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Chapter Text

Sam is surrounded by Eorzeans from the instant he sets a foot onto the sandy soil outside Ul'dah. The little ship he flew here has hardly enough weapons to be worth the name and even less space, and he rolls his shoulders to loosen them after the long flight. He did not wear armor, expecting a less-than-friendly welcome on this end, and the leathers he chose in their place are far too warm for the desert heat.

There's a blade barring his way when he goes to fetch his trunk--he'd radioed on the way in, but the Castrum with which he'd spoken was one of a scant few that remained in Garlean hands, with no safe way to warn the Eorzeans of his approach.

"Keep your hands where we can see them," the soldier holding the blade says--a Roegadyn, as are most of them, the Eorzeans taking few chances when it comes to the Empire. The man's armor wouldn't pass a village muster in the provinces, let alone serve for a post in the capital, yet Sam feels like a child beside him all the same.

As was, undoubtedly, their intent.

As Sam moves to comply with their orders, another soldier--this one a woman, and not substantially smaller than her superior--grabs his wrist and quickly shackles them behind him. He had expected some hostility, but so much from the outset...and yet he is too outnumbered to fight.

So, he complies, though not without a questioning look at their leader.

"Don't worry, as much as we'd like to put a blade through your neck right off, we've orders to take you straight to the Flame General. Rest assured he'll tolerate none of your nonsense."

"Nor would I expect him to," Sam responds, and his words earn him a slight shove for the perceived cheek. "March!" the woman orders him, and that's an order with which he has long familiarity. Their legs are longer, but he's more used to traversing hostile territory than they expect and keeps pace with only a small amount of difficulty.

At least he's not headed to a cell.

********

The upper section of Ul'dah is dimmer at least, a balm to Sam's sensitive eyes after the bright sun; he'd had nothing to shield them with on the first part of the walk, though his guards had at least been merciful enough to slow the pace a bit as they entered into the city proper. It had been a small help, even if he thinks it hadn't been done as much for his benefit but so people could stare. Tall as he may be, their enemy is not larger than life, his eyes are not filled with fire, his teeth are not sharp, he does not have claws for hands. He is a man in the body of a man, and men can be beaten.

Or, at least, that is what the Eorzeans see. Sam himself knows better: he sees the aether flowing through the city and its residents as clearly as he sees the wares for sale at the merchants' stalls, and it's easier still to touch. But he dares not show his hand in that regard just yet, nor hopefully ever. There are some things the people of Eorzea are better off not knowing.

The carpet under his feet is familiar and a balm; every day for five years did he tread across its twin as he traversed the palace in Garlemald, and the constancy of this small thing being the same here sets his mind at ease. He was not sent here as a diplomat, but it gives him hope that common ground might be found between them, even if the sole basis for his dreaming is...well, a common ground. The doors through which he's led are smaller than those he's used to, but equally grand.

There are more guards here, though fewer Roegadyn; they seem mostly an afterthought compared to the man resting one arm on the back of a chair as he leans over the table before him. He's faced away from the new arrivals, and one of the guards clears her throat. "Sir, the prisoner."

Ul'dah's Flame General turns with a motion that Sam would not have found out of place coming from the High Legatus, and he finds himself face to face with the Bull of Ala Mhigo. He bows his head slightly, but does not lower his eyes: this is a gesture to acknowledge that Raubahn Aldynn holds the power here, not of obeisance nor of trust. He can hardly do more without unbalancing himself anyways, now that his guards have stepped back.

"General," he offers, voice as steady as he can make it; Aldynn's eyes seem cast of the same material as his spine, hot-forged steel made stronger still by the coldness to which it has been subjected after its shaping.

"Spare us both the pleasantries," comes the response, halfway between spoken and spat. "What business has the Empire with Ul'dah, to send a lone man so deep into our territory so openly?"

A direct question; Sam has faced many of these, one more point of familiarity. A question he can answer, if his tongue doesn't trip over the formal structures of his answer. "By the grace of His Radiance, Solus zos Galvus, Emperor of Garlemald, I was sent by His Highness, Varis yae Galvus, the High Legatus thereof, as whose aide I serve, in order to serve as a neutral observer in the trial of His Excellency, Gaius van Baelsar, Legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion, which Eorzea does plan to hold. It is not my intent to interfere in any way, merely to watch, to ensure justice prevails, and to report as much to my superiors."

The snort he receives in response sounds like the choking-up of a Vanguard, a voiced spluttering. "Hah--justice, from a Garlean. You've spoken every name but your own. Give it."

