Chapter Text
The sunlight filtering through the leaves set dappled patches of white flickering along the gentle green of the Aglyss River. The tireless sound of shrilling insects and birds was barely stirred by the sound of the ferry captain's pole gently stroking through the water. With the hot, wet air wrapping around him like a blanket, curling through the openings of his loose flowered shirt and culottes, Edmont fancied he could forget the frigid and lonely towers of Ishgard even existed.
Or perhaps they did exist, but they were far away and of no matter. He and Charlemend were merely two merchants traveling through Eastern La Noscea to sell their humble wares to their humble colleagues, dining on sweet fruits and fresh caught fish every evening, the very concept of 'high houses' and 'snow' mere stories brought through by wandering minstrels. Yes, that would make a lovely fantasy to set his mind to.
"So we're up to Wineport for lunch, then the wine tasting, come back down to Costa del Sol in time to watch the dancers, and then finish the evening in the jacuzzi?" Charlemend asked, the boat shifting as he leaned backwards to talk to Edmont. "And it's tomorrow that we're doing the fishing jaunt, yes?"
"I do believe that's the agenda," Edmont replied.
"I hope that firespinner Xaela gentleman is there tonight with the dancers, I did love seeing him last year."
Edmont let his hand fall to trickle in the river water, nearly as warm as their heated tub back at the resort. It felt like silk flowing across his fingertips. "Is it his flames you're interested in seeing or the part where he does it with no shirt on?"
Charlemend coughed. "I can't think what you're implying."
Edmont leaned in and whispered an insinuation about wine not being the only thing he hoped to have a taste of today, and while Edmont might not look as good spinning a flaming rope dart around he hoped he'd be able to light some fires all the same. Charlemend flushed and threatened to push him into the river, giggling like a schoolboy all the same.
"You're the absolute worst, Edmont."
Miss Tataru's gift of a Costa del Sol resort trip last year had now become a regular ritual, and it made Edmont feel twenty years younger. It was a respite from the strains and pressures of the homeland, an escape to a place where his name was recognized far more for being the author of a bestselling account of the end of the Dragonsong War than being the former Count de Fortemps, if he was even recognized at all. Never mind what it had done for Charlemend - the glow the Durandaire lord got from the Costa del Sol sun seemed baked into his skin even when they returned to the gloom of Coerthas. Edmont hadn't seen him look so alive since before his wife died.
Mind, the torrid affair they were having, whose 'what happens in La Noscea stays in La Noscea' status had lasted all of one week before they were necking in Edmont's study, probably didn't hurt. It was still very private but Edmont suspected Artoirel had some suspicions. (Not Emmanuelain, though. Emmanellain, Fury bless him, was not an insightful young man.)
Both jerked as the boat came to an abrupt, thunking stop. "Raincatcher Gully, my lords," the ferryman announced, with the kind of perky tone Edmont had come to recognize as 'hoping for a nice tip'. Obligingly, Edmont gave one, then took Charlemend's preferred hand and very carefully stepped out of the boat. The lowland heat, near smothering now that they were away from the ocean air, soothed the twinge in his bones to the point he barely needed his cane some days but he'd hardly pass up indulging Charlemend's need to be the gentleman.
The cane he did use was solid carved wood bought off a local artisan. His usual cane, with its flashy silver head, had stayed behind with his signet ring and noble titles in their luggage. It made him feel more in touch with the locals, less isolated from their down to earth charms.
"Much obliged, m'lords." The ferryman gestured off to the right. "You take the road north that way and you'll come to Wineport, no trouble. Just don't go too far up the mountain or you'll wind up taking tea up at that old Garlean fort, and I doubt they'll be a sight as hospitable as we are!" He laughed at his own joke as he pushed the ferry back from the dock.
"Thank you for the advice, my friend!" Edmont called back, lifting a hand to wave. A gentle walk through the pastoral beauty of the countryside would make just the thing to perk the appetite. Especially with such good company.
They hadn't gotten halfway up the path when a Roegedayn and Hyur pair called out to them from the side of the road, where they'd parked a cart in the shelter of some trees. Both wore broad straw hats that blocked out the sun and kept their faces shaded.
"Would you care for a drink to wet your throats, my lords?" the Roegedayn called out.
"Ah, my thanks but we're actually on our way to quite a lot of drink!" Charlemend called back merrily.
"Ah, but this one's for boosting the energy! Just the thing before a bout of wining and dining, ey?" the Hyur cut in. "Here, we'll give you a free sample, it's a new blend we haven't put to market yet. Only cost is you good sers giving us your opinions."
"Hard to argue with free," Charlemend noted. The pair turned aside and into the cover of the trees, where the roe presented them with two small clay bottles each. Everyone was so cheerful down here, Edmont noted, not for the first time. It made Ishgard feel practically inhospitable in comparison to this abundance of warmth and camaraderie.
