out amongst many others. He appropriately appeared out of place, and time. In the past, he may not have noticed such attention, but having spent enough time in this strange world, he’d … learned. Adapted. Made sure to keep a watchful eye and an open mind about all those he saw and passed by.
After all, it wasn’t just appearances that were deceiving. And the knight refused to allow anyone else to prey upon his naturally trustful nature after all he’d been through. Or, so that’s what he’d told himself.
It didn’t seem as if he had much to worry about, thankfully. The Warrior spotted no suspicious figures as he made his way down the busy streets, trying to read colorful signs and interpret what the different buildings were. He stepped out into a less busy street, the sounds of children playing distantly registering in his ear as the sun warmed his face and soothed his soul.
But, where to go from here? What to do? The Warrior of Light had been drawn back to Torensten, but he had no reason or excuse as to why. He simply … needed to see it. Perhaps he could himself useful and help someone in need. Maybe run into a fellow lost and wandering soul, make a new friend and ally.
Or …
Color billowed in the his peripheral. The knight followed that line of sight, seeing a man crouching in front of a child -- returning a doll to her. Even as people blocked his view of the man, they could never quite seem to cover up all the bright colors emanating from him. The robes drew the eye, leading up to well-cared for blonde hair adorned with additional hues of purple at the tips. The Warrior’s attention was drawn to this stranger, and for whatever reason, he had trouble breaking his rude stare.
Suddenly, for the second time that day, the knight’s breath caught in his chest. His light blue eyes widened with realization, lips parting in temporary disbelief. It took a moment, as his eyes made out the elegant features of the man’s face through the crowd, for the Warrior to recall that night, moons ago now. Where he paraded around as an important figure, trading conversation with another man in order to gain favor and start asking questions about Kuja.
And there he was. The very same man the Warrior traded drinks and tales with that night. The man who oozed refinement and class, nobility and high stature. He somehow seemed even more colorful in the sunlight than he did in the dim lighting of the opera. The last he’d seen of this man, he was sleeping soundly in an elegant feather bed, having been overtaken by drink and half-carried by the Warrior to his expensive room.
“Mateus,” the name slipped from the knight’s lips in a low tone as he regained his composure. This was … well, not the preferred situation to run into such a man again. Mateus was under the impression that this knight, “Garland” as he’d given a fake name, was no knight at all -- but a prominent figure in the city of Sonora. It would be wise of him to turn heel and leave quickly, as to not cause a scene. On the other hand, it had been quite some time since the Warrior had seen a familiar, and friendly face.
Not that there was any guarantee that this would be a friendly encounter at all.
The Warrior of Light glanced at the ground, unsure of which path to follow, differing emotions tugging at his heart.
Perhaps, if he waited, the crowd would simply carry him away.
The girl continued to stare at him despite him having patted her head and sending her upon her way. Mateus' smile turned into a half smile as the girl continued to stare. It was beginning to become uncomfortable really, his knees and his back strained as he held the same level with girl. What else could she want; he had procured her doll for her. Mateus feared the girl might be an orphan and have now grown attachment to him. As the scowl formed in his throat, the girl crashed into him giving him a hug a swift kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, thank you so much," she cried before barreling back into the bustling street he had seen her emerge from.
Even as he walked away, Mateus remained stunned by the action for a moment. How dare she leave her wet and dirty lip stain on his cheek? But there was a warmth beginning to light up within him. He stopped as he rubbed the wetness from his cheek. He felt a lightness in his chest and his cheeks blush as he touched the spot where the girl had given him the kiss. He felt strange, as though he were relieved over something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt light, ephemeral, as he continued his stroll down the less busy street.
That's when he heard it. His breath caught as his name was spoken almost as if in awe. He stopped full force causing someone behind him to run full force into his back, but he cared not. He gave a swift apology to whomever he had offended as he scanned the street for the source of his name. Few knew his proper name and even fewer were those numbers on this world he found himself on that would know such a thing. He looked for Kuja, the sorcerer he had just spurned. His fingertips danced with electricity as he was about to fight him if he proved adversarial after his dismissal. He looked for the girl from the mountain, neither friend or foe, but knew of him. Still he saw neither, as his eyes narrowed across the crowd. The voice sounded too grave to be that of the Seeress with whom he'd met in the tower. Something pinched at his heart when he thought of her. A feeling he knew about but could not describe. Still, his eyes scanned the crowd.
And there he was. Mateus gulped as he once again viewed the picture of harmony. Albeit him being in armor of blue, Mateus recognized the man from his lofts of silver hair. The silver of it all made him hiss as he immediately put a hand to his forehead. A face shimmered in his memory ,but he sank the thought. That hair was much shorter. And the man before him wouldn't cause him such pain, or at least he hoped so. Their time together was a fuzzy memory. An opera. Sly smiling. Too many drinks. A heat between them either of intrigue and.... Mateus grabbed at his temples again as a feeling of hatred spun through him.
But no it was him. The face that melded through his mind as he was placed in his inn bed. A face he was aghast to not see in the morning. Matues realized he had been gawking and ogling for too long at this point. Composing himself, he moved towards the man in blue unaware of the smile that graced his face. Mateus was unsure of what to do so he followed the example of the girl whose doll he saved. He wrapped his arms tightly against the steel of blue leaning into the man he had briefly met. "Garland!", he breathed before his lips brushed the man's cheeks. He smelled of sweat and steel. He smelled less of a noble than he did a commoner. Still as he did so his stomach felt as though it had been punched. Mateus assumed it was that smell of commonality, the frankness of it all mixed with the fact the man's name was so disgusting on the tongue.
