Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 41

“I spy something that ends with D.” Her fellow passenger hummed as he scanned the landscape around the moving caravan.

“Huh, took you four rounds before picking ‘Sand’ this time.” The cart’s driver said with a chuckle.

As it turned out, the caravan was made from four carts, each laden with crates, bags and bales, and each cart had both a pair of adventurers assigned to them, as well as a pair of workers.

On account of pulling the short straw, Kofle (and by extension Muur) had ended up assigned to the front cart. Overall, this was turning out to be exactly what the cat had promised: a slow, quiet romp through Thanalan. Animals that might have been tempted by a single man, or a single cart, seemed to know to stay well away from a dozen and a half men and women.

More than once, Muur had seen weird, freaky looking dog-things. But they’d never approached at any time, “Hey, how’s it going up there?” Kofle called out as she fell back in line with the cart, her mismatched set of armour unchanged due to her refusal to spend anywhere near the amount of gils the merchant had wanted for the set, “Mind passing me something to drink Muur?”

“Not much to do other than practice my control.” The lizard wizard replied, her tail handing over a cast iron pot full of meltwater, a few small chunks of ice floating in it, “Here you go.”

Grabbing the pot, Kofle slowly sipped from it. Unlike the driver who’d drank far too quickly, the adventurer had no plans to get a brainfreeze, “We’re rolling up to Nophica’s Well soon,” She said, nodding towards a slowly approaching bridge, “Wasn’t there the last time I was here. What’s the place about?”

“Haven’t been here in a while then?” The man opposite to Muur called out.

“Not since the Fall, no.” Her girlfriend answered back.

“Ah, can’t blame you. That was a right mess,” Humming in thought, he eventually began to describe what the Well was, “Well, you’ll recall the Footfalls of back then I’m sure? Big marshes spawnin’ what used to be a large cave network, afore the ceiling collapsed. As it happens, that network was quite a bit larger than we all knew. One of the Dread Wyrm’s magicks fell right here, blastin’ open an underground cave much like the Footfalls. Unfortunately, it also cut the land in twain. Horizon to the north, the Crossin’ to the south. One of the first thin’ they did after the calamity was create a bridge to make sure Vesper Bay and the Crossin’ would still be connected.”

“Are there still monsters lurking in there, or did the sunlight and fresh air get them retreating deeper in?” Muur asked with a tilt of her head, mostly wondering if she’d have to set some gribbles to the past tense. 

“Nothing that’ll threaten us,” This time, it was the driver who spoke, “The well’s right deep, and beside a few giant toads? Hardly much of anythin’ down there, and they’re often too busy fishin’ in the shallows to care about what goes on on the bridge. Most they do is croak at us durin’ breeding season. Other side? Now that’s a different story.”

“I’ll sling some ice at the fat fucks and that’ll be that, then. But do tell about what’s lurking on the other side.” Muur asked with perhaps a bit too much eagerness. Look, she was given this amazing mace-staff and she wanted to crack some skulls.

“Eh, the usual ‘round here. Mongrels, Piestes and Hammerbeaks, those sorts of beasts–” “Oh, and Bombs too!” The other hand quickly added, “–Aye. Bombs too. Nasty things have been a problem in Thanalan since before my great-gran. But they seem to love this place, Twins only know why.”

Muur… had no idea what any of these were. Even searching through her grafted memories didn’t give her anything to work with– well, except for the Bombs. But those were as iconic as Ahrimans, anyone who knew Final Fantasy beyond the name would recognize them. Nevermind how she had been using their ground up remains to make offbrand gunpowder for her tutor.

“Mongrels are jackals,” Thankfully, her friend came in with the save, “Ugly things too. Never seen one that didn’t look two steps from starving to death, even when well fed. Hammerbeaks are… Well, imagine a particularly badly drawn chocobo with scales instead of feathers, venomous too and they can spit their toxin as a gas. As for Piestes? Giant lizards, lanky and mean. They usually eat bugs, but won't say no to a larger meal. Main danger’s their gaze, they can paralyze you with it.”

“That’s always a pain in the ass, do they mess with your aether too, or can I just keep blasting even if they get me?” Muur grumbled, a few garlands of purple lightning dancing across the flanges of her staff to underline her point.

“They do, aye. Messes with your aether so that you randomly freeze up for the next ten or twenty seconds,” She explained with a grimace, “Ruins your casting and then some.”

“Amazing. I’ll just sling lightning