Sorrow of the Wind

[Aaronock]

Two men spoke in a closed office of the Rogue’s guild. Mid-morning sun from the beach outside streamed into the stone walls. Within the room stood one of the guild’s masters with another across his varnished oaken desk. There spread amongst the top of the space were leftover berries, bread, and butter. They had been speaking for some time throughout the early hours at this point, nourishing themselves in the meantime.

“…You’ve been through one hell of a trip Master Rogue.” The guild master concluded as he sat into his large leathered seat, recently polished. “Glad to have you represent our guild in such a fantastic manner. No doubt we’ll have clients tearing down the door for our services. The Assassin guild will surely be in quite a tizzy when their revenues sink, and ours rise this year.”

The other fellow across from him still standing did not have the same amusement on his face. Only a day earlier had he fought against the Golemancer toe to toe. His body still bore several of the wounds. Summerstream had done efficient work on him to make sure the marks were cleaned and bandaged. His rogue’s guild outfit covered a majority of the spots around his legs and arms, however, a few wrapped bandages still showed quite visibly around his abdomen. Ezekiel tried to ignore it all and kept his focus on the guild master.

He had finished explaining their attempt to apprehend the criminal. Ezekiel and many allies fought against the creatures of Nyddhoggur and Kushiel’s creations of clay, metal, and wood. When they believed the fight was finished, the Golemancer on bended knee took Ymir’s Heartpiece into his bare hands and uttered a wish, the power to give the world in Hestia’s vision. However, it all went awry, the Golemancer transformed into a monstrous deer-beast of fur and flame. They gave chase, only to find that all other creatures had nearly fled along the trail they tracked. Ezekiel did not give his opinion on several matters such as his own pressing fears where he stood in front of Kushiel’s monstrous form. Each of them trading blows, his from a swift sword hand, and Kushiel’s a mix of melee, summoned dreamstone, and powerful magic. Thankfully others struck blows of their own, and Summerstream used her own skill with the shield to protect him from further harm.

Odin’s request did not really register in Ezekiel’s mind as he dodged blows, forced to take others, and still swing his own blade in response. Instead, it was the thought of others, those close to him that pressed him to action. Reilinn and Summerstream, his closest allies in these times, to Queen Pixie, Arriel, Adelaide, Amaria and of course Princess Lucretia asking him to do what it took to end the Golemancer’s madness.

He pondered upon Kushiel’s words, his visions he shared that mentioned they were manipulated by gods, and soon to face a fate worse than death if they would not take it by his hand. This still hung heavy over him, but to comment on it with no further evidence or clues to speak of seemed like a foolish waste of time.

Instead the still standing figure at last mused, “Of course, did you ever expect me to do less?”

“Actually…” The man gave a heavy pause and pulled out a cigarette from a compartment in the desk. He lit it and placed it into the side of his mouth as he prattled on next, “Nobody thought you would try joining into the top ranks when your arrogant little ass strode in here all those years ago. Despite the attitude, it was still quite a surprise to learn later you were a noble brat. Never pegged yah for that. I bet that rich crazy woman chasing after you fed you some nice helpings of humble pie, whether you want to admit it or not!” The guild master slapped his knees and guffawed loudly at Ezekiel’s expense.

The master rogue’s own opinion had become far more nuanced since his marriage, and then later eventual divorce. He couldn’t argue with the guild master, so he laughed nervously with him, choosing not to admit to the broad shouldered man across him hit a nerve. “So, do you have any more shit you would like to fling at me, or am I clear to leave?”

The guild master pondered the request a moment, letting his cigarette hang, his tone lowered to a near whisper. “Most of our work is done in shadows, never be seen, never get caught. The fewer enemies you make the better. But sometimes, sometimes, circumstance beyond our control puts us into the public eye. You realize you lost the privilege long ago to keep completely within the dark, right?” He drew the cigarette from his lips and blew a large puff of smoke out towards the window. He leaned forward, elbows first, onto the oaken desk. Placing the wrapped piece of nicotine back into his mouth, and crossed his hands under his chin he continued his speech, “I don’t even mean the business with the Fae woman, getting marked a criminal and that terrible sketch of your face all over the Midgard Times. I mean before even that, when that ex of yours found you and gave you them marriage papers. I ain’t saying, stop doing what you’re doing, but, well… you’re a smart guy, you think it through what it means.”

Ezekiel could only turn away and give a nod and mumbling, responded, “Your words are not lost on me, Princess Lucretia impressed upon my very being the importance of the matter, though perhaps in another way at the time.”

“If that is the case, then you are dismissed. Best of luck in all your endeavors, Ezekiel.” Just as the smoking man finished his statement, Ezekiel had already reached the door. The last thing he heard was other man blowing another long puff of smoke towards the window.

