#amirariah

When Marce returned, he was unaccompanied. Jourdan did not have long to wonder why that was before he explained, "Ami would like you to meet him at his home. Please come with me."

Jourdan stood and ambled over to the door. Marce's quick glance toward the refreshments table did not escape his notice. With Jourdan quite committed to the hospitality bit, the status of the snacks should not have mattered. Unless, of course, Marce cared that Jourdan had eaten for some other reason. Jourdan had seen no reason to withhold from eating more, since even that array of options would not have been enough to make him plump enough to toss into an oven like the old Twelveswood stories warned. He had eaten a couple of sandwiches and some popoto chips and sipped some tea in the ten or so minutes that Marce had been gone. He'd also stuffed a couple of fruits into his pockets.

They left the estate and followed a path that wound among several smaller residences. Near the end of that path, and near the town's western wall, was a dwelling that seemed a bit smaller than the others, but had a larger yard. That yard held several covered planters and what seemed to be workspaces for smithing. Both of those aligned with Jourdan's own interests. But he seldom allowed others to know of his hobbies, and all of those items seemed to have been settled in their places since before the thaw, at the very least.

Like father, like son, perhaps.

Marce tapped lightly at the door before opening it. He and Jourdan entered. The house, mostly consisting of one room, was sparsely decorated but neither spartan nor minimalist; it had the feel of someone learning to live in such a space, and that, too, was relatable to Jourdan.

Across that room, Amirariah rose to his feet. Dressed in browns and deep yellows, with his auburn hair falling about his shoulders, he barely looked or felt much older than Jourdan. In some ways, indeed, he looked younger. It was that relaxed expression of self-confidence, of security in one's own skin, Jourdan thought. He could almost think Amirariah had never held a single worry in his life, even though he knew that to be far from true.

Amirariah's expression softened further as his gaze settled on Jourdan. He smiled, then took a few steps forward to meet Jourdan halfway as the younger man did the same. Marce stepped off to one side just within the doorway.

Jourdan had not planned adequately for this moment. In fact, he realized much too suddenly, he had not planned for it at all. "Amirariah?" he asked a bit lamely.

"Yes." Ami's smile only warmed at the sound of his chosen name. "I see your mother in you. And the blood of my people as well."

Jourdan began to respond, but no words came out, as was fitting since he had no idea what to say. For all he had heard and read about Amirariah's prowess in melee and magicked combat, his skill at hunting, and indeed, that storied history Marce had alluded to, all Jourdan felt from him in this moment was gentleness, a warmer aura of kindness and affection than he had ever encountered before.

"May I?" Ami asked softly.

Jourdan nodded despite being only partly aware of what the question meant. Ami wrapped his arms around Jourdan and held him close. Jourdan rested his head against Ami's chest.

Over Jourdan's head, Ami met Marce's gaze. Marce understood the unspoken request. He slipped out of the house via the front door, which he closed behind him.

They stood there for a long moment. All the tension Jourdan had been carrying since learning the truth of his parents eased away. Still, though…. He took a small step back from his father's embrace. "You… know that I am…." He didn't know how to finish that statement.

"Come. Let's sit." Ami gestured to a sofa. They sat beside each other. Noting the way Jourdan briefly looked around, Ami added, "He left already."

"Ah."

Ami chuckled. "You seem disappointed."

"No." Jourdan shook his head. "I found him curious, is all. Does he always use his sensuality as a bludgeon?"

Ami snorted. Then he laughed. It was a bright, warm, relieved, cheerful laugh, and he indulged in it, letting go of what tension and worry he had been holding as well. Jourdan smiled ever so faintly; for him, this was equivalent to open laughter.

"Yes and no. It's as much a defense mechanism as it is an act of manipulation. You'll get to know him, and find out more. It's not my story to tell." Ami gave a light shrug.

Jourdan noted that Marce had told him the same thing for a different reason. "He said that you saved him from being executed by the Fane."

Ami leaned casually against the back of the sofa. "Put briefly, yes."

"Is that how you came to live here?"

"Yes. After he gave up illicit magicks and the Fane removed him from their active threat list, I retired." Ami chuckled again. "He needed someone to teach healing magicks here in town. I accepted."

Jourdan nodded. "I suppose I would expect someone to choose someplace… warmer."

"Do you prefer warmer climes yourself?"

The question caught Jourdan off guard. "I… have yet to adjust to the cold here. But I have only lived in the Twelveswood. Perhaps I would not enjoy true heat."

Ami simply nodded rather than questioning him further. There would, hopefully, be time for that later. Building trust mattered more. "You know what, I have an idea. It's still bright outside. We could have a spar."

Jourdan winced. "Am—Father, I… you know that I…"

"Was trained from birth to be an assassin, aye. That's why I suggested it. We can chat all day and night, but you might feel more comfortable speaking in a more familiar language." Ami got to his feet and offered out his hand. "Join me?"

