Clive didn’t like Dion’s request. Never in a million years, would he like his request. The late Emperor of Sanbreque was a greedy, selfish, racist, traitorous monster who barely qualified as a man. The pain and suffering he had inflicted on not just his own family, but on the people of Rosaria as a whole, was insurmountable. Clive had no clue what he would do if he had the chance to cut him down right in front of him. He would try for Dion’s sake, but… He didn’t know if he could do it. But the request had been made, and Clive had sworn to do his utmost. Hopefully it would never come to that. If there was any justice in this world, the bastard would rot in hell, alongside Ultima.

But what came next, as Dion spoke of their differences, despite their backgrounds… Actually got a trace of a chuckle out of the man who bore Ifrit.

“We differ less than you think.”

It was strange of him to say that, perhaps. And maybe Clive should have just kept his mouth shut, even he knew that. Especially as…

“We were both slaves to the Empire for our magic, pressured to use it for war. In a country conditioned to hate magic — to see its bearers as tools and nothing more – no title will change that fact.”

That. He didn’t think Dion would like to hear that. But it was how he saw him, and if he wanted to ever mend things with Dion after all their families had been through, he knew that he should be honest with His Highness. Even if he wasn’t the best at communicating it, he did want Dion to understand how he felt. In a way, Dion was a kindred spirit. He had been the Crown Prince, sure, but aside from how they were treated on the surface… Were they really all that different? Did it matter if one had command of troops or not, or if one cage was a bit more ornate than the other? A cage was still a cage.

“It was an order we both broke free from, marshaling those who would followed us in a bid to do right by the ones who believed in us,” Clive continued, hoping Dion wouldn’t resent him for that thought. “Tomes — Harpocrates, believed in you, as Cid did for me. We both sought to do them proud, to do right by Valisthea’s people, no matter who despised us for it. You, in your rebellion. And myself in mine… And it was that same path which brought us to the same fight against Ultima.”

And the same fate, as well.

“There are differences. We grew up under different kinds of people, who saw the world in different ways. But we still wound up in the same place, with the same goal. I would like to think that counts for something,” Clive tried to wrap up that thought as gracefully as possible. He had been far too removed from noble life to put things as… Cordially, as he once had, but he did try. He hadn’t forgotten Dion’s wistful statement, however, and he had to admit. Part of him did kind of wish…

“But if the alliance could have remained… I think that would have been nice,” Clive agreed, though ultimately reality would have stood in the way. “I don’t know if our peace stood a chance. Sanbreque and Rosaria were too different when it comes to how we saw Bearers, our people, and how we saw other nations. Not as different as I would have liked, but enough nonetheless. Sanbreque’s old…”

He wanted to say something really profane and likely very offensive about Sanbreque’s Emperor and his council of old bureaucrats. But Clive still had some royal upbringing left that hadn’t been literally kicked out of him. Part of him still knew better, at least somewhat. “… Older generation; would have wanted us annexed eventually, regardless of outside involvement.”

He turned to look to Dion, then. “Though, perhaps I’m wrong. There was one chance I think, for peace. And that was you, Prince Dion. You are a Dominant, able to identify with man and mage both. Conditioned the same as the Empire’s people, perhaps, but you lack their cruelty. There’s a pureness to you, perhaps a little naive but…”

Clive awkwardly laughed a little at that, before his voice grew quiet. “Truthfully, I think that’s what the Empire needed. If the alliance had held long enough for your ascension, perhaps you and I would be sitting at tea right now. Or in the sparring ring.”

Clive stared back down at the table, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He missed Rosaria, his father, Joshua… All of it. He missed them dearly. Things had to change, perhaps… But did it have to come at such a cost?

“Even I’m not immune to wishing for what could have been.”

But the past was past. And all he could think of now was ensuring the people here did not suffer as they did. But, he liked to think, as well… If Dion kept that pure, burning desire to do right in his heart… Well, Clive wanted to be confident they could do just that.

