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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,bulk] The term akashic apparently meant something else entirely to the undead stranger as he spoke at length about a type of flatbread served without cheese. The most sinful state for bread to exist in, according to the man, which parodied his own words from earlier back at him. Barnabas just sighted in response. He felt like he was getting used to the skeleton's games at least. “I can’t decide if you mock me, or if this is just how you make your way through the world.” Perhaps a bit of both. The king didn’t enjoy being made light of, but he was too troubled by everything else the man was saying to really address it.
Anyway, there was little point in cutting someone down who was already dead.
To his surprise, the man actually put in the effort to understand Valisthea’s origins, though he didn’t seem very impressed with what he heard as he asked if this was real or not. “You’ll be disappointed to hear there’s nothing mythological about it. Too much aether is enough to turn most people akashic, but God graced me with the honor himself. As a Dominant, I wouldn’t have been able to turn otherwise.” That word was highly likely to lead to another misunderstanding, but Barnabas simply didn’t have another word to describe his relationship with Odin. The man could take that as he would.
The undead skeleton then reasoned that Ultima’s complaints with free will made very little sense, and the king once again pondered the statue of Ifrit in the courtyard as he mulled over his words. “I believe humans developed free will organically as he slept. But I suppose you’re right that choosing to give up one’s will is in itself a choice…” He wasn’t quite ready to hear Ultima insulted so directly however, and he gave the man a more sharp look as he insulted the god crudely. “You’re trying to get under my skin. Is it a battle you’re looking for?” The man had to know those words would provoke him, and Barnabas was keen to see what he was after. A quick escape from the conversation? Or perhaps he just liked crossing his blade with others. The king could almost respect the latter.
The stranger had one last question though, and it was one that had kept Barnabas awake at night ever since he had woken up here alive. “I handed my will to him, but…I believe I took it back before the end.” The answer was like ash in his mouth, but it was the truth. He had gone against his lord’s wishes in taking his battle with Clive Rosfield as far as he had. That had been entirely on his own will. And now he was somewhere where Ultima didn’t exist after forcing Clive to take his power. Surely that meant he couldn’t be akashic anymore. What did that make him exactly?
He feared the answer, but he had a question of his own for the undead man across from him. “...What is your name? Unless you’re going to tell me again that it’s Shiva.” Barnabas didn’t often ask, but this man had given him plenty to think about. Even if he was crass and messy about it.
[attr=class,bulk] The man pointed out that Barnabas had followed him out of the temple, so if anything, he was punishing himself. That was fair honestly, though the king had to question the new nickname a little. “Kid…?” He certainly wasn’t the oldest human around, but he would have had silver hair at this point if Ultima hadn’t turned him akashic. “Though perhaps you have a point on the rest.” He had yet to hear a single word from God since setting foot on Zephon, so it was best to stop dwelling on whether or not he’d displeased him during the final battle with Mythos. There was little he could do at this point even if it were true after all. He could only offer atonement when and if Ultima demanded it.
The undead stranger also made the observation that Barnabas was raised religious, which he saw no harm in confirming. However he chose to willfully misunderstand his last comment on the priests of the Circle of Malius. It didn’t bear addressing. “Ultima created humans to obey him, so we were taught that free will was a sin. It was not in his original plan. Undeath—or turning akashic as its known there—is the least sinful state a person can exist in.”
His lips twitched a bit as he looked over the man across from him with his fake nose and mustache. He was clearly something else entirely. “I suppose that’s why I was curious about you. Why I was surprised that you’ve retained your will. You’ve taken everything from Valisthea and turned it on its head.” Which was troubling in its own right. Even if Barnabas followed Ultima’s will here and sought to unleash another aether flood, did that suggest that it wouldn’t have the same effect? This conversation was giving him a lot to mull over if nothing else.
The man shared a little of how he’d come to be this way, and it truly did sound as if it had been through his own efforts. He also confirmed Barnabas’ fears that some other worlds did not possess a god at all. “...I see. You were a scholar of sorts and came upon the answer yourself.” Despite his current comical appearance, the king looked at him differently now. Not quite with respect, but with a new understanding.
“You remind me a little of the man who killed me,” Barnabas remarked with a faint smirk as he glanced over at the statue of Ifrit that graced the courtyard. “He showed me the strength that can come with a will. ‘Would that I had not cast aside my own,’ I said then.” He wasn’t sure if he still agreed with his dying words or not now that he’d been granted a new life. Then again, it was difficult to let go of beliefs that he’d held since childhood.
