#ser drouhont

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Veils of Gold - Epilogue

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Veils of Gold, as experienced by Lord Joshua de Losstarot (Part 3 - Final)

Day 9:

Today we prepare for battle. The three noble houses have not fared well in their individual skirmishes and return to regroup. More wood chopped for the palisades. Drouhont got out of the infirmary to bring me breakfast, which makes me wonder if he's touched in the head AGAIN - who knows how, judging from his behaviour in the past week if he rolled off the bed he'd hit his head on the floor and I wouldn't be surprised one whit. Though we get an extra helping of meat for energy to raise spirits and energy; no point in keeping food to myself so I gave Drouhont some and brought what I could carry to the soldiers who loitered around. They gave us the same look I gave Drouhont so I sent him off and sat with them. My supplies are meagre - they were meant to supplement my team - but if vegetables and fruit that remind them of home can make their possible last meal more appetizing, so be it. It's the same regardless of the colours they fly - someone waiting back home, fear of dying, or turned to Shriven, bawdy jokes and the woman who marched up to the brothel demanding free sex for all. No matter where, people will bring home with them, and I thank you for bringing your home to us. Should I not make it ẗ̵́͊́͊e̷̝̰͒̈́l̵̎̄̎͑l̷̆̄̄͠ ̴̀̅̂͠i̵͓͑͒͠z̷̍́͒̍z̵̅̿̈́͘ŷ̵͖̞̰ ̶͖͋̚͝i̷̞͌̈́̐ love him I have provided strict instructions to bring this journal to you, in hopes you will glean what you need. May it serve you well.

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Day 10:

Joshua spent the day in the infirmary thanks to Drouhont where he spent the day coughing and gasping for breath as if dust filled his lungs. Outside, a soldier yells at him. His friends hold him back:

"Sat with us and broke bread, you did, fooled us all thinking you weren't like the rest! Where were you when the damn white horse charged at us?! Do you even remember who among us died?!"

The lordling did not hear them for in his illness, he had become the sickly child he once was, pleading for his brother:

"Izzy, Izzy, it hurts, Izzy, where are you, please, I-"

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Day 11:

Drouhont fills him in on what had happened and what will happen. He can't help but rub salt in. "You'll continue on even though you'll kill your 'boyfriend'? Don't forget you still have a family portrait to paint." He tells Drouhont to at least give his armour a little spit and wipe. Can't have him shaming the House.

He hides in his blanket, wrapped in shame and anger of returning before the end.

--

<Blessings of the Great Father, descend and guide this body's return>

In the morning, Joshua Losstarot can breathe again. Was it medicine? An unknown concoction? The same miracle that cured him of his cursed stomach pains in the Coerthan highlands? He takes a few deep breaths. The air is heavy outside but his lungs are clear. He will not make the same mistake a third time: beneath under his helmet he ties a mask around his nose and mouth. Drops of peppermint and lavender to fool himself that it protects against the Veil's haze.

His armour will see its last battle here. He will not bring it home. He goes to the smiths and hands them his axe, stained red from a boy's head. "Please clean and sharpen this," he says, handing the last of his gil.

<Great Father, guide this spirit's return to the Dark, mother of all>

Vykard will not welcome Joshua - has he ever? But he receives a crate from the lordling regardless. A flamethrower with Skysteel Manufactory's stamp on the tank. Loaded with fire crystals, enough to burn a field of Shriven for half a minute.

"You look like a man who's got a lot to burn. I hear it's almost as good as having legs." He pats the crate before leaving. "You wouldn't think of leaving it to waste, would you?"

<There, you shall find peace.>

The soldier who yelled at him spots Joshua, but something in the boy stops him. Joshua strides past. His fight is not with them nor for them. That is tomorrow's battle.

"Faram."

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Day 12:

A boy sits while his knight grieves. He runs numbers in his head: What to mend? Who to pay? How much to save? The payment barely covers a month's costs. "Lucky them," he grumbles.

