The Hollow Road (Between Djose and Rabao)

[Bharune]

[[A continuation of Familiar Sights [Djose Temple] ]]

As the reluctant summoner and stigmatized mage left the twisting roads of Djose, Lucien summarized the events that had led up to him seeking out someone capable of performing a Sending.

Nearly a week ago, he’d arrived at Rabao from Deling City with every intention of investigating Djose Temple, and had spent the night comfortably at an inn near the port. Before he left Rabao, though, an older Galkan merchant he’d spent some time with during the voyage sought him out and begged him to aid in the search of his adopted hume daughter, who’d gone missing several days prior to the man’s return, likely exploring the surrounding stretch of uninhabited land. The merchant received a ransom letter from a gang of thieves and scavengers for an exorbitant fee that he could not pay and, being new to the city of Rabao, failed to raise the sympathies of the fellow residents enough to meet the price. The small militia was also reluctant to get involved, having their hands amply occupied with the increased ferocity of energy-sensitive fiends and wary of the potential cost of warring with the scavengers.

Lucien, who was not in any rush to Djose and secretly appreciative of the Galka’s company, agreed to scout out the location of the encampment, suspected to be buried in the dense forest south of the port. Despite the Galka’s insistence that he accompany the mage, Lucien reasoned that he could travel much more quickly and discreetly without the decrepit hulk, possibly retrieving the girl using stealth. The Galka didn’t question his ability to achieve this end.

But it was quickly rendered unnecessary, as Lucien was met with blood and death when he discovered the encampment. The work of a pack of fiends, from the look of the leftovers – bodies ripped apart and partially devoured. It was odd, since there were no tribal fiends of such a dangerous disposition and ability in the area, but the nature of the destruction was of little concern to Lucien. He found the young woman’s body and took a memento of hers back to the merchant, who was understandably devastated. Both the beloved lady and the majority of the thieves were of Spiran origin, so the Galka made the final request of Lucien to seek a summoner during his visit to Djose.

It didn’t matter to the redhead whether or not Rheis believed his story, nor did he attempt to convince him or present any corroborating evidence – the summoner would assume as he assumed, it made little difference.

After a mere few hours of travel down the road that sliced the forest and would, eventually, break into dry wilderness, the deep sun had already started swathing the sky in fiery hues. Much of the journey was conducted in silence, but even though Lucien didn’t feel the need to fill that emptiness with banter he didn’t refrain from posing the occasional question, usually about local flora and fauna. Such inquiries were most often preceded and succeeded by a thoughtful stretch broken only by the chirruping of insects and flittering birds, but once in awhile Lucien verbalized a subsidiary train of thought or sly comment before leaving Rheis in peace once again. The redhead, accustomed to long periods of solitude, had no difficulty in entertaining himself and never once complained of fatigue or boredom.

He was never bored, far too enraptured in his observations of the environment. His hardened, cryptic cynicism gradually faded more and more as time elapsed, leaving behind a disposition that was unusually receptive and insatiably curious. While these traits didn’t display on his features as obviously or as enthusiastically as a child’s, the openness with which he watched everything that captured those red orbs suggested an oddly similar characteristic. More than once he stopped to examine a colony of mushrooms (“Do you suppose these are toxic?”) or to follow a large lizard briefly out of sight (“Sharp dermal spines provide posterior protection, yet movements are flexible…”) or to study the weave of a discarded bird’s nest. Even at the dullest of sections Lucien found plenty worth observing, proving that nothing was mundane to the young mage – one might even suspect him of having never been outdoors before, but that wasn’t the case. He never travelled far from Rheis, though, nor did he ask Rheis to wait or slow down.

Any and all traces of this puerile, receptive nature disappeared as soon as that smirk touched his lips. No matter how faint, it subtly altered his features into something else entirely, evoking the profound and enigmatic disposition he had displayed earlier. This harder demeanor was used to meet any traveler they happened across, dissipating only with the return of the near-solitude Rheis’ company provided. Even with the cynicism that often tainted his perception, he didn’t move with the same weight as the summoner, as if there was nothing he regretted, nothing that pained or shamed or haunted him.

Once, they encountered a couple of territorial basilisks that had strayed to the road, but the beasts were quickly dispatched by the able pair. Despite all indications of being a mage, Lucien did not use his magic, relying on physical prowess regardless of the added danger. He didn’t reveal any additional abilities, nor did he speak of them, and he didn’t ask Rheis any potentially invasive questions about his own ability or religious creed. Even during their passing conversations, Lucien remained sensitive to the smallest shift in the summoner’s disposition, discarding any pursuit that caused him to harden.

Lucien liked Rheis, though this was not as difficult to achieve as most were inclined to believe. He didn’t expect Rheis would like him, but that didn’t matter. Most people didn’t – he was too different, too off-putting. Even before the branding by Ark, most shied away from him, deterred by how easily he dissected with his gaze and commanded confidence with his posture. Those who were attracted to him were often trouble, rising to some unspoken challenge initiated by his indomitable attitude. But, in the barest of truths, Lucien Serbanescu did not like solitude, and rarely did he choose it when an alternative was available.