With marked hesitation, Jourdan took the offered hand and got up. They left the house through the back door. It opened onto a comparatively spacious yard that had a bit of training equipment and a striking dummy. Ami retrieved a pair of blades from a weapons crate and held them amongst his fingertips.

"Sai?" Jourdan was intrigued. Even he had struggled to master those, though he had not had a dedicated sai teacher, in fairness.

"A favorite of mine, if only due to the amount of time it took to learn their features." Ami gestured to Jourdan. "Use whichever blades you brought with you, though perhaps not the throwing daggers."

"I have only live blades."

"You seem to think my sai are dulled." Ami grinned. "So long as you don't decapitate me, I can heal both of us. Make your choice."

Jourdan thought for a moment, then drew two blades that one might have taken as mismatched at first glance. One was significantly shorter and squatter than the other. It took Ami only a few moments to glean Jourdan's approach. The first blade, a knife with a trailing edge, was ideal for slashing, while the smaller one could be used as a backup or offhand weapon, but the flat of the blade could also block an opponent's point well.

The younger man's hesitation was clear, however. Ami took up a starting stance with his sai. "En garde," he called, waited a scant few seconds, and then lunged into a first kata. Jourdan flipped his short blade up to stop Ami's leading sai and spun to the side to avoid the other, but did not follow up with an attack, instead taking a defensive stance.

Ami dashed forward as if to attack head-on. Jourdan spun to the side again, but Ami anticipated this and danced around him at the same time. For the brief moment that they were aligned, he dropped his left hand back and drove the sai in his right hand into Jourdan's chest. Specifically, he drove it into the persimmon that Jourdan had tucked into a hidden inner pocket there.

"Heh heh."

That was as much laughter as anyone had ever drawn from Jourdan's throat. He beheld the buried sai with an expression of perfect bemusement.

Ami extracted the blade with care. "I may be retired, but I do remember a thing or two. Stop holding back."

Before he'd even finished speaking, Ami flashed his left hand up for a direct throat shot. He knew it would only hit air. Jourdan was gone in the next breath. Ami simply prepared to defend.

Jourdan circled around to Ami's right to avoid the blow, but he also flashed out his long knife at Ami's right side. Ami flipped his right sai to block it, but it was a feint. The short blade sliced upward through the air, forcing Ami to duck and cover, but this was also a feint. The real blow came around Ami's left as Jourdan spun behind his back and brought up his right hand to stab at Ami's exposed side, but Jourdan's left hand was at the base of Ami's neck, and that was the hand that mattered. The long blade was in it. He'd swapped blades mid-spin.

They paused just like that. Jourdan had managed to stop his motion before either of his weapons found purchase. Ami was doubled over, protecting his right side with one sai while the other was just starting to move to block Jourdan's right hand. That hand, which now held the short and squat blade, would not have effectively punctured Ami's skin, but the long blade at his neck could either have jabbed his carotid artery or slashed deep into his neck.

"Holy shit," Ami breathed.

Jourdan withdraw quickly. "I'm sorry."

"No. No, don't apologize." Ami straightened and beamed at his son. "That was incredible. You're incredible."

Jourdan's expression did not change. It was the way his chest stopped, previously heaving a bit from the exertion, that gave his emotion away. His skill at combat had always been frightening to others. Effective, useful, and frightening. He wasn't sure anyone had complimented him so broadly on them before.

"Again." Ami was already dropping into a new kata, so Jourdan let those thoughts fade into a general feeling of contentment as he sprang into movement again.

Ami aimed both of his sai at Jourdan's legs, forcing Jourdan to move quickly again. His blades were in their preferred hands again, and he lowered his left hand to trail behind him and catch any wayward sai points on the flat of that squat blade while spinning on one foot with the grace of a ballerina. Ami started to get up and turn, only to drop into a roll when he found Ami's long blade curving upward across his chest. Ami tagged Jourdan's feet with scrapes of his sai while he rolled beneath the younger man, who had jumped to dodge. He came up to his feet, spinning around quickly to face where Jourdan had been, with his right sai turned to deflect a blow.

But Jourdan wasn't there. He should have been there, given that he had been jumping in that direction. But Jourdan had turned in midair, springing off of his father's back with a featherlight touch of his digitigrade paws, and had landed beyond where Ami came up from his roll. Ami had no time to recover before Jourdan, despite being shorter, had the flat of his squat blade, which was in his right hand, pressed against Ami's throat from behind him.

Ami laughed warmly. "Fucking brilliant."

That was a strange sensation, the way pressure shifted into the top of Jourdan's chest so quickly at those words. Was that what people meant by hearts leaping? He stepped back, lowering his weapons, and Ami turned to grin at him. "You've got to show me how you keep changing weapons like that. I don't think I've seen you do it."

