”Some Warrior of Light you are.”

Faris crouched in the roadside underbrush. It grew thick under the hot, wet sun, and he was careful not to shift too far and send himself toppling into a particularly rough patch of thistles. He’d waited here for hours perched on the balls of his feet and watching the road. He’d seen three caravans of merchants with carts heavy with potions and greens and weapons of all kinds. He’d seen a gaggle of farmers trudging along the side, complaining about the humidity as they’d rubbed the backs of their necks. None of them had spotted him.

Faris groaned and stretched his arms over his head, wincing at the cracks as he rolled out his shoulders. The sun-worn hours hadn’t done much for him either if he was telling the truth. His knees ached. His toes had gone numb. His heel had long since sank into the damp earth, and he had to shift them every once in a while to keep them from sticking. Still, he’d staked out worse places than this for longer, so he couldn’t complain. This was his idea afterall. His heist, and it felt good to be back to pirating again.

He tensed and ducked down at the sound of rickety carriage wheels somewhere down the road. It grew closer from his right side, and he peered through the leaves to catch a glimpse of it. A high-bred chocobo. That was the first glimpse he caught. Sleek, red feathers. A sturdy leather harness. The boots of a carriage footman. Faris felt his eyes set even before he caught sight of the rest of it. This wasn’t some merchant’s caravan or farmer’s cart. No, this was a personal ride, and it was owned by someone with more riches than they knew what to do with.

What did it matter, really, if Faris took his share?

The red-white light overtook him in a flash. His tunic expanded and hardened into a crimson breastplate. His legging thickened into grieves, and the bandanna around his head elongated into a dragon’s helm. Faris summoned his spear to his hand before launching himself into the air, rocketing nearly twenty feet and slamming down in front of the cart with enough force to send a cloud of dust flying beneath him. The chocobo reared back, squawking in surprise. There were shouts as the carriage veered sharply to the right, bumping and trembling as it came to a sudden stop. Faris angled his head, spun his spear between his fingers, and pointed the sharp end at the driver.

”You’ve a lot of brass to be traveling these roads with that kind of coin.” Faris tilted up his chin. ”You’d best hand it over. I’ll not be crossed.”

ulla

Faris hadn’t wanted a thing to do with him. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single face he’d have hated more so long as it wasn’t encased in a blue-white helmet and bellowing with laughter. Still, the man’s cold dismissal found a way to bristle under his skin. Even now, he was brushed aside like nothing more than an ill-humored child. If that was how he wanted it…

”Fine! I’ll be on my own way and I’ll not have a thing to do with you!” His chest swelled hot with anger that threatened to swallow him whole like a wave at sea. ”Let the beasts take you for all I care!” It was then that he noticed the slithering form of a beast at the man’s side. Faris blinked at it. The scales, the leathery wings, the lidless black eyes. For a moment, Faris could only stare at it dumbly before his mind caught up to him and he jumped to attention.

”That’s a wind drake!” he said and then stalked closer just to get a look at it. There was no mistaking a sight like that. ”I’d know one anywhere! My sister had one loyal and ready at her side, ready to fly her cross the world if she’d given the word. I tamed a sea drake myself. They’re testy creatures, but worth their weight if you can handle them.” Faris bit his lip and stopped where he stood. He wanted nothing to do with the man, but the sight of a friendly drake after all this time stilled his heart nonetheless. Truth be told, he’d missed them more than he could say.

”It’s no small feat, gaining their trust. They say a drake will only follow the pure of heart. That’s bull if I could manage it, but drakes, they can sense something in you. That’s not something to scoff at.”

Faris’ stomach turned with every second he spent near the man, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was here for the drake, not the man, and that was all there was to it.

”You’re learning on the job, I take it. That’s all you can do, but advice never hurt anyone.” Faris glanced between them. ”I’d not lead the drake inside if I were you. They’ll take to caves for their nests, but they’ll get anxious underground. It’s not their place. And if your drake came face to face with her own kind, there’s no telling what she might do. She might take to them instead or they could rip her apart for territory.”

Faris crossed his arms and tried his best to meet the man’s eyes. ”You might care for her, but you can’t take her everywhere. Once she’s too old to dote on her mother, she’ll stay to herself anyway. They’re independent creatures, dragons.” With that said, Faris popped his hip to the side. ”Aye, I’ll come along then, but only to keep the drake safe. Whether you bring her or not, I don’t want those devils loose to sink their fangs into her.”

ulla

”Parlay.”

”Eh?” Faris scathing eye turned incredulous. Whatever he’d expected out of the lout, it hadn’t been that.

”You're Captain Scherwiz, and I'm the captain of my own ship, figuratively... So close enough, I guess. But I call a parlay."

Faris stared at him. What in all blazes was he talking about? Figurative ships? Comprehension came slowly when his head was already spinning with blood loss. ”Parlay?” he echoed. ”I’ll not be taking you to the captain. I am the captain, you dunce! You’ve not a clue about piracy, have you?”

But even with the man’s stupidity, his ploy had worked. While Faris had struggled to wrap his mind around it, the lout’d gotten his chance to set his terms. Terms that made Faris’ sneer widen. He hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, had he? Or hadn’t respected it at least. Even now, the man had nothing but doubts, demands, and pity.

”I’ve nothing to prove to you, and I’ll not be lowering my guard! I’m not a thick-headed child! Making me prove my word…” He scowled. The Warrior of Light would’ve done the same thing, offering aid to an enemy, but the knight had something crucial this lout didn’t. ”You’re not righteous if you go about forcing yourself when it’s not asked! You’re nothing but an ass!”