He stepped back from Garland taking in his beauty, completely sober this time. "My, my," he began breaking free of the man trying to untie his tongue by stepping away from him and turning around "What happy circumstance has brought us together again at last." Mateus turned round once more to face the silver haired man. "And alas my fortunes this day multiply, please tell what you are doing here and what you are doing in such attire. Are you not only a lord but a war lord as well?" Mateus waved his hand to silence the man grabbing his hand in earnest as he began to lead him down the street. "Actually restrain yourself and save it for our dinner. We shall dine exquisitely, I won't hear any protest. You helped me in a time of need and thus I'll extend the favor." Mateus' cheeks blushed at the the thought of this man helping him into bed before he wove them into the nearest high classed restaurant he could see. The head host sat them immediately in a private booth pouring their finest wines into the goblets before them. "So, Garland, what have you been up to since last we met," Mateus raised the glass in anticipation of a toast.
By the time the Warrior had glanced up from the ground, he found a familiar set of eyes staring back at him. Whether Mateus was taking the time to recognize him, or perhaps calculating his own move, the knight couldn’t be sure. It seemed like hours had passed before a smile graced the other man’s elegant face, and the distance between them quickly closed itself. The Warrior found himself smiling as well, some of the awkwardness melting from his shoulders, even though during their last meeting he’d made so much up about himself.
As Mateus approached, the Warrior expected some sort of formal greeting. Should he bow? Surely they wouldn’t trade a shake of the hand, such a greeting was typically used in between comrades in arms. Suddenly he felt so odd and clunky in his armor, despite wearing such a heavy burden daily, through all the life he could remember. The differences between himself and the noble man were unavoidable now, no longer hidden under fake dress and jewels and face paint. The knight waited to be greeted as what he was -- a simple warrior, servant to his own cause that happened to align with that of royalty from time to time.
However, no such stiff and formal greeting ever came. As the Warrior opened his mouth and started to address Mateus as a noblemen, the other man had closed the small distance between them, and wrapped his arms around the knight’s clunky armor.
The Warrior froze, his eyes wide with confusion and disbelief, his mouth slightly askew. This was a hug. He’d received a few of these in his time, but typically only from his close friends. The knight let what little instinct he had take over, wrapping one strong arm around Mateus’ back to reciprocate the greeting. There were the familiar scents he remembered from that night at the opera house -- floral and sweet, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The Warrior attempted to choke out some sort of acknowledgement to his friend -- his much-closer-than-he-realized friend -- but the words were lost on his tongue as lips brushed against his cheek.
“Mateus,” the knight finally breathed the man’s familiar name, “It is good to see you.”
During that all to quick interaction, something sickening twisted in his stomach. Something old, something familiar, something that screamed draw your sword as Mateus had approached him. It was the same chill of a warning that he’d felt when they first approached each other at the opera, despite the fact that nothing negative had ever happened between them. Even in their embrace, the Warrior felt it. Caution, fear. Internally he stomped the feelings down best he could, and instead, focused on what had happened between them during their previous encounter.
The Warrior let Mateus drift from his grip, the beautiful silk garment slipping through his gloved fingers as if it were made of liquid. Though there were still plenty of people on the street, though there were more sounds drifting through the air than the knight could catch and understand, it all seemed to dull. His light blue eyes were transfixed on the nobleman’s kind, pleased face, and the way the sunlight danced about his golden hair. The Warrior was unabashedly staring this time, a small, polite smile upon his lips, his arms falling obediently to his sides. He tried thinking of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Despite how much he’d spoken the night they’d enjoyed each other’s company, he was truly not that man.
Mateus spun back around to address the Warrior, asking him why he was in Torensten, and immediately pointing out his armor -- easily the biggest difference between their meetings. However, as the knight opened his mouth to speak, he found himself silenced by the wave of an elegant hand. The nobleman was quick to plot their course of action, similarly to how he dominated their interactions at the opera, and the Warrior was much too overwhelmed to argue, even if he’d wanted to. Mateus grabbed his gloved hand and pulled him along down the street, the Warrior clumsily clunking behind him as they went along. He managed to keep his blue eyes focused on where they were going, despite the distraction of swinging, shining blonde hair.
Within moments they’d entered a restaurant; one much fancier than the Warrior had ever been in before. He was easily manipulated towards a booth with Mateus, managing to wrangle his sword and helmet into the corner -- out of sight and out of mind. A lot happened very quickly, and the knight hadn’t managed to notice the strange looks he’d gotten coming in, looking very out of place. There was an innocent curiosity about his face as expensive goblets of wine were brought to the pair, and he found himself distracted by the colors, the tantalizing, foreign smells, even the very table they were sitting at.
If anything, it reminded the Warrior of Light that he was a far cry from civilized, by many definitions.
As he picked up his goblet, the knight found himself wanting to protest. He couldn’t continue this charade, and Mateus definitely didn’t owe him for what happened after the opera. He was simply doing what any kind hearted person would have. However, as the Warrior’s blue eyes locked with the expectant, pleased gaze of his companion, he found himself unable to twist the words from his tongue immediately.
Distracted, tongue-tied, lying … These were traits that the Warrior of Light didn’t wear well.
Instead, the knight retained his small smile, lightly tapping his goblet against Mateus’. He didn’t immediately drink, however, opting instead to finally make a sound, “I’m afraid I’ve very little interesting stories to tell.”