"Sammael tol Exemplarius, sir. As I said, aide and Tribunus Laticlavius to the High Legatus. My duties are by and large administrative in nature, and prior to my present post I was a logistics officer. I have no training as a spy, if that is what concerns you." Well, that's not entirely correct, but he doubts the long hours he's spent poring over the petty dramas of Garlemald's major families for blackmail material are of any relevance here. "In my classes at the Academy, I ranked in the 78th percentile for combat, the 93d percentile for mathematics, and the 100th percentile for history. In strategy, I managed only the 14th percentile, and His Highness has long considered me to be a 'lost cause' in that regard. To quote him directly, he said that 'a side of beef served rare would offer me more challenge at the game table.'"

His words draw another snort from Raubahn, but this one sounds more like amusement, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards if only slightly. "I doubt you're as harmless as you sell yourself to be, but if you agree to leave your weapons and your armor in our hands, I'll allow it, if only so that we might learn more of each other. The gods know we understand little enough of the Empire's heart."

Sam nods again, now in acquiescence to the General's terms. "Accepted. And I should hope we share the same desire to ensure Lord van Baelsar does not bleed out in his cell from the work of some assassin's blade."

His final words are an out and Raubahn knows it, but he takes it regardless. "Aye, the death of any high-profile prisoner would be cause for concern, and Ul'dah is a fractious place at the best of times. I'm sure you're aware of the deepening rifts the Calamity has caused. No doubt the same is occurring within the Empire." He waves the guard with the key back over. "He's agreed to terms. Unbind him."

Sam tilts his head forward to give her easier access to his bonds; she snags his braided hair in the chain regardless, and part of him wonders if it wasn't deliberate. But as insults go it's a minor one, a momentary sting, and he brings his hands forward to rub gently at his wrists. "As a result of the Calamity, no. But His Radiance is not young, and he staunchly refuses to name an heir. Nature may abhor a vacuum, but it does so far less than do Garlemald's upper classes, and every minor lordling is prepared to shout his claim to the throne to any who will stop and listen. I can only hope that this affair is settled before it, too, becomes a rallying point."

"By which you mean van Baelsar is held in high regard, and his death would distract people from their political infighting to galvanize them against Eorzea once more." The Flame General crosses his arms over his chest. "And you aim to prevent that, for reasons I can hardly begin to guess at. I'll write to the other leaders of the Alliance with your proposal--you'll have a room, and a guard, while I wait to hear back. If either of them doesn't agree, you head back where you came from. I'll warn you; Gridania is closest to the Empire's borders and likely won't be hard to sway, but the Admiral holds little closer to her heart than her hatred for Garlemald. It'll be a hard task convincing her to see things your way."

"I would hardly feel safe here were the decision not unanimous," Sam responds. "And if it was going to be easy, they would have sent a Prince to do it." The cheek in his voice this time is not at all imagined, and the guard waves him toward the door, toward a room, toward a faint hope of détente between the two warring powers.

Chapter Text

He's been in far worse places than an Ul'dahn cell.

Admittedly, he's been in far nicer places too, and he's admittedly not a fan of the never-changing dim light in the small underground room, but the meals (three, square, and regular) are malms better than emergency rations and nobody on the watch seems immediately interested in his death.

It beats being dead, too, which had been the other--likelier--outcome.

Gaius van Baelsar still doesn't know the specifics of how he survived--he awakened here amidst mutterings of the Warrior of Light and someone named Maggie, already stripped of his armor. Some manner of healer had seen to him too, and while he's still tender in more places than he'd like to admit, he can feel no broken bones, and his burns and cuts and abrasions are well past the risk of infection.

He's heard them speaking of Lahabrea as well, which concerns him: they seem to believe the Ascian to be dead, which Gaius doubts. But the Eorzeans remain too wary of him (and, he admits, not unrightfully so) to make broaching that subject a simple matter. Even his most regular visitor, the elezen boy who seems determined to spend at least an hour a day in his presence, has held onto his suspicions.

He's grateful for the visits, though, even as he knows he's being milked for everything he knows about Garlemald by a mere child. They're one more way to mark the passage of time.

Eat, sleep, talk, think; these and four short walls are the outer bounds of his days.

