An Impromptu Meeting

An Impromptu Meeting
Date of Scene:	25 June 2014
Location:	Ivalice
Synopsis:	Auron and Wiegraf Folles arrange for a meeting. Faruja comes along in sneaky disguise.
Cast of Characters:	129, 152, 236
Tinyplot:	Of Stones and Sins

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Ultima (129) has posed:
Sal Ghidos - Mid-Town Bar,

Sal Ghidos, a trade town once renowned for its merchant trade and ability to attract business from all across the continent, has seen better days. Streets once paved with flawless stone are now in disrepair, noble homes that stretched to the sky made only from the finest materials money can buy now lie in ruin. Even her streets are mostly empty, and what -does- dwell here - aside from the occasional honest flower girl or beggar - tends to stay well hidden below the surface. She's like a rat's den these days.

Or so the nobility would have one believe.

This city is, in fact, one of the places the Corpse Brigade and Order of the Ebon Eye come to recruit. There are gems to be found deep beneath the myriad layers of filth that populate this place. Or one man certainly believes so.

Hollers of good cheer resound throughout the tavern, as rowdy men in patchwork clothing enjoy the local brews. Many a man will tell you, 'it's not the tastiest -expletive- ye'll ever buy, but it works!'. And it really does, there's at least one or two men in here who're clearly unconscious after consuming one too many. There's low light in here, making it difficult to see, and at the back can be heard the honey sweet mezzo-soprano of a buxom lass in ragged cotton gown singing her heart out.

At the back of the bar, amidst all the excitement, a man sites alone... with his feet propped up on the table. He is without drink, and seems markedly sober for a man in here. Clad in earthen brown, forest green, and silver cloth, with a yellow cotton scarf bound neatly about his neck - the brunette knight with sharp gaze stands out amongst nearly everyone in here. If for no other reason than because, he clearly has money and no seems to be minding him at all.

Auron (236) has posed:
It really isn't that great a place. But hey, such things don't tend to happen in nice places. In such worlds where the nobility or the clergy rule all, the dealings of 'the common man' are usually relegated to seedy taverns and dark alleys. At least this is better than an alley; there's a place to sit. The soft thump of his boots on the floor is drowned out in all the excitement of the tavern. Just as planned; with all this noise it's going to be hard-pressed to overhear any damning conversation.

Auron's dressed in his Assassin robes once more. And /this/ time, Auron has made sure that the brick-red robe isn't dusty. He doesn't want to get mistaken for someone he's not, and cause a ruckus. He also wears a light gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Just enough to hide his scar. He's also left his distinctive sword at home. He has instead brought the other of them, which looks like a backwards-curving Samurai sword, but thicker. Unseen, though, are his hidden blades.

He takes a moment to look around, looking back to those with him and nodding. And then he heads for the man with his feet on the table. A pause, and he offers a nod of greeting. "Good evening, sir. I am Auron." A name he'd dropped a few times, hopefully in the right ears. "Might I have a word?"

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja has very bad memories of this place. He can abide by the ruin, the smell, and seedy taverns. It reminds him of a more sunny version of where he grew up. No, the battle with the Ebon Eye and his own Church's involvement is still very fresh in his mind.

But the chance to meet a man he idolizes isn't one the Inquisitor is going to turn down. Smartly going in disguise, he's donned a ragged brown set of robes. Cowl up, he clutches a gnarled piece of wood that could easily be mistaken for a bit of driftwood scavenged from the nearby beaches. Leaning heavily upon it, the coweled 'dirty rat' makes heavy limps as he follows behind Auron. Either a begger, or a wizened, down on his luck mage.

A closer eye would note the colors hidden beneath. Not the red and black of the Inquisition, but something more subtle. Equally ragged robes of the Summoners of his world. He lets the drab green and dark brown-yellow hem flash beneath the ratty robes he wears atop them. Staying silent, he plays the servant to Auron, if a beraggled one.

It doesn't take much to do. Summoning Shiva /and/ Bahamut took a lot out of the rat. Using so much mana has set his leg to burning. It's fortune timing.

Ultima (129) has posed:
Wiegraf's earthen eyes lift from his feet, brown leather boots swinging off to one side in a carefully measured fashion before being placed firmly on the wooden floor. The brunette knight with short, parted, mane motions silently to nearby chairs with a sweeping gesture of his upturned hand. After a moment or so, he adds, "Even did I not know your name, I would welcome you to my table. Any man willing to place his life on the line for Ivalician citizenry, and to end oppressive tyrrany, is a brother in arms." He then lays that hand flat upon the table's face, "...would you like a drink...?"