"I have only changed hands while I was behind you thus far." Jourdan glided over to the striking dummy. After a moment's thought, he repeated the motions he had made in the scrap before that one, which had ended with his long blade at Ami's neck. It was not difficult to reproduce since Ami had barely moved that time.

Ami paid special attention to the shifting of blades. He noted that Jourdan tossed the blades only high enough for himself to reach easily, minimizing the chance that they might be grabbed by his opponent. But he didn't merely toss or juggle the knives; the knives reached the apexes of their tosses in the exact places that Jourdan would need to grab them and complete their trajectory for where they would next travel. That was how acutely he could control his own aether and movements.

"You feinted three times then as well," Ami noted, impressed. "I thought as much, but also I thought I was losing my mind."

Jourdan was not accustomed to receiving so much praise, especially not regarding his ability with blades. A smile tugged at his lips, but he wasn't used to that, either.

"Your style of fighting has hallmarks and obvious training, but it feels like street brawling. That's brilliant." Ami moved toward his weapons cache, where he returned his sai and picked out a kukri and a stiletto instead. "I'll have to give you a more appropriate challenge."

They sparred until the sun was low in the west and they were both nearing exhaustion. Ami tested out many of the blades in his collection, and Jourdan tried some of those blades as well. Jourdan got plenty more compliments and Ami earned plenty more partial smiles and laughs.

("God Fearing Man" by Imminence)

I've been looking for god in the silence To let me in From the depths of a blackened horizon My sweet redemption Twist the knife The fear that controls us It hurts like hell but it feels like Heaven It hurts like hell but it feels like Heaven It hurts like hell but it feels like— It hurts like hell but it feels like… Another day of abject failures. But he had another bell or so before the sun would set, so he kept at it, his horned head bowed, his lips moving in whispered prayer.

Ae-Tuy-Namun came here, to the Oath Tree clustered deep within the West Shroud, every single day, rain or shine. It was where he had the most consistent fortune in Hearing the elementals of the Twelveswood. Always had been, long before the Calamity decimated this place. But the West Shroud was slowly, imperceptibly, healing. So was the power of the elementals.

None would call Ae-Tuy the most powerful or talented of the Padjal, but he was certainly one of the oldest, and certainly he was the most devout. The others listened and waited for commands that seldom came. Ae-Tuy took the general sense of the elementals' will and shaped it into action. For this he was beloved by them, and he adored them in return.

I hide behind the walls 'Cause I don't want to see The pain inside the truth That brings me to my knees

Ae-Tuy had created a splinter group that could operate outside of the control and oversight of Stillglade Fane. He called this group the Drifting Leaf. However, others had come to refer to him as that "Leaf" itself.

His group was highly effective. But none among that number had ever held the foresight, the vision that Leaf held. They showed up, took orders, and did as Leaf bade them, himself having been so bade by the elementals. Without him, the group would fall apart. They craved his direction and the excellent assignments he gave them. Also, he paid well.

Yet of late, Leaf had faced an unusual problem. He was struggling to Hear the elementals. More than that, he was struggling to glean what the elementals wanted. He knew that he and his team should be in Coerthas, of course. That much was plain, and definitely their will rather than his own. But from there… he had come up with his own plots to keep Ishgard from upsetting its own status quo, but he wanted more guidance. He wanted to understand the elementals' plan for him. Without this, he felt directionless… empty. Yet he could not deny that the greater freedom in creating tasks for the team was… exhilarating.

It hurts like hell but it feels like Heaven It hurts like hell but it feels like nothing is sacred In a heart full of hatred My sweet redemption

His thoughts were wandering. Leaf emptied his mind and relaxed his body into a more receptive sitting pose. Now… the approaching dusk would be an ideal time to receive a message from the elementals. It was peaceful, and the sunset, mildly discolored by the lingering aether that suffused the air in this place, brought to mind an ending. For everything had to end in order to begin anew, did it not? This had taken him to Coerthas, and it would take him farther still.

"You should not follow the same routine so closely."

That was no elemental. The deep, gruff voice was instantly recognizable. Hiding his annoyance at the interruption, Leaf looked up and over at the speaker. "Greenwrath. I believe I told you to work with Xejozana earlier. Is there something you need?"

The Viera stepped out of the shadows cast by a nearby copse of trees. Dark-toned of skin and hair, he looked every ilm the part of the trained assassin. Leaf had created him for that very purpose. Taken from the grasp of the woman who had birthed him, who of course had met a swift end soon after, the assassin had undergone studies and trainings from early childhood to instill the necessities of stealth, speed, and deadly accuracy. Leaf had thrown out the rest. It was extraneous. Anything resembling qualms or personality or conscience within his custom-built soldier was beaten out and stripped away.