It was true. The Warrior had been traveling the land, helping people when and where he could, for as long as he could manage. After running into various nefarious crowds, he’d decided to, once again, seek real civilization in the hopes of potentially finding a former friend or ally. He’d lost contact with the few allies he had made, and all types of things around the land seemed to be changing drastically. It felt as if he’d missed something during his time lost in forests and deserts.
“But please,” the Warrior continued with a smile, his voice quiet and smooth as he attempted to shift the focus of the conversation, “I am sure you have found adventure after adventure since we last saw each other. I would love to hear how you’ve been.”
The man drew the attention of others that was for sure. Mateus watched as Garland fumbled himself into their booth as if he never had occupied one before. If it weren't for the feeling of familiarity, he would have rolled his eyes and had a short tut of disapproval on his tongue already. Mateus presumed that perhaps he had never had been to dine while adorning his battle suite. He wrapped his fingers on the table instead as the man fumbled and bumbled with his accessories until the clanking of armor finally stopped and people stopped staring at the sound of it all. Finally he could let the irritaion slide from him as he looked around the table.
Mateus' eyes had been drawn to the helmet that sat in the booth next to the man, its horns still poking up above the table. He glanced between it and Garland imagining it placed properly upon the man's head. What a striking figure that must be. The blue steel matched with the a steely blue gaze from those icy glaciers that man called eyes would probably stop a weaker man in his tracks. Mateus found himself looking into those once more as he took his glass to drink. He daydreamed of the man standing ready for battle, but his daydream didn't end with the man alone. Shadows formed behind him and a feeling of anger and hate flooded through him causing his grip on his glass to tighten. A wave of blue light and just as suddenly as the daydream had begun, it had stopped. It was just him and Garland, who he had once again been staring at too long.
Mateus felt his cheeks redden. "That's is quite the impressive helm," he spat out refusing to look at the helmet again. He chuckled as the blue haired man told him he had been doing naught of importance since last they met. "I highly doubt that," he accused rolling the wine inside his own goblet. "Modesty is for those too boring to be able to indulge others in their tales; and I can not see you as perusing anything as tame as that, Garland." The name stuck in his throat, and once again he wanted to spit it rather than say it. It was such a heavy obtuse name and didn't fit the fair haired soft spoken gentleman from across from him. So ugly, so dark. So beneath the vision of light he beheld.
"Still, if you insist, I'll regale you with the plights I've faced in your absence," Mateus flashed the man a smile as he brushed a strand of his hair that fallen in his face. The man seemed to know how to play into Mateus' own delight for attention and adoration. His audience was everything it should be, silent and striking like a work of art. "This place, this world has provided so much tribulation. Still, if one such as I were to fall to that plight, what would be but a lame beast needed trodden on and put out its misery? Perhaps I should start with asking why you weren't drawn to the tower whose beam of light shone into the sky like a beacon." Mateus gave just a short pause to allow the man to explain himself before continuing.
"It called the none the less and I answered it, and in doing so we were finally able to fight back at the injustice of my circumstance here," Mateus paused that feeling he didn't quite understand thinking about the Seeress bloomed in his chest once more, "upon your travels recently have you come across a maiden with hair of deepest blue? The child and I were separated at tower's summit, and our paths have not crossed since." What was that aching feeling he felt as he talked of her. He grimaced as he tried to wave the feeling away.
"However, the power granted to me at the tower didn't manifest itself so easily at first. I pondered over it until a man I had thought might have been useful tried to deceive me. He thought me a fool easily led astray by his promise of power, but when he tried to claim what was given to me he was rejected. Obviously despite his magic and dragon, it seems he was found unworthy of whatever the powers that be have deigned," he gave a harsh laugh, "not that I believe myself at the mercy of any gods or powers that might think they hold sway over me."
Mateus gazed at the armored man in front of him with determination and fire in his eye. It was true. He had been able to cast off the chains of Hell, and he would not subjugate himself to anyone else again. He held the gaze for a moment before his face softened looking at the beauty in front of him. Despite the armor and steel, he felt an aura of calm radiate from the man still. "My, how I've rambled. You must be famished as I can feel myself becoming the same. Come let's order. Choose anything that fancies you. I've come across some treasure on my travels as well so I won't let you feign any more of that modesty. Order a delicacy." Mateus waved over the waiter ordering the behemoth fillet before waving to Garland to proceed with his order a soft smile playing across his face.
Thankfully, Mateus appeared to have no issue taking the focus of the conversation upon himself.
The Warrior listened intently as the blonde spoke, his words forming sentences that sounded much more eloquent than most of the people that the knight had spoken to in this world. It had been quite some time since he’d heard someone other than rough and tumble types tell a story worth hearing, and the way fellow warriors spoke was typically rough, sharp, and jumbled, mixed with laughter and boisterous outbursts. Mateus spoke like royalty, every word carefully crafted and enunciated to create the smoothest sound. It reminded the Warrior of home, in a way. Though he would never learn the art of speech how those around him had, it was still comforting and familiar.
The thought of his ”home” momentarily caused the Warrior’s heart to ache; his eyes darkening and lips curling down into a small, but noticeable frown. However, reminding himself that he was in the presence of a friend, the knight cast aside the discomfort such thoughts brought to him, and carefully took a long drink of the dry, fruity wine in his goblet. He replaced his small, aching frown with a look of interest, his gloved fingers still wrapped tightly around the cup of his stemmed drink.
