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Just a legend, cold words on a page
So far things had been going as well as could be expected, if not a little better. The hotel staff, well used to discretion as they were, had been adept at keeping an eye on matters. There had been some tense moments in the restaurant, if the waitstaff were to be believed, but they'd resolved themselves peacefully.
It was a good sign. Ila were the only clan to have come from outside Khamja, and their history with Skite had been less than amicable. Their inclusion was probably the biggest risk Ignis had taken with his recruiting, but when it had come down to it they needed powerful healers, and if they came accompanied by tough fighters then so be it. That they could control themselves, and that members of Khamja didn't feel the need to break into violence around them, was only a bonus.
Everyone had stayed within the hotel's confines for the day. Ignis had been glad of that. One or two had been less than pleased with the request, and some had been less pleased again regarding the issue of tags, but he was reasonably sure he'd managed to placate most of them.
He read over the notes he had for their itinerary while he waited for everyone to assemble in the conference room. He'd been up late last night trying to get a somewhat friendly member of the Kingsglaive assigned to the survivalist training, to no avail, and he'd been up early again this morning ensuring everything was in order for the swift processing and manufacture of the tags they'd require so their esteemed guests didn't have to remain confined to the hotel for too much longer. His third can of Ebony of the day sat half drunk by his chair. After so long on the lowerworld and rationing his supply to make it last he'd consumed enough in his first two days back in Insomnia to give himself the jitters, but he'd become accustomed to the caffeine once more rather quickly.
The conference room was one of the hotel's largest. A huge, oval table occupied the centre of the room, and a projector hung from the ceiling, directed to a huge blank wall where it could be used for presentations and displays. Ignis had no intention of using that, but he did prefer the table set up of the room. It would be interesting to see who chose to sit next to whom, for one.
Ignis took a drink from his can and cast his eye over his papers again. Weaponry, clothing, chocobos, food, potions, ethers, camp supplies, water, medical supplies, communication; they weren't going to be heading to Pulse quickly with a shopping list this long and involved, but at the very least the time could be useful. They needed to ensure everyone was capable of surviving in the event they became stranded with nothing.
It was just a pity they'd refused to give him Nyx for that purpose.
It was a good sign. Ila were the only clan to have come from outside Khamja, and their history with Skite had been less than amicable. Their inclusion was probably the biggest risk Ignis had taken with his recruiting, but when it had come down to it they needed powerful healers, and if they came accompanied by tough fighters then so be it. That they could control themselves, and that members of Khamja didn't feel the need to break into violence around them, was only a bonus.
Everyone had stayed within the hotel's confines for the day. Ignis had been glad of that. One or two had been less than pleased with the request, and some had been less pleased again regarding the issue of tags, but he was reasonably sure he'd managed to placate most of them.
He read over the notes he had for their itinerary while he waited for everyone to assemble in the conference room. He'd been up late last night trying to get a somewhat friendly member of the Kingsglaive assigned to the survivalist training, to no avail, and he'd been up early again this morning ensuring everything was in order for the swift processing and manufacture of the tags they'd require so their esteemed guests didn't have to remain confined to the hotel for too much longer. His third can of Ebony of the day sat half drunk by his chair. After so long on the lowerworld and rationing his supply to make it last he'd consumed enough in his first two days back in Insomnia to give himself the jitters, but he'd become accustomed to the caffeine once more rather quickly.
The conference room was one of the hotel's largest. A huge, oval table occupied the centre of the room, and a projector hung from the ceiling, directed to a huge blank wall where it could be used for presentations and displays. Ignis had no intention of using that, but he did prefer the table set up of the room. It would be interesting to see who chose to sit next to whom, for one.
Ignis took a drink from his can and cast his eye over his papers again. Weaponry, clothing, chocobos, food, potions, ethers, camp supplies, water, medical supplies, communication; they weren't going to be heading to Pulse quickly with a shopping list this long and involved, but at the very least the time could be useful. They needed to ensure everyone was capable of surviving in the event they became stranded with nothing.
It was just a pity they'd refused to give him Nyx for that purpose.
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"I am waiting for someone else," he declared, addressing the room, "but we can begin regardless. I wouldn't wish to detain any of you longer than necessary." Especially not since it might increase the risk of violence, he thought, but refrained from saying.
"Thank you, all, for coming," he began. "I'm sure by now most of you have met each other if you hadn't done before so we'll dispense with introductions. You've all met me, and as I'm sure some of you have gathered by now, I work for the Crown. This expedition to Pulse is a venture of the Lucian Crown and, at least for now, I am nominally in charge of it."