The grail: another voidsent parlour trick. He berates himself for time wasted. Everything has a price, but lives for life? Too dear, indeed. How noble to clamour for common desires. (His brother was a thousand thousand times more beautiful anyway) There was no return to square one. The knowledge stays in the mind, the sacrifice in the heart - what meagre space he affords.

The horn appears before the isle. Childhood joys scrawled on its side, love prevailing through the clouds. His heart sinks deep,

deep, deep in the pits of his gut and stays.

"Oh gods, he came back."

--

Final Entry:

Lord Marcelloix, Lord Aurore sacrificed himself to destroy the grail. House Ailroyant stays behind Saint Finnea's Veil, never to return. The sky is blue, and the winds are calm. It is done...or so we think. There are too many questions, too many what-ifs, too many killed for a betrayal centuries past. And amidst the long list of casualties...no, this isn't about who made the bigger sacrifice. Halone doesn't make such distinction when we return to her halls. But Ishgard was built on a foundation of treachery and lies; the Warrior of Light only exposed the cracks. Now the cracks creep up around the nobles' towers, disguised with vines for decoration. The stones that built Ishgard have withstood a millennia of dragonfire; dare anyone hope that they'll be the final push that brings it down? Was this what you saw too? Is this what compels you to run Bellevaux the way you do? I'm grateful that you refused my request for aid back then. I don't think I could ever make it up to you if any Bellevais were killed by my actions. Everything I have in here - the maps, notes, names, camp missives, my supply log - are yours to keep. Consider this my show of support for your cause. For years I dreamt of restoring my family's good name and like a child, I thought it was just...letting people speak of it fondly instead of hostility. I know now that it's more than what passes through others' lips: it is our deeds and words that chart the course of a House. I can be better than grandfather. I will find us a better legacy as long as Izzy keeps it in his godsdamnned swiving pants and that's not counting Drouhont and that swiving hippie and his cursed ship why am I surrounded by buggerall-. I return to Ishgard after the memorial in Swallow's Eclipse has concluded; I look forward to hearing your thoughts in person. Your friend, Joshua Losstarot

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Veils of Gold, as experienced by Lord Joshua de Losstarot (Part 2)

Day 5:

Saw a portrait of Lord Aurore propped outside his tent during guard patrol. I've seen enough of Drouhont's still lifes to know he did it. The least he could do is inform me of his resignation. Rumour has it that he is akin to being tempered; that one porxie I've seen around the infirmary probably refuses to cure him seeing how he stares at Lord Aurore's tent with simpering googly eyes. I'd punch him while on patrol but simping is not an official crime. Per Vykard's instructions I've kept my crate to myself, the key to my room around my neck though I doubt anyone will want it after seeing House Thorcielle's ship bring in fresh supplies. The knight of House Oursaux approached me about arming the villagers; I said I would bring up the matter to Lord Jeinault but I added that I'd rather the villagers trained in marksmanship. Skysteel's rifles were designed to be light and simple to use, I would rather everyone - the weak, maimed, and the less dextrous - be able to defend themselves. The rifles may come too late for our battle but if Swallow's Eclipse is to continue thriving, better late than never. The old smith was found alive though gravely injured. I don't know if he has apprentices, but I've asked my blacksmith to aid him for now, promising a portion of the services rendered. The weaver, cleaned and shrouded en route to Ishgard along with a letter and a note for Izzy to pay her family compensation. He's smart, I'm sure he'll figure it out. Until Lord Clotain confronts us, I must focus on getting better while everyone prepares for the fight ahead. When we face this beast I hope to be able to describe it to you.

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Day 6:

As the Fury willed it, I did not join the battle against Clotain. Rumours drift in the air but the stories differ greatly: some say an airship was dropped upon it, while some speak of dazzling illusions tht glamoured the beast. Well, the beast is slain and we at Swallow's Eclipse can breathe easy.

When I say 'breathe easy', I mean the villagers; we will be venturing into the Veil. The infirmary has cleared me to fly; Lord Aurore's loaned knight is assisting me with packing, separating supplies for myself with some to spare for the villagers. Arms and mail restored by my blacksmith, both mine and his. Water crystals are going for a premium, but that's what the gil I have acquired is for.