[attr=class,bulk] Barnabas hadn’t been entirely sure that the stranger would actually stop without force, but he froze in a comical abrupt pose when he was addressed. The king didn’t fully understand why the man had run away in the first place, but perhaps he thought that he would encounter trouble now that he had been recognized as an ageless being. That wasn’t without merit either—humans rarely reacted kindly to what they didn’t understand. Barnabas however was just curious as to what exactly the man was. He was so different from the undead akashic of Valisthea, and the more he talked, the more Barnabas was certain that wasn’t a good thing.
He raised an eyebrow at being called a ‘benighted donkey,’ but what followed the strange insult was interesting enough that he let it slide. “Oh I think I could imagine it,” he answered with a slight twitch of his lips. From the brief glimpse he had gotten of the man behind his questionable disguise, he must have been old indeed for all the flesh to have worn from his face. Barnabas himself had only been akashic for roughly 30 years now, and he hadn’t visibly aged in that time, let alone started to deteriorate. Perhaps the creature across from him counted time in centuries to have gained that appearance.
“You obtained the gift yourself?” He couldn’t make sense of that when he thought of Valisthea, so he tried to let those preconceived notions go. “I’ve always known God to have a hand in it. I take it that wasn’t the case for you.” A pitiable existence, but Ultima might not even exist in all of the worlds connected to this one. The god had been so entwined with Valisthea that he was likely not the origin of all these other worlds. That was a troubling realization that Barnabas would need to unpack later. For now, the man declared that he had a question of his own. It was as nonsensical as the rest of his actions, but this was the one that broke the king.
Touching his forehead, Barnabas let out a rare laugh. Oddly enough, he understood the confusion if the stranger’s world didn’t have Dominants who channeled the eikons’ power. But he also didn’t feel inclined to clear up the mistake when the man was already hostile. “What am I doing here?” He asked himself instead. “Truly this is a punishment.” Ultima had clearly denied him paradise after he had indulged himself in his final battle against Mythos. And now he was trapped here, doomed to suffer fools for eternity.
[attr=class,bulk] The shorter man declared that he wasn’t from Aljana either, so he had no idea if Ifrit was in the area. That was a pity, but maybe it was to be expected if the eikon mostly lived in their legends. He said something absolutely strange about the god of fire though that made Barnabas raise an eyebrow as he finally glanced away from the mural. “He burns books.” It wasn’t a question so much as a flat statement of disbelief. There was either a story of Ultima circulating here that he’d never heard before, or the man was being a nuisance on purpose. Barnabas was inclined to think it was the second.
As he noticed the strangeness of the creature’s disguise and pointed it out, the man shushed him before proudly declaring himself to be Shiva. Despite the full beard hanging from his face and his obviously male voice. For once, Barnabas found himself properly speechless. Not from boredom or a wish to disappear onto the battlefield, but from pure confusion. He had no idea what to make of this man, and that feeling only increased when the stranger informed him that he wasn’t single before fleeing through the crowd. He’d almost certainly meant that he wasn’t alone, but the wrong wording only added to the absurdity of the situation.
The king stared after him, wishing that he had any subordinates at all who could go in his place. Living alone had its benefits until you had to do all the dirty work yourself. Dealing with people, that was. He was quite willing to dirty his hands in battle, but talking had never been his strong point. He was quite alone in Zephon though, which meant Barnabas had to chase after him himself. He had a feeling this conversation would be a painful one.
Steeling himself, Barnabas strode forward and did his best to catch up to the man before he could vanish into the temple’s courtyard. “Stop,” he called out as he reached the top of the steps. The armored man was below him and currently level with the statues of this world’s eikons. Barnabas itched to just call his sword and take the answers he wanted, but they were in a heavily populated area. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile until he had talked to Kuja again, so hopefully they could keep this civil.
“You have been granted undeath, yet you retain the burden of your own will,” he stated, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of that. Perhaps it was something unique to this world. Kuja had told him to forget the rules of Valisthea after all. “How is that possible? I don’t suppose that you’re a dominant. Whatever relation you claim to Shiva.”
[attr=class,bulk] The inside of the temple was crowded, which was to be expected if it was a national holiday. Barnabas carefully made his way to the edge of the throng of people, since he didn’t particularly like being stuck in a crowd. Truthfully he didn’t much enjoy dealing with people at all unless it was on a battlefield, but he didn’t have a choice now that he was on his own again. Gathering information would have been so much easier if he'd still been able to call on Sleipnir, but creating an egi seemed to be beyond him now that he’d given his powers to Mythos. After more than half a century of the commander’s company, it was oddly quiet without him.