Perhaps he had gone into a bit too much detail in telling that story. Tomes had informed him he had a habit of doing that. Perhaps that was why he had asked Clive to write a book. Perhaps in time... He would be able to do just that. It may not be published where he wanted it to be, but... How could he refuse such a request from an old friend? Still, he hoped he hadn't overwhelmed Miss Vayne too much. That wouldn't do, but he hoped he had been able to set the scene well enough to give her an idea of why he had done what he did.

The foundation had been put down with mention of the Mothercrystals, after all. But there was far more to it than that. For her to understand just why he had committed such a horrible sin in the eyes of Torensten's people. But Violet's first follow-up question was more personal in nature, and Clive visibly winced when she asked it. "Ahh, that answer is extremely personal" he answered, and while Clive did keep up a good-natured smile all the while, it was pretty clear he was hiding a great deal of pain behind it.

How did one explain that their own mother sold out her husband, her children, her entire people -- then after changing her mind on executing him, had him branded and made a military slave? So he decided to take his time with that one. Let her talk about her own world for a bit, which she seemed quite happy to do. Was she trying to show she understood or empathized? He wasn't sure. But he did welcome the break. So her world had a... Corporation, it was called? What was a corporation? He didn't know the word, but either way it seemed to be some kind of providing body. And aether was its provision, taken without permission or consent from the very planet itself. And with some seriously disturbing implications when it came to souls too. So they farmed people's souls to provide electricity? Electricity and such in a pure and non-magical form were fairly new in Valisthea, something of Cid's design. But to think these ones were powered by the souls of the dead...

Eesh. And he had thought it was just Ultima that was messed up. And what if their aether WAS the "lifestream", or spirits taken form? Not something that Clive wanted to think about. But the part about "terrorists" made him almost laugh. She was almost there, almost right to the point of exactly why he had done what he did. And she knew it, too. Clive smiled softly at that note, before taking her cue to go on.

"Your previous question is personal because... Not even Rosaria was able to keep the greed of warmongers at bay. Our own allies, the Empire of Sanbreque, perpetuated a massacre at Phoenix Gate. Which is essentially a holy site for Rosaria's religion when it comes to the Phoenix. We had stopped there, on the way to intercept an army forming at our doorstep, so Joshua could convene with the Phoenix as part of our traditions. And that was when our own allies, the Empire, attacked us in the night. It was... Horrible. Our father was killed before our very eyes, and in the process... Awakened the Eikons that lay asleep within both Joshua, and myself. Joshua, the Phoenix... And myself, Ifrit. In our state, neither of us could control our Eikons, could not save our people... Or each other. My little brother was seemingly slain, and I awoke to Sanbreque's bloodletters searching for survivors, accompanied by my own mother."

He had left out some details, because quite frankly he was not getting into the fact he had almost killed Joshua himself as Ifrit. It wasn't necessary for this story, and probably wouldn't help him either. But even without that part, this was... Difficult, to talk about. More than he had expected. Clive's gaze moved away, as the once-marquess took a deep breath to try and quell his shaking hands.

"They found me. They, and my mother found me. She had sold out her husband, her children... Her own people, to Sanbreque. And she ordered my death. I could hear it, too. All of it. Then she changed her mind... Decided since my father had so many times stood up for me when she had deemed me trash to be discarded, in some twisted act of spite she would put his words to the test. And had me branded. The Empire is notorious for how it treats Bearers, forcing them into military service and working them until their magic kills them. And that's how I spent the next thirteen years. A slave, forced to use my magic to fight for the Empire. Until I found Jill, my childhood friend, and the Dominant of Shiva."

After he had gone a great deal into personal, he found himself veering towards more informative again, which made it easier. Still... It was Jill, it wasn't an easy thing to talk about either. "-Who after the ambush had been taken hostage by another nation and forced to use her magic as a Dominant for war. Dominants were prized, those who could fully control and harness their Eikon didn't just use their magic... They could prime, changing into the Eikon itself. Making them perfect tools for war. Some were given titles or positions, buying their loyalty. While others, like Jill, were forced to use their magic for killing, or else. For her, those barbarians of the Iron Kingdom had taken other Rosarians hostage, and would kill them if she didn't do their bidding."