"You need not refer to me by that moniker." The assassin stopped just outside of arm's reach of Leaf. He had never objected to being called 'Greenwrath' before, but then again, he had seldom objected to anything at all. Leaf had made that so.

Leaf shrugged. "You have no name. I have to call you something."

"You failed to give me a name."

"Then your name is Greenwrath." Leaf rolled his eyes. "I'm running out of daylight. State what you need, then go."

"I will not accept that as a name."

Leaf huffed in exasperation. Then he pushed himself up to his feet so he could glare at the assassin at closer to eye level. "You've grown more and more annoying of late. Do you know that?"

"When is the last time you Heard the elementals?"

The question caught Leaf off guard. He sputtered for a moment. "What is the meaning of this impudence?"

"Answer the question."

"I don't owe you an explanation," Leaf spat. "I made you. I own you."

"Once." The assassin narrowed his eyes. "No longer."

I don't need to know The answer to my woes Whatever waits in the afterlife Beg for forgiveness and twist the knife

"I think you're mistaken. Where else would you go? What else would you be?" Recovering from his shock and offense, Leaf laughed. "You are nothing but a killer on a leash. No one but I would accept you. Even the rest of my team hates you. Now stop wasting my time with this idiocy."

"When is the last time you Heard the elementals, Leaf?"

"Fuck off." In his upset, the Padjal did not mince words. "If you mean to challenge me, I hope you brought something other than all the weapons I had taught to you. You could never hope to beat me otherwise."

"He did."

That voice was not familiar. But it certainly did not belong to any elemental. Leaf squinted as he tried to locate the source. Against the growing dusk, a perfect circle of emergency-red flames burst into existence. Another Viera, this one taller and with ears that stood upright amongst his auburn hair, stepped through the fire and emerged unsinged.

Leaf recognized this man's face and commanding demeanor. Amirariah Ramadi, a foremost agent of the Fane and breaker of mages, and the biological father of the assassin.

I don't wanna go Before I reach the end Of all good things to come Have mercy on my soul

"Ah." Leaf wet his lips. "Had I known you'd bring company, Greenwrath, I might have kept a more hospitable mien."

"No, no, your 'mien' was appreciated." Amirariah came to a stop beside his son. "It was very enlightening. I'd hoped to see you at your worst against my son, though I suspect your best might not have been very different."

Leaf looked from Amirariah to the assassin and back. "What brings you here, Agent?"

"I heard there was to be a funeral," Amirariah replied. "See, my son even went to the trouble of wearing all black."

It was a joke. The assassin nearly always wore all black. That was how he had been taught, and trained, and tortured.

"As for how you referred to him," Amirariah added. "As 'Greenwrath.' That'll be the last time you call him that."

"Oh," Leaf said. "Of course, Agent."

"I don't think you catch my meaning," Amirariah said.

"Yeah, he usually doesn't."

Yet another voice rang against the West Shroud hush. Leaf recognized this one. It belonged to a member of his team, Jaime Rennick. That man was stepping through the flames from another point on the circle, and he brushed himself off as if he was covered in embers. Aretas and Xejozana also entered the circle. Other than their spy, who had been missing for a while now, this comprised Leaf's entire team, plus Amirariah.

Leaf looked around wildly. "Why are you all here?"

"When is the last time you Heard the elementals?" The question again came from the assassin, in the same tone he had used both times before.

Rennick tossed his head in the assassin's direction. "You might wanna answer that."

It hurts like hell but it feels like Heaven It hurts like hell but it feels like nothing is sacred In a heart full of hatred

"I owe you all nothing. I am in command," Leaf stammered. "You will obey my orders regardless. You have no right, no standing, to ask questions!"

Rennick looked to Xejozana. "That sound like a 'I haven't been Hearing them since we left Gridania' to you, big man?"

"Yes," Xejozana grunted.

"Maybe even before we left," Aretas mused.

"Don't question me!!" Instinctively, Leaf grabbed for the wand that hung from his belts and held it aloft. "The next one who questions me will fall to my magicks!"

"I take it back," Rennick told Amirariah. "He does catch on sometimes."

Leaf stared. "Then you all came here to kill me."

"Kinda," Rennick replied.

"We came here to verify a few things," Aretas added. "Chief among them, that you've been misleading and lying to us. We haven't been aiding the elementals. We've been serving your whims."

"No!!" Leaf gripped his wand more tightly. "The elementals speak through me! I am their voice and their red right hand!"

"Step back," Amirairah said quietly. "He really believes it."

Rennick, Aretas, and Xejozana retreated a few steps.

The assassin slowly drew a pair of blades from their holsters. "No, d'aiti," Amirariah murmured. "When you strike, you cannot hesitate. I am at your back."