He eyes that accompanying Burmecian, momentarily, studying him - staring in a penetrative fashion for perhaps a bit unsettlingly long as gears turn in the rebel leader's head. ... Finally, he amends his statement, "...the both of you?" He then casts a sidelong glance at the bartender, who eyes him in turn... even whilst in the midst of polishing a glass. Probably the pride of this place, those crystal glasses. One's not like to find such luxury anywhere else in this bar. "...Bartender... something to eat, please. Drinks for the gentlemen. My tab, of course."

He then glances toward Auron again, before leaning back slowly in his chair, "...her voice is a little piece of heaven, isn't it?" He remarks, about the girl singing in the background, as a way to make idle chatter. She's presently singing a song about a roving sailor and adventure on the high seas, a tired old bar song, but the manner in which she sings it imbues it with such life and cheerful energy one cannot help to notice its pleasantness amidst the backdrop of poverty and destitution here.

Wiegraf seems to be hanging on every bittersweet note.

"...What did you wish to discuss?"

Auron (236) has posed:
A 'servant' might be out of place here, and if Auron were to meet 'the protector of the common man' with a servant in tow, he might look like a hypocrite. Thus it is that, as Wiegraf offers them a place to sit, he assists Faruja in sitting down. Besides that, with that leg bothering him, the rat-priest is probably feeling some pain.

"Thank you," Auron replies, taking a seat himself, once he's assured that Faruja's all right. Looking to Faruja, "Will you have a drink?" he inquires. As for the amended statement from Wiegraf, he answers, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble." His attention is brought to the singer, and he finally actually /listens/ to her. And a smile pulls at his lips. "It is," he replies in agreement to the question of her voice.

Then the question of what he wanted to discuss. He nods, lacing his fingers together and placing his folded hands on the table. "You called yourself the 'protector of the common man'," he recalls. "What did you mean by that? I'm not from this world, and don't know the situation."

Faruja (152) has posed:
The rat sits down with Auron's help, exhaustion and pain making everything harder. He gives a nod to the man. Perhaps Auron's seen similar things with Yuna, after long battles.

"'Twould be a pleasure, Ser." Comes the rat's smooth voice, not bothering to hide the education dwelling within. The Burmecian is bad at subtlety. At least his kind are known for being snobs and artistic pansies when they're not being adventurous, honorable warriors. It helps sometimes.

Another nod to Auron. He's never one to turn down a drink.

The cowl of the rat's robes drift just a bit, showing his wrapped face and single red eye. For all of the clothes he's wearing, he's impeccably clean. Thankfully he's left the cross in a pocket this time. Gazing right back at the man, the rat takes a good look at Wiegraf Folles as if trying to memorize his every features. There's something in the rat's gaze. Admiration, and perhaps a touch of hero worship. The nezumi knows Wiegraf Folles' name, and deeds. It's a man he wishes he could help, even as he often comes into conflict with his subordinates.

The rat goes silent when the drinks arrive, sipping cheap ale as his ears turn to the woman. Pleasant as far as humans go, talented, and with /heart/. The Burmecian sighs happily. He's glad he's came.

He even rubs away a tear. "...Hah. 'Twould be just like home, were there but a spot of rain." Mutters the rat to himself. It's a visible effort to not descend into melancholy and old memories.

Looking back to Wiegraf, another sip, and an honest smile. "Merely come along with a good friend to meet a man I hath always desired to lay eyes upon. Forgive the lack of manners, truly. 'Tis better for us both this way." He sounds honestly apologetic here.

Then, silence. It's Faruja's turn to gaze upon Wiegraf, the look of authority lurking unconsciously as he judges and listens curiously. He could fill in Auron, but he'll let the man speak for himself.

Ultima (129) has posed:
"My words were unambiguous." Wiegraf replies, with no hint of anything like offense. Just a statement of fact. "My goal is to defend the common man of Ivalice from those who would exploit them. Not merely to guard them, but also to lift them up,..." He gestures with an upturned hand, lifting it from the table, "...to see that a man's lot in this life arises not from his birth, but of his works."