Needless to say? Valisthea was hell, and man's greed for magic was the source of it. Using slaves and coercing the cooperation of Dominants to kill thousands, all in their pursuit of the Mothercrystals to power their nations. It was horrible, and neverending. Not until someone did something about it. "The Empire had sent me and other Branded slaves to assassinate Shiva, to give them an edge in their wars. As soon as I realized it was Jill, I deserted. We were saved by a man named Cid, who was the Dominant of Ramuh."

He looked down at Torgal when the hound made a huffing sound at him, opening one eye to stare up at Clive. Clive huffed right back at him. "And you, too. Couldn't believe you were still alive after all those years."

He found a bit more confidence then, to look to Violet again.

"He had formed a refuge for bearers who had escaped their oppressors. And eventually brought form to the Cursebreakers. An organization whose intentions you might recognize. While not as extreme at first, it was always Cid's dream to destroy the Mothercrystals."

That woman and Kupka, in his eyes, were monsters and little else. They could not be reasoned with, for they were horrible human beings that would hurt people without care. Much like Barnabas, the world was better off with them dead. He didn't mind the existence of Dominants such as Jill or Dion, however. Jill had just wanted to be left to her life, while Dion would have no reason to use his abilities if not for the Empire's obsession with expansion. Then, of course, there was Joshua. A gentle soul belonging to a nation that did not seek out war if it did not have to. Not perfect, no... But if Joshua had been allowed to use his power to heal all that came to him, he would have gladly spent his life doing so. He was the perfect example of what a Dominant should be...

And why he could never begrudge Joshua for inheriting the Phoenix's blessing and not him. None of it was Joshua's fault, he did not make their traditions, and he was not responsible for Annabella scorning him. He had been chosen to do his part, and he did it better than anyone ever could have hoped. If only the Empire hadn't invaded, if not for Ultima... Oh, what a ruler Joshua would have been.

"If Barnabas appears and begins his bloodletting, he will have to be dealt with quickly," Clive agreed to Dion's appraisal of the Dominant of Odin. "The longer he is allowed to walk free, the more that will suffer. We need to go after him the moment word reaches."

He did not fear Odin. But he had enough scars to know how much of a problem that Barnabas would be if he were to appear. He would not allow it. All traces of Ultima and their pawns needed to be wiped out for good, if this world, or any world, were to be safe. He didn't care how many times he had to kill Ultima, or Barnabas, Kupka, Benedikta, or any of them to ensure that those he loved who came to this world would be safe. Just Mid being here was enough reason for Clive to take up the sword. If he had to, they would die, and his loved ones could enjoy the peace they had long fought so hard for. And if he had to choose someone to fight that fight with him, Dion would rank top amongst them. He abhorred his Empire, and detested his father, but he could not deny that Dion was as strong as he was reliable. Dion was true to his word, and Clive held that in high regard.

He did his ask for anyone in particular amongst the Dragoons, however. Instead, while he told him to trust in his dragoons, and Clive nodded to acknowledge that, it was who he did ask for that caused Clive to look away. An attempt to hide that look of pure, absolute contempt that shown the moment he even broached the idea of doing anything to his father but stabbing him. Clive held a deep, deep contempt for the late Emperor. By all counts, the Emperor deserved to die again if he were to be sent here. Clive wanted to stab him personally, and even by practical counts, he was too dangerous to let roam free. To Clive, he was just as much a monster as the others.

Because it took a monster to do what he had done.

A shutter of the eyes, a long, deep breath. Those came and went as Clive allowed himself to calm down long enough to answer Dion's request with as clear a mind as humanly possible in a circumstance where Dion had just asked him to do what should be impossible. Did he want him to spare Annabella too? Maybe Ultima while he was at it?