There's a sharp rap on the door of his cell, which is unexpected--the boy usually comes shortly after breakfast, and he'd already been by once that day. Gaius can't venture a guess as to the actual hour, but it's between lunch and dinner and the former feels like a long time ago. Still, as the call of "Visitor!" comes, he shifts his position on the bunk against the back wall to face away from the door, leaning back with one hand hooked around his bent knees. The guards had told him from the first day that his gaze was uncanny looking into the cell from the hall, three eyes catching and reflecting the light while the rest of him faded into shadow.

Self-preservation is a surprisingly strong motivation to alter one's habits.

The door opens with its customary squeal--he wonders every time if the Eorzeans have invented hinge oil yet, or if they leave it like that for the intimidation factor--and his visitors enter.

Two, this time: Alphinaud Leveilleur is not alone, and even had they not previously stood face-to-face, the man with him would be unmistakable.

Raubahn Aldynn's hand is near enough to his blade for Gaius to abandon any pretense of relaxation; there isn't much he could do about an attack in these close quarters aside from dying on his feet rather than in his bed, but even futile habits are hard to break. The boy's presence, and the fact that he yet stands between the two men, is all the comfort he has that an attack isn't immediately forthcoming, and it's a cold one.

"How did Garlemald learn of your arrest?" Raubahn snaps. There is a hot fury about him that Gaius has not seen in their previous meetings, and as much as he would like to express the total confusion he feels, he must needs choose his next words with care.

"There are a dozen minor castra and supply depots scattered across Eorzea. A radio message from Meridianum could have reached any of them, or the western stations of Ala Mhigo." His voice is as even and measured as he can make it, though to his own ears it's not near steady enough. "Equipment at the Wall may even be strong enough to have picked up the final explosion, though such seems less likely unless they'd had active sensors enabled at the time. Neither explains how they might know of my capture, however. An assumption, perhaps?"

Leveilleur shakes his head, setting the single earring he wears to gentle swaying; it's a bit hypnotic, and Gaius can't help but be reminded of Emperor Solus' identical affectation. "He spoke the Eorzean Alliance's exact words back to General Aldynn directly, as if reading them from a page. I'd considered the possibility that the Empire had placed spies in Eorzea amongst the Grand Companies, but part of me had hoped that with the revelation of Lahabrea's identity those fears were misplaced. That those agents might not be under your command was not something I had contemplated.

"Not even I am so trusted as to not go unobserved," Gaius says. Alphinaud has spared him from having to give voice to a harsh reality of life in the Empire, but his worries are not so easily dispelled. "They've sent a courier, then? With demands that I be released at once into their custody, no doubt."

Aldynn's nostrils flare. "No. He says he's here to observe only, to ensure things are done fairly." The last word is spat. "As if the Empire has any understanding of such."

"He claims to want peace," Alphinaud cuts in, "but a fresh outbreak of hostilities would seem to me to only benefit the Empire. So why is the head of the Garlean military so concerned suddenly with avoiding that?"

Raubahn relaxes as the boy speaks and Gaius follows suit, tucking one leg up and resting his chin in one hand. "The High Legatus. It seems I have fallen far from His Radiance's favor."

"Varis yae Galvus," the General replies. "He mentioned that name, but our files contain little more than his name and position. A younger son of the Emperor?"

Gaius shakes his head. "Grandson--the only son of his eldest. He's a brilliant strategist, and a man of few personal ambitions. He cares for little other than the Empire, and would sacrifice much for its sake. What he lacks in the present Emperor's political deftness he makes up for in ruthlessness. That cold nature may be why His Radiance has not named him as heir."

Alphinaud scowls at that. "I've not met many of your people whom I'd describe as warmer than a winter's day. That he's regarded as cold even by your standards bears noting."

"Run into many Garleans wandering around Eorzea, have you?"

The lad fidgets at van Baelsar's response. "A few..."

"As well determine the behavior of a fish from how it swims in a bathtub," Gaius responds with a snort.

Alphinaud clears his throat, turning back to Raubahn. "I think we've established that he knows no more about Exemplarius' arrival or his motives at this juncture than do we. If you've other business to attend to, I'll continue the questioning and report back with whatever may seem relevant."

"As you always do," Aldynn says, as much a reminder to van Baelsar that he can expect no privacy in this place as a farewell to Alphinaud. His departure is as abrupt as his arrival, and as a guard brings in the boy's preferred chair, Gaius relaxes slightly.

"One of the Exemplari, you say?"

"I take it they're a notable family," Alphinaud says, taking a seat.