No, it wasn’t just the thoughts of Cornelia, and his friends, that had unsettled him. Something was still rolling, brewing tightly in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as if silently muttering to him, This is wrong.
As if on cue, Mateus drew the attention temporarily back to the Warrior, and he was able to focus on the story being told. Right, the beacon of light, and the voice that had accompanied it. In truth, the Warrior of Light did hear that call, and he did see the beacon of light that lit the sky. He recalled seeing the tower’s light in the distance, as he stood at the edge of the desert, the reigns of a horse in his gloved hands. He remembered debating with himself about responding to the call, about the battle that was sure to follow. In the end, he swallowed his innate desire to fight another god’s war, and turned his back on the light.
That decision haunted him from time to time. It was the first time he’d opted to purposefully ignore such a call that seemed to be aimed directly at him. The dreams that called him, the promise of a power that couldn’t fall into the hands of darkness, it hung over him like a heavy weight. However, with his trust in gods and their purposes at an all-time low, the Warrior told himself time and time again that it was the right call.
The knight smiled lightly, his eyes very lightly shadowed as he switched his gaze from Mateus’ eager face to watching the gentle movement of ruby liquid in his goblet. “I did feel drawn to the tower,” he admitted, taking a pause and glancing back up to his companion’s bright gaze, “However, I’m afraid I find myself hesitant to heed the call of any gods. My current relationship with beings of a higher calling is … complicated.”
Mateus didn’t appear to mind his answer, explaining in light detail what he was able to experience at the World Sight. A chance to fight back at the powers that be was an entertaining notion, definitely, but the Warrior found it difficult to believe that there was any one power that caused such an evil situation. The more he had attempted to dig into this world, the more he had attempted to understand and pursue, the more trouble he’d seemed to face.
As he was asked about a young maiden, the knight found himself surprised to see such a grimace of temporary pain cross Mateus’ face. They had only met on one previous occasion, but the Warrior hadn’t quite considered Mateus the sort to deeply care for a stranger.
He now realized the irony in such a thing, as the blonde had approached him as if they’d known each other years.
“I’m afraid I’ve not crossed paths with such a maiden,” the Warrior replied, his voiced weighed down with compassionate sorrow, his free hand finding itself on the middle of the table -- he recalled feeling comforted when one of his companions warmly took his hand. He would leave it to Mateus to decide if he needed such a thing.
The Warrior continued to listen intently, his eyebrows raising as Mateus mentioned being granted the power from the tower. That -- was a surprise, of sorts, surely. The knight had spent an evening in the blonde’s company previously, but he hadn’t a clue that the man had any sort of power or abilities to gain access to such a heavily guarded sanctuary. How had Mateus gotten up the tower, past all of the guards? From the whispers the Warrior heard on his journey, the World Sight had been crawling with strong defenses, especially as the tower had bathed the surrounded area in light.
The realization sunk into his chest like a sharp blade, his eyes widening with realization. The Warrior of Light had no idea what kind of power Mateus controlled.
Mateus continued on explaining what had transpired at the tower. That he was unsure how to procure the power he’d obtained, and that another person had come along. Someone he thought to trust, who had in turn deceived him. However, as the other man tried to take the power for himself, he was rejected. The Warrior took a sip from his goblet, but found himself nearly spitting the wine out at Mateus’ next sentence.
His power and dragon?
Could it be? Had it been Kuja, who had tried to deceive Mateus and run off with his power? It seemed … highly unlikely to the Warrior that anyone else would be causing such potential disaster on the back of a dragon. All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to align -- the attempted trust and subsequent betrayal, the magic, the power and dragon. Or, was it all coincidental and there was yet another mad being running around out there with dangerous power and equally dangerous plans?
The Warrior could only hope the flurry of emotions he felt were not reflected on his face -- confusion, disbelief, hate. He found himself grimacing at the thought, but quickly shook it away, silver locks dancing over his pauldrons as he did so. Now was not the right time, though, to suddenly stand and ask if the man’s name was Kuja, and ask what he’d done and where’d he gone. No, again, the knight bottled his thoughts and emotions on the matter, and set them aside to ask about later. His shoulders relaxed, his gaze settled on Mateus’s face -- which seemed so sudden alight with life -- a small, timid smile settling back onto the knight’s features.
There was so much he needed to admit. Truths he needed to reveal.
“That was quite the adventure,” the Warrior remarked, his soft voice tinged with just a tad of humor, “Perhaps I would have heeded the call to the tower, knowing you would be there as well.”
The knight had no idea that the words that tumbled from his mouth could have been taken in a different context other than, it would have been nice to see my friend again, sooner than now.
The Warrior was attempting to craft the perfect way to explain to Mateus that he’d lied about his name and his past when they’d met, when the waiter was waved over to their table. Oh, right, this was a restaurant. The knight felt the lump in his throat harden as he realized he was expected to order something off of the small menu in front of him. He glanced between Mateus and the waiter, before his eyes found the menu once more. The letters on the paper were foreign to him and his very beginners knowledge of reading, and the Warrior bit down lightly on his tongue as he attempted to decipher what was even on the menu.
What he most wanted to do was refuse such a gesture of kindness from Mateus -- he didn’t deserve it. However, having tried that in the past, the knight knew he wouldn’t get away with such a potential stunt.
“May I ask what you’d recommend?” the Warrior asked the waiter, putting the menu down and no longer pretending to attempt to read it, “I’m not well-versed in this area’s delicacies.”
