Lore:Of Thieves and Emissaries

Of Thieves and Emissaries is a one-shot, canon story in the Eighth Realm of Clouded Horizons. It takes place at an undetermined time after the Trabian field exam and features Andréa, Dias, and Ben speaking of various topics of Ethereal origin and relevance.

Story

"You never mentioned that you were a Planeswalker," a young boy remarks casually as he skips rocks in a pond. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you've been hiding the fact from a lot of people."

A young woman, her eyes covered by an ornate hood, doesn't respond for a time, seemingly lost in thought. The boy doesn't seem to mind, however, and continues skipping rocks. After a lengthy pause, the woman turns to face the boy, a small smile tugging upon her lips.

"Alva Dias Vincent, surely you've been playing one too many an Estharian video game. Why, you sound as if you're certain..."

"Yeah."

They are both silent for a time, the boy now gazing upon the woman with a curious expression, the elder once more lost in thought.

"Dias," she suddenly replies, "who are you? Really?"

The boy, Dias, seems amused by the question, but doesn't offer a reply save to shrug. Then, remembering the hood on the woman's face, speaks up. "I'm just a kid. One who just happens to play a lot of Estharian video games."

Before either can continue the conversation, the underbrush rustles. The woman, quick to prepare for danger, has drawn a rather large scythe from her back, standing in a casual ready stance. The brush rustles again, and a young man suddenly cries out as though harmed, flying from the bushes and landing on his face. For a moment of stunned silence, no one moves, until the woman clears her throat.

"Benji James Powell. How good to see you again."

The young man looks displaced, unsteadily rising to his feet and shaking his head as if clearing out cobwebs, before glancing between the younger boy and the young woman. "...Andréa? How'd you get here? I thought you were in Spira." He pauses for a moment, seeming to consider something. "Wait, you are friends with Darius, so maybe he brought you here? And speaking of here, how'd I get here? I was just in the training center, about to get....eaten..."

Benji stops talking, again considering something, before seeming to come to a cautious decision.

"Andréa...have I finally lost my mind? Am I dreaming?"

With ease born of long practice and junctions, she cracks the flat of her scythe across the side of Ben's head, sending him to the dirt, before putting her weapon away. "If you felt that, I think it's safe to say you're not dreaming. As for sanity, I've heard that one's been in the air for awhile." Dias, previously watching with a uncaring demeanor, just bursts out laughing.

Ben recovers quickly, though seems a bit more unbalanced as he downs a potion and rubs the side of his head. "Was that really necessary?! You could have killed me!"

Andréa gives an amused smile. "But I didn't. And to get as far as you have, you need junctions. Of course, if I was wrong, I'm certain you had a Phoenix Down on hand. Who championed you, Mr. Powell?"

The sudden change of subject catches Ben off-guard. "Uh...wait...what?" Andréa merely waits silently, patiently. Taking a deep breath, Ben calms down, regaining his composure and some of his dignity. "What do you mean, who championed me? I think I need a little more to go off tha-"

"Which deity decided to make you an Emissary? I'm certain that, by now, you're familiar with that term."

Ben's mouth works for a moment, caught between being stunned by what she knows, confusion over how she knew, and whether or not she could be trusted to be told - one climatic battle and training center fiasco did not suddenly make good friends.

Andréa, however, answers for him. "It must have been Freya. The Lord Sovereign would likely find you too impulsive, and the dear Overlord would know you to be too set in your morality. Lady Freya, however, would find your willingness to sacrifice your life for your friends charming."

She then turns and faces Dias, tilting her head to the side. "Dias, I do apologize, but I really didn't think it proper to tell the God of Thieves that, under technicality, I work for him. Especially when they look ten years my junior. Dias...or should I call you Dacendaran? Dace for short? Sounds awfully close to Dias to have been an accident, and certainly keeps it easy to remember your name."

This time, it's Dias who looks like a fish.

Andréa nods, her smile full. "Dace, if you wouldn't mind, could you unsteal Mr. Powell? Now? I think you and I need to have a few words before I speak to the would-be Angel of Light."

Still looking befuddled, Dias snaps, and Ben simply vanishes, going back to wherever he was. Andréa smiles, and to Dias' eyes, seems to loom over him as though she were a giant.

"Now, where were we?"

Dias gulps audibly.