Charlemend raised his bottle in the traditional toast ."To our Fury's strength?"
"And to her mercy." Edmont recited back. (In earlier years there would be something about the Archbishop's health, but that had fallen out of favor recently. For obvious reasons.) The glazed clay bottles clinked together and they both drank the tiny flasks in sequence.
The Hyur watched them with a big, eager smile, hands wringing together. "Well, how's it hit you, sers?"
Charlemand hummed. "A little too sweet for my reckoning, it covers the rest of the underlying flavor. Not quite feeling the energizing…actually…if I'm to be honest I feel even more…"
Edmont felt his legs buckle under him, his cane falling from his slack fingers. The hyur caught him as he went down, grumbling about his weight as he dragged him back towards the cart. Edmont tried to cry out for help but the smothering darkness came down on him like the weight of a full sized chocobo, pressing him down into the abyss.
The last thing he heard as Charlemend's limp body was stuffed into the cart next to him and the cover drawn over them both was the Roegedayn's harsh laughter of "You was right, it really were that easy. Noblemen are some of the thickest bastards imaginable."
—---
Edmont drifted like a leaf on the jade waters of the Agelyss, gently and helplessly riding the currents out towards the vast depths of the ocean. Every so often something would stir him half to consciousness and he'd try to lift his head, reaching out in the musty darkness for his friend. If he moved too much someone would force another draught of that sickly sweet tonic down his throat, and if he feigned sleep the lie would in short order become reality again.
He half-dreamed, reality leaking in and blending with the drugs in his body. He dreamed that he was the leaf and had always been the leaf, and Count Edmont de Fortemps had been the dream, and the smell of salt and the crash of waves were the sounds of the ocean waters finally rushing to pull him down to the depths.
Edmont was still barely sure of his surroundings when someone bound his hands with rope and dragged him upright. A harsh pinch to his cheek made him wince, forcing his unfamiliar feet to stand underneath him on the unstable floor.
The bright light was sharp against his eyes when he was pulled from the hold, eyelids snapping closed. He tripped and staggered on the rough wood floor that seemed to sway beneath his feet. The hand escorting him clenched hard enough to leave bruises.
"Put 'em up by the main mast," someone was growling in that La Noscean drawl that seemed to run every consonant together into a rough slurry.
Edmont's eyes slowly adjusted, first to the striations of the weathered wood below him. His eyes moved upward cautiously to gaze at the deck of a broad, battered galleon and the group of rough-cut men in low-cut tunics and culottes staring with amusement at the two of them. The one who appeared to be their leader, or at least had the fanciest coat, was a large Roegedayn with jade skin and grey hair on his chest, He wore a red coat embroidered with golden thread down the hems, a cutlass in a battered sheath hanging at one hip and a pistol at the other.
Pirates, then, and not the tamed kind that stood in the Limsa Lominsa aetheryte plaza shouting invitations to nightclubs of ill repute. The kind whose villainy was only barely held in check by Admiral Merlwyb's iron grip. …the kind who'd taken Charlemend's only son 22 years ago.
Which was only going to make things worse.
With great strength of will Edmont's eyes lifted again to the clear sky and bright sun glimmering off the blue waters of the ocean. He turned his head, wincing at the headache it brought him. The only land he saw was a faint green and sand colored blob on the far horizon.
"You have no idea the trouble you've made for yourself, you low-class gutter rubbish," Charlemend was growling beside him. "I don't know what this game is about, but we are Lords of–"
Edmont's head jerked back around at the loud crack of palm against cheek as the captain struck Charlemend with all the care of a parent disciplining a bratty child. Charlemend staggered backwards, eyes open in horror, uncomprehending that someone might actually dare to lay hands upon the Count of House Durendaire.
"The name is Captain Swyrceig. And what you are, Lord Charlie, is cargo," the captain said, his voice a harsh-edged drawl. "And the cargo don't speak until spoken to."
Charlemend's lips trembled. Edmont could see a droplet of blood where the blow had split the lower one.
"And lest ye be getting ambitious, I'll let ye in on a secret." Swyrceig gripped Charlemend's shoulder, leaning in as if they were bosom companions.
"I only really need your own self for my purposes. Lord Eddie here's more what you'd call a bonus. So every word you speak without bein' spoken to, I take a finger off yer traveling companion. I may not have the fanciest dictionary but I do be knowing how to count, and once I run out of fingers I'll start in on more important bits. Do we have an understandin', my lord?"
Charlemend's face went pale. His eyes flickered to Edmont, then to a space somewhere in the middle distance that didn't include anyone, and offered the timidest of nods.
Swyrceig beamed, clapping him hard on the back. "Lovely."