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Izou let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he pushed open the double doors of the Congregation. What with the Warriors of Darkness, finding Thancred in the Dravanian wilderness, and Vidofnir’s acceptance of Ser Aymeric’s invitation, the fact that the trip back to Ishgard had been uneventful was a blessing in of itself.
“You have returned! In this at least the fates are kind” Lucia exclaimed. Hilda stood beside her, greeting him and the other Scions with a nod.
“Greetings, first commander. It pleases me to inform you that Vidofnir has accepted Ser Aymeric’s invitation” Alphinaud said, enthusiasm coloring his voice.
“She has?! These are glad tidings indeed…” she said, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise before turning down and away. “Would that the lord commander were here to hear them.”
A twinge of concern nipped at Izou but he shook it off. There was no reason for him to be worried. The lord commander was a man of many obligations. He would walk through those same doors in but mere moments, apologizing for his tardiness upon seeing their assembly.
“Ah, is he otherwise engaged?” Alphinaud asked.
“Aye— sleeping off a knife to the gut” Hilda chimed in, her grim expression a stark contrast to her otherwise chipper tone.
For but a moment, the Warrior of Light froze where he stood. The rest of their conversation went unheard, their voices replaced by the overpowering sound of his own quickened heartbeat. A familiar scene played out before him, one that haunted his sleeping and waking hours alike.
He was fumbling in the dark, searching desperately for the warmth of Haurchefant’s presence. What greeted Izou in the unrelenting shadows was neither the familiar hands that once held his own so tenderly nor was it the reassuring voice that could soothe every frayed nerve in his body. No, what greeted him was naught but the mocking voice of Zephirin at his ear.
“Oh, how curious it is, vaunted hero, that you seek Lord Haurchefant…”
“Get away from m—”
“...Or have you already forgotten that you were the one who killed him?”
Izou looked down and nearly retched at the sight. His hands were coated in blood, his own katana impaled through Haurchefant’s chest.
Please, no. He had already lost Haurchefant. The thought of losing yet another trusted ally, another friend like Ser Aymeric was too much to bear.
“Is… is he alright?” he asked Lucia, balling his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
“The chirurgeons say he will make a full recovery with proper rest. Count Edmont is at his bedside, tending to him as we speak.”
Izou felt some of the air return to his lungs at the news. As much as he’d love to barge in to the infirmary and give the lord commander an earful, duty called him to Limsa Lominsa. So he would have to settle on having Lucia send his thanks to the count in his stead in the meantime.
Bang!
“A pleasure to—” Aymeric started, looking up as the doors to his office swung open.
“Are you out of your mind?” the Warrior of Light asked, barely-veiled rage roughening the edges of his voice.
“I beg your pardon?”
The lord commander looked at Izou in surprise, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. Had he been wrong to send a missive? Should he have waited until the Warrior of Light had returned to Ishgard to broach the subject of the peace conference? Surely, he had worded the invitation in such a manner that did not offend but mayhap—
“Bastard, who told you to get yourself stabbed?”
“Well, I—”
“You could have died. And at the Vault: what were you thinking, going to confront the True Brothers when you were still recovering? The others and I could have handled it just fine.”
While Izou’s scalding tone betrayed little but anger, the meaning of his words were clear: he had been concerned for Aymeric’s well-being, worried to the point of rage at that. Perhaps it was because of that knowledge that what rose in his chest was not shame but something else, something with a name that always seemed to elude his mind in the Warrior of Light’s presence.
“I appreciate your concern for me, my friend, in all sincerity. But I am near full recovered and trust in my confidence when I say Lucia has already given me quite an earful for my stint at the Vault not long after.”
The Mi’qote cleared his throat gruffly before speaking again, his ears twitching in embarrassment.
“Well, good. And I’ll be there, at the peace conference. Sounds like somethin’ I ought to go to anyway, being the Warrior of Light and all.”
Aymeric couldn’t help but stifle a pleased smile beneath the guise of clearing his throat.
“Lucia is at Falcon’s Nest, seeing to the final preparations as we speak. Pray, do join her at your earliest convenience. T’would not do for the guest of honor to arrive late, after all.”