“Night is rising quickly,” the mage remarked from Rheis’ side, keeping ever closer to the summoner’s steps as the darkness continued to deepen. “Luckily for us, I do believe the light ahead marks the warmth of an accommodating inn.”

He gestured towards the distance, where a small glow broke the trees, offset from the road a short way.

“It wouldn’t be prudent to travel the forest after nightfall, especially if whatever slaughtered the thieves happens to be feral rather than leashed.”

He laughed softly, the light sound passing from his lips and disappearing into the dusk chill.

“And I admit, my own vision suffers in poor light, even moreso than the average hume. We’re not far now; we can easily make it by mid-morning if you’re an early riser, as I suspect you are.”

He glanced at the taller man, offering that subtle curve of his lips. “I found the hosts to be cold and unwelcoming on my earlier travel through this region, but I’m sure the beds are clean and the water cool, at the very least.”

[Griever]

It was good to leave the constricting familiarity of Djose behind. There was a marked change in Rheis as the earth beneath their feet gradually softened, abandoning the ashen hues and rocky texture of the Spiran soil and marking the passage into unfamiliar territory; unconsciously, his tense, guarded manner eased a little, as though he had been suddenly freed from some unwelcome burden. He didn't return Lucien's openness, nor did he comment on or seem to pay much heed to his frequent observations, but whenever the redhead strayed from the path, he slowed his pace until he had returned. The travel was quiet, and he offered little but his companionship, but that seemed to be all the mage required.

Despite their brief fiend confrontation, Rheis didn't bring forth his aeon again, keeping to his blade and his own physical strength. Whatever abilities he may have possessed, he was still much more Crusader than summoner, holding the soldier's practicality over a conviction he didn't have. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure what it meant to be a summoner in this age, with Sin dead four years now and all the principles of Yevon shattered. Not the long and somber pilgrimage to Zanarkand, nor the Final Summoning, with a clear and final end to the journey firmly in sight. Whatever the Fayth's plan, he had no intention of turning the calling of aeons into a spectacle for all to see, when it was irrevocably tied in the minds of the people to the horrors of Sin. Spira didn't need that kind of fear again.

It was those thoughts that drove him away from conversation, not a deliberate withdrawal from the mage's presence. The swirl of countless questions in his head when there were no answers for them, the lack of guidance or destination. There was no way of knowing what it had meant to accept the summoner's burden again, and all he could do, now, was to go forward carrying it, to wherever the Fayth had chosen for him.

Though dusk had been falling over their path for some time, lost in his thoughts, Rheis didn't notice the deepening darkness until Lucien brought it to his attention. He lifted his eyes toward the light the other had indicated, not far ahead, now - he wondered, briefly, how he hadn't noticed it sooner - but made no remark on it. Something about the following comment had struck him as odd, and it was only after a moment of turning it over in his mind that he was able to register just what it was. If it happens to be feral, rather than leashed...his brow furrowed, troubled, as he finally turned his full attention to the redhead.

"You think the attack was deliberate?"

Lucien hadn't said as much, but something about the tone seemed to suggest it. Perhaps he was just overthinking things, with everything else laying heavy on his mind, but...he was glad that they were to stop for the night, suddenly, though alone he would've traveled some distance on before pausing. Not for fear of what may have come upon them, but for the chance to question the owners of the inn, to find if there was any basis to the thought. At the very least, it would offer some insight as to what had happened.

"For what purpose? If the thieves had anything of value, they wouldn't have requested money for the girl." Unless she was the target, but...that made little sense.

"In any case, we should be on our guard. Fiend attack or no, I don't want to be caught unprepared by anything."

[Bharune]

"You think the attack was deliberate?"

“You don’t?”

Lucien smiled that small, mystifying smile, just as he’d smiled it in Djose, as if he could see things others could not. It was a subtle expression, one capable of alluring or infuriating his company, but the impish look to his eyes and relaxed nonchalance gave him a sense of smugness not entirely intentional. His aim wasn’t to seem condescending -- especially towards someone like Rheis who undoubtedly knew things his own young mind had yet to ponder – but his atmosphere of uncanny knowing had served him too well during recent years to discard. He inhaled a breath of darkened air, thinking before he spoke, momentarily choosing to listen rather than explain. When Rheis was finished, he allowed a pause, drawing something from his pocket. It was a palm-sized ball of shredded wood and organic matter so tightly condensed that it seemed perfectly solid, and he passed it back and forth between his hands absently.

“Purposes are as varied as the creatures creating them,” the redheaded mage remarked finally, considering the scenario even as he worked his ideas into words. Lucien often reaped concepts without thinking them through entirely, so verbalizing his conclusion was a backwards game of logic – he understood the outcome, but how had he known? In this particular case, it hadn’t occurred to Lucien that a deliberate attack was not as equally probable as a tragedy of nature, so having his rationality called into question required some weaving to understand, much less explain. No, he didn’t know what the purpose would be, but the motivations of sentient creatures were often shrouded, especially if dictated by emotion rather than logic.

