Chapter Text
Smoke rose from the burning thatch, billowing out across the fields surrounding Westnon, a farming village in the provinces which had been peaceful until that morning. The storm clouds overhead finally began to disperse and the punishing rain backed off to a light drizzle. Armoured boots belonging to Imperial soldiers clunked over cobbled paths between the blackened husks of houses and shops. Every surface was slick with mud or blood and studded with the bodies of the townsfolk.
A frightened half-dozen Branded were huddled in the middle of the village square, all with chipped swords in their hands but they hung loosely now as they soaked in the horror around them. A squad of soldiers stood guard with spears pointed towards the huddle but hadn't made a move yet.
A rhythmic tapping grew louder as an Imperial spellcaster laboured up the path, using her staff as a walking stick which struck the ground with a steady tic-tic-tic. She was accompanied by a soldier bearing a captain's rank. The captain signaled to the sergeant standing at the edge of the village square. He trotted up and saluted smartly.
“The local resistance has been dealt with, sir.”
The captain turned towards the remaining villagers. “These are our insurgents?”
“Most of them, sir.”
“Line them up.”
The soldiers advanced and bullied the Branded into a line. They shivered in the rain as the spellcaster slowly paced the lineup, her eyes boring into their tear streaked faces.
“How did the attack go, Captain.”
“The spells you cast were very effective, Lady Enid. The enchanted couldn't even remember they were under your influence when we returned them to the village. They showed no hesitation in turning on their friends and cutting them down. My scouts inform me one man murdered his wife and child before rousing himself as if from a dream and calling for help. But when his neighbour ran to his aid, the bewitchment settled about him again and he killed his neighbour also.”
Lady Enid's eyes gleamed in the depths of her hood. “Fascinating. It would not do to have the enchanted realise their thoughts or actions were not their own. What else did your scouts report?”
The captain gestured along the line. “A few displayed symptoms of sickness and aggression. Some of them died a few days ago before they were able to carry out any of their orders.”
The mage pursed her lips as she mused. “Hmm how interesting—so it seems there may be a time limitation to this work. It is even more crucial if the subject has a strong will to battle the influence of the aether inside them.”
She stepped up to the first Branded in the line and pushed her crystal-tipped staff in his face. The crystal began to glow and a trickle of aether leaked out to smother his face.
“You sympathise with the Imperial Army of Sanbreque,” she commanded in a ringing voice. “All Branded are as a blight on your village. Any you see, you must slay.”
The aether sank into the man’s skin and he stood looking dazed. He hefted the sword in his hand absently.
The spellcaster turned and walked away from the village square. Behind her back, the sound of steel in flesh cut with the screams of the villagers were swallowed by the rain, and the hiss of burning buildings.
+++
Clive crept forward, keeping his belly low to the rock so he could peer over the edge down to the plateau below. A small group of soldiers rested in the shade of a boulder and judging by their armour they were more than lowly infantry. One of them at least looked to be a captain, and they had a mage with them swathed in robes. He shuffled closer and strained his hearing.
“Word about Westnon will spread quickly,” said the guard captain. “We need to target two more townships before the rumours get there to give ourselves the best chance.”
The old mage nodded. “I quite agree. My data won't be very accurate if everybody knows what to expect. It would introduce too much bias.”
Her tone soured at the word.
“Still, some good will come out of this anyway even if we should be a little slow. The people of our great nation only need to understand the danger of harbouring Branded the way they do. They'll all turn on us eventually, you’ve seen it for yourself! One little push is all they need to murder their families and burn their owners homes.”
She caressed the crystal in her staff.
“Only one push. But I must test how great a push is required to truly see how close we are to losing control over them. I need to see more. I'm sure Her Holiness Empress Annabella will agree once I show her my results as long as they are robust.”
The rest of the soldiers seemed as invested as she did. But what was she speaking about? An experiment being done on Bearers?
Clive's thoughts were interrupted by the quiet but insistent snick of a sword being drawn from its scabbard right next to his ear. He froze as the blade touched his neck and a boot appeared in his field of view.
“Don't move,” the soldier threatened, then he called down the cliff. “Captain, a spy.”
