When In Uldah

"I thought you said the latrine was this way."

Limgas shrugged, his stumpy legs continuing down the corridor as though he was still just as confident as when the journey began.

Sean was not in his normal attire. That is, he was without his axe, and wore a decidedly protective layer of red leather to compensate for the lack of plate armor. In any case, he was highly uncomfortable as a result, and his attitude for the entire night had much to show for it. To make matters worse, he was paired with Limgas, who, while making an apt traveling companion and decent battlefield ally, was not much for conversation.

"Limgas, please. You can tell me if you don't know where you're going," said Sean, having pestered the lalafell for several minutes now.

The black mage's eyebrow twitched. Slowly, as trace amounts of flame brimmed into his clenched fists, he turned his head to Sean.

While not immediately worried about what Limgas was capable of under mild duress, the warrior opted to suffer and avoid an unnecessary altercation. "Fine, fine. Let's just keep walking down this dark corridor to nowhere."

Somehow, the words "dark corridor" brought a sense of realization to the black mage. The flames in his fists had illuminated the area considerably, and this brought to mind that the corridor was indeed dark. Strikingly so, in fact. His adventures often led him to such places, so his trained perception likely made him blind to the surrounding lack of light.

Also, they were lost.

Lost, and definitely not alone.

Sean had learned long ago the subliminal messages sent by the mute lalafell, and was suddenly made wary by the halt in movement, the sudden increase in tension, and the intimate desire for combat. "Odd how I noticed that just as I said it." Habitually, the brawler reached over his shoulder, only to grasp at the air at his back. He cursed silently at his carelessness.

Whatever it was that skulked about along the edges of the wide hallway, it came in numbers, was carrying steel, and likely did not intend to leave survivors.

The Astral fire lighting Limgas's palms burnt brightly, illuminating the immediate visage of his glazed, unfeeling eyes. He was not in any particular mood for nonsense.

"Gentlemen," said Sean to whatever it was readying for a melee. "I would strongly reconsider whatever it is you're thinking."

The trot of steel halted in the blackness, hesitating a bit, perhaps considering the words of a seasoned warrior.

"Limgas." Sean looked over to the mage.

The two shared a nod, instantly confirming the knowledge of a greater plan at work.

A curved, brass blade flew toward the hyur's head, and though true in aim, it was casually knocked aside by the thick leather armor of a red glove. This was the armor that Sean wore underneath his regular plate.

The soldier stumbled forward, his blade clamoring to the floor. He was on his back seconds after Limgas shot a blast of fire squarely through his chest.

Shane is going to love this, thought Sean, cracking his knuckles and twisting his shoulders. "Come on then. I eat gutter rats like you raw for breakfast."

The lalafell at his side threw another sphere of flame into the darkness, and oddly enough, a cry of pain was heard, followed by the plop of steel unceremoniously hitting the floor. The reemergence of fire in both hands yielded a singular notion: there was plenty more where that came from.

"My friend here prefers light seasoning," mocked the warrior. "Burnt to a crisp."

Afterhours in Ul'dah's alchemy lab was the perfect time for study. The aesthetics of loose beakers, tubes with inane purpose, and formula charts galore along all four cement walls was an environment for study and discovery. Messes that were likely corrosive in nature filled the room with an odd smell of cactuar juice congealed with creamed coffee. There were stations of unfinished work as well, stacked with papers and formulas yet to be tested.

This night, however, was night for alchemy.

Lulu was at her desk, fumbling through missive after missive, code after code, trying to make sense of Ishgardian politics, learn a completely new draconian language, and sip her tea all at once. She was doing an admirable job, though it was only her and the inscrutable Xillian's judgment she had to rely on.

"Are you going to do anything other than stand there and play that stupid song?" Lulu spared him a sidelong glance, but the work at hand was far too complicated for her irks to tear her away from it for long. She could have easily lost her place.

The mi'qote bard played easily upon his lute, not entirely concerned with Lulu's annoyance. At any rate, her sentiments did not stray far from annoyed, maniacal, awkwardly pleasant, and Xillian's personal favorite, ready to cause untold harm upon all who cross her.