Thankfully, the waiter seemed to have some experience with strange out-of-towners, and more importantly, the man had recognized him he hadn’t said anything. The waiter spoke of a divine stew, of which the Warrior could recognize a few ingredients listed, and he ordered that just to get the experience over with.
As the waiter wandered away, the Warrior grasped his goblet and drank deeply of the wine within. Perhaps he’d spent too much time in the company of Faris the evening they drank, as he’d found that alcohol helped to steel his nerves in social situations (if this were on the battlefield, he’d have no issues speaking!), as he found himself wishing for the calm that wine could create, and the feeling that would loosen his tongue. As the knight set his goblet down, his lips ever so lightly colored that darker hue of the drink, his gaze landed on Mateus -- who had been nothing but kind to him from the first moment they’d met.
“I have something to admit,” the knight sighed, his hand clasped together on top of the table, “And I must apologize. I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Mateus.”
The Warrior would have given anything to be on the battlefield in that moment, as a sword in his hands felt much more comfortable than words on his tongue, “At the Opera, I told you that my name was Garland. That was a lie.”
Swallowing, he continued, “I am no noble man, or man of royalty. I am naught but a knight -- one with no true name, or memories to claim. At the opera, I was searching for a man who unleashed chaos upon this land, as it seemed the type of event one would potentially find him enjoying.”
The Warrior of Light bowed his head, his voice low and humbled, “I am sorry that I deceived you. Having met you that night was much more a blessing, and it has replayed in my mind many nights since."
"Ha, I believe that is fair enough." He responded with a cheeky chuckle as the man talked of not appeasing the gods. "Those who seek favor with the gods for health and fortune will also turn against them when their favor is not granted. Still I guess I took the fruit of their labor for oneself with no plans of returning the favor. The gods are for those too weak to forge their own destinies." Mateus explained. True something had called out to him, the horned monstrosity, but even after seeing it and the woman bathes in blue he felt no allegiance to the beast. In fact, he had not even thought himself the one about to gain the power as he had been standing on that summit waiting for Yeul to take the crystal.
Yeul, the man hadn't seen her and he sighed. What had happened as the power of the crystal consumed her and the blonde boy? Had they been expelled from this world just as suddenly as he had been thrust into it? It was foolish of her to do so, but the girl had trusted him as they approached the crystal together. He felt something sickly prickle at him again. He felt horrid: ashamed, guilty? The feeling at the pit between his heart and stomach but he swallowed hard and let the feeling die down. "That is most unfortunate," was all he would comment on the incident returning the smile to his own face.
The man offered his hand on the table. Mateus could feel his cheeks redden as he cast his eyes towards the outstretched hand and up at the man. His own hand tensed as he thought about taking it in his own. As he reached something kicked him in the gut yelling "Don't." so as he reached he moved his hand to pick up his wine. He took a deep long sip trying to quiet whatever impulse had stopped from accepting the man's condolence. Perhaps that Mateus had always found any public emotions taxing and tiresome as a spectator, and didn't wish to be viewed in the same manor as he judged before.
Mateus couldn't help but notice how jolted the man seemed to be when he talked about Kuja and his transparent power grab. Mateus pretended to not notice as he continued on, but the visceral reaction was one to be noted. Did he know of whom he was talking. Or perhaps, the man could empathize with the anger, dismay, and outrage he himself had felt at an ally soured. Enemies was probably too strong of a word to use at this point, but he would keep his ears open and his secrets a little closer to his chest. He had no time for a puppeteer trying to amass powers from the shadows.
Mateus blushed again as the waiter appeared allowing him to linger over what the man had just said. If he had know Mateus to be going to the tower he might have come despite his refusal of the gods. Oh, and what a sight that would have been for the man. Him dressed down, sneaking about like a thief in the night, lying, and deceiving his way into the tower. He doubted the man would have had any difficulty storming the place in that suite of blue. Then he would have been of no use to the sword wielder, but now with his magic returned, perhaps, he would have been of help. Would they even have reached the top? He wondered what darkness this man would have seen in the mirror. The image of his own demonic visage swam to his mind's eye as he grimaced and banished the thought away as the man ordered and the waiter left.
"Oh..?" Mateus sighed. It was a questioning and slightly surprised oh although it was tinged with a hint of disappointment. He cocked his waitingfor the blow to hit. What could this man possible have to lie about. Mateus steeled himself as the man explained himself. Not a nobleman. Just a knight. "Let me see." It wasn't a question or even a suggestion, but it wasn't hostile. Matt took the man's hand and peeled the glove from it one quick motion. His own hands, smooth and hydrated, grated against the rough course patches of skin that adorned the man's hands. A memory, a vision almost, flooded the gates as he saw himself sitting on his throne in the coliseum. A silver haired boy approached, his face still a blur, but accompanied by a purple haired girl. The memory faded as fast as it had come and Mateus almost swore that he couldn't remember more of it.
Mateus continued to rub the man's hand with his own as he thought of the right words to say realizing that he was here and not back in Palamecia. "Well," he began the word tumbling out again, "well." It wasn't the worst thing the man could have told him. In fact it seemed pretty tame. Of course if he was stalking someone he wouldn't have used his real name. Mateus laughed a real laugh this time as he placed both of their hands on the table. "Well, then it seems we've more in common than you think. Although I remember who I am and what I've done, certain memories swirl in the dark. You," he began giving the man a glance as if he might be, "have you ever worn your hair short and in a bandanna?" Mateus laughed it off nervously as he continued. "You can imagine my relief that your name is not Garland. The very thought that that ugly sound should be affixed to such a vision was revolting to see the least. What is a name anyway except something with which to associate ourselves with our actions. Perhaps you should choose yourself a name for the time being. Something less garish." He wanted to say the nameless knight had been on his mind as much as it seemed he had been on his.