The captain looked up. “Ah, one of our own deserters. You two, bring him down here.”
Two soldiers ran back up the path. Clive heard them double back and wade through the scrub to reach the outcrop he lay upon. They drew their swords.
“On your feet.”
Clive slowly obeyed, putting his hands up and turning to face the three of them. He might be able to take them but he could see from their armour they were two privates and a sergeant. With a captain and a mage backing them up it could be dangerous for him to try. So for now he allowed himself to be marched at sword point down to the plateau until he stood face to face with the captain. The spellcaster watched him hungrily, fingers flexing on her staff.
“What is a deserter doing out here?” the captain demanded.
Clive said nothing.
“Have you been following us? Who do you work for?”
“I work only for myself. I answer to no master anymore.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Impertinent whelp. If you won't answer I shall kill you where you stand.”
Clive tensed as the captain reached for his sword. It would come down to a fight then; He should take out the spellcaster first if he could but the captain was blocking his path. Maybe the lesser soldiers behind him then—
“Wait.” The spellcaster’s voice pierced through his thoughts like a lance. She hobbled slowly from behind the captain, the glowing crystal tip of her staff wafting aether around. The luminous threads of it floated mesmerisingly towards Clive and played about his head.
“If you're going to kill him anyway he may as well die fighting for the cause. What do you say, captain?”
The captain was clearly torn but settled for not beheading Clive on the spot. He released the grip on his sword.
“Very well, go ahead.”
The spellcaster turned on him, her staff glowing brighter. The light made him woozy and he scowled to narrow his focus on her.
“You've severely disappointed our leaders by deserting your post. You must feel like such a coward. But you can make up for it now by doing one last service to the Empire.”
Her words rang in his head loud as church bells. The ground underneath him seemed to shift and Clive wobbled over, falling to his knees with a hand pressed against his heaving chest.
“All you have to do is punish other deserters like yourself. I'm sure you have allies somewhere close by, but don't you see they're unclean? If you're to be forgiven you must destroy all of them. And you want forgiveness, don't you?”
Clive nodded dumbly. It was so hard to think over the ringing in his head. Images of Rosaria and of the Hideaway flashed and mingled with each other. He saw the faces of his friends from both be consumed in flames before his eyes, imagined the bodies of Cid, Gav, and Jill piled on the Hideaway floor. This was his way out of the guilt he felt for deserting, for slaughtering Tiamat just to save a worthless Dominant.
From somewhere above him he heard someone say, “he's done. Let's move on.”
There was a rustling around him and the sound of people walking away. Everyone always left him in the end, he was the type of person who drove others away. Clive curled over on himself, pressing his forehead to the ground and breathing harshly through his teeth. He felt sick even thinking about the horrible things he did to other people he claimed to care for.
He stayed hunkered down until the ringing in his head abated and he could lift it from the dirt without the sky spinning. Slowly, Clive staggered to his feet and wiped cold sweat away from his forehead. He had a purpose again—to atone for his wrongdoings and to make sure the other Branded at the Hideaway did the same. It was only fair after all. He began walking back uphill the way he came. With every step he felt better like the air was clearing his head.
Their rendezvous point was the skeleton of a building that once upon a time had been a caravan shelter. Now it was little more than three walls and a roof to fend off the sun where Jill, Gav, and Cid waited for him in the shade.
“You took your time getting back,” Gav shouted as soon as he was close enough. “Eww, you're covered in dirt.”
Clive looked down at his dusty clothes. “Ah, sorry. I encountered a wild coeurl protecting her cubs. It was my fault really.”
Gav seemed satisfied with the explanation but he didn't miss the way Cid’s eyes lingered on his pale, sweaty face for a moment longer.
“Heartwarming. Did you encounter anything else?”
He shook his head. “Nobody. I don't think anyone's traveled this way recently.”
“Nothing to the north either,” Cid said.
“The villagers I spoke with said they noticed an increased presence of Imperial soldiers in this region,” Jill said. “They’re rumoured to be moving something important through this area.”