Faris winced. The pain was overwhelming, but the vertigo was even worse. He felt it buzz between his ears, felt his fingers tremble with it. The fight really had worsened the tides, but he regretted nothing. He’d rather have jumped into the churning sea than let that man lay a finger on him when Faris had said otherwise.

Which left him no other choice. If he couldn’t jump and he couldn’t fight, he’d have to approach his escape from a different angle. He set his eyes on the lout in a defiant blaze as he called forth the power of his crystal. In a second, its light enveloped him, melting away at steely armor and replacing it with a crimson leotard, simple helm, and a wide scarf that shrouded him from his waist to just below his eyes. The ninja class clung to him in ways that he’d always hated, riding up his thigh in a way it never had for Bartz, but at least the scarf hid the worst of his figure.

With the transformation done, Faris snatched a sphere from his belt and threw it hard between them. It burst into a cloud of gray smoke, and Faris took his last second of full vision to fling a dagger at the man’s shoulder before turning tail and dashing down the opposite path. The rocky outcropping that splayed before him in cliffs, ridges, and thoroughly uneven terrain. Faris took a turn from his projected path as soon as he was able, climbing down a short ledge before taking off in a side direction and adding in several more curves and descending climbs to follow. Only when he was absolutely certain that the lout wouldn’t follow did he finally find an alcove shadowed by a rocky overhang and stumble into the cliff's edge.

His escape had done him no favors. He felt the blood drain from his face, felt his knees weaken as the hum in his ears deafened him. He slid down the wall before his vision could turn black, hissing the whole way.

This was that lout’s fault. If he’d let him go about his business, Faris would have gathered his gold without opening the wound further. If he’d left him well enough alone, Faris could have healed the damned thing at once and let that be the end of it. Instead, the condescending lout had demanded a part in the story he hadn’t deserved. Faris grit his teeth and touched at the blood that already stickied his scarf.

”Some pirate you are.” Faris’ laugh was equal parts unsteady and humorless. He’d left the ordeal penniless, humiliated, and so wounded he’d taken to hiding like a rabbit in its hole, staunching the flow of blood between his fingers. Was this a punishment for straying from his newfound morality? He wondered what the Warrior of Light would say to him now. Harsh words, he imagined, laced with disappointment and a frown.

When all was said and done, maybe this was what he deserved.

The crystal struggled at his call -- nearly too weakened to manifest properly. He was only vaguely aware of his leotard loosening, of a heavy white robe lengthening and draping over him. Once the crystal’s light faded, Faris shoved his hands together on instinct and muttered the crystal-granted incantations of a spell. The curative magic washed over him like soothing water, and he felt his pain ebb away before flaring again at his shoulder. He’d never taken to magic quite like Lenna had. Or Krile. Or Bartz for that matter, and his white magic always came sharp and clumsy. He felt his skin fuse together, felt each muscle tendon weld with stitches like fire. Faris let out a muffled cry and let himself fall to the side, holding himself up with a single hand.

His breath came ragged. His forehead dripped with sweat. He’d stabilized himself, he knew, and the wound had closed even if it’d likely scar until Krile could fix it proper. Still, he felt his vision fade. The whole ordeal had taken its toll, and his body demanded payment.

With a curse, Faris lowered himself onto the ground, hardly conscious of the jutting, uneven stone. He laid his head onto his heavy sleeve and let his raised hood cushion the space between. He needed rest, circumstances be damned, and he doubted he’d last much longer anyway.

In the fleeting moments between waking and sleep, it was Krile’s face that swam before his eyes. With her sense for danger, she’d worry for him, and maybe she was right to. The images ran together -- Krile’s worry, Bartz’ surprise, the Warrior’s disappointment -- until he could hardly tell one from the other.

And then, at last, he slept.

ulla

Just as Faris was taking his leave, there was a clash of metal on stone, a flash of light, and the man lurched to life about a foot from Faris’ face.

”Son of a-!” There wasn’t time for words. Faris stumbled back so fast he nearly fell over, swinging his spear hard at the side of the man’s head on instinct. Once he’d regained his balance, he gave another swift leap backwards for distance and gaped at the man before him.

He stood at the edge of a cliff -- the edge of a cliff twenty feet high at that. He hadn’t jumped, hadn’t climbed. Could he teleport? Faris grit his teeth and grabbed at his shoulder with his unarmed hand, breathing heavily from surprise.

The question wasn’t how he’d come after him, but why? Was he planning on arresting him after all? Had he changed his mind about that fight or (Faris’ stomach dropped at the thought) had he taken such pity on him that he’d determined to care for Faris no matter what he said about it?

His jaw clenched. The no-good, condescending piece of-!

”I told you, didn’t I? That if you came after me, we’d be trading blows?” Faris spun his spear to face him, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder and the dizzying haze that came with it. He hadn’t expected to follow through on that threat so soon, but he wasn’t about to take it back now. ”I’m a man of my word, and I’ll not be taken lightly!”

With that, he dashed forward, feinting to the side and then jumping at the last second to catch him off guard. There was no point in fleeing. No point in hearing anything he had to say. If the man could teleport then jumping away would do him about as much good as swimming from a shark’s fin, and only a dunce would believe he’d come peacefully no matter what he said. The man was working with the law. He’d seen Faris holding up a whole ship’s worth of smugglers, and he’d charged after him instead of letting them part ways. Backed into a corner, there was only one path for Faris to take -- fight.

The wind whistled through his hair. It pricked cold against his cheeks in a way he’d have found invigorating if his blood hadn’t burned with anger. In hardly a breath after his launch, Faris spun his spear towards him and thrust himself straight down.

ulla