There were inscriptions alongside the murals that dotted the temple walls, but unfortunately the writing seemed to be native to Zephon and Barnabas couldn’t decipher it at all. He turned his attention to the paintings instead. A man in full armor stood between him and the closest mural, but he was strangely short. Over his head, the king was easily able to make out the pattern of a horned eikon cloaked in fire. The figure was different enough from Valisthea that Barnabas had barely taken a glance at one of its statues outside, but now he was witnessing their god in full color. The king felt himself grow still in recognition just as the man in front of him uttered the name Ifrit.
“Pardon,” Barnabas stepped up to the armored man’s side, though he kept his feverish gaze on the mural. “The beliefs of this city are new to me, but you mentioned Ifrit. Does that mean the eikon has been seen in this region?” The possibilities were endless. Perhaps Mythos had been led to Zephon as well, or the people here knew of Ultima’s true form. Either way, Barnabas was exactly where god had meant him to be. He only felt ashamed that he had ever doubted why he had awoken in a strange land. Clearly Ultima had great designs for this place.
For the first time he actually looked down at the shorter man next to him, and for once Barnabas found himself speechless out of sheer confusion. Most of the stranger’s face was hidden by his helm and his long bushy beard, and the rest consisted of some kind of fake nose and mustache attached to a pair of frames. Even more disconcerting, Barnabas was close enough to see that there didn’t appear to be eyes behind the glass so much as empty dark sockets.
“...What exactly are you?” Perhaps that wasn’t the most eloquent question when he’d been looking to learn more about Aljana and Ifrit, but he was honestly curious. He would have thought the man was akashic if he hadn't heard him speak. Only dominants could become akashic and still retain that much of their will.
[attr=class,bulk] As Kuja had promised, he did indeed lead Barnabas to the large desert city of Aljana. It stretched up in the distance, looking much as the cities of Dhalmekia had. An oasis in an otherwise unforgivable desert. It had been only half a day’s journey on the back of the chocobo he had taken, but the heat still left the king thoroughly exhausted by the time he crossed the gates into the city proper. While Barnabas did plan to speak with Kuja more, the arms dealer had mentioned that he had business to attend to first. That left him with time to learn more about the land where he’d found himself.
It had been a long time since Barnabas had to act carefully in a new city. Not since the days of Veldermarke’s rule had he entered somewhere so meekly, yet what he needed most from Aljana was information. He wasn’t here as a conquering force. At least not yet. That would have been foolish before he had any resources to speak of. He wasn’t even confident that he could still fully prime into Odin after giving his power to Mythos. Barnabas truly was starting from scratch again as he had when he was a boy. No, he was worse off than that even. At least then he’d had the survivors of the Circle of Malius and the newly created Sleipnir. Now he had little save the blade of Odin.
That should serve him well enough at least.
After stopping to let his chocobo drink at the river that ran through the city, Barnabas asked for directions to the market street. He had hoped to purchase some supplies with the small amount of money in the bags strapped to the chocobo that he’d taken, but as he unfortunately learned, most businesses were closed this week. "Hariq Rami,” they’d called it. A week long fast spent in celebration of the gods. Nothing else could have so quickly earned the king’s approval. Even if they worshiped false gods, it at least appeared that the city of Aljana had its priorities straight. They knew their place in the world and who shaped their destinies. They were already better than the majority of the cities in Valisthea.
Since shopping was out of the question, Barnabas stabled his new chocobo for a nominal fee and made for the Temple of the Gods instead. Perhaps he’d feel something of Ultima there. If nothing else, he might learn more about this place. It appeared to be a simple building with statues in the courtyard being the only thing depicting its importance. Barnabas inspected the images of their gods closely, sighing as he found no sign of Ultima among them. He hadn’t really expected it, but it was still disappointing to recognize nothing from his homeland. Perhaps the inside of the temple would yield more results. Turning away from the statues, Barnabas pushed open the tall double doors and strode in. Perhaps they’d have some special ceremonies going on for their holiday.