He then turns that hand downwards again, pushing an index finger against it several times as if to make a point. "The government in this country is corrupt, the entire social structure is rotten..." The drinks arrive, and Wiegraf casts a momentary sidelong glance, nodding and offering a wave of approval to the bartender to see him off, before staring at Auron again. "...Even her foundation has no firmness. There could be no better representation of Ivalice's corruption than right where we sit."

He lets those words hang for a moment, letting what he's said so far set in. Surely, Auron and his companion have seen the countless rotting structures caving in around the city.

"I seek to see it put to an end. I wish to knock it down and rebuild it for good and all."

Wiegraf minds the Burmecian, as he speaks, "...Ah, but this place... has seen too much rain..." there's a tinge of sadness to Wiegraf's tone, "...I'd like to agree with you, ser, but I fear the beauty of the rain may be lost on me." To Wiegraf's mind, the rain is a bringer of sorrow and death and one can hear it in his voice. No doubt he's seen men die of the deathly colds it brings, men too poor for even a blanket to sleep on.

"...You honour me entirely too much." He adds, offering the Burmecian a kind, if forced, smile. "My name, and my deeds, and are not yet worthy of such recognition. I have failed, thus far, to do even half as much as I dream to... sometimes I do wonder if it is just that. ... Even still, my dying breath will be a call for equality if I can so help it."

Auron (236) has posed:
In contrast to Faruja's hero-worshipping gaze, Auron's is an unreadable, passive one that measures and takes in what is before it. He does have his head up high enough that his face can be seen. He doesn't see a need to hide it as of yet, at least not from Wiegraf. The scar on his face, then, is on full display.

Auron remains quiet as Wiegraf speaks, through the pause of the drinks arriving -- he offers a nod of thanks to the bartender -- and Wiegraf's continuing words. Then he offers, "I have noticed." He pauses himself, and notes, "...My world was much the same. Until recently."

Though... Wiegraf's words of having failed thus far... that strikes a chord with Auron, and a frown pulls at his lips. "I know that feeling, too."

Faruja (152) has posed:
A small shake of the head. Faruja's seen far too much of rot recently, even within that which he's held sacred. It's difficult to cling to faith in such times. But he knows his duty is to root out such things. As far as he's concerned, every rotten foundation, Church and government alike, is included. Such things come with being one of Faram's chosen arbiters.

"Sometimes I fear Faram looks down upon us all and weeps. Art we all not but of His flesh and blood? 'Blood' is mere circumstance, given importance only by men. Not the Divine." Faruja's voice is low here, even with the singing. It's not exactly hiding who he might be, but part of him would be pained to be /too/ deceitful to this man of all people.

A small nod. Faruja knows Wiegraf's words all too well. He even can see where the man's coming from on rain.

"Mayhaps, then, when thine work is done and all things set to rights, ye might visit mine people's nation. So much as it brings death, so too can rain bring nurishment and life. A blade cutting both ways, I suppose."

His tone grows concerned. "I wish ye good fortune in thine endeavors. Still. Keep thine eyes wary, Ser. Men art good at heart, but easily brought low by desperation and greed alike. Ye know well, no doubt, of several conflicts thine 'friends' hath seen to. Ones that hath gotten out of hand. My advice? Set them to heel if ye art not already doing so. I mean nay disrespect. Merely concerned for those ye seek to defend. Innocents aught not get caught between if it can be avoided. Nor shall it do thine fellows any favors. Agreed?"

Then, there's a small pouch offered towards Wiegraf beneath the table. Inside? A card and a linkshell. It simply has a number upon it.

"All men die. Ensure 'tis the right time and place, hmm? I should like to speak with ye again, in a more...private and open manner." Hence, the linkshell.

Faruja (152) has posed:
The rat is also devouring his drink now with relish. It may be slightly Jecht-like, without the noise, but surely with equal appreciation for not being sober. Thank Faram for control and a sense of duty and decorum.

Ultima (129) has posed:
Wiegraf casts a furtive glance in the singer's direction again, as her song comes to an end. All of the boys in the tavern cheer, clap, and whistle with appreciation - doubtlessly laced with longing. She smiles, sheepishly, curtsies, and then shuffles off the stage toward the bar... and the relative safety of a familiar bar tender. He welcomes her with fleeting acknowledgement, before turning his attention back to his duties.