Those words provided the assassin with a swell of certainty. He stepped forward, but Leaf was already stepping back, as if he had anywhere to go beyond the well-controlled wall of fire. Ami had the flames under his command; he had allowed the others to walk through them, but Leaf would not try his luck.

"You dare to challenge me? A Padjal, at the top of my craft?" Leaf scoffed. "You are all disposable! Replaceable! It will barely cause me any trouble, and unlike me, not a single one of you will leave the least stain on this star's history!" Show me the face! A new dawn will break! I won't be afraid! I am the weight of the world that has fallen astray!

The assassin began to move, taking faster steps to close the distance between him and Leaf.

"And you." Leaf levelled his wand at the assassin. "I will start with you, Green—"

The assassin blurred. Leaf barely had time to cast Stoneskin around himself before his opponent's blades found their mark. Two cuts in passing to Leaf's neck and collarbone landed but did not kill, and they mended quickly once Leaf cast a quick Regen.The assassin made another pass, faster than the first, but achieved the same results.

"Fool," Leaf scoffed, relieved that his magicks were indeed holding up against the assassin's blades. "Why don't I save you some time?" Leaf whipped up a whirlwind to shove the assassin out of reach, then battered him with a cast of Stone. But he was not the only world-class healer in the ring of fire. Amirariah healed his son quickly before training his nouliths on Leaf and sending a series of staccato blasts that Leaf had to heal himself.

The assassin darted back into the fight while Leaf was distracted by Ami. But Leaf's magicks held, and his bladework, while neat and quick, still failed to faze the Padjal.

"Disarm him!" Rennick shouted.

The assassin took another Stone battering, but a shield applied moments before by Ami kept the impact minimal. Gripping his knives, he dashed in yet again. In one move, he relieved Leaf of his wand mid-spellcast, then slammed the hilt of his offhand knife into Leaf's face with enough force to have broken the Padjal's nose if not for all his shields and heals.

The thrown wand arced wide, and Aretas darted in to catch it. Leaf's attention shifted to him. He broke the wand over his knee as if it were little more than a tree branch.

The assassin took that moment to drive one of his knives into Leaf's side, yank it back out, then shove the other into the base of Leaf's neck, right into his carotid artery. Leaf dropped onto his knees, but he reached into his pocket as he did.

"Back away!" Ami yelled.

Aretas and the assassin were both buffeted by a much more powerful gust of wind. The blast tossed them out and up, and they both landed flat on their backs. Ami hurriedly healed both of them, but Aretas chose to stay out of the fight after that. The assassin moved in as soon as he was on his feet again, but this time, he stumbled back, briefly stunned, as if he'd hit a wall a few yalms before he reached Leaf.

A dome of magicks had formed around Leaf, not nearly as wide as the circle of fire, but enough to keep his opponents well away from him. His fist clutched a gemstone that could not be seen, but he was using it as a focus in place of his broken wand. Ami's noulith blasts bounced off of the dome uselessly. He ran over to his son instead to inspect him for wounds.

"He's casting something," Xejozana called out.

Leaf was indeed murmuring an enchantment under his breath in the safety of his dome. Aether stirred and gathered unto him. "What is that spell?" the assassin asked.

"I'm not sure," Ami answered. "But it's earth-aspected. He might be creating a golem."

The assassin stood. "We have to stop him."

"Yes." Ami gave the Padjal a long look. "But we need a plan, and we don't have time for a plan."

The assassin holstered his drawn blades. In their place, he drew his obsidian knife.

Ami grasped his son's arm. "There is enough ambient aether flowing within that dome right now to disintegrate you."

"I know." The long look he gave his father bore more affection than he had ever been able to express. Then he dashed toward the dome.

Ami was prepared. A well-timed Rescue pulled his son back well before he reached the dome.

In the same moment, the dome ceased to exist. The ambient aether within it immediately returned to the Land. Leaf's cast was interrupted by an unseen force.

The Padjal was left fully exposed.

"…?"

The sound that left Leaf's lips defied description. Confusion, disappointment, alarm—it bore some mix of those to varying degrees. He simply stood there at the center of the circle.

His horns vanished. Instead, his skin took on the familiar, yet seldom seen in recent times, mark of woodsin.

For a few long moments, everything felt still. No one moved. Everyone tried to make sense of what they were witnessing.

Including Leaf himself.

Amirariah and his son suddenly blinked and looked attentive at the same time.

Then Leaf's body disintegrated. The stone in his hand fell among ashes that were themselves gone just as quickly.

Silence descended. Ami let the fire spell fade. Dusk was giving way to full night.

"Was that." Rennick cleared his throat. "Was that the Greenwrath? The Greenwrath?"

The assassin was shaking. His father held him close. "Yes," answered the latter.

