Fordola Lupis, the Butcher, or the Skull's Executioner was a traitor to her people.
She was raised in Ala Mhigo as a normal child, but when the Garleans came knocking on Ala Mhigo's door, Fordola's merchant parents bent the knee as soon as possible. In exchange, they were granted citizenship and earned a comfortable life.
However, in the eyes of the Resistance, Fordola and her blood were nothing but rat-like traitors that sold their country out from under their feet. The discontent evolved into hostility which then evolved into belligerent wrath.
A rock was thrown one day, then one more. Raindrops grew into a hailstorm of stones that pelted Fordola and then her Father, who rushed over to shield her. I didn't know just how bad it got, but the result of that stoning was deadly.
While her father had passed in that attack, Fordola survived, and a terrible rage stirred in her heart. Looked down upon by imperials and seen as a traitor by her countrymen, Fordola found herself in a spiral of misery and worthlessness. In-between worlds and aimless.
Originally, when Yda went on that mission to Ala Mhigo, she made friends with a young Fordola and asked if she wanted to leave.
Fordola, naive as she was, had asked her associates, fellow traitors who didn't have a place in the world, for advice. One of those so called associates informed the Garleans of the plan and the resulting ambush, a product of the Garleans following Fordola to the meetup point, killed Yda. She had tried to protect Fordola, but in the end, those words and that sacrifice were for nothing.
Fordola didn't change. In fact, she double-downed. A Garlean commander came to bring order to the rebellious peoples of Ala Mhigo, and Fordola volunteered for service. She sought to fight two wars at once. The war for the respect of the Garleans and the war for the respect of the Ala Mhigan people. It was worth noting that, to Fordola, she believed that it was the rebels of Ala Mhigo that caused the death of her father. She aimed her blade at them for the most part.
It was complicated, as many characters in XIV tended to be. It made for good drama, but a shitty way to live.
'How do I handle this?'
Honestly, I didn't know how to save an antagonist that had fallen before we even met. Ysayle got lucky, but everytime a villain changes their ways in XIV, it's only after a climax of terrible and objectively evil events.
I could've distracted her from her anger, but in the end, her father was killed. Thancred was already a dad, and I certainly didn't want to adopt her suddenly. Even if she did get a new father, her wrath would not be easily sated.
'Worst case scenario is I create an even smarter villain in the end.'
Suppression and distraction would only get us so far. She needed a... focus. Well, I just so happened to have an open position in my Daemon Company. It used to be for my Ysayle to hold, circumstances worked themselves out. Was this child labor perhaps?
Well, I could figure that out later. Before that though-
"Say, have you ever played Go Fish?"
---
'That's no good.'
Master Matoya's personal collection was dense, but navigating it all felt like second nature to me. I had a sixth sense for which books would be useful for every problem I had.
I flicked through the pages of a book on Aetheric Currents. It wasn't necessarily like my Domain, but it was close. Though they often brought up interesting theories, that's all they could be called. Theories.
For more information, I would need to see what sources they cited. A book on land formation and air pressure. Another book on Aetheric Materialism. A few forgotten studies that listed how the elements interacted with each other, and the balance they inherently struck.
Usefulness didn't mean they were perfect solutions. For every route my research took, citations appeared for books that did not exist in Master Matoya's possession. All of the overarching theories were here, but the nitty gritty details that I truly desired were absent.
'Then...'
These books that were being cited and referenced, likely sat within Eorzea's greatest repository of knowledge. That building that sat on the other side of the Dravanian Hinterlands. I could see it when the sun came out, a regal cascade of limestone that was magically cleaned and protected from the elements. Enslaved Voidsent walked its halls and vowed to fiercely eliminate any would-be intruders, though they were largely useless. Before the Warrior of Light gained permission, no one had ever stepped foot into those halls.
The Great Gubal Library likely held many answers to my questions, but even if I persuaded Master Matoya to let me in, I wouldn't survive for long. It was a strange loop that contained me. To survive against the malfunctioning defense mechanisms of the Library, you needed true power, but that Library held a lot of knowledge that could help me obtain such power. Which was the chicken and which was the egg?