The rebel knight leans back in his chair, wordlessly, with a creaking of old wood. Then he gives Auron a knowing look, "...I'd believe it. You've the look of a man who has seen better days." He pauses, then adds, "That is no insult, of course. It is a honor, from my own perspective, to meet someone who has visibly seen much hell and survived to tell the tale. I'd welcome a man of your caliber into my organization without hesitation."

Wiegraf listens, for a time, to Faruja... his analytical mind taking in every word, and his eyes taking in every movement. There's a brief raising of the left brow, at one point, but he does not interrupt. Rather, he raps his fingers against the hard wood table thoughtfully until all is finished. "...Cut from the same cloth we are, but the nobility would have us believe we are not of the same weave. Divine will, and all... and to that I must say... rubbish. Any god who would breathe life into such a beautiful creation only to see half of it decompose is a twisted one indeed." His fingers stop tapping. "...Such ideas are born of the selfish minds of men. I agree."

He minds the pouch, however, feeling it bump against his leg... and reaches beneath to take it in hand... lifting it to gaze upon it, before stuffing it into a pocket. "...I appreciate your cautiousness, but such secrecy is unnecessary here. Every man in this tavern is my brother."

He lets his hand rest on the table once more, "...Your advice is sound, but as I said... the foundation lacks firmness." He reiterates what he said earlier to make a point. "...Every level of her structure trembles in uncertainty. Though I try, I find that as yet even I have not been strong enough to prevent such foolishness."

"...Your words would make a fine sermon, ser, if her people would hear it."

"...What might be your name, then?" He asks, giving the Burmecian time to respond before adding, "...Had you, then, any other questions? Surely you did not come just to hear of this poor fool's troubled sleep."

Auron (236) has posed:
Between Faruja and himself, Auron is the quieter of the two. Evidenced here by how he quiets for Faruja's words. Even though he doesn't agree with all of it, he remains quiet. This is evidenced by how he frowns ever so slightly at a few phrases -- most notably 'men art good at heart'. Must not be true in all worlds, he thinks to himself.

Auron too applauds at the conclusion of the singer's performance. He waits until she has left center stage to turn his attention back to Wiegraf. The other man's reaction to the mention of Auron's 'world' being much the same seems to indicate that he is aware of the existence of the Multiverse. He also nods when Wiegraf notes him having witnessed much hell. Though when he notes 'lived to tell the tale', Auron smirks a little. "...In a manner of speaking." Faruja knows what he's talking about.

As for other questions, he asks quietly, "What do you intend to do if you do happen to topple the foundations as they stand? Wouldn't that be the perfect place for you yourself, or one of your men, to take up the positions the nobles would be knocked from? And what about the common men and women who would be affected by the shakeup?"

To explain further, he offers, "I have seen a world where two sides vie for what one believes is the same goal. One seeks to get there through controlling everything. The other seeks to get there through freeing the minds of all. I'd like to see where and how the conflict in this world differs from that."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja claps as well, adding in a sharp whistle. It seems appropriate, and a little teasing for a job well done. The rat's gone far too long without relaxing, and here seems a good enough place.

A hand goes to his leg. It twinges horridly. The rat takes a long draw of ale, even as his ear never ceases to tilt in Wiegraf's direction. Body language means a lot in his culture, and the rat's is one of rapt attention.

Faruja lets out a small chuckle. There's no mirth in it. Instead, it's a nervous laugh of relief. His shoulders slump a touch. Wiegraf is everything he's wanted to belief. The rat, as he's bidden, drops all pretenses. Even his cowl is moved back to show his face.

"My deepest apologies for the deception. Inquisitor Faruja Senra, Temple Wizard and Clergyman of the Holy Church, at thine service, Ser Folles. Before ye think it, nay. 'Tis nay ploy of Church or Inquisition that brings me here. Well. Insomuch as mine presence here necessitates it so. That is, 'tis personal discretion that brings me here." A look to Auron, and a smile.

"Friendship beside an honorable companion. And curiousity about a person whom I hath always looked up to." Wiegraf may have heard the rumors of rebellion in Burmecia, shortly before a certain now-Inquisitor brokered a suspiciously swift deal of unity to both sides. Rumors amongst certain circles, though hard evidence died with Burmecia itself, would contend the rat was on the side of those seeking the end of Kingship there. The recent legal battles over both Order and Corpse Brigade troops, as well as the Baert fiasco and actions against the Ebon Eye may well put the rat at an odd crossroads with rebel groups. He might have sympathies, but the rat certainly is driven by duty.