With that line of business now complete, Ezekiel relaxed his guard and wandered down the stone halls of their guild’s fortress. The hallways in this particular section were rarely guarded with many, as Ezekiel’s fellow rogue’s were known all too well for their prying eyes and ears. So, strict security was kept from disallowing those without business within several of the higher-up’s offices. As he turned out of that hallway, giving simple hellos to those standing watch, he made another turn, and felt a weight wrapping around his injured waist.

“Well well well, look at you. All beat up and still on the job.” It was a familiar female voice.

Ezekiel winced from the squeeze but managed to greet her. “Yes Katarin, I live. Just finished my report and was about to travel over to Geffen.”

“Really, in your condition? Stay a day here, have a bit of lunch with me, a drink, and perhaps even a little bit more,” she teased and pinched his cheek over her comment regarding ‘a little bit more.’

They had been walking but then he stopped and considered her offer. “I do not have a pressing schedule to be there, but I will only give you two out of three of those options.”

“Ooo, a drink and a little bit more then!” She winked, but her lower lip curled, she already knew she’d face rejection.

“Nice try.” He smiled and removed her arms from his waist. They trotted down their current hallway and began to take the twists and turns that would leave them to the entrance. There they would be able to find a bite to eat, and conversation could commence. They ordered their food from the bar as soon as they were seated. Him a hot bowl of stew and salad, and for her, grilled fish and beans.

As the food arrived Ezekiel took the time to fidget in his stool and tell Katarin something that had been itching at him for some time. “I must say, uh, thanks, for taking the time and helping me brush up my manners.”

“Didn’t think you’d go use those skills to bag girls.” She smiled and poked at her fish.

“Hey now, that is not…”

She laughed, “Don’t fret your little noble bottoms so much, I know it was in the line of work.”

“Can I ask you something?”

The woman blinked, taken aback by the request but prompted her old training partner to speak while she began to nibble on her meal.

“Why do you maintain an alias?”

“What a ridiculous question, didn’t you say it for yourself once? Something along the lines of ‘doing it to protect those who could be put in harm’s way by your actions, good or ill’?”

Ezekiel rocked his body back and forth in the stool, “I did say that at least once. And because I felt that doing so would also push aside a majority of preconceived notions about me. If they really knew who I was, a person born of nobility, that tends to give quite a negative impression.”

Her head rose haughtily as she popped a piece of fish into her mouth, “They’ll have preconceived notions no matter what your name is. Your current name has certain connotations already for example. Do you want me to give you some?”

“No, no, I get the point,” and his head drooped, a futile disagreement was brewing, and he attempted to de-escalate it. “I admit it, I maintained a false name to those of my old life from finding me.” He heard her scoff and stuff another bite of food into her mouth. As for himself, he picked lightly at a potato in the stew, followed by a heavy sigh. “But also it was done to protect myself from others, easier that they not know the real me.”

“Hello, do I know you? When did you become the type to open up so casually?” She flicked the side of his forehead in one swift motion. “Whatever are you planning to do now with Odin’s request finished?”

“Find a way to end life as Ezekiel Stalker of course.” He retorted nonchalantly and began to eat at his food casually as possible, as if no heavy conversation had just taken place.

They both ate in silence at that point. Eventually making small chatter about her next job. It seemed she would be busy for the long haul and this would be the last they’d see of one another for many months to come. He didn’t envy her, instead thanking her a final time for her time with him, to their parting with a handshake and a long hug.

The next day, he left early to visit a certain pompous, “Ethereal Engineer” in the Southwestern corner of Geffen. After several knocks from the rogue, a tall figure opened the door to an amused and cheeky grin. “You live! Wait, of course you live from that final battle, I should never expect less!” The mage then took in his guest’s condition, the smile then instantly turned glum, “Gosh, that Golemancer did a number on you...”

Ezekiel quickly cut him off, “I was worse for wear from Amdusias than my final battle with Kushiel. A, um, ahem…” he cleared his throat, “A friend made certain I got patched up pretty shortly after Kushiel’s death. Can I come in, and uh,” he stopped momentarily to find the proper words, “Please heat up some hot water for tea? Aaronock?”

A small nod came from the lanky man, and motioned the rogue inside. This time, the engineer noted that he had not turned off the security systems within the home, as Ezekiel’s visit was truly unexpected. Down the hallway they tiptoed, making sure to not trigger one of the many deadly magical machinations within the home. Ezekiel as usual pondered the scholar’s paranoia, and what the inventor really held inside the home that required so much insurance to protect it. Eventually, after many careful steps and fiddling of devices by Aaronock, the guest was provided seating arrangements in the living room. Down plopped Ezekiel into the leather long couch, and Aaronock made haste towards the kitchen. They spent their time mildly catching up on one another’s business. Cream, Aaronock’s monster Drops assistant added his own unnecessary comments and jabs at the both of them. Ezekiel told his side with the usual impersonal tone he gave. But Aaronock excitedly told the rogue that he had a prototype ready for an interesting ‘mass dispelling apparatus.’