[attr=class,bulk] The silver-haired man acknowledged that he too had been on the verge of death when he’d been brought to Zephon. He also reiterated that it had taken him lots of time to discover what was happening, but now here he stood. A convenient fountain of knowledge. That was laying it on a bit thick in the king’s opinion, but the man wasn’t wrong that Barnabas didn’t have many other options. Regardless, the stranger didn’t seem like a bad choice to rely upon at first. He almost certainly wanted something from Barnabas, but the king had put up with plenty of people trying to curry his favor before, ranging from Benedikta to Dhalmekia’s council. One more on the pile when he badly needed direction couldn’t hurt. Besides, the man hadn’t appeared to bat an eye at the murdered traders behind them. It could be hard to find human allies so willing to overlook atrocities. Perhaps he could prove to be useful in return.
The stranger went on to explain that his magic was his own and that it originated from his soul. That was such an impossible answer that Barnabas was rendered a little speechless. He wished Sleipnir were here to interpret his questions before he even had to ask them, but as it was, he was left to struggle with human interaction on his own. “Such a thing is possible without a hand from the divine?” All magic stemmed from Ultima, even if it was indirectly through the crystals. To hear that other places operated differently was…troubling. Magic couldn’t truly originate from humanity itself, could it? The possibility scratched at a corner of his mind uncomfortably until he did his best to compartmentalize that off. He could examine that thought more and why it bothered him later.
The man offered to lead him directly to the city of Aljana where they could talk more. It sounded like a long journey even by chocobo—far enough away that Barnabas certainly needed the help, so he didn’t waste any time in agreeing. “I assume you aren’t difficult to find unless dragons frequent the city.” Not impossible considering the empire of Sanbreque, but he couldn’t make any assumptions about this place being similar to Valisthea. “Thank you. I wouldn’t relish being lost in the desert.”
The man finally introduced himself as Kuja, and what a collection of professions came with the name. “You’re very well-traveled for someone your age,” he commented with a small chuckle before giving his own introduction. “Barnabas Tharmr. Dominant of Odin and King of Waloed. Though it appears I’ll be starting from scratch on that front.” The idea was more of a relief than it perhaps should have been.
[attr=class,bulk] The man had apparently never heard of Valisthea before, though his eyes gleamed with interest at the name. A scholar perhaps, but Barnabas was far more distracted by the implication that the twins were unheard of here. “I see I’ve traveled further than intended if it isn’t on your maps,” he said slowly, but the man finally deigned to provide him with some answers as he swept a hand out at the desert that surrounded them.
Barnabas listened closely, his brow furrowing as he made sure to take in every detail. Eventually he let out a chuckle, pressing one hand to his forehead as he wondered how it had come to this. Was this his punishment for taking the fight with Mythos too far against the lord’s wishes? Ultima had tried to reign him in, and for the first time he had ignored the order. Maybe that was why he had been denied paradise.
“You’re either telling the truth or completely mad, and I can’t discount either,” he said finally, dropping his hand to consider the feminine man again. “I have to assume the first for now.” It wasn’t a pleasant thing to be stuck in a new land yet again. He had conquered a continent before, but he’d had the double advantage of loyal armies and his full prime state. Here on this “Zephon.” he was alone without so much as Sleipnir, and it was hard to say if he would still be able to transform into Odin or not when he’d willingly given his magic to Clive. Evidently he still had enough to call on his sword and some amount of darkness, but it would take time and experimentation to see how much else he could still do.
“Then you were brought from a different place as well?” Barnabas was ready to ask questions now that he’d taken a moment to reflect. “You say you don’t know what makes people converge in this place, but why is it that it seems to have revived me? Scarcely a moment ago I was on the brink of death.” If this stranger didn’t have a satisfactory answer, then Barnabas would have to assume it was Ultima, but he wanted to see what he could provide first.
The man denied that he was Leviathan by saying that the laws of the universe as Barnabas understood them did not in fact apply here. That…was actually fascinating. The king felt his eyes alight with more curiosity than he’d felt in a long time. Especially when he wasn’t in battle. Whether or not he was stuck in a strange land, this was something new. Something he could explore again. It was far from paradise, but perhaps it also wasn’t the punishment that he’d first thought. Thirty years of apathy were starting to flake off, one question at a time.
“Then you can use magic without being bound to an eikon.” He looked the man over with more interest, once again seeing no evidence of the curse. “And you suffer no ill effects?”
[attr=class,bulk] The man seemed amused at Barnabas’ assumption that he was a dragoon. So much that he was almost shaking with silent laughter. The king quirked an eyebrow at the display, feeling that he was missing a joke the man was having with himself. There wasn’t anything funny about his guess that he could see, and he was quick to try to clear that up. “You’ve tamed a dragon and conquered the skies. What would you call yourself if not a dragoon?”