Gav shrugged. “I don't have anything specific but there's a rise in anti-Bearer sentiment. We'll find it harder to find places to stash them as don't want to move to the Hideaway.”
“We can't force them to come with us,” Clive said. “If they don't want to be saved they have to make that gamble.”
“Most of them are too scared, Clive,” Jill reminded him pointedly. “They don't have our abilities to fight, they believe if they obey they might spare themselves and their families further pain.”
Clive dropped his head, avoiding everyone's eyes.
He kept them down as Cid led the walk home, chatting with everyone. The sound of his voice and the assured swagger in his step began to grate on Clive's nerves. He struggled to keep his face neutral and respond to the jabs Cid flung his way. Finally the Hideaway came into view and as they entered the cave, cool shadows enveloped the group. Cid dropped back to walk next to Clive and lowered his voice.
“You alright, Clive? You've been a bit quiet. That coeurl didn't do any damage, did it?”
Clive forced a reassuring smile. “No, I'm fine. Just tired is all. Don't worry about me.”
Cid clapped him on the shoulder too hard and strolled on ahead into the hall.
“You three clean the dirt off and report to my solar in an hour to debrief.”
Gav followed him. “Actually Cid, have you got a second?”
“Of course. What's on your mind?”
“Let's speak privately.”
The pair walked away towards the stairs.
Clive watched them go. “What do you suppose Gav wants?”
Jill shrugged. “Who knows? Come on, let's get the sand out of our clothes.”
He followed her towards the living quarters anyway but it bothered him. Gav’s secrecy bothered him, Jill's nonchalant attitude bothered him, and Cid’s soul piercing looks bothered him. He sighed, it was just going to be one of those days.
+++
Clive woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night. He shot up in his bed, sweat sticking his shirt to his back and the air wheezing in his lungs. The details of his dream had already vanished leaving him with only the adrenaline making his heart beat out of his chest.
He groaned and sat up, shoved his feet into his boots and stood up. Outside the men’s bunk room the moonlight slipped through the formations of the Fallen ruins they called home. It bleached the stone and cast deep shadows underneath the archways. Clive paced through the stripes of light and dark, letting the cold night air sap the heat from his body and leave him with goosebumps.
He had to come up with some way to fulfill his mission. He couldn't tell the others, they wouldn't understand why it was so important. On his own then, and undetected, he had to find a way to bring down the Hideaway and everyone in it.
He walked slowly, relishing in time spent alone rather than being surrounded by people. He passed empty shop fronts with their wares left out and marveled that nobody had stolen anything yet. Everyone was just so damned honourable around here.
The sound of running water grew louder as he got closer to the water filtration pump. He listened to the swirling and the steady chugging of the filters turning the blightwater into something a person could live off.
Clive paused, head tilted to one side as he stared at the pump submerged in a large barrel. Blightwater trickled into the top and fresh water ran out a spigot in the bottom with a soothing tinkle. Without clean water life would be very difficult out here in the Deadlands, and it was a matter of aether too so the weaker Branded might even die if they drank too much of it. It would serve them right too for being greedy.
Clive stepped up to the water tank, rolled back his sleeve and dipped his arm below the surface. He felt around until he found the mesh on the front of the filter and summoned fire into his palm. It was hard to keep the flame from being doused but his determination paid off when the filter started to melt away. He pressed into it while the water started to bubble around his arm. After a few minutes of sustained effort the filter suddenly gave way and his hand punctured the crystal lattice in the centre leaving a fist sized hole.
Clive yanked his hand out and flung the water drops off it. The barrel was gently steaming but the hole was so far down nobody would notice until it was too late. The effort left him breathing heavily but he supposed casting spells in the Deadlands was a feat unto itself. Still, it wouldn't do to be seen here. Clive hurried away from the water processor, back through the chambers of the Hideaway and into the main hall where the moon still shone through the holes in the roof.
Soon, Joshua. I'll be coming to you soon.
“Clive?”
Jill's voice startled him.
“Jill, what are you doing awake?”
“The same thing as you, I expect.”
His heart stuttered. Did she know? No, there's no way she could know.
“The nightmares wake me up too,” she continued. “I like to look up at the stars and remember everyone.”