“I know little of this country or this world,” Lucien began, his attention divided between his thoughts, his words, and the ball he played with. His eyes often diverted from Rheis to survey the source of a sound or peripheral movement – more out of interest than paranoia – only to glance back towards the summoner a second later as if he possessed a comparable amount of intrigue as whatever lurked the unknown.

“But I know something of criminals, and I know something of monsters. I know I was able to find this encampment of thieves on the outskirts of the region quite easily, where they’ve existed comfortably for some time,” he mused as they progressed, his steps just a second behind the larger Crusader’s. His hands paused with the ball, two fingers pushing against the compacted material, and though it had seemed hard at first it suddenly gave beneath the pressure with the malleability of clay. “Already this suggests formidability, as Rabao’s militia would’ve routed them at the first sign of trouble if not for fear of some repercussion. Formidable vagabonds…either especially strong or intelligent or numerous – or, if we’re really unlucky, some combination of the three.”

Deft fingers worked the compliant substance into a vaguely quadrupedal shape, more for something to occupy his restless fingers than any real desire to illustrate his point. It gave him something to do, something to watch as he verbalized his ideas, though his cautious gaze darted frequently to the path to avoid tripping, seeming to corroborate the complaint that his sight suffered in poor light.

“But if we’re playing the ransom game, we’re likely dealing with few, but shrewd. Yet their haven is not well-hidden, meaning someone with power in Rabao is either affiliated or enslaved by them, earning the rogues some kind of amnesty. With this inference, we move past typical craftiness and into the realm of intelligent manipulation, and I know that intelligent felons do not establish fortifications that can be penetrated or destroyed by local threats. I also know of another thing intelligent felons do not do.”

His tone was informative, but the edges of amusement slipped in to flavor his information. He enjoyed this, the deduction and inferring required for drawing logical conclusions, and sharing the moment with a companion only added to the extravert’s satisfaction. His entire life his power over others had been practically nonexistent, and this was one area he excelled at, allowing him the same swell of victory as a warrior felling a fiend. He relished the small sliver of a feeling that he had gained something worthwhile from struggles, something other than the unconscious sensuality that enveloped his movements.

“Intelligent felons do not kidnap young women with no monetary value,” the redhead stated with certainty. There was little profit in beggars’ daughters. “Meaning…the ransom was a cover for some other purpose. Judging by the meagerness of her worth and the state of her corpse – which I only briefly glimpsed -- I suspect this purpose was nothing more than carnal pleasure. Now we have intelligent felons with enough audacity to play for fun.”

Lucien paused again, momentarily distracted by the sound of his own voice as it faded away. He wasn’t used to speaking so much, he realized, and it felt odd. Most didn’t listen to his words, not caring what he had to say. The few who did care – such as his usual companion – shared exchanges with him silently, through nonverbal cues and touches. He wondered why Rheis was different, that Lucien opened his mouth and his thoughts spilled out, despite the summoner having never indicated any great interest in him.

They shared some similarity, Lucien felt; some great secret. But what could two creatures so different possibly have in common? This puzzle baffled the redhead so thoroughly that when he remembered he had yet to conclude his monologue, he resumed in a softer, toneless voice, suddenly having lost all interest in the topic. He regarded the summoner’s profile, trying to see something deep in his expressionless façade, trying to understand what common thread the other shared with him.

“Hurting something always has the blacklash of wounding anyone connected to it,” Lucien murmured distractedly, barely thinking of his sentences. “I sensed emotion in the destruction left behind. Need. Something powerful and compelling.”

He had felt it in the ripped bodies and devoured shelter.

As they neared the inn, the wafting din of the few patrons dining inside caught Lucien’s attention, snapping his focus from Rheis to the wooden establishment. His tensed slightly at the thought of entering the company of even a small crowd, and finished up his explanation in a slightly colder voice.

“Starvation compels fiends, and we’ve witnessed no lack of food sources in the wilderness today,” he finished quietly, closing his hand around whatever he’d been creating and slipping it back into his pocket. He stepped ahead of Rheis, ascending the small steps to open the door, where he paused and held it for the summoner. As he waited, his eyes drifted to the steps, where a small beetle scurried across the wood, climbing up the incline just as he had done and scuttling quickly into the glow of the inn. Lucien found it funny that the insect eagerly sought haven with the humans who would likely smash it at the first chance.

And it was that thought that made him realized the source of the kinship he felt with Rheis. Again, without thinking about it, the words leapt from his mind to his lips to the air.

“We are alike, Summoner Rheis,” he remarked quietly, not wishing to be overheard, and lifted his eyes from the floor to the older male. “For neither of us know what we are, or what we should be.”