In this case, however, all of which were culminating, speaking to dire tidings for the future.

"Ain't ya takin' this a bit too serious?" He asked. "Shane said t' read the ones from the dignitaries. He ain't say t' read 'n decipher the Dravanian shit too."

"Yes, well, Shane is an idiot who doesn't understand the necessity of having every bit of information at one's disposal."

Xillian pushed off the wall he was leaning on and approached her desk. He lifted up the shades, revealing light-hearted eyes complimented by an endearing grin. "Take it easy. He's halfway cross the realm lookin' for somethin' he doesn't he even know the name of. We it got it good here in Ul'dah."

She upturned her gaze to him. Whenever Xillian grinned like that, it was contagious. The work Lulu had forced upon herself was taxing her sanity by the hour, and it certainly did not hurt to lean back into her seat and forget it even existed. She did just that, sighing with exuded effort. "I hate telling other people they're right, but damn..."

The bard sat on the edge of her desk, strung his lute to his belt for another time, and folded his arms. "See? Not so hard, right?"

"Do shut up, impetuous one. Relaxing is hard enough without a smug 'I told you so.'"

He chuckled, knowing it was her best attempt at admitting the smallest of victories in his favor. "So how's Vapas doin'?"

"Managing," she replied, closing her eyelids to perhaps fool her body into sleep. "I keep in contact with him through the moogles mostly."

"Ya miss him?"

Her eyes reopened, and a carelessly revealed distress was instantly betrayed upon her countenance. "Every day."

Taken aback by his inadvertent pang at her emotions, Xillian changed the subject. "Ya ever think of comin' back to the Vendors?"

Again, she pondered, and the expression never changed. "Every day."

He sighed, somehow made self-conscious and annoyed. "Jeez, Lu..."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." She sat up in her seat again, rolling her neck upon rested shoulders and rubbing her eyes raw with cramping hands. "I could use a goblet of wine right now. Speaking of which," said the summoner, hopping off the chair unfit for the childlike size of a lalafell. "Why'd Sean and Limgas get chosen for the party anyway?"

"For their Uldahn diplomacy, no doubt," joked the bard, returning to his callous simper of a smile.

"I'm serious, Xillian. Sean's a lumbering oaf who breaks wind without regard for whoever is around, and Limgas can't... or just doesn't talk. Even we don't know what's wrong with him."

"Isn't it enough that we understand him?"

As she approached one of the formula charts, the graphs and numbers somehow putting her addled mind at a measure of ease, she shrugged away yet another sigh. "Tell that to the Ul'dahns. What kind of message does it send when we have our two least diplomatic members go to the most diplomatic ball in the history of Eorzea?"

The bard absently picked up a loose sheet of paper and eyed its contents with no particular interest. Something about Dravanians. "Ya think you're a better fit?"

"Naturally," she answered, flopping a tuft of her pink hair over a shoulder. "Or maybe Shane himself; our storied leader? Seven hells, send Urumi. He's a paladin, a defender of all that is holy. Precisely looks and acts the part too."

The mi'qote did not seem to be paying attention. "Doesn't even strike me as funny that he'd send Sean and Limgas, ya know?" He let the piece of old parchment flutter back down to the desk, then started prodding and gawking at the many different test tubes in the laboratory. "What's funny is that he'd call it a 'team-buildin' exercise.' Somethin' about sending folks to their field of weakness to strengthen themselves all roundabout-like."

"So what? My weakest discipline is filing letters and deciphering thousand-year-old languages?"

"Have ya come up with anythin' yet?" Asked the bard.

Both shared a stark, clumsy quiet in which Xillian was holding back the most condescending laughter, and Lulu had gone aflush with embarrassment.

"I'm... well it's a lot of work and..." She glared at him, indignant. "Shut up!"

It was always worth it to see her so easily miffed.

After a good forty-five seconds of ceaseless laughter, the bard tried new conversation. "Well, at least we--"

But was sharply interrupted by his senses catching wind of a disturbance. "Lu..." His shades could not mask intensely furrowed brows, suddenly aware of something that should not be.