The old smith remains grumpy as ever, though his apprentice has been more amenable to our apologies. I'm sure we won't be missed too much.

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Day 7:

Drouhont has been brought back to his senses with a series of potions and counter-charms. He came grovelling after dinner begging for forgiveness and explaining that he was not in his right mind (as if I wasn't aware) and swore up and down that he would accept all punishments if it happens again. He never formally resigned so we can consider he has returned to my service, and with my house knight returned, I discharged Lord Aurore's knight with 2 days' pay and permission to return to Ishgard if Lord Aurore allows it. We've been informed that only 150 ponzes per person is allowed onto the In Grace Radiant - I knew the day would come when I must choose between artillery and food, much like the last time. Rations will be less, and I will not have my smith work when water and food will be scarce; I left some supplies with him, with gil for a ship back if he chooses to. The rest is for Drouhont and I, though I hope he'll be crying too often to require much of it. Gods, he never showed a lick of emotion until NOW, when we go to our enemy's lair. He'd better channel his despair into taking out a few dozen foes for all our sakes.

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Day 8:

We have reached the Veil, and Drouhont has gotten himself in the infirmary again. The air is heavy, and the rain is as thick as amber rocks. Nothing is safe from it - armour melts, crates dent, and those who come in contact suffer night terrors and delusions. This is what Ser Drouhont currently has from rescuing a stubborn dragoon. If a party scouts for resources, surely someone will have the knowledge and sense to take shelter from the rain, but apparently some are too eager to bow to their bleeding heart. I speak of sense, but I have seen the Shriven - creatures that were once men that roam the island. They worship a cathedral in the distance where a woman sings: “Precious are my children… Precious… In the nine hundred and fifty four gates… But what becomes beyond the last one… You will stand… Embrace my love. You have nothing to fear.” We were too hasty to kill the Shriven when we first saw them; they speak in bloated tongues and warped language, but it is never that simple. Once my axe has built enough barriers, I shall take up guard duty that I may wonder outside our camp for a glimpse. They came quite near the last time; they might come again. P.S. I think I need a bigger axe.

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Veils of Gold, as experienced by Lord Joshua de Losstarot (Part 1)

Day 1:

The Massive Benevolence, being a little airship that could and not would, was not built for severe turbulence, to which Joshua and Ser Drouhont's trip can only be described as 'being put in a box and shaken really, really hard'. Despite the new airbags and seatbelts Joshua still got flung about, possibly into his knight's lunch at some point (he won't say) and got an airbag to the face. By the time they land at Swallow's Eclipse, the young lord's legs fail and he nosedives into the ground to the amusement of all who witness, a story passed around for moons and perhaps years to come. For a blessing the two craftsmen who joined them - a blacksmith (BSM-kun) and a weaver (WVR-chan) - survive the trip unscathed and help carry out the supplies from the airship. If anyone was involved in the Tharn campaign, the crest on the crates belonging to the small town of Bellevaux will be familiar to them. Drouhont drags him to the inn; they share a room, with the craftsmen given leave and provisions to set up where it suits them. As Joshua recuperates, his only serious consideration is to find alternative means to return, even if it costs dearly.

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Day 2:

Though I have sealed my pledge to House Thorcielle, I still doubt if it was the correct choice when House Ailroyant offers gil and a position better suited to my abilities. However I've stayed in Ishgard long enough to know that loyalty brings the greater reward at the end of the day. Time passes too fast for me to stew in my thoughts, with a sutler severely maimed for watering down the ale of hungry, thirsty soldiers. I do not care for the soldiers' fates, for they remind me overmuch of the Garlean troops stationed across Ala Mhigo. The number who rushed to save the sutler gives me faith that there are still good hearts on this campaign, though both sides deserve what they got coming. If the sutler is saved, may she learn to portion her water and ale according to the value of her life in the future. The divvying of duties has begun in earnest; I have reported your stock to a man of Ailroyant who's taken it upon himself to maintain our supplies. That said, your gift is plentiful and Drouhont and my team can only eat so much; thus I recall the days Laura taught me of the art of trade, and have begun apportioning the vegetables and fruit to trade for whoever wishes to offer. Times will grow hard as the campaign drags on; I know this much from the last. As long as my ledger is true, the quarter master will allow it. I see the villagers squint as we walk past; I must speak to my craftsmen after dinner to affirm my suspicions: They are not happy at our arrival (who would be?), but so long a beast still lurks somewhere on this island and the Veil grows, none will leave. I'll receive an earful from Drouhont for signing up for guard duty, but we need the support of the people to succeed, and the best method is to meet them where they stand. I have learned this much from you. I hope to do you proud.

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Day 3:

Any desire I had towards House Ailroyant was extinguished with the arrival of their ships. Bright and gaudy, brazen enough to overshadow the moon's light. I am glad I am not associated with a house as deaf and blind towards the current circumstances of the island, though I wait with amusement how their finery will hold up against the muck and shite. Yes, shite, for everyone has discovered just how much of it we are able to produce. Nightsoil piles high against the edges of the island as many work to dispose it, and by 'dispose' I mean 'push it down hoping it hits a deserted island'. I sent Drouhont to replace me on guard duty for now, instructing him to punish petty criminals with picking up litter or sending them to deal with the nightsoil. It will give him a welcome distraction from fussing over me. Vykard didn't seem happy with my report though he thanked me and advised me to watch my stock. The ominous tone in his voice makes me wonder if he knows something no one else does. The inn room does not seem any safer, but safe options are few and if there are any, nobody's telling me about them. Which is the smartest move they can do now. My smith tells me he is uneasy at his chosen spot: A local smith has given him the stink-eye, but says no more. I told my smith to just move then, but he insists that his spot would allow adventurers easy access to his service. Yes, that is why the local smithy set up shop there. Hopefully a peace offering and an ear for Mr. Smith's grumbles will do for now. This morning I heard a man grumbling about the nobility present at Swallow's Eclipse. He didn't seem inclined to hide it which made me wonder if he would interest you. Yet I suspect all is not as it seems - but I am not here to draw attention to myself nor to rise above my previous feat. No, my purpose here is for-

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Day 4:

After I abruptly ended my last entry, House Thorcielle declared they would search for sky pirates beyond the Veil; no sooner had they left the sky pirates came for us. I doubt you will recognize the coat of arms - it is apparently from a House banished long before my time. They came prepared with knowledge of aerial warfare, throwing corpses on us before descending with fire and explosions. Then there was the amber rain, drops that corrode armour and skin. My armour was not so lucky, though at least I am mostly unhurt; a few deep bruises in my side, the infirmary swiftly treated me for smoke inhalation and ensured my well-being before sending me off. Drouhont was not so lucky; he rushed to Ailroyant's aide and dropped to his knees at Lord Aurore. I heard the nobles of House Ailroyant were so beautiful one would be enthralled at their true face, but this is ridiculous. He has vacated his room to be nearer to his new lord, so it has worked out for me...for now. My smith is safe though I have lost my weaver - she took refuge in a building that exploded, the rubble crushing her in seconds. The smith's new task is to help me figure out how to notify her kin, but I suspect we have a few days ahead to mull over the phrasing. The old smith himself has not been seen either; hopefully I shall find him soon. There is yet unfinished business. It still stings when I breathe; the air reeks of brimstone and gunpowder. Still, remains must be recovered. Damage must be repaired. The grieving must still be fed. I gave some of my supplies to replace those destroyed by the attack, but I am one person. Us remaining must now vote: To make chase for the Veil, or stay to trap a vicious beast. Before I returned to Ishgard I would've made for the Veil immediately, but we cannot lose Swallow's Eclipse. We need them, not vice versa. Call me soft, but cast off and we'll be left flailing in the clouds.