Chapter Text
This damned fire isn’t doing a godsdamned thing; you’d think they’d be better at building them out here!
Rysk was miserable. She stood with her back as close to the Intercessory’s fireplace as possible without catching her tunic on fire. She switched between furiously rubbing her hands together and trying vainly to press the heat into her frozen face, suppressing shivers all the while. At least on the Ocean's Howl they knew how to use braziers to keep folks from dying of hypothermia...
Haurchefant Greystone chuckled. “Alas, I was not able to retrieve hot chocolates from the kitchens for this meeting. But I promise we shall have them next time!” He smiled his warm smile.
Not warm enough to get the chill out of here...
Rysk shrugged, downplaying her discomfort. “No need for all that. Hate to put the cooks out on short notiice."
She glanced at Alphinaud, who was pacing briskly back and forth, murmuring possible arguments to himself. Rysk hoped Alphinaud knew what he was doing. She never had the chance to do proper scholarly school like he had, and this whole Eorzean Alliance dream was hinging on Alphinaud’s diplomatic skills. Rysk was charismatic (ish) , not diplomatic . She didn’t even want to be here, meeting some stuffy old pencil-pushing “lord commander”–what an arrogant title–to talk treaties and alliances and contracts and the like. She said as much when Alphinaud asked her to come, but he insisted her reputation would be “invaluable.”
What does invaluable even mean? she fumed to herself. Sounds like it doesn’t have much value at all. But here we are anyway.
Rysk realized her armored foot was tapping loudly on the stone floor and quickly shifted her weight, silencing it. She let out a deep sigh.
“Have faith, my friend.” Haurchefant pressed his hand onto her shoulder. It was somewhat reassuring. “You need only state your case with confidence and clarity.”
“I hope I won’t be statin’ anything , case-wise,” Rysk laughed nervously. “I’m really not-”
She was cut off by the sound of the door opening. A tall Ishgardian lady knight walked in and stepped aside for a dark-haired Elezen man in half plate and ornate blue and gold robes. As Haurchefant and Alphinaud moved to greet the newcomers, Rysk was momentarily dumbstruck.
Nobody told me the Lord Commander was HOT! Rysk panicked. Her usual bravado chose now to begin a game of hide and seek.
Ser Aymeric de Borel, the elezen standing before her, was gorgeous, to put it simply. He was far younger than Rysk had expected, but clearly not a greenhorn. His armor was beautifully kept, and obviously well-used. His voice was smooth and calm as Rysk’s most peaceful days on the Empty. His wavy black hair fell just out of the way of his piercing blue eyes, and his eyes! Were his eyes sparkling? Was that a thing eyes could actually do?
“-Does it not?” Ser Aymeric asked, looking to Rysk. She had not been listening. There was a moment of silence, and the woman beside the Lord Commander graciously cut in.
“It does indeed, Lord Commander.”
What does, indeed? Rysk thought frantically.
“I am not too proud to admit,” Ser Aymeric said, “that I have followed your activities with an interest bordering on fascination. Full glad was I to learn that you would be joining us.” He bowed in greeting. “Ser Aymeric de Borel, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard. It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Something about this man’s tone rang with sincerity, and Rysk found herself instantly at ease. She grinned her crooked grin and offered a handshake instead, a small part of her hoping to throw him off his step just a little–to see what he would do. Ser Aymeric easily switched gears and took Rysk’s hand - Gods, his hands are warm! “Rysk Lawliet, at your service,” and, with added theatrical formality, “Lord Commander.”
Maybe I can do this!
“Now then,” Ser Aymeric moved toward the large meeting table, “shall we begin?”
* * *
I cannot do this , Rysk thought.
As soon as the meeting began, something shifted in Ser Aymeric. He became more formal, somehow stiff and almost unpleasant. The talk was convoluted and boring. After she struggled to stay engaged in a solid half hour of exhaustive exchanges between Alphinaud and Ser Aymeric, the Lord Commander “respectfully disagreed” to Alphinaud’s proposal. Rysk almost lost it. The Lord Commander gave an extensive, albeit somewhat logical, list of reasons why Ishgard would not join the Eorzean Alliance.
All of this just to say this meeting was a waste of our godsdamned time so the little Lord Commander could take a field trip! Rysk fumed. These lordlings never consider anyone but themselves. This could have been a letter and saved us all the trouble.
Rysk leaned forward, ready to say as much to this unfortunately attractive Lord Shithead. Thankfully Alphinaud spoke up first.
“Forgive me, but if Ishgard’s position has not changed,” he demanded, “why did you agree to this meeting?”
"Thank you!" Rysk threw her hands up in agreement, flinging her weight back into her chair.
Something shifted then. The tension Ser Aymeric seemed to hold from the moment he took his seat started to melt. The confident ease of their introductions returned, and he smiled. It was disorienting to Rysk to watch the Lord Commander's cold demeanour melt away before her.
He explained that while he could not commit Ishgard to joining the Alliance as hoped, he could use his influence to at least support House Fortemps’ efforts in Revenant’s Toll. It was not the ultimate goal, but it was a boon nonetheless, and one Alphinaud desperately needed.
All right , Rysk thought, chewing on the inside of her lip. Hands tied and all. Sounds like the First Mate doesn't agree with the Captain. I wonder what they call their Admiral in Ishgard. Something church-esque, if I recall…
“...I require something in exchange,” Ser Aymeric was saying to Haurchefant. That caught Rysk’s ear, and she and Alphinaud were immediately tense.
The Lord Commander continued. “Of late there has been a flurry of Dravanian activity, the purpose of which was not immediately clear. However, our astrologians have since observed alarming changes in the heavens…the Dragon Star waxes unnaturally bright, and there are whispers that it portends the resurrection of Midgardsormr.”
For the first time in this meeting, Rysk was giving her undivided attention, leaning forward in her seat to listen. A nearly mythical dragon resurrection? This was her jam . This was the best possible result of a stuffy diplomatic rendezvous.
“The fallen guardian of Silvertear Falls? That’s absurd” Alphinaud interjected.
Rysk shushed him impatiently, leaning in toward Ser Aymeric.
“Full many times have I gazed upon the dragon’s corpse, still wound around the Agrius , and wondered how different our world might be if he yet lived to plague the skies,” Aymeric reflected, a heavy weight in his brilliant eyes. “I do not know, and I do not wish to know. Nor does any son of Ishgard. Yet the mere presence of Dravanian forces is not sufficient grounds to send knights to Mor Dhona, whatever our astrologians say. As I told you before, we have not the forces to spare.”
Alphinaud caught on. “But we do!” he said. “So you will intervene on our behalf if we agree to watch over the Keeper of the Lake.”
“Oh hells yes!” Rysk was beaming. A dragon. A dragon! Just the thought of facing off against one of the most ancient, dangerous creatures in creation was enough to keep her going for weeks. And even if nothing came of it, babysitting a dragon corpse in exchange for provisions for all of those refugees was the easiest deal she could imagine.
“Do you accept these terms?” Ser Aymeric offered. Was he smiling at her?
“We do,” Rysk stood up, hand out to shake the Ser Aymeric’s.
Alphinaud cut in, “I will see that you are kept abreast of any developments.”
Rysk flopped back into her seat as Alphinaud dove into long-winded formalities with the Lord Commander.
Those formalities were cut short by a messenger nearly breaking down the door.
“The caravan, my lord!” he said, breathless, to Haurchefant, “it’s been attacked! It was Iceheart , my lord!”
The small gathering exploded into motion.
Rysk would have to have her own formalities with Ser Aymeric another time.