"Fine."

That visibly pained him to say, but Dion had earned that boon after everything. "He gets one chance. If he wastes it, I'll ensure he doesn't hurt a soul again."

Personally, he hoped the Emperor stayed dead. He was a greedy, selfish bastard who didn't care how many lives were lost for his aims. Clive had seen far more of that pompous -fuck- than he had ever wanted to while experiencing Dion's memories before priming. If Zephon's gods knew what was good for them, he, Ultima and the others would rot uninterrupted.

"Violet it is," Clive responded with what he could manage of a cheery smile. He wasn't really in a smiling mood, but he wanted them to be sure that everything was fine and he was no danger to her. Of course, the smile probably came off more tired than anything. Why? Because he was tired. Eikons within, was he tired.

Once they had sat down near the fire, Clive shifted a bit to the other side. On the surface, perhaps he was giving her space, perhaps some polite nobleman thing. In truth though, he just needed enough space to not choke on her perfume. That would make this far easier. However, she did not ask the question he had expected her to start with. Instead, she wanted to know more about his background.

Well, he supposed a little bit of background couldn't hurt, right? Enough to build up to the "why". If they didn't understand what led him here, maybe telling the why would be a problem. They needed a complete story, he supposed. Or, that's how it seemed to make sense in his head. She was the journalist, at the end of the day. She was the one writing the article.

"Well," Clive began as he considered his words carefully. He reached down to scratch behind the ears of Torgal, whom had followed and flopped down below him. It seemed that even with the strong smell she emitted, Torgal refused to leave him alone with a stranger. "My name is Clive Rosfield, previously the Lord-Marquess of Rosaria. Which exists in the land of Valisthea. I was firstborn to the reigning Archduke, expected to take the throne of Archduke after becoming the Dominant of the Phoenix. The Phoenix being one of our world's Eikons, an important figure in our world and the centerpiece of Rosaria's culture. But I..."

This was reopening a wound he had not wanted to reopen, and he paused a moment to take a breath, considering whether he really wanted to do this. Then again, how many wounds had he reopened now since coming here? Perhaps getting it on paper would help him finally start to reconcile all of it.

"I was rejected by the Phoenix. Then by my own mother. My younger brother, Joshua, was instead chosen to take on the Phoenix's power. I worked my way up to become his First Shield, fulfilling my duties to Rosaria by instead protecting its future Archduke."

Clive couldn't help a quiet, almost bitter laugh. "If only I knew how small that all was, in the grand scheme of things. Valisthea, which comprises the continents of Ash and Storm, relies heavily on the magic of crystals and magic users, similarly to Torensten's people. But instead of treating these magic bearers, called Bearers for short, with respect... Whether it was the Empire, the Republic or the Dominion, their powers and their people treated Bearers as lesser-born slaves. Freaks, trash... Existing only to serve and then be discarded when overusing our magic kills us."

Clive pointed to the scar on his face, then. "This scar lays where a Brand once was. Especially in the Empire, they would take Bearers from their homes when born, or otherwise discovered, and would mark them, branding them as slaves. The brand is laced with wyvern poison, with an agonizing death awaiting those who attempt to remove it. It took a lot of time, and a steady hand, for me to survive doing so."

Talking about it objectively was a little bit easier, let him speak more confidently by giving her the facts instead of leaning too much on his personal experience. It was as simple as reciting his lessons, with his own spin on it.

"Bearers, and contraptions operated through magic, drew their magic from the Mothercrystals scattered across Valisthea. They were the core of our way of life. But they were also killing Valisthea itself. Aether being siphoned from the air led to a disaster called the Blight when that aether is used up. Blighted lands are barren, inhospitable, unable to sustain life. With no aether, magic cannot even be used in these blighted lands. Over time, each nation went to war with one another over what land was left unblighted."

Turning Valisthea into hell on earth. Especially for Bearers.