Mateus sighed as he looked the man square in those glacier eyes. "I can think of a few men whose goals are to cause chaos in these lands. Perchance have you found this person and given them their justice?" Mateus wondered if he could not work this out to his advantage. If this nameless warrior was indeed looking for Kuja as he thought, Mateus remembered where the sorcerer had said to go if he wished for his assistance. If the sorcerer should cause him any more grief, all it would take would be a quick whisper. And then there was the man with the shard seemed a dangerous sort and he could only guess what he'd do with the power they were granted. And if this man was a self righteous as he seemed to be, evidenced by his admittance of his own lies, he might be able to do something about him. Still, if the man was a smitten as his words betrayed, perhaps he had found a potential ally, a friend in this cold cruel world he wished to tame. A potential knight.
The cart pulled up to the table without Mateus noticing and the food was placed. "I'm surprised this city was able to produce such delicacies," he admitted finally letting go of the man's hand beginning to cut into his fillet. His hand felt empty now that he was holding a knife rather than a hand.
The Warrior wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting from Mateus as he told the man the truth of his lies. Offense. Perhaps some outrage. The knight wasn’t terribly experienced with people and social know how, however, he had seen the discovery of lies and felt the lurch of anger before. When traveling with a thief, lies were normalcy, but thankfully they were typically small and easily fixable. Yet some lies were quite large, more of a deceit intended to harm -- as he’d experienced with Kuja.
What he hadn’t expected was a sort of indifference.
Easily giving his hand when asked, the Warrior didn’t struggle at all as Mateus pulled the glove from his fingers. Smooth fingers tickled his rough palm, tracing callous after callous along the pads of his fingers and his hand. Light blue eyes flickered down to watch the curious act, the smallest shiver creeping up his spine. It was such a delicate motion that he hadn’t quite experienced before. People that the Warrior of Light associated with were typically as hardened as he was, though, specializing in different areas of combat. The feeling of the nobleman’s silky skin was dulled through the calluses and tiny, shining scars of his abused hand, yet it reminded the knight of the touch of someone he once knew; the touch of a goddess.
Yet, with that memory came the fleeting pain of familiarity. A hand so hot that it burned as it crushed through armor. Another that threw magic faster than the eye could see. Acts of cruelty that caused unimaginable pain, performed so elegantly, so flawlessly. Though, as fast as the memory cut through his mind, it was gone. Nothing but a fleeting feeling from a past he couldn’t quite remember.
Words began to tumble from Mateus’ mouth, and it seemed even he wasn’t quite so sure what to say. The Warrior was surprised as the man laughed loudly, and his blue eyes darted up from the table to focus on the amused nobleman. They were, yet again, more alike than he thought. Mateus too had at least some problems with amnesia of sorts, though he wasn’t near as cursed with it as the knight was. His next question was somewhat puzzling, and the Warrior began to think back to the faded memories he could recall.
“I don’t believe my hair has ever been short,” the knight mused, thinking of how odd it would feel for his hair to be cropped, “And I can say with certainty that I have no memory of wearing a bandanna.”
Though the thought was amusing to him, the Warrior couldn’t help but feel that image was familiar. A man similar to himself, with silvery-white hair, but shorter and hidden underneath a cloth. It was … oddly specific, for it to be mere coincidence. Maybe he’d seen such a man in passing somewhere in the world? No, no it felt more familiar than that. The thought of a silver-haired man in a bandanna brought a warmth to his heart, like the laugh of a friend, or the smile of a loved one. Strangely, it reminded him of flowers.
Perhaps he had met the man Mateus had described, and he simply couldn’t remember. Yet another reason to detest the constant fog of amnesia that constantly plagued his mind.
The Warrior couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as Mateus spoke of the garish nature of the name Garland. The knight hid his chuckle behind his free, still-gloved hand, an amused twinkle hiding behind his reserved gaze. If only Garland himself had heard such talk -- or even known that the Warrior of Light dared to impersonate him to a degree -- what a scene of chaos and destruction would follow. Maybe it wasn’t right of the Warrior to be so amused at his eternal rival’s potential reaction to what he’d done, but it was a day of odd feelings already.
He’d completely forgotten that the nobleman was still holding his hand captive, their fingers occasionally loosely intertwining during conversation.
“Perhaps someday, I shall settle on a name,” the Warrior mused, a half-smile on his pale lips as the weight of all the amnesia had stolen from him weighed on his armored shoulders, “I had a name, once before. This much, I am sure of. It’s as if it’s spoken to me in a dream, in a language I cannot understand. So very close, yet …”.
The knight unintentionally spaced out, his thoughtful gaze turning to the window, eyes focused on the blue sky though the tinted screen. He suddenly felt much older than he should, as if a thousand lifetimes had passed since his true name was spoken quietly, proudly. He always felt as if it were right on the tip of his tongue; that someday, he’d speak it without ever having realized it. Maybe it would feel as familiar as Garland’s, the one who he felt he shared the most of his confusing past with.
Maybe that man even knew it, yet refused to tell him.
The Warrior shifted his weight on the bench again as he fell back into the present, the stiffness his armor caused him in such a situation beginning to make itself known. A set of full armor and long times of sitting often didn’t pair well together, despite how he lived in his steel. If Mateus wished to do something after this impromptu meal, perhaps the Warrior could convince him to let him remove his heavy steel first. Patrons of finer establishments would also likely prefer he not come in with a sword.