The summoner had not even reached her desk when she sensed it as well. There was a third presence approaching, and not of the friendly variety. It was heavy, as though fortified by authoritative steel. It was not long before both she and the bard could hear the plated boots and chainmail of an oncoming force just outside the lab. Small in number, likely a singular purpose in mind given the formation. Ten, perhaps twelves soldiers, all armed to the teeth. These men knew what they were dealing with.

These men, bursting one after another through the doorway of the laboratory wore dusky blues of the Crystal Braves.

Though one's heart would sing at the mere mention of a force made so reputable by unending efforts of Alphinaud and Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the intent etched into their formation, expressions of malice, and drawn blades yielded a dreadful turn of events.

The air went still, placid, and dry, the friction of the situation having spun wildly out of control in only a moment's notice. Xillian gauged that something much grander was afoot, and knew Lulu to be seeing the bigger picture as it came escalating further into view.

"To what I owe this pleasure, gents?" Asked the bard, refraining from sudden movements.

Nothing denoted rank amongst them, but one of the hyurs in attendance spoke for the rest, stepping forward. "You are wanted for treason against the crown. You, Lulu Luna, and the rest of your 'Fabled Vagrants'..." spat the soldier, a hint of toxicity in his tone. "... will come with us."

Let Xillian do the talking, thought Lulu. She had gone from ascertaining the meaning of the sudden intrusion to planning an escape route that allowed both of them to live. The back door, solid. She gauged over her shoulder, seeing the brass door hardly used. Fortified. Secret tunnel. Defensible if we're followed.

The bard took a step forward, testing the resolve of the assailants.

All of them took a slight step backward. They would kill only when assaulted - they needed a reason, a crime. They needed some expendable nobody of a soldier to give his life for some noble cause. Xillian knew those motions anywhere.

He looked to and fro, and found a familiar face amongst the Braves. His reputation was for more than garnering his enigmatic appeal. Many of the Crystal Braves were young men and women that he himself had recruited. "Clive, ya mum would be mighty displeased seein' ya do this, wouldn't she?"

Clive was the boy at the end of the formation, barely a man wielding a blade, trembling at the mention of his mother. His words were lost on a tongue that had no mind to wield it.

The Crystal Braves had been recruiting Uldahn street urchins. These were the lives they were willing to throw away, the lives that would taint the legend of a Warrior of Light. It would sell, it would turn the people against the Epic Weapon Vendors and Vagrants alike, it would send Eorzean politics spinning on its head.

It would leave every part of the tenuous alliance forged for many years in an ocean of warm, barely able to stay afloat.

In short, these were not the Braves Alphinaud had initially envisioned. This was a taint that a select, rich few would concoct to depose a threat to power.

When the boy, Clive, did not respond, the mi'qote bard took a step back to Lulu. It was time to get moving.

He spoke to the crowd. "Tall crimes you've pinned us with, Braves. I expect a fair trial will be in order?" A measure of seconds passed, and when no response came, he spread his arms to his sides, feigning surrender. When his eyes glowered, however, it became clear that one of his hands had gone for an arrow.

And before any reaction could be made, its tip was alight with a small spark of flame.

"Any time, Lulu!"

The lalafell had used her summoned power - a show of concentrated kinetic force - to send the desk behind Xillian flying forward.

The bard repelled himself backward, narrowly missing being clipped by the thick, wooden desk. At the peak of his jump, he sent his in-hand arrow to the projected landing area of the desk.

The desk, and the dry, corrosive chemicals resting in test tubes, simply awaiting the kiss of the slightest flame to ignite.

Preceded by the shattering of glass, the slight quaking of the area in response to the half-ton desk hitting the floor, and the blunt scraping of wood against cement, flames erupted instantly all about the alchemy lab.

The men in blue scrambled for order amongst new chaos, some lit on fire, others grazed by flying shards of bursting glass. Blood and blaze increased each second the chain reactions went off. The Crystal Braves were forced into retreat by fumes that brought painful tears to eyes, and bile spewing from befuddled stomachs. An alchemy lab was no place for fire, as it soon proved to be a graveyard that no man wanted to be part of.

Every Brave would live, however.

But not without a reminder of who so easily and dangerously managed to escape them.