Gaius shakes his head. "No family at all. Exemplarius is a surname given to orphans--children raised in state homes, believing that they owe their entire lives to the Empire. Many of them go into the civil service or the militum, and while they rarely achieve positions of note due to a lack of family connections, their competence--and their loyalty--is without parallel. Not for nothing are they called Garlemald's perfect servants. I'd take one of them over three noblemens' sons for my Legion and never pause to consider otherwise."

The elezen furrows his brows, eartips dipping slightly. "I thought the Empire rewarded competence above all?"

"Competence when paired with a suitable lineage, yes. But while they are purebloods in every legal and biological sense that matters, there remains the possibility that, some countless number of generations back, they possess an ancestor whose blood was...less than pure. And while some, particularly in the medical community, regard that diversity as a good thing, the Empire's uppermost classes are insular and consider it a dilution." The scorn in Gaius' voice makes it clear what his own position on that matter is. "The Exemplari, by nature of what they are, have no proof to offer the court, and so are ostracized from it. They remain in the middle ranks as a result--eir and quo, and a few lucky individuals find a sponsor in spite of their status and make fae or rem."

"Tol."

Gaius purses his lips. "Hmm?"

"He introduced himself as tol Exemplarius, an aide to the High Legatus."

"I have known in all my years of service to Garlemald one single sas Exemplarius," Gaius responds. "That another may have been promoted even more highly beggars belief..." His voice trails off.

"Or what?" Alphinaud enquires.

A snort. "Rumors from my youth, nothing more. Not substantial enough to bear up under the slightest bit of scrutiny, and for which no shred of evidence was ever found. Likely he's nothing more than the High Legatus' yearmate at the Military Academy."

"I suppose I should plan on paying him a visit sooner rather than later, then," Leveilleur says, crossing his legs. "And given that he's apparently here because of you, are you amenable to speaking with him? Presuming I can make the proper arrangements, of course."

The Legatus sighs, eyes closing for a moment; these past months have aged him more, it feels, than had the prior few years. "News from home would not be unwelcome, regardless of its source. I have heard little and less since Carteneau."

"Far from the Emperor's favor, you said...is that why?"

Gaius nods. "I doubt word of my actions against van Darnus ever made it back to the capital, but my refusal to field XIVth Legion in support of the VIIth was betrayal enough. At first, I thought they merely had enough of their own problems to deal with, leaving aside one Legatus far from the home provinces. But time passed and nothing came: not orders, not reinforcements, not supplies.

"Lahabrea cared not whether I wanted a way back home or room enough to stand on my own--it didn't matter. All he cared about was that I wanted something, and it made me weak--suggestible. We of Garlemald are not like you Eorzeans; we lack any sense of the subtle shifts in aether to tell us something is terribly wrong. I didn't even possess the ability to recognize the hooks he set in my mind for what they were, let alone the ability to fight that control."

"And when he seized control of the weapon from you, it broke?"

"Started to break, more like--my near-death finished the process. I led my people into a trap forged of Ascian lies spun up from my own pride. They paid the price for it, and I can't say to you even now that I'm thinking clearly, nor that I'm yet wholly free of his influence."

Alphinaud sits upright. "And that's why you stay--why you've offered us no resistance at all. Why you're willing to talk to me, even. It's not just a question of atonement, you're trying to make sense of your own head. But what does this have to do with tol Exemplarius?"

Gaius regards the boy sat across from him with golden eyes. "A pity you'll likely never get the chance to study at a Garlean university--I think you would have found yourself quite at home amongst their methods."

Alphinaud sputters at him. "I'll have you know I was not only the youngest in my class at the Studium, but at the top of it as well, with especially high marks in history and philosophy!"

"A very Sharlayan approach, looking backward. In Garlemald, they teach strategy, science, and rhetoric, that one may better look forward."

"Predicting the future is worth nothing, if we lack the context of the past to help us understand what we see! Without that, we have nothing more than--" His voice cuts off sharply as recognition dawns in Alphinaud Leveilleur's blue, blue eyes. "...pieces of a puzzle with no idea as to the shape of the finished product. Lahabrea brought us to the brink of a Calamity, didn't he? At the Praetorium. But things weren't quite unsettled enough, thanks to the Warrior of Light."

Gaius nods slowly, eyes fixed on the floor between them.

"Two wars between Eorzea and the Empire. One Calamity, and very nearly a second. And the High Legatus wants to prevent the Ascians from planting the seeds for another--an unlikely ally, if the enemy of our enemy is indeed our friend. I think it's time I sought out this tol Exemplarius for myself."