Becoming animated, Aaronock waved his arm around while downing the tea. “I’m telling you Ezekiel, this could be the breakthrough I’ve been looking for.” He took a short sip and immediately continued, “A grand beginning towards severing the bridge between our world and Muspelheim.” This statement followed with yet another sip from the cup, “And, if all works according to plan, my Bifrost Project is one step closer to being useable again.” He finished with a sigh of relief.

“We already made a bet.” Piped in another voice, it was Cream, Aaronock’s assistant and monster Drops. “If it doesn’t work when field tested, he has to feed me only truly edible goods for a week!” The little orange jello-like creature jiggled with excitement just envisioning only tasty treats being fed to his gelatinous and impervious body for a week.

Ezekiel shrugged to that comment. “I am uncertain why it matters much, you are capable of eventually digesting anything.”

Cream followed up with a pout, “Doesn’t mean it tastes or feels good having it in my system.” That was a point that Ezekiel had not considered, and conceded to the Drops by tossing the creature a piece of candy from his pocket.

Aaronock then joined back in, “For once, the little assistant does not misconstrue and twist the truth. But his desire for my failure for his own gain is a bit crude wouldn’t you agree?” Without giving the rogue or creature any time to respond he inquired casually, “Ezekiel, did you have anything you wished to ask me? That’s why you visit isn’t it?”

“Glad to have you strike right to the heart of the matter.” The rogue wagged a finger at Aaronock. “There are many things I have done in this world for money. Cutting monster populations brings a temporary peace for those who live in the afflicted regions. Gathering supplies for those in need means they have what they need in their own endeavors to serve society. Gods, even bringing certain pompous ‘Ethereal Engineers’ their books they request because they are barred from Yuno – I suppose even that must make some difference.”

Aaronock nodded. “Yes, those are things that have built your reputation over the years, you understand the importance that small actions can turn tides. It so refreshing that you’re not the rowdy rapscallion type so common amongst your fellow guild members.”

Ezekiel frowned as he cupped the drink in his hands against his chin. His eyes peered deeply into the liquid, hoping to find answers inside. “It feels as if the world still turns the same as ever. As I just made mention of, I am not unaware of the actions taken by myself, and their potential effects. But it becomes ever more apparent that my place in the world as Ezekiel Stalker edges ever closer to its end. To live in the world as ‘Fazil Reis’ comes with its own burdens. How much easier it would be to turn away, but doing so would go against everything I have fought for, and the whole reason I left my cozy home in the first place.”

“What exactly do you plan to do then?” This turn in the conversation intrigued the inventor, and his own curiosity grew to know the response his friend would give.

“I thought I could change the world simply by influencing the bottom to rise against corruption. How simple minded, it requires so much more. It needs more than my hands alone to make such differences. My plans hm?” He drew the cup ever closer, now touching the tip of his lower lip. “A mantle of leadership has been placed upon me, but I am still learning how to guide people to their true potential, and to utilize others’ talents in a way that is beneficial for the goals we may share.”

The taller man grinned wide, “Do what it is you’re doing now, and I’m sure it’ll be enough to start. You’ll be an interesting figure in politics if you decide to make a stab forward in that direction.”

“Maybe.” Ezekiel sipped at last from the mug at his lip. “First there are a few personal matters to attend to, but I do desire making a move to repair fae and human relations afterwards.”

“A wonderful start. Before you begin on all that, would you like to play a few rounds of Rummy with me on this lovely day?”

He gave his usual pause before giving any sort of reply to a request, “Fine and fair, whoever wins two out of three buys the other their wine for the evening.”

Aaronock’s ears perked to the bet, “Oh my, oh my, that could get pricy, especially with your tolerance for drink. I must play at my absolute peak, or else find myself quite a couple hundred thousand zeny lighter. You’re on Ezekiel, as soon as I get the deck from under my workbench.”

“I’m rooting for Zeke to win it.” Cream then hopped, “I'll take any opportunity to watch your cocky attitude to be punted down a notch.”

“Gods, you really are a crude little slimeball,” Ezekiel interjected, “But I will take your enthusiasm to heart, for I too desire knocking this pompous jerk down from his high horse.” After the rogue gave his remarks, Aaron breathed through his nose with a cold smile on his face. Standing from his chair, he gave a narrow glare at his assistant. Aaronock then pressed the front half of his boot upon Cream, causing the gelatinous monster to nearly bend under the weight. He was not satisfied with his punishment till his foot shifted across the whole of the little orange Drops. Once he was however, the man then skipped his way towards the workbench, making sure to avoid triggering any dangers within the walls of the apartment to grab the deck of playing cards they always used to play their games together. They then played for a few hours, with Ezekiel laughing at the end as they prepared themselves to visit the bar for the evening, and Aaronock's mouth agape at results.