The rat wets his lips again. Wiegraf's truth strikes hard. "...I wish I could say otherwise." Are his quiet, calculated words to lack of firmness. They might say more than any outright admission might say.

His tail flicks, and he goes quiet a moment thoughtfully.

"By the Lord, I wish I had answers. All I may say, is that a single person cannot carry the weight of the world, Ser Folles unless ye happen to be named 'Ajora'. Find those ye may truly trust. None may say if Ivalice shall ever find peace and equality, but at the least, we may all die with good friends whom hath fought with all their might for what they believe to be truth and justice."

Then, there's a smile to Auron. "Doth not forget to meet those...'out of town' as ye humans say. The Multiverse is an opportunity for those of crafty and forward-looking minds." Offers the rat finally. He'd be dead many times over if it weren't for those he's met off-world. The Burmecian would hate to see Wiegraf die without their help.

The rat considers Wiegraf's question. "Mmm. Aside from mere chance to meet ye? A warning. Or, rather, a caution. Doth not fall to the Ebon Eye's folly. Which is the greater threat, a rotting plank, or a ravenous, diseased animal? Archadia shall devour all, saint and sinner alike. By all means, carve apart the foundations of Ivalice. I merely ask ye consider the wolves that would pick clean its bones. I hath had quite enough of dead countries from conquering tyrants. I hath no desire to cross blades with ye, Ser Folles, the Lord's own truth. But I shall if I must for the sake of all of God's children in this country."

He smirks at the end, his tone lightening.

"Though I admit the chance to test mine skill and mettle against such a man of thine calibre to be quite exciting." Mage or not, the rat is a knight and warrior.

A pause. "Mayhaps there is a time for this sermon, or something close. A...reminder to all, that we art all of the same cloth. Baert shall prove a lesson to Ivalice. Or so I pray. I intend to make him an example of those whom think 'birth' puts them above the lives of others due to something so paltry as 'station'." Faruja spits on the ground, then drains the rest of his ale. It's refreshing to speak so openly.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Auron's words have Faruja thinking. His tail clenches his chair. He calls for several drinks. He's going to stumble out of here, with how reckless he's being, on principle. Only Wiegraf's reassurances has him not being paranoid. The rat prays he can truly trust the man.

"Can any say what shall become of Ivalice? Our current path is one of either a slow demise, Ser Auron, or a swift consumption by the hound that is Archadia. Better, methinks, that Ivalice's common people, the most numerous of us all, steer the course of her destiny. If 'tis to ruin? Well. Better by our own hand than by that of greedy nobles or heartless tyrants, methinks."

He clears his throat slightly. "There shall always be those whom art weak of heart, willing to give into greed and lust. Should there be those whom wish to stand against them and with the power to do so? /That/ is what must exist within a truly perfect society. Regulation, unity of purpose, and a true desire to work towards the common good without thought for ones' self." Ends the rat as his other drinks arrive. Pardon him while he plays the drunkard for appearances sake.

Ultima (129) has posed:
"It is true, that one must have a plan for how to rebuild once a structure has been knocked down...", Wiegraf responds to Auron, before listening to Faruja's introduction. He's quiet, contemplative, for a few moments and then, "...I have been approached by the Church before, as I am sure you are doubtlessly aware. Some would call me an overly trusting fool, and I'd have too agree, but I believe you... Your Holiness."

When the rat pauses, Wiegraf offers, "One moment." before standing to head toward the bar again.

He walks briskly over to the bar and speaks to the bartender briefly. He literally just leaves Auron and Faruja to hang on that note, as some manner of verbal exchange - with the bartender leaning in to hear him over the roar of the bar activity - occurs between them. Wiegraf pats the bar, turning askance to offer a shy smile to the songstress who tugs at his sleeve. The pair exchange words briefly, and she seems amused. Wiegraf averts his eyes, perhaps embarassed.

It's a stark contrast to his usual, composed, war face. A subtle reminder that however big his dreams may be, he's still a mere boy.

The bartender returns with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of ale, and Wiegraf departs the bar to return with tray. He sets it softly on the table, offering a drink, silently. There's several dirty glasses and two clean here, clearly he is offering the clean ones. "Another drink, then, Inquisitor Senra?"

Once he's seated again, he leans back into his chair and listens contemplatively to the rest of what Faruja has to say. He nods knowingly, at several junctions - including when Faruja warns him against assuming he alone can steer the course of world, and of Archadia. One can even see him avert his eyes momentarily at the mention of crossing swords. A sign, perhaps, he does not feel as enthusiastic about the idea as the rat priest does.