"Shit," Rennick said. "We just watched Leaf die to fucking Greenwrath."

"The elementals favor poetry." Xejozana gestured for Aretas and Rennick to follow him in joining the two Viera.

The assassin was on the ground, and Amirariah's arm hid his face from view. That gesture did not also muffle the sound of quiet sobs.

"Hey," Rennick said gently. "Jourdan. You're free."

Amirariah looked up at Rennick.

Once they returned to the house, Ami plopped himself onto the floor sofa instead of the sitting one, and Jourdan sat next to him there. Neither man had taken much more damage than some cuts and scrapes here and there, but Ami had cast a couple of Cures just in case.

"How long may I stay for this visit?" Jourdan asked.

"I was hoping forever." Ami grinned. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. I have a spare futon you can use if you sleep over."

How strange, Jourdan thought. To be wanted. To be offered long-term connection. This was his father, of course. And he was beginning to understand what "unconditional love" might mean.

He was also starting to appreciate how much had been missing in his life — how much had been taken from him. This was the kind of attention he had craved as a child but given up on as a man. It was not too late. Such things could never come too late. But it could have come sooner.

For both of them. As they chatted idly, Jourdan noted how Ami slipped into the role of loving, accepting parent as if it was natural for him. He had lost something, too, and hadn't even been aware of it.

And Ami noted that Jourdan seemed more comfortable speaking openly as well as being physically near to him after having sparred so much. He began to find way to subtly encourage both.

He'd begun by talking about weapons and fighting styles used by his tribe back in Tural, which led to plenty of questions. Now he was providing those answers while braiding Jourdan's hair into cornrows.

"Is Tural very far away?" Jourdan asked.

"By water, yes. It's faster by air, and certainly by aetheryte. Though the time of travel matters too." Ami finished one braid and started on the next. "During the summer, massive storms that swirl around their core grow and pass across the ocean. Our ancestors called these storms jurucan, from which the word 'hurricane' comes."

"Hurricane. They sound frightening."

"They can be, but they occur every year. We've long since learned to survive them." Ami smirked. "Though they have a nasty habit of wiping colonists' settlements off the map."

"Are such settlements unwelcome?"

"It depends on the context. Tural is a very big place."

"I think I would like to see it sometime."

"Of course." But Ami already knew things would not be so simple. Taking a tour of wider Tural, sure, but a visit to Iamaie, his tribe's village, would face hurdles. He had not yet figured out how to tell Jourdan that his heterochromic eyes, especially when considering Jourdan's employment as one who takes lives, would be viewed as a curse.

"First we might try travelling closer to home, though," Ami added. "Thanalan and La Noscea."

"I have long wanted to visit those places."

"Have you been unable to so far?"

Jourdan fidgeted a bit. "I have neither the funding nor the resources. Leaf controls those."

"And so your life was constrained to the Twelveswood until recently."

"Yes, ser."

Ami was quiet for a moment. He was almost finished braiding and had reached Jourdan's right ear. While lop ears were not uncommon among Viera and Shetona in general, they were vanishingly rare within Ami's tribe, to the point that mothers bearing children with lop ears were accused of infidelity. Of course, Jourdan's lop ears could easily have come from his mother's side, but that did not stop Ami from worrying. Jourdan's ears bore a heaviness that felt slightly unnatural.

He gently nudged the ear up a little so he could braid beneath where it lay. It didn't seem to respond much. "We could go travelling together, if you'd like."

Jourdan did not respond right away. After a prolonged silence, he said quietly, "Father, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, d'aiti."

"What… if you were in my place, how would you deal with Leaf?"

Ami finished the last of the braids, then gently nudged Jourdan to turn and face him. "You've told me that he has controlled you for your entire life. And I can infer that his training was brutal, even abusive."

Jourdan looked down at the use of that word.

"What is the state of things now? You're here now. Have you earned a measure of independence?"

Jourdan sighed. "Not as such. I might have before, but… Leaf did not appreciate how that turned out. But his oversight of me has grown lax. He spends most of his time trying to commune with the elementals."

"That implies that he's not succeeding."

"He is not."

Ami pursed his lips. "That raises its own questions. Are there others that work for him?"

"Yes, he has a full team. But they… most of them are assisting me now."

Ami tilted his head.

"I… had the opportunity to commandeer the list of reformists that Leaf had the team make. We are all of a mind that such efforts should be helped, not hindered."

"Leaf wants to stop Ishgard from achieving reform?"

"He wishes t maintain the status quo. He claims the elementals told him that change in Ishgard would lead to the next Calamity."

"The elementals are never that clear. But they also aren't always honest." Ami rolled a shoulder. "Neither are Padjals."

Jourdan's face brightened a bit. "Do you also Hear the elementals?"