Like Sharlayan, the Library had ranks of knowledge and privilege that allowed one to go further in. On the outside, there were novels and poems. When one went further in, you would find historical doctrine, political designs and historical dissections of magic, or at least the useless and harmless dissections.
After a certain point, knowledge became a privilege for those who bore the mark of Archon. If you are wise enough to pass this test, then in theory, you should be responsible enough to bear this incredibly valuable knowledge, but you still couldn't share it at your own discretion. Or rather, that's what the rules said.
Y'shtola, Thancred, Yda, Papalymo and Master Louisoix were all Archons, and they had one thing in common that spited those rules.
They believed the system was broken.
I tended to somewhat agree. The logic was certainly there. Only with training and understanding of a framework, code, law, practice, or degree could you faithfully adopt its teachings. But to act like that understanding made you immune from direct contradictions was arrogant.
The Sharlayan answer to this problem was the Forum. A circle of the highest minds of Sharlayan, dedicated to the discussion and debate of knowledge and who should be allowed to use it.
Many years later, Archons would be the weakest link in the new world order. The Warrior of Light, bypassed every check for wisdom or intent. All of these Sharlayan checks on power only worked if you were indoctrinated into their cult. There was a reason why, when the Garleans swung their dicks around, Sharlayan had to chicken out and scramble back to their island.
The most primordial force was violence. The explosion and expansion of stars. The choking lifelessness of space. The heat and combustion of a nucleus. None of it could be negotiated or outsmarted.
It just was.
In that way, I found Sharlayan to be...pointless. But out of respect for my loved ones, I didn't dare to say such a thing. Regardless of what I thought, originally, Archons were the only ones allowed into the core circle of the Great Gubal Library. The circle of practical magic, useful dissections, experimental logs, and spectacular tools.
The last circle, that I didn't think anyone at all could enter, the Forbidden Sector, housed everything that the star must never learn. If Dynamis wasn't an Academic joke, then it would likely have ended up there, but instead it was apparently on the second level, just under poetry. And Runes? Well, while they weren't forbidden, the practices I was hijacking to make them work, probably should be forbidden.
I pinched my nose lightly. I wasn't going to get anywhere by rushing to my death. If these books and my Master were all I had, then that's the way it would have to be. I just needed more understanding of the basics. My knowledge wasn't something that I could easily find parallels to on Hydaelyn. I could continue to push this forward with my newly found students.
---
Thancred awoke roughly in an unfamiliar bed. He hadn't been getting good sleep as of late.
"Thaaaaaanny Cranny~"
"Yeah yeah. Stop calling me that!"
Thancred didn't understand how his younger sibling kept finding him. This time it was at his 4th lover's house.
"Is that Winter?!"
"Missus Charlotte? Hello!"
"Hiii~"
And he got along annoying well with Thancred's paramour.
While Thancred was putting on his shorts, Charlotte stepped away from the window and gave the bard an obvious side-eye.
"Hm?"
"Hmph."
He didn't get it at all.
Bending down, Thancred meticulously tied weights to his legs, each one weighing about the same as a fully matured Chocobo. Since his prior training was too advanced, he ended up having to put on limits like this to continue improving. Or that's what Little Winter said anyroad. Did it work? Well, he did feel lighter after taking them off.
Thancred didn't quite understand what a Training Arc was, but he assumed it to be a part in a story where the storyteller trained their body. If that was the case, then this Training Arc was many years too long wasn't it? Ever since Little Winter basically forced a second dagger into his hands, the young man was obsessively watching what Thancred ate and calculated how much he had to sweat the next day to compensate for the extra drink.
Thancred's magicks, like most Archons, aided his body and kept him looking young and prim. No matter how many times he said that however, Little Winter would firmly refuse his reasoning.
"Glamour magicks won't save your ass against a Samurai."