Clive relaxed. “I was thinking of Joshua.”
“I like to think they're all still with us.” She touched her heart.
“I think…that's a lovely thought.”
Jill's eyes shone bright in the moonlight. It was a shame she too was a Dominant for if anyone deserved to be spared what was coming it would be her.
Clive looked away with a lump in his throat.
“I'm going to try for a few more hours sleep,” he said. “Shall I walk you back to the women's quarters?”
“That's very kind but no. I'm going to stay out here a while longer.”
“Goodnight then.” He bowed slightly out of habit and left her to her thoughts.
+++
Clive woke late in the morning with a sore head. He slowly got out of bed and dressed then ventured out into the hustle. The Hideaway was too bright and too full of other Branded. He sought out the quietest corner of the tavern he could and ordered honeyed bread with apple for his breakfast. He forced it down, hoping the nausea would allow him to keep his food. Thankfully it was sweet enough and after a few minutes he began to feel better. It must be just hunger pangs, Clive convinced himself as he stood up.
The headache was bothering him though so he turned his steps towards the infirmary. There was a bustle of activity inside as he pushed open the door. Three of the beds were taken up by children looking pale and shaky, all holding bowls. Their parents were rubbing their backs and Tarja flitted between the beds checking their temperatures and feeling the glands in their necks.
“Clive? What are you up here for?” She looked him up and down. “You don't feel sick do you?”
“Uh, just a headache. I came to get some painkillers, that's all. What's going on here?”
Tarja stepped away from the beds and went to her cupboards to search for her painkillers.
“A few of the children are complaining of an upset stomach. I’ve already sent two home this morning with orders to rest and keep their fluids up but three more just arrived. I'm worried about it.”
“Is it bad?”
“It's too soon to say. Most stomach bugs clear up in a day or two as long as they rest but so many of them in one go might indicate a common source. Here are your painkillers.”
She passed him a box with eight roughly packed pills inside.
“They're made from willow bark so they're bitter,” she warned him.
“Thank you.”
“Actually Clive, if you're feeling up to it can you do me a favour? I meant to go to Cafort to collect an order from my supplier there but I haven't had time today. Would you go?”
Clive's head throbbed but maybe a nice long day away from other people would be just what he needed. The trick with the water filter was good but it would eventually be discovered so he’d need something else to get the job done, and time to think about it.
“Of course,” he said with a gracious smile. “I'll help.”
“It's a big order,” she warned. “You’d better bring a wagon with you.”
“Anything else?” His tone was a bit nasty but Tarja didn't seem to notice.
“No, that's everything. Thanks again.”
So Clive stumped downstairs, readied a chocobo to pull a wagon and set out for Cafort. The market town was only a few miles away and with a chocobo it would take him a few hours to walk there and back again. He kept his eyes peeled for wild creatures on the road but mostly bent his thoughts on how to bring down the Hideaway.
The blightwater would do a lot of his work for him to weaken the cursebreakers and might be enough to kill some of them but eventually somebody would catch on and fix the filters. He had maybe a few days before that happened so he needed to act soon. Of course it wasn't just the cursebreakers he had to worry about. Cid and Jill were both Dominants who would likely be less affected by the blightwater and wouldn't mind fighting him if they caught on. He would have to avoid both of them if he could.
So something covert which couldn't be traced back to him but which would potentially harm one of the Dominants.
A movement far off caught his eye. Something small and birdlike was flapping along the horizon, dropping and swooping as if it had a broken wing.
Clive dropped the reins of his chocobo and started walking towards it. As he got closer the silhouette resolved into that of a wyrm which appeared to have damaged its wing. It wasn't too big either, if he could capture it, he could sneak it back in the supply cart and let it loose in the Hideaway. Cid would be forced to restrain himself fighting a vicious wyrm within the confines of the hall without injuring any bystanders.
He could almost see the image in his head of Cid, hurt and hospitalised after his fight with the wyrm and it would be oh so easy to gain access to him under the guise of helping…
Entranced by his visions, Clive walked out into the wilderness with his eyes fixed on the wyrm.