Lavender eyes stole the knight’s attention once more as the nobleman inquired about the bringer of chaos that the Warrior sought. A frown replaced his thoughtful indifference, his silver eyebrows furrowing in discouragement. He turned his gaze away, ashamed of his failure, his voice heavy with disappointment, “I hate to admit that I have not found him. I know he continues to traverse this land, bringing with him as much chaos as the dragons he unleashed upon the world. Having not stopped him -- it is my greatest regret.”
The Warrior mulled over his disgrace for a moment, before deciding to ask if his suspicions had been correct, “Have you -- oh.”
Just as the knight had drawn his decision to ask the question, to see if Mateus had truly had an awful encounter with Kuja, the waiter returned to their table with a cart, cutting into his train of thought. Mateus pulled their hands apart, and the Warrior finally realized they’d been touching throughout the entire conversation. A scarce blush flushed his cheeks for a moment as he thought about the missing warmth in his hand now -- suddenly so empty and cold, without a hand or a sword to hold. How strange.
Mateus commented on the food, and the knight found himself silently agreeing. Both dishes smelled, well, better than anything he’d readily experienced before. Most days, the Warrior was surviving on what little food he could scrounge up, and when he could afford a meal, he tended to pay for cheaper items in order to stretch his coins as far as they could go. Or, as happened most often, he offered services in exchange for food. Everyone out there needed help with something, after all.
The Warrior picked up his spoon, suddenly thankful for the lessons in table manners his friends had given him during their time spent together. A napkin on his armored lap, and small, slow bites. He dunked his spoon into the reddish, warm broth, pulling up a small mouthful of liquid and vegetables he couldn’t name. The Warrior tried a bite, the spices dancing on his tongue, and the vegetables so softly roasted they practically melted in his mouth. It was warm and comforting, as if it had been tended to with hours of love.
It was, easily, the best thing he’d eaten in recent memory. Perhaps, even beyond.
The warmth of the stew kept a constant, low pink blush across his cheeks, and the Warrior paused graciously, his voice filled with gratitude, “Thank you, for this. I cannot recall being treated so kindly since my arrival in this world. You have been nothing but warm, welcoming, and patient with me, and I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
The Warrior of Light wasn’t sure how he could make up for such a thing. All he knew, in this world and others before it, was endless battle. He hardly knew any basic human skills it seemed, and all he really had to offer was loyalty and a sword. Would a nobleman such a Mateus even have use for such a thing? Despite his talk of his issues with the man on the mountain, he seemed such a calm and knowing person -- able to talk his way in and out of anything. Would he even have any enemies? Who would want to hurt such a person?
The Warrior glanced to Mateus’ light and lively gaze once again, the warm blush still spread across his cheeks, an innocent uncertainty hidden in his half-lidded, thoughtful eyes, “If there is anything I can do for you, please, call for my aide. Your companionship alone would be reward enough for any trial.”
The fillet of Behemoth looked exquisite as it was lain before him. If he and the warrior had not been there, the piece of meat may have been the most beautiful thing in the room. It had been cooked just enough that it was warm against Mateus but not enough that the red of the myoglobin disappeared. Mateus smiles as he let the flavors and pepper press against all the parts of his tongue. He wondered to himself whether this was actually good or if his own tastes had diminished. His eyes glanced across the table to the nameless warrior enjoying his stew. No, his tastes had not diminished at all. He would need to send his compliments to the chef.
Mateus couldn't help but to stare at his companion as they ate. He couldn't detect a hint of the pigments and concealment that he adorned to his own visage when he could, but compared to the man's hands his face was a painting of great artistry. Two eyes of deepest blue enough to draw you in and leave you stranded if you dared to stare long enough. His cheeks were stained a pink of innocence often seen on the paintings of children or heavenly figures. His nose was rough and irregular like fractals with how it seemed to have been broke and replaced itself time and time again. A warrior for sure.
Then the warrior said it the things he had hoped to hear. Mateus smiled genuinely as he sliced a piece of his fillet. "That stew will have nothing on this." He placed the sliver on the man's plate. He wondered if he had ever enjoyed such a delicacy. He watched as he waited for the man to enjoy it.
"And please your company is more than and enough the cause to deserve such treatment in the first place," Mateus said as he continued to give the man the most gleeful of smiles. "But," his smile twisted as he thought of about what he was about to say. "I do seek aide, but it may be more long time than you, a knight and warrior would willingly take on," Mateus mused throwing his arm up as if the notion was ridiculous. "I've seen this world or at least this country within it. It is chaotic. It's own cities are no more connected than the link that dreams have among us. I wish to unify it into a common state." He let the words land waiting for a response before continuing, "I wish to bring a harmony among this land, one I couldn't bring to my own. A leadership. Still there are those like that dragon rider," Mateus shot the warrior a look that implied he may know of whom he talked about, "who only wish for their own fortune. If you wish," he asked a weird dissonance from the usual demands he made of his soldiers. But this was now that was then. "As much influence as I could muster here, I would still need a stronger hand to help weed out the chaos among us. You would both enjoy my company and aide. I'd furnish you a place here so you may rest your head among softer things than the streets, You say you've not received such kindness and good will, well allow me to adorn you with both in multitude. Perhaps together we could build a better place for this world?"