At the tail end of it, Wiegraf draws a breath and offers, "You and I, Your Holiness, are of the same mind. I am not foolish enough to believe that I alone can steer her destiny. And Archadia is ever upon my mind, I would like nothing better than to destroy them as well. But I understand, if I do not play the meager hand I am dealt carefully... I risk forfeiting everything. More than you know."

As to Auron's earlier question, Wiegraf takes the dirty glasses and sets them up in a pyramid scheme, before speaking again. "The inherent problem with human social hierarchies is that there must always be someone above all the rest. If power is concentrated in the hands of one, or a few, then there is a potential for corruption. Even I, am not immune to such - and I'd be a fool to believe I were." He grasps the top glass, removing it, "...No, I harbor no foolish belief that I alone can guide Ivalice's fate." He places the glass down, and then arrays the glasses in a straight line. "Leveling the field means only putting the power to decide the fate of one and all back where it belongs: into the hands of the common man. I envision a world where every person has a say, and no man's word is better than any other."

Auron (236) has posed:
Auron pauses as Faruja reveals the details of who he is. Auron is relieved when he notes that Wiegraf doesn't get upset about it. Auron is, after all, used to the clergy being the real enemy. Sorry, templerat! Faruja gets a pass, though. Mostly. Because he seems willing to see that the clergy aren't perfect. Faruja's mention of the 'out of town' help draws a nod. "There are those from..." Pause. "'Out of town', as Faruja puts it, who would come to your aid," he confirms. "So hopefully you'll have plenty of help to ferret out the untrustworthy from your men, if there are any."

He frowns a little at Faruja's warning. He's not been completely sure of what's going on, only that the nobles are largely people who need to have a good stout beating -- or worse -- applied to them. "It's always harder to fight your enemies when you don't know who they are." But he also has to point out, "What better time to conquer a country than when its people are divided by their own troubles? The people can't present a united front to fight off possible invaders. With the common people and the nobles at each other's throats, Archadia must have seen Ivalice ripe for the picking."

As for Baert? Auron has only one thing to say about him. Which he waits to say until Wiegraf returns from his trip to the bar (which also prompted a bit of a chuckle thanks to him having spied the embarrassment seemingly brought about by the woman's words). "As a dear departed friend of mine would say -- and please pardon the crudeness, but he was that sort -- 'I hope ya nail his ass t'the wall'." A smirk. Normally he'd never use such language, but... Jecht would, and he owes his friend at least the decency to present his words as Jecht himself would have. Even if it's rude.

Faruja's statement of the future of Ivalice gets a thoughtful look. He listens, and thinks. "One man can't do much by himself, as you said, no matter how selfless he is. And there's no such thing as a perfect society. All you can do is your best. It's all anyone can do. It took me ten years to learn that."

He does like what he's hearing from Wiegraf, though. "That is a noble goal to work towards," he admits. "Free thought is a goal I worked toward as well. My own world had a group that had a stranglehold on free thinking and development, and their dogma cost many people their lives. Including close friends of mine." The way he speaks of this order in the past tense indicates it may have fallen.

A pause then, and he looks back to Wiegraf. "...I do have a question that's rather unrelated to anything." Pause, shift. "...Who is the 'Thunder God'?" He keeps his voice low, so no one else but this table will hear. "I've been called many things, but never that."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja Senra very nearly chokes on his drink as Wiegraf mentions being 'approached by the Church'. Any other time, he'd be dancing for joy. Now? Paranoia burns within him. So many secrets kept from him. Is it the High Confessor? Folmarv? Delacroix? Spitting into a handkerchief, he coughs and sputters as he tries to get his thoughts together. A hand squeezes the cross in one of his pockets hard enough that his hand bleeds. His world had always been so black and white. Now? He's not sure who to trust, and it hurts him more than any blade.

Thankfully, Wiegraf saves him any attempts at saving face. Faruja weakly smiles. For the first time in a while, the rat feels lost amongst events far larger than him. It's humbling, for a demi-human so highly placed in the world of men.

"Of course." He finally offers lamely. Ears flick back, and the rat hides a smirk politely. He's looked like that, and even more embarassingly, when with Ainsley. By the time the man's back the rat seems in good spirits. He takes a clean glass only to bow in thanks. Polite to a fault, these nezumi.