"Not as such. The few times they've communicated with me directly, it's been more of a sensory experience." Ami balked. "Can you Hear them?"

"More often than a few times, but what I Hear is similar. It's more sensory. Sometimes stray thoughts."

Ami nodded. "Have the elementals told you anything about Leaf's plans?"

"No, ser. But they said that he has been operating outside of their guidance. I don't know much more than that."

Ami rubbed his chin. "This sounds like an ideal time to dispose of him. It sounds as though he has no backing. Not from his team, not from the Fane, and not even from the elementals."

"My thoughts exactly, ser."

"I like 'Father' better. Or 'Baba,' if you're so inclined. That's our tribe's term of endearment. As for Leaf, even if the rest of the team is aligned with you, you'll want to justify any move you make against him. People are fickle. Expect that they will turn on you one day, and then be pleasantly surprised if they don't."

Jourdan nodded slowly. "What manner of move could I make, though? What would be a step too far?"

"Personally, I'd like to kill him."

Jourdan noted how casually Ami uttered those words.

"He took my son from me," Ami said. "He tortured that son in the name of training. He killed a woman I loved. And that's not to mention whatever other crimes he's committed against this star."

Ami stretched his fingers, his hands, and then his arms, then settled back against the floor sofa.

"You are… earnest about this."

"Have you not considered doing so before?"

"…Only recently."

Ami sighed. "That's alright. I have the benefit of distance. He was all you knew for too long."

Jourdan stretched out on the floor and laid his head on Ami's chest.

"Will you tell me about my mother?"

Ami smiled. "Of course."

The warmth of the Shaaloani sun felt especially pleasant on Amirariah's skin after so much cold in Coerthas. At least Bellevaux grew somewhat temperate beyond wintertime. He appreciated his new home, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy everything about it.

He'd stopped in Bellevaux on the way back from his last visit. That had taken some finessing, especially with all the time that had passed since his last contact with Golmore. Thank the gods Viera were so long-lived. He had been remembered, and Melody's kin were curious, at least, about this new child. They had also been unaware that she'd had one; apparently Melody had never had any (other) children at all.

Ami had visited them (well, he had met with some of Melody's kin not far from where the jungle began) before going home to Tural for a very specific reason. Had he handled these visits in the opposite order, there might have been an additional layer of diplomacy and bureaucracy involved in Golmore. Depending on how successful, or disastrous, he was back home.

Now that the Iamaie kasikato was settled within easy walking (or rroneek-riding) distance from an aetheryte, it was easier for Ami to come and go from even as far away as Coerthas, so it was not the first time Ami had visited even this season. That being said, he did not make a habit of appearing frequently. The tribe might think their wayward son had returned.

Today, he would have a hard time beating those allegations.

Kasike Kuauahu looked up as Ami entered her bohio. "Aah, look who it is. Maburika, Kuankuara. What brings—"

Ami tossed a ceremonial knife, its blade and hilt both made of stones from a riverbed from Ami's childhood, onto the floor between himself and his mother.

The chieftainess looked at the knife. Then she slowly lifted her gaze to meet Ami's. "This is a strange way to claim your birthright, Kuankuara."

"I am claiming more than that." His hard expression made it clear he had not come to exchange pleasantries. "I have another son. Had him five-and-forty years ago, and never knew it until this month."

"What does that have to do with us?" Kuauahu shrugged. "You left us far before that."

"Will you accept him into our tribe?"

She thinned her lips. "I cannot. You know our rules."

"Then pick up the knife."

She sighed. "We do not have to do this. I have been trying to get you to claim the kasikato ever since you came home to us. We can talk this through."

Ami folded his arms. "Will you make the reforms I have been asking for ever since I left a century ago?"

"Some things are meant to be as they are, d'aiti. There is a reason for each of our rules."

"What is the reason for keeping fathers from their children?"

Kuauahu gave a heavier sigh. "That is not the rule. The males guard our camp. The women raise the children. That is how things have always been."

"Then why will you not change it?"

"Our forbears made that the core of our ways ages ago, long before you and long before me, for a reason. I see no reason to change it."

Ami waved his hand at the door to her bohio. "You're not swayed by the debilitating degenerative disease that's cut our number by half over the past century?!"

She smiled placidly. "If it is the will of the gods—"

"Fuck that shit." Ami scowled. "Fuck the gods, and fuck you. You and your inbred bullshit."

Her smile faded, but her calm remained. "You're very animated about this new-to-you son."

He stared at her. "Have I ever not been excited about any of my children? Where have you been the past century and a half, Mother?"

Kuauahu exhaled deeply. Then she got to her feet. At over two hundred years old, she was slipping toward old age even for a Shetona, but she had slowed only by paces, under the stress of having led her people for much longer than expected. Her rightful heir—Kuankuara, known these days as Amirariah—had left their village early on, and she had refused to hand over control to anyone, often defeating challenges to her leadership just like the one Ami had just made.