When Barnabas asked what the cost would be for his information, the man gave him a smile that spelled danger. It reminded him a little of the one that Sleipnir wore whenever they hosted a delegation at Stonehyr. A bit too playful for his liking. When he responded though, it was to answer that he simply wished to gain the king’s favor.
“Ah.” It was Barnabas’ turn to chuckle as he reevaluated the comparisons he’d been making in his head. It wasn’t Sleipnir that the man resembled so much as Benedikta. They had used each other up until her death, so he couldn’t say that he wasn’t familiar with such arrangements. “A small price to pay.” His favor meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Unlike the affections of the lord.
“And you needn’t worry,” he commented as the silver-haired man directed his attention towards the men he’d killed. “They merely had what I needed.” He idly stroked the plumage of the chocobo he’d taken as he spoke. Of course, no one would be spared once god cleansed the lands, but Barnabas had been patient for this long. He could wait longer. Especially since he hadn’t yet been given leave to rest.
The man offered him insight on the desert that they were currently in, making Barnabas frown as he mulled that over. Something that large surely outstripped Dhalmekia. Not to mention that the republic had small settlements all over the place. They gathered near water like moths to a flame. It was the description of the desert reaching the northern shores that troubled him the most though. The man could have been lying in order to force Barnabas to pause, but somehow he didn’t think so.
“We aren’t on Valisthea,” he finally broached slowly. It wasn’t a completely foreign possibility. Barnabas himself had been born on the shores of a southern land, though the memories of his childhood there were cloudy at best. “What is this place then?” Clearly the lord had wanted him to be here, but why? What use did Ultima have for him outside of the twins?
Before he could dwell on that thought for too long, the man showed off his magical ability in a display that was clearly built to impress. Water droplets rained down on the pair of them, and Barnabas held out a hand in surprise as water pooled in the center of his palm. The man didn’t have any visible signs of the curse on him, and he was exposing quite a bit of skin. That didn’t necessarily mean anything when he was so young, and yet his choice of spell was curious...
“Is magic common here so far from the crystals?” Barnabas lowered his hand and offered the man a faint upturn of his lips. “Or do I have the honor of addressing Leviathan the Lost?”
[attr=class,bulk] Barnabas managed to collect and soothe the other two chocobos, but he had just started down the road when someone else was suddenly in their path. The bird that he was riding reared up in surprise, and the king had to quickly calm it with a hand on its neck. The poor creature was having a trying day. He would have to pick up some gysahl greens for his new mount when he had a chance.
The stranger announced that whoever he had just killed had been telling the truth, but Barnabas was currently more interested in looking him over to see what information he could glean. There had been no one else close by when the three men had approached, he was positive of that. Which meant that unlike the others, this man warranted caution. His silver hair would have been foreign enough, but the way he was dressed demanded attention. Truthfully he resembled Sleipnir enough that it was a little uncanny, but Barnabas quickly waved that theory aside. Even if he had accidentally changed his egi’s form, he still would have felt something upon his creation, and there had been nothing. No, the king was quite alone here. Wherever here happened to be, considering the man’s words. Less of what he said, and more of how he said it. He spoke with neither the lilting accent of Ash or the smoother tones of Storm. Now that was interesting.
A sudden movement from above attracted Barnabas’ attention, and he raised a brow at the sight of a silver dragon circling the pair of them overhead. Ah. That explained the man’s sudden appearance.
“It’s a strange dragoon who has no need of a spear,” he commented slowly. “And that wretch? I assure you that I’m quite familiar with the layout of Dhalmekia ever since our alliance was struck a decade ago. I’ve yet to hear of an Aljana.” It had been an alliance of pure convenience of course. It hadn’t saved them when the time had come. Not that many even deserved salvation with the way humans turned their backs on the lord. Barnabas had worked tirelessly to change that, and still his time to rest had not come. But perhaps this stranger was Ultima’s way of steering him towards his next task. God sometimes worked indirectly when he was indisposed, and he must have had his hands full with Mythos right now.
The man was offering information, and Barnabas thought for a moment before he gripped the reins and climbed off the chocobo’s back again. His boots sank down into the sand, reminding him that it was blindingly hot. It was only by the grace of god that he hadn’t woken up here in his full armor at least.
“And what would the price be for such information?” Perhaps seventy years ago he wouldn’t have looked a gift horse in the mouth, but he was too weary with humans and their machinations to think that the man was offering out of charity.