The drink is taken and consumed before he even speaks. Jecht would be proud.

"Ye art an excellent host, Ser. My thanks."

The rat chuckles at Wiegraf's lack of enthusiasm. "Some art borne makers of peace. Others warchocobos." States the rat simply enough. One guess which Faruja happens to be.

A slow sigh. "I cannot fault ye that much. There was an 'Earth' man, a storied general and warrior. 'Let the dice fall where they may' where his words, I believe, or somesuch." Faruja isn't sure if Wiegraf will end his enemy, ally, or something in between. But he's thankful for the chance to speak and understand the man. He's not dissappointed.

"All art sinful. Only through the grace of the Lord shall we be saved." Comments the rat. It might be expected, but the rat believes it. Only through faith comes unity. Faruja clings to that desperately, lest his entire world unravel.

Auron is far too correct on Archadia. "Bloody right. Frankly? I am surprised it took so long. The Archadians hath been fighting a shadow war for Ivalice long before their current agressions. Attempting to slay Inquisitors and the like. More fool them." Faruja smirks here. Good old national pride surfaces.

At the mention of nails, Faruja simply smiles. "Oh. I assure ye. I hath fought far too long against that man to let him go suitably unpunished. All art equal before the eyes of the Lord, and those whom break His Divine Laws shall face the same fate. I pride myself on meteing out appropriate punishments, as the Lady Inquisitor Diamonde taught me."

A brow rises. 'No perfect society'? Clearly the rat might beg to differ. Still, he smiles quietly. He'll abide by the man's dissention. He respects Auron.

Two ears perk. Thunder God Cid. Faruja leans back comfortably in his chair. Oh yes. He wants to hear this one.

Ultima (129) has posed:
"I am reluctant to trust those who are not part of our weave." Wiegraf admits, to Auron's statement. "Not for reasons of malice. It springs from the following idea: one must have both good intentions, and right understanding to solve a problem. I fear those external to Ivalice can not truly understand what ails her." He slides a dirty glass, thoughtfully, pausing in his speech for a beat, "...I am also of the belief that her people must resolve their own conflicts. I am not of the mind to see them beholden to a new master. That is exatly what I wish to avoid." He gives Auron a knowing glance, surely he must understand by now... that Wiegraf is completely averse to the idea of Ivalicians being subject to anyone else's authority.

"...Let the dice fall where they may..." Wiegraf nods, slowly, to that. "...Wise words, no doubt from a man who saw much of the world. One cannot help, sometimes, to feel as though one's circumstances were in fact decided by a mere game..." He pauses at that sobering thought. "...But every game has rules, and even the best written of rules can be exploited."

At Faruja's delaration of 'more fool them', the rebel knight chuckles, "...More fool them indeed, even the most desperate of beasts know better than to gnaw on the bones of a corpse besides. It only proves their single-mindedness. A thing I am certain we can take advantage of."

To the mention of Thunder Gods, Wiegraf's eyebrows knit... momentarily... and he casts a quizzical glance at Auron. ... Then, suddenly, he gets it. His eyebrows lift, the young man nods softly, and rubs at his chin, "...I do see it."

He laces his fingers, leaning back, and draws a breath, "...Where does one begin? How does one properly put to words, such an admittedly glorious legend without doing it a disservice?" There's quiet for a few moments again, as Wiegraf thinks, "He is a man who has rightly earned his name. Though he dwells amongst the numbers of my most hated enemy, I admit I respect him greatly. He, too, is a champion of men - one which I can only dream to be. He is the savior of Ivalice from the gripping jaws of death known as the Fifty Years War. A long, utterly contemptuous, squabble amogst the nobility which brought Ivalice to its knees. It is the reason for the state we are in. It was a war between Ivalice, and its neighboring nation of Ordallia. Both are ruled by the same blood lines, like as not."

Wiegraf pauses again, to let that sink in. "It was fear of his strength alone that saw Ordallia accept a peace treaty. It is said that the moment he enters the battlefield, every man on the opposing side is already dead. He is presently the General of Duke Druksmald Goltanna of the Order of the Southern Sky. A charitable man, who cares for the welfare of Ivalice's people. If she had but one living champion - it would be him. There is no place, not even Archadia, where his honorable name does not bring utmost respect."