Mateus' smile was genuine. He held his hand across the table ready for a handshake for solidarity. With his newfound magic he didn't doubt his electrical prowess would give him the money needed for both of them. And it would be nice to keep a beautiful familiar friendly face so near even though his gut gurgled and protested with his every word and action. Food poisoning? He wouldn't reject the idea from such a town.
Mateus’s incredible kindness continued. The man sliced a piece of his own fillet, so tender he barely needed more than the flick of a wrist, and deposited it on the Warrior’s plate for him to try. The knight glanced at the piece of meat, his eyes taking in the sight of something he’d never seen before -- studying it, remembering it. Slowly, he pierced the tender flesh with a fork, and carefully brought it to his mouth.
Oh.
The Warrior was a blank slate of a man who had only scratched the surface of the “normal” things in life. Food was one of those things that, every time he sat down for a meal no matter how big or small, it was different every time. Flavors were so interesting, the textures were as different as those that he touched with his fingers. Food seemed to hit every sense; it was fascinating to look at, amazing to smell, delectable to taste. Finer foods, the knight was less experienced with, having had most of the food he’d ever eaten raw or cooked over a campfire.
But this -- it was near maddening. The flavor was rich, yet salty and peppery. The texture was like silk, and the bite nearly melted in his mouth. He could smell the cook of the meat as he took the few bites necessary to chew it, and in all too quickly of a moment, the bite was gone. All that was left behind was the umami taste in his mouth, and the desire for more.
The Warrior forced the look of naive shock from his face, and back to a placated thankfulness. It was likely that Mateus saw the evolution of his thoughts across his visage, but the Knight didn’t want his noble friend to be so exposed to his naivety and lack of experience in, well, most things in life.
While his friends had found such things charming, and even funny at times, the Warrior knew such lack of knowledge of the more common things in life could be frustrating for others.
Thank the gods he didn’t have time to try to form a reply to how wonderous a bite of one piece of food had been to Mateus. The noble man was quick to continue their conversation, talking over his food as the Warrior set aside his own utensils to carefully listen. Mateus spoke of the world around them, and the chaos that consumed it. About needing aide to link the lands together, to bring them in as one.
To restore a sense of harmony.
The Warrior’s gaze hardened as he listened. His heart began to beat quickly in his armor clad chest as he released a held, anxious sigh. This was familiar. A noble, asking for help to restore harmony to his kingdom. For help, to extinguish the darkness, the chaos. This is what the Warrior of Light had been born to do, or so it seemed, as it was the only thing that gave his life purpose. Even before Mateus was finished speaking, the knight wished to rise, to draw his sword, and to pledge allegiance to such a cause.
Especially as the man mentioned a dragon rider. Were they simply performing an elaborate dance around the topic that was Kuja, the last man who had stabbed the Warrior in the back? He was beginning to suspect that they were. Again, his nerves steeled at the thought and adrenaline rushed through his body at the thought of plunging his sword into the warlock’s chest, not only for himself, but for all those who had suffered because of Kuja’s selfishness.
Had he been asked to lend his aide to such a cause in the past, the Warrior of Light would have had no qualms about reaching over the table and shaking the more delicate hand of the friendly noble. Even now, he really wished that his hand would do such a thing automatically. However, he remained still, his icy eyes thoughtful, his lips drawn tightly.
It was not the reaction he expected himself to have, and it likely was the opposite reaction that Mateus was expecting.
The knight attempted to gather his thoughts and feelings as he reasoned to himself why he wasn’t jumping at the offer to restore a sense of harmony to the land. He looked into Mateus’s eyes and drew a deep, calming breath, his hands motionless on the table.
“Normally, I would not hesitate to agree to such a task,” the Warrior explained, his throat tight as his every instinct fought against his decision, “It is my very purpose in life to restore harmony in wake of chaos. However …”.
He trailed off, his body itching to move as he felt cornered in the booth, completely forgetting about the meal that lay in front of him. The Warrior furrowed his brows in frustration, biting his own tongue to find the words he sought, in a desperate effort to convey his hesitation.
“My naivety has led me to taste the bitterness of betrayal,” the knight murmured, his words heavy and laced with anger -- at himself, “My last mistake cost the lives of many people. I swore upon all I am, that I would not allow such a thing to happen once more.”
However, the knight raised his hand, and locked it with Mateus’s own. His grip was strong, too strong perhaps, his eyes focused and cold, his face hardened with resolve, “Yet, I believe we share similar goals, and perhaps have experienced the same pain. I will lend you my aide, on one condition.”
The Warrior took a deep breath, his back straight and attentive, his gaze and voice sharp, “We will hold no secrets from one another. I will tell you my past, my experiences, my strengths and weakness -- and you will do the same. For me to trust you, as wholly and completely as I truly want to, I must ask for you to comply. I refuse to allow anyone else in this world to suffer, simply because I placed my resolve in the wrong man once more.”
The knight’s expression finally began to soften as the release of his heavy, burdened words had finally untied themselves from his tongue. Yes, this is what he wanted to express. He wanted to know Mateus as thoroughly as he had known his other friends and companions. He wanted to be able to place his life in the noble’s hands, and vice versa, without fear of being stabbed in the back. He needed that affirmation, that confidence; knowing that he placed his trust in someone who would always have his back, and not leave him for dead.
If Mateus agreed, the Warrior of Light knew how far his own resolve would go -- he would lay down his life for the purpose of restoring harmony.
“Please,” the Warrior asked Mateus, the grip of his hand changing from high tension to that of desperation, “I will give my all to you, and to this cause, if only I can trust you fully, and completely.”
