She should’ve returned the Fury’s Looking-Glass back to its striking configuration. With its focus spread into a crystalline web of defensive aether, glowing on her back like a jagged block of new-blown glass, she was too recognizable. Gloved hands passed purposefully-loud whispers behind them; veiled eyes stared openly.
“There she is, Raphael’s strangest daughter.”
“Nothing like her uncle Alberic. A shame...or, perhaps, a blessing.”
“Going to apologize to the Fury, I’d hope.”
“Oh no, no, haven’t you heard? Tis no longer a crime to conduct such foul sorcery out in the open.”
Anne-Sophie liked to pretend that it didn’t bother her anymore; head held high and her pace purposeful, unhurried, she continued toward the cathedral. It was just past Vespers, and she was, in truth, partially here to let herself be seen. The thorn-laden viny tongues had always grown their poison roses just outside the great doors of St. Reymanaud’s; for so many, their devotions stopped just beyond the Fury’s stony gaze.
Like infants, all of them, playing peek-a-boo with the Goddess. Once those doors closed, they couldn’t see Her, and thus, She ceased to exist. Anne-Sophie smiled wide at the image of all those nobles playing dress-up in their parents’ finery, gobsmacked every time the church’s doors opened to reveal the Fury within.
The knight-scholar genuflected, then strode down the nave, her eyes fixed on the statue of the Fury. When she was young, she’d thought Halone actually lived within the statue; after waking Oberic from his own stony embrace, she was starting to believe that some part of Her did, perhaps, reside there. A summer home, maybe. At least an overnight inn on the side of the road; cheaper because it was in the bad part of town.
“O Goddess,” she intoned in supplication, “why do You vex me so? Why would You, in Your strong-armed purpose and keen sight, send me hurtling through the vast unknown, only to leave there with more memories? More sorrow?”
Halone-in-the-Statue was silent as ever. In one of the axial chapels, the women’s choir was practicing; the same verse over and over again, sang at half time, then double time, holding out harmonies here and there while the conductor fine-tuned each out of place thread in her tapestry. “♪In Her strength do we find our own./Confess our sorrows manifold,♪” was the line. Fitting, Anne-Sophie thought, a grim little laugh escaping her lips.
“Fury, I have fought for You. Ever in my battles have I glorified Your name; though others mock my skill as a slap in Your face, I felt You with me when I screamed myself hoarse. For Ishgard!” Her voice echoed in the sudden silence; “♪sorrows manifold♪” resumed. “For Ishgard. For our future. Now, I have the chance to find happiness with two more of Your children; to make my own future. I ask you; please grant me this.”
Another long silence; somewhere, some poor altar child dropped a tray, metal clanging, glass shattering, muffled upbraiding, apologies. “♪maaaa-niii-foooold♪”. The last flickers of the early-setting sun simmered within stained glass.
The fox-haired Hyur closed her eyes. She thought of those manor gardens deep in the Shroud that contained nothing short of a miracle; plants that had thrived in Coerthas before the Calamity. She remembered the peace and tranquillity their various scents filled her with; healing her mind, her spirit. Trineaux flitted through her thoughts; eyes like the distant sea, in Vylbrand, where it was warm, touched by the green of life. He’d made her a posy of woodland flowers; done everything he could to help her create the remedies for those that needed them. Not a word of complaint; just that unflappable, naive idealism that defined him.
Miovont, strange and spoiled in his own way, happily footing the bill for an expensive dinner at Wineport. Despite being eaten alive by his birthright, he seemed almost...silly, at times. Friendly, talkative, quick with a smile or to offer a kind word.
“Why can’t I be more like them?!” she found herself asking Halone, flustered as she realized she’d spoken into silence yet again. “I mean---that wasn’t---oh, godsdammit, I’m a grown woman, and here I am, acting like You’re my personal counselor.” She took a breath, made the Sign of the Spear, left her gil offering and lit her votive. “Forgive my follies, O Halone. I will strive ever to grow in strength, in Your sight.”
Anne-Sophie’s mind roiled as she turned and left St. Reymanaud’s, enrobing herself in as much dignity as she could muster. Behind her on the votive stand, unseen by any save for the Fury, her newly-lit offering sparked first the half-burned candle to its right to life, then the one to its left. “♪In Her streeeeength♪” filled the silence.
Under the First Astral Moon did she serve Halone within the hallowed halls of Saint Reymanaud’s, speaking fiercely unto the mighty of the Vault for the deliverance of the meek; and the Firmament rose still from ashes and broken stones, and the city was full of life and unbounded hope. Still she went into the forgotten places of Ishgard and administered to the needs of the Fury’s Chosen, yet there was a change in the air and in the markings of their faces, and the shadows of their eyes had once again faded still, and the destitute were housed, and given work. Her city had risen up from strength to strength, and through the Arc of the Worthy did come those foreign men ushering in the new age, and the voice of the Commons held fast against the machinations of the Lords.
There came in that time among the throng of foreigners certain adventurers unsung, sent from Gridania to walk over the earth Twelve times in atonement for their violation of a certain law. Having arrived in Ishgard from the Fury’s Gaze, they did remain in the city for three sennights, and one fateful bell she came to the Forgotten Knight and was invited to their table by the soldier Rkah, who was a Viper. Besides the soldier there was a second Viper of a sharp tongue, a Seeker without tribe, a scholar of Golmore, and a Duskwight.
The following evening she did welcome the adventurers unsung to Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral and spoke long of gods and ancient men, leading them to the stone image of the Fury within, and they were overawed. Rkah and the Viper Sahali asked of her why she remained in Ishgard, having revealed to them her desire to venture out of Coerthas to explore the world as an adventurer; she told them she was full happy and content, for she was but a humble servant of the Fury. She continued to be their guide in Ishgard for the length of their stay, the deeds of Saint Reinette and Valeroyant upon her lips and a brightness in her eyes.
Near the appointed end of the adventurers’ time in Ishgard, she arranged L’rkah’s meeting with Reymanaud for talk of wars and the Alliance at the Alicorn, the fruits of which she would not fully learn of for some time. The following morning Reymanaud, who was then well-pleased, saw that his sister was not and asked whether he had offended her. “And if I have not,” he said, “why are you so distraught?”
And Judithe unburdened herself to her brother, answering, “I dream of Limsa, and would feel its breeze, of Ul’dah, that I might give succor to the refugee, of Revenant’s Toll, that I might live freely, and of Sharlayan, that I might find Her true scriptures, and save this Church! But it is an unrealized dream, and too proud, and I cannot dare to dream such things while my work here is yet undone.’
And to this Reymanaud smiled strangely and answered, “They are on pilgrimage, are they not? The Revolution has passed, never to be undone, and it will remain without you, and the forgotten are housed and given work. You say you dare not dream, but is it not yet the hour? The good work will go on without you, and were the day to come when the Lords summoned you to speak before them, or the Scholasticate recall you for your discourse, could you not write? Could you not with magic return by the aetheryte?”
Oft had she been questioned this way, yet for him she held no answer, for indeed he had spoken truth; for years had she studied and for years had she labored for the coming of glory, but now had glory come.
“Go on pilgrimage, sister, and do good works; Twelve marks await you.” And so did she begin her preparations, and there was light where she walked.