"It's not Glamour. And what could you possibly know about Samurai?"
"I know enough to tell you that until you put some serious macros into that body, you're going to end up on the wrong side of a blade. You're all sculpt no density."
Thancred stopped asking questions. Too many new words at once. He thought he was finished with this nonsense after his Archon exam.
"I'm leaving now, sweetheart~"
"Don't come back too fast sweetie~ kiss"
"...If I wasn't a wiser man, I would've thought that you didn't want to see me, sweetheart."
"Gasp! Perish the thought! Now go on! Don't you dare leave my Winter waiting!"
"Your Winter?"
Charlotte stuck her tongue out at him and pushed Thancred out of the room.
Close
Twelve above. Was he losing his edge? He used to make Ul'dah weep, but these days, he seemed to be the one that went to bed crying.
Thancred descended from the stairs and into the street where Little Winter was twisting his waist and reaching to touch his toes. Thancred had already asked for the purpose of such behavior.
---
"Dynamic stretches before exercise helps to prevent injury, and static stretching afterwards helps to cut down on muscle tension."
"Static? Dynamic?"
"Stretches where you move continuously and increase your range of movement are dynamic. When you hold a pose, that's static."
"Right."
"Studies on this method go back and forth every half a decade or so, but I've found the most success this way."
"I see."
---
Seriously, he didn't get it at all. Couldn't Little Winter cast Cure? What was the point of all that pretense?
"And who is this?"
A child was mimicking Little Winter's stretches, but stopped upon hearing Thancred's question. The serious looking little girl with light autumn colored hair put her hands on her hips proudly.
"Deputy Commander of the Daemon Company, key name, Akuma!!"
"...Tis a pleasure to meet you, Miss-"
"Deputy Commander, Akuma!"
"..."
"It's ok. Thancred here is a part of our Company."
'I am? Since when? He recruited a child?'
"Hm. It's good to meet your acquaintance, comrade. I'm Fordola. But in the field, please call me Akuma."
'In the field??? Akuma? What's an Akuma? A child?!'
Thancred glanced at Little Winter, meeting his eyes and letting his disapproval be known.
Smile
But he didn't give a damn.
"His key name is Ghost."
'...I daresay...it's not bad...?'
Fordol- Akuma nodded her head strongly, but refused to utter his new code name at all.
'Shrug it off. It's none of your business. Twelve above and hells below, grant me mercy...'
---
"But he flew far too high. The heat of the sun melted his wings, each feather slowly fell away like flakes of snow, and not long afterwards, Icarus did too."
Thancred sat back, listening to the familiar story. It was one Little Winter had told him before. It was getting dark and Akuma looked exhausted to the hells and back, but she still sat straight and listened to the tale despite her body nearly failing her.
Thancred had finally understood why Little Winter took this girl under his metaphorical wing. To display such a strong will at her age... it was abnormal to be quite frank. He was no stranger to tragic tales that forged boys and girls far too early. He was one of those very same, was he not. Although he had Louisoix, this child presumably had no one.
"Tell me, what do you think I'm trying to teach you by telling you that story?"
"You-"
"Think carefully. Always think twice and speak once."
The little girl, body still twitching as a result of her training, closed her mouth and took Little Winter's words into her head. The young man had too many facets to him. A gem that was cut far too many times. Each individual face of Little Winter's gem showed a vastly different expression, but they could all be said to come from the same person. They all shared the same root, or it felt that way anyroad.
"I...I think you're trying to teach me patience. If I grew arrogant and flew too close to the sun, then I would melt and die."
Little Winter's stern face shed into a merciful smile.
"That's right. Well done, Fordola."
"I-Mm...Th-thank...you..."
'Cradle robber.'
Little Winter suddenly snapped his head towards Thancred, a smile no longer gracing his infuriatingly angelic visage.
"Were you thinking something rude just now?"
"Hm? What could you possibly mean?"
"I never doubt my Thanny Cranny Instincts."
"You don't have those and don't call me that."