"You have longed to build relationships with your children," she said quietly. "This I know. But that is not the way we do things. Our men protect. Our women nurture our lands and people. But that was never enough for you."

"No," Ami replied, holding her gaze. "It was never enough to spread my seed across our village and then abandon all the children who grew from it."

The kasike rubbed her face. "It was not abandonment. It was our way. You did everything as you were meant to do it. You made me proud. You made us all proud."

"I was unhappy. It was literally all I was good for."

She shrugged. "And that was not enough?"

"No, Mother. As I think I made clear by leaving."

"And you believe the wasting disease came about because of our practices."

Ami waved a hand. "It's only a guess. I'm not a scientist. But strange medical things happen when the gene pool grows thin. That's been happening for generations. I'm just the only one who has said anything about it."

Kuauahu gave another sigh. "Walk with me."

There was a great sound of shuffling outside as everyone pretended they had not been eavesdropping on the chieftainess's bohio and went back to their usual tasks when she and Ami stepped out.

"These thoughts have troubled you for years," Kuauahu observed. "This is not the first time you have voiced these concerns. But it is the first time you have challenged me to fight for the kasikato. A responsibility which I have not wanted for very many years. You misunderstand me, d'aiti. I want to retire. But I also do not want to undo my life's work."

Ami shrugged. "What is your life's work? Presiding over the smallest kasikato we've had in history? Ignoring a deadly disease?"

"Surviving a deadly disease, Mambi. Your guesses aside, we do not know the true cause, and we do not have a cure."

"None of my known children ever exhibited the disease."

"Which is why that was your role. As the son of the kasike, as my son, we knew your genes were the most sturdy. The most trustworthy."

"It was too much of a burden to shoulder alone."

Kuauahu stopped walking for a moment and looked at him. "Was it? And you felt alone?"

Ami only returned her gaze with a stony expression.

"This is not something you've shared with me. Standing alone is not our way. There were other males serving alongside you. Were they not worthy companions?"

"Of course they were, Mother." Ami sighed. "That isn't what I mean. The responsibility was too much. They didn't share that. I was the only son of the kasike. The one who was always expected to deliver."

Kuauahu looked down. "Kuankuara."

Ami tucked his hands into his pockets. "I could have lived with it if I'd been allowed to raise my children. But I didn't. And I'm… tired of it."

"And you have just learned of yet another child that you did not get to raise."

He wavered. Then he moved to sit on a nearby bench. His mother sat beside him.

"You are right," she said. "This is something that you want dearly. And you should have the opportunity. You are still young enough to raise children. Don't let any more chances pass you by."

Ami snorted. "Easier said than done. I'm not going to attempt to have children here. Most of the women of birthing age who have survived now are my daughters."

"Then what was your plan, if you had challenged me and succeeded?"

"Immediately step aside for Onanei." This was the name of Ami's firstborn daughter.

"Oh. That is a good plan. She has been eyeing the kasikato for a while now."

"I know it."

"And you would go back to your life in Eorzea?"

Ami nodded. "And be with my son, if he will have me."

"And have more children?"

"That requires finding a suitable partner."

"What about this new son's mother?"

Ami's expression tightened. "She was killed after giving birth."

Kuauahu blinked and stared at him. "What?"

"Someone took notice of us and targeted our child. They killed her, ensured I didn't learn of the child's existence, and raised the boy to be emotionless and ruthless. The perfect assassin."

She leaned back against the bench with her hand resting over her heart. "Great Mother, this could happen only beyond Your sight."

Ami looked at her. "The conditioning didn't fully take. He wants to meet me, and by two accounts, he is a gentle soul beyond his work."

"That might mean it is worse for him, d'aiti."

That sent a brief chill through Ami's heart. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"Will you be safe?" Kuauahu asked. "You are a formidable fighter and healer. But in this you are likely outclassed."

"Likely," he acknowledged. "But I have to meet him. If there is even the slightest chance…. He deserves better than what he was dealt."

"As do you, Mambi."

"I know it."

"I don't think you do." She got to her feet. "Go back to the bohio and retrieve your knife. I will bring Onanei. We will sit and discuss the terms of my retirement."

Ami looked up at her.

"You will not get everything you want," Kuauahu warned him. "For a tribe as small and entrenched as we are, change must come slowly. I should have begun sooner. We should have shared these words sooner. But there is nothing to be done for it except to move forward now." She waved a hand back the way they had come. "Now go. Meet me there.'

He did not get up, but that was fine; she glided off to find Onanei. He sat there for a short while, stunned. But in time he remembered himself and his duties, and his goals in travelling here. He got up and retrieved the knife just in time for his mother and daughter to arrive.