Wiegraf turns, then, to look out the window. It is getting to be night fall. "I apologize, good gentlemen. But the hour is late for me." And he stands, "If there is aught else, I needs be going. Pleasure to meet you both."

Auron (236) has posed:
Really, if the situation with Auron and Faruja could be truly told, it would be a good example of how different people can coexist. Auron's beliefs are completely different from Faruja's. Just as Faruja keeps silent on the difference of opinion over 'no perfect society', so too does Auron on the 'all are sinful' business, out of respect for Faruja. The samurai knows where he's going when he dies; he's been there before.

As to Archadia jumping in when tensions in Ivalice are high, Auron says, "I suppose it's too much to ask for the two sides of this conflict in Ivalice to work with each other if they're told that this infighting is only strengthening Archadia." It's not a question. He's pretty sure that's the case, but it's worth mentioning anyway. To note, from the sounds of his words, he's not placing blame for the situation on any one group's shoulders.

Wiegraf's reasons for why he doesn't seek outside help are indeed valid, and Auron nods. "That's completely understandable, that Ivalice should write its own story," he replies. "Though, that said, I may understand some of what your world suffers from. Perhaps one day I can tell you more, and you'll be able to judge for yourself."

When Wiegraf sees what Auron meant by the Thunder God reference, he explains, "My robes were dusty from travel, that's all. Several people there thought I was this 'Thunder God'." He quiets, to listen to the explanation of who this person is. Though the brow of his remaining eye rises a bit in surprise at the mention of the two countries being ruled by the same bloodline. That's an interesting idea too... but now is not the time.

"I see," he notes to this explanation. And the mention of the hour getting later gets a nod. "Thank you for speaking with us both, Sir Folles." Officially knighted or not, as Wiegraf said, a man's deeds determine his true worth. And a man who would defend those who the people at the top care nothing for is worthy of the title 'sir', as far as Auron is concerned. "Good to meet you as well. Take care. And I do offer my help, if you want it," he adds mildly. "If not, I understand, but it's there if you want it." He isn't going to be offended if not; he understands why.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja can't help but smile. "If 'tis aught but a 'game', then let us bend those rules 'til they threaten to snap for the good of those we hold dear. These 'rules' of men hath done but a very few much prosperity in Ivalice. To the Abyss with them, I say. Should they be destroyed utterly for the sake of the people? Well. In theory at least, the Holy Church is neutral in such conflicts. An Inquisitor aught best keep his thoughts to Heavenly Law." So long as innocents aren't hurt, Faruja wouldn't bat an eye at seeing every noble and royal dead by Wiegraf's hand. Folmarv chose better than perhaps he knew. An oath sworn to Faram is something the rat clings to like a piece of floatsam in freezing waters.

Here, the rat tows the line with a grin. "One merely must defend that which treads upon his domain, Church or mortal authority alike." Members of the Inquisition aren't known for caring about authority or jurisdiction when they can get away with it. The hate for the Archadians in his eye might make that bit clear, whatever his words.

Faruja does nothing but nod at Wiegraf's description of the Thunder God.

"Truly good men art hard to find in Ivalice. We art a desperate people, high and low, human, viera, nezumi, ye name it. So easy to fall to power and greed." Faruja hardly counts himself amongst such men as the Thunder God. He can only do what he feels best.

Faruja (shakily, and drunkenly) stands with the help of his flotsam 'cane'. He leans on Auron, missing his sword-cane desperately. The weapon had served both purposes well ove rthe years.

"Go with Faram and the Holy Saint, my Child. Never fear to ask for Confession. Thine secrets art safe with those low men of the Cloth and God." A nod. The rat means it. His first love has always been as a simple Priest. Priests are good at keeping the sins of men.

Wiegraf gets one final look. "If ye hath aught else to do with the Multiverse, I pray ye do this much: look up the tale of 'Pandora's Box'. Ye shall find it curious." One can't exactly shove the Multiverse out of Ivalice, once it's let in. A lesson the rat has well learned by now.

Sigh. Faruja slumps against Auron.

"If ye wouldst be so kind, Ser Auron, get me the bloody abyss out of here lest I do aught else reckless and inpolitic. Lord in heaven, Inquisitor Diamonde shall lecture me for hours after this." This entire trip has been foolish to the rat's more rational mind. The rest is simply content for having the chance to be honest with Wiegraf Folles, a man who has shaped much of the rat's world view unknowningly. At least he can excuse it all with drink this night.