Ignis looked at the assembled faces, lingering on Lumi, Yylfordt, Aerith, and Even in their turn. "I have asked you along because we need your skills as pilots, healers, scientists, botanists, and yes, hunters. We can expect that Pulse is dangerous, and my intent is to ensure we all return alive. We could send our own, but quite frankly most of them aren't as strong as you, and those that are can't be spared from their current postings." He panned around the room again, seeing who was taking in the ego massage, and who was listening to what wasn't being said.
"Does anyone have any concerns or questions before I begin?"
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She looked at him, for an uncomfortable and lingering moment, and then shrugged.
"Sounds fair," she said, sounding like she meant it. "But what do you actually know about Pulse? Is this mission recon and exploration? Or do you have a rough idea of what's gone on there since the Mist happened and your people fled..? Do we think it's empty, or are we expecting cities that have been isolated for centuries?"
It could go either way, after all. The general expectation was that Gran Pulse had its population wiped out at some point in the past, after the exodus of the people who founded Lucis and after Fang completed her Focus. History told of the fal'Cie going mad on Mist and turning all and sundry into l'Cie with Focii that became less and less attainable the longer the Saturation went on. It was entirely plausible that they turned everybody into one and Pulse was populated by nothing but animals, monsters, crystal statues and Cie'th.
Of course, it could have gone another way. She remembered, close to when she'd completed her Focus, that they were planning a large-scale attack on one of the fal'Cie, to kill it and prevent it marking others for death, and worse, but she hadn't been around to see how that had played out. Mist had negatively affected technology worldwide, causing a backslide in the Lowerworld that had necessitated the re-invention and re-discovery of all kinds of machinery, so it was possible the same had happened on Pulse and that they just hadn't rediscovered airship travel yet or that they had some sort of new religious teachings warning against the evils of it, like they had on Ivalice for a while. Perhaps the big cities were thriving, but at an earlier stage of technological re-development than they expected.
In her heart, she knew it was more likely to be the former, but part of her hoped that the people there had managed to survive. That the fal'Cie had settled back into their passive roles as patron gods when the Mist had drawn back. It was doubtful, but it was a nice thought and one she held onto. It seemed a shame that the rich history and culture of such a diverse continent could have died out back then.
Pulse had always been massive and wild, with rolling hills, high mountains, deep, ancient forests and vast plains, its wildness metered only slightly by the cities that dotted the continent. Haerii, Paddra, Saint Denis, Izunia... and smaller settlements besides. The thought of it just being a savage wilderness both frightened her and made he wonder if that's how it should always have been, if things would have been easier on the people if they hadn't been so reliant on the cities and the technology they housed. She'd avoided them, herself. She'd lived a subsistence lifestyle out of a small town on the edge of the water, but she'd always known they were there, big and with vast populations all housed in tall buildings.
It was strange to imagine these places, now twisted to look like her view of Insomnia from her hotel window, empty and decaying.
Part of her thought that Pulse should be left alone but the rest was burning with curiosity to see what had become of her home.
"You at least got reference material from when your ancestors left there?"
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And potentially Ignis and Gladio. Gladio would be harder to replace. Ignis intended to make damn sure that wasn't necessary.
"There has been no contact with any civilisation on Pulse since our ancestors left," he said. "As far as the hyur population goes that is all we can say with certainty. Given what was being fled, it's not unreasonable to believe that the civilisation there collapsed, and any survivors fell into a technological dark age." Ignis tilted his head in a slight nod. "From a personal point of view, I expect smaller, more mobile populations may have fared better than large cities, but that leaves the issue of limited breeding pools, and given the saturation, mist mutations in following generations would have been likely." He frowned, glanced down at the table, and then back up again at Fang. "Add in to that a growing number of Cie'th, the effects of Mist on animal populations, and whatever Daemons may have arisen, and I expect the remaining population dwindled into unsustainability."
Pulse was Hell. That was the line, and one they'd all known. It had spread around the whole of Spira, and if you studied the old stories, and looked at the historical records, you could see how that reputation had come about.
Ignis took a breath and looked at some of the others. "There may be l'Cie, suspended in their crystal slumber, and there may be Cie'th. Any Cie'th that has lasted this long is going to be singularly unpleasant." Which was putting it mildly. "There may even be fal'Cie which we would be wise to avoid if possible. There are also likely to be Daemons, and monsters. This is, unfortunately, not going to be a pleasure cruise."
He turned his attention to Lumi and afforded him a brief, knowing smile. "When it comes to reference materials, the Lucian archives can provide clues and little more. Lumi's ship, however, bears a map that is likely several centuries out of date but is at least a starting point." It was better than being completely blind, even if the major topography of Pulse had likely shifted since the map's development. "Exploration and reconnaissance are the primary goals for this expedition, updating what maps we have, and taking note of places worth more in depth exploration so they can be revisited."
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So, Ignis had much the same thoughts as her on the matter. It was possible they had survived, but unlikely. Any survivors will be small groups, potentially Mistant, possibly inbred, depending on what happened at the end of the period, after records ceased making it across continents. Either way, they weren't likely to go in and find all the cities of old perfectly preserved with a nice little isolated population waiting to greet them suspiciously as either demons from the lowerworld or long-lost friends.
"A map will be useful," she said, and then added with an irreverent shrug: "Cie'th can be killed, so long as we have some Daemon hunters."
Cie'th were essentially Hollows whose bodies, instead of failing and separating from the soul, had become corrupted by the magic given to them by the fal'Cie. This magic was concentrated in their brand, beyond what an individual would normally have, and spread out, like a disease, until the brand was complete. Then it infiltrated their own Chakra system like a fast-acting virus, taking over it and turning it to hardened Reishi, similar to an all-over Hollow mask or an evolved, uncontrolled form of Hierro. The more powerful ones took on larger forms as the magic seeped out and crystallised beyond the normal form. The pain was said to be unimaginable. The regret at failing to complete their Focus was said to be their drive, a primal anguished rage that kept them going even as they mutated.
They were said to be frightening, particularly when they were immense, or winged, or had enlarged limbs with crystalline claws to rake at an opponent. Ones who had lasted longer tended to be, as Ignis said, singularly unpleasant, but crystal wore away eventually and they were still just another form of Hollow.
She doubted the full extent of the information on Cie'th had travelled with the Lucians. It was likely a pared down account, a three step method to going Cie'th, rather than the full story. Cursed > Failed > Cie'th. She knew it was more complicated than that, but the end result was the same.
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He slid a glance to Kadaj, though he knew that others at the table had their own Zanpakutos, even if they were the cannibal blades of the Arrancar. Between himself, Kadaj and the six Arrancar, they shouldn't have too much trouble with undead menaces, even if they were different to their usual type.
His map, at least, would be useful. Landmasses could change slightly, with rivers altering their courses and some large rock formations ending up weathered beyond recognition, but he doubted the differences would be that severe that his map would be entirely out of date. If nothing else, if they were correct about the cities being abandoned and the continent itself depopulated, at least there wouldn't be too many man-made changes to contend with.
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"What's a Cie'th?" he asked, steeling himself to sound like the stupid one. He hadn't attended much school, most of his education had been at the hands of the clan members. He'd learned classic literature from Kuja, how to fight from Orochimaru, and how to survive from Gin. His education had been somewhat lacking in the department of Cie'th. Ignis made it sound like they were going to be going up against them, and according to Fang being a Hollow hunter would help, but they were obviously different to Hollows if Ignis wasn't just calling them Daemons.
Cie'th and Daemons, he'd said. So what were Cie'th, if not Hollows?
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She didn't doubt the same thing was on Fang's mind, too.
"It's a l'Cie that ran out of time," she said, softly. "A l'Cie is given a job to do, and the power to do it, and a time limit. If they complete their task, they're rewarded. If they don't then they become a monster. I suppose it's like becoming a Hollow without dying first." She looked to Ignis. "Death is the only mercy they can hope for."
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Still, the idea was an unpleasant one. Becoming a Hollow without dying wasn't impossible, but you were more likely to have it take over.
During the Arrancar project, more than a few had been taken over by the Hollows they'd been paired with. Murcielago had taken a few before it had settled with Ulquiorra. She hadn't been Gamuza's first pair up either.
It was a horrible fate no matter how it came to you.
"Luckily, most of us are equipped to fight Hollows."
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"Which we're going to do for the sake of historical curiosity," he muttered, loudly enough to be heard. Ignis had never given him a proper answer last time, when he'd asked what they were looking for. It was all about the society's origins, and historical significance, but the more information Saix heard about what they were likely to face, the less he believed that. You didn't pay this many people the sort of money they were getting paid to go unless you were going to profit at the end of it.
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He nodded along with Aerith's explanation, and then sighed at Saix's interjection.
"Technology," he said, simply. "Among other things. We have very good reason to believe that some of the developments that existed on Pulse outstrip anything we have now." That very good reason was Noctua. Before that it had all been fables and stories, but seeing it, tactile and working and beautiful, had solidified it. "We have come a long way, but if we can really study our history, we may be able to improve our future."
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"Well now you're talking," he said, his eyes lighting up.
He was Al Bhed. Heading off to long abandoned and dangerous places to salvage ancient machina was his thing.
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Pulse was an unknown, they hadn't even done a fly-by mission, though that was presumably because Jagd-proofed ships were so hard to come by. Even new-built ones needed old engines, because the power source that yet to be re-created. Salvage was required for further exploration, especially since there were whole areas of the world, Pulse among them, that had become Jagd in the space between the old dawn of air travel and now.
The idea of there being awful monsters there didn't bring him much joy, especially given what the last eldritch abomination he'd met had done to him, but there were, at least, plenty of Zanpakuto wielding warriors along for the ride. Not to mention enough of them who could conjure reishi weapons for a similar effect. Short of digging up a Quincy, they were pretty well set for a mission into the unknown.
"How long are we likely to be--" he began, trailing off when the door opened.
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Politeness dictated that he should have waited for a lull in conversation before making his entrance, but he just didn't care. He had been sullen ever since he'd been told he was expected to participate in a meeting full of Lowerworlders for some supposedly secret mission to a lost continent that he wouldn't be going on anyway, thank the Goddess.
So he walked straight in, catching one of them mid-sentence. He couldn't tell which it was, because they'd stopped immediately, but it didn't matter anyway. All guesses fell by the wayside as he looked at the assembled weirdos around the table. Only five of them looked anything approaching normal. The others had brightly coloured hair or, in one case, grey skin.
They weren't going for subtlety, then.
He didn't apologise about his tardiness. He just made his way around the table towards Ignis, not keeping his distaste for this near bureaucratic shit off his face. Meetings weren't this forté. He didn't like them. He didn't do well as a face of the Glaive, that was what Nyx's arse was for. Drautos's supposed military training. Erwin Smith's charisma. He looked more like a kid who'd been asked to come to the front to read out the note he'd been caught passing to a classmate.
He'd arrived in his Kingslaive uniform of black and grey, adorned with the black and white sword-feathered wings of the dragon Bahamut, the division's mascot. Although clearly a service uniform, it didn't stop him looking a little like a lost schoolkid. Over his uniform, he wore a set of dog tags, dulled silver but buffed to a shine, on a chain.
"You can finish what you were saying," he said, his voice deeper than one might expect, his tone bored, flat and even.
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Apache could understand Jyllandi, after all.
"Apologies, Ienzo," he said, once Levi had come to a halt. "I believe you were asking how long we're likely to be on Pulse? We're planning on an expedition of three months, but will be prepared for delays and setbacks should they occur."
He gestured to Levi with one hand. "Which brings us nicely to Levi here. As one of our foremost members of the Kingsglaive he's been tasked with ensuring we're all sufficiently capable of surviving that long should something go awry."
Ignis smiled, thinly. "I assure you his punctuality isn't representative of his other skills."
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Apparently, this was him.
Three months, or potentially more, in a battered wilderness filled with monsters while they searched for lost technology. It wasn't the worst way to earn gil, and if they were truly expecting to find technology more advanced than that of Lucis's own right now, Lumi was likely firmly in favour, monsters be damned.
The sour little Kingsglaive that had interrupted had an air of Ulquiorra about him. The same unsmiling face, and flat tone, and disregard for the comfort of others was on display.
"How does he intend to ensure that?" he asked, skeptically. Marluxia doubted there was much that could be taught to himself and Lumi, for one.
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If he didn't know better, he'd assume he was related to Ulquiorra. He wasn't grey, sure, but he had the same miserable little puss, same diminutive stature and the same self-assuredness that could only come from being very powerful and very short. He'd only ever seen that body language in that type, or small dogs who made a habit of picking fights with much bigger ones.
He'd been about to ask if this guy was really one of the best in the Kingsglaive, or if it was the only one they could strong-arm into being involved in the briefing, but Marluxia spoke first.
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And, well, he hadn't. He'd been given lessons in the Kingsglaive and then he'd been trained by a certain higher up later, much to his consternation. It was easy enough, but he rather felt that if people were going to come to Lucis, they should learn to speak the local language rather than expect the locals to speak theirs.
He folded his arms across his chest and looked at everybody assembled. For a bunch of brightly coloured foreign people, especially some that should clearly be wearing Tags, some of them looked rough. Scars were a common enough feature, both on the arms and the face and he could tell that some of them were more than just pretty faces. They hadn't assembled a catwalk to explore a new continent, after all, as much as it looked that way. They had to have something about them.
"I expect some of you can already camp," he said, cutting off any dissent before it started. "And hunt. But you need to be either taught properly, or assessed, because for some reason the Crown gives a shit whether you can survive to Kingsglaive standards instead of just trusting that you can do it to your own. If nothing else, it'll be a nice getaway for you and you might learn something new. Otherwise, you're going to have a lot of time to kill in the city."
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He and Marluxia knew full well how to camp. He expected that both Clan Skite and Clan Ila knew, too. Ienzo and Ulquiorra were less certain, Szayel almost certainly didn't, and Nel and Even weren't really there for their camping expertise anyway. They all had areas they specialised in, but it did make sense to give them all crash course in survive where needed. He, after all, couldn't hope to start a fire without a lighter or matches, but somebody like Axel, or Tayuya, would have no issue. Even so, he didn't much fancy spending time out in the wilderness of Lucis with them on a training course.
He'd leave dealing with camp to other people anyway, he was far more suited to hunting and he could prove that easily enough.
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He nodded in Lumi's direction. "Obviously if you feel yourself adept enough in all of those skills already you need only demonstrate them to Levi's satisfaction, but any who fail to meet his standard, or who would prefer to brush up on skills they are less assured of will join us in a training exercise."
Which included himself, as much as the idea of submitting himself to Levi's instruction landed a stinging blow to his pride as a member of the Crownsguard.
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Ienzo-san, on the other hand, would be less adept at things such as hunting and field dressing. Ulquiorra doubted he'd have issues with shelter making, or building a fire, but it was unlikely Ienzo-san had ever skinned a dreamhare.
He looked at the tag around Levi's neck, a dog's collar, identifying and marking him as different. He wasn't wholly familiar with the ranking system in use on Jylland as yet, but at his estimation Levi was more than his stature suggested.
"How long?" he asked, his voice deep and flat.
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Camping. Going out on a 'training exercise' camping with these bastards to prepare themselves for three months of camping with these bastards.
"This is such a crock of shit," she complained. "We're all hunters already," she looked around, her eyes falling on Szayel and staying there while she curled her upper lip, "most of us, anyway."
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"But I think it'll be useful for us to know each other's strengths and weaknesses, as well as improving our own skills, since we're going to have to work together when we're up there."
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He didn't lean forward with a show of attention, or flop forward like Tayuya in complaint, he just sat there, waiting. He was as patient as a crocodile, so he had no real need to get the meeting over with quickly. He preferred to get all the information before embarking on anything, even if he could work on the fly.
"I can hunt and field dress," he said and then indicated Marluxia to his side. "Marluxia here is an expert botanist. Together we can deal with camping. However, I lack the capacity for making fire without tools -- I am not able to use magic, but there are a few around this table who can produce more fire than we'd ever need unless we wanted to raze large potions of Pulse to the ground. Neither of us are healers, but we can bandage an injury and use potions. Marluxia can make them. I would prefer not to be camping unnecessarily before the trip, I have other matters to attend to before we go, but I'd be happy to demonstrate my relevant skills."
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As a researcher, would-be historian and Alchemist, Ienzo was never going to have been invited for his abilities to survive the wilderness. He'd be more useful where civilisation had fallen and only half because, as somebody who had contributed to more than one of those, he considered himself well-versed in it.
"I can build a shelter using Alchemy," he pointed out, "and I'm adept enough with magic to be able to make enough fires to make up for the lack of magic in others, not that it will be necessary with people like Tayuya and Axel in the party, but I could use the lessons, I don't mind admitting that. I daresay Even and Szayel are in much the same position."
He turned to see Even's grimace and held his smirk down.
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"You won't all need to be experts at everything," he said, addressing that issue right off the bat. "You just need to be assessed on first aid, camping skills and all the other shit, to make sure enough of you have a spread of abilities so you won't die. You don't all need to make fire, you don't all need to be able to skin a wolf, you don't all need to know what plants you should avoid putting in your faces, just enough of you, so that if you split off for separate recon, you won't end up with three skinners and nobody who can set up a tent, or two healers and one person who can start a fire, but nobody that can kill anything to cook over it."
Levi couldn't expect everybody to know how to do everything. He couldn't make fire either, not without a match, and healing was way outside his realm of expertise. A lot of Glaives would judge the white-haired one for not being able to use magic, but it hadn't stopped Levi getting the highest kill-count out beyond the wall. The only reason Nyx was the face of the Kingsglaive was because he looked better on the posters.
And he wasn't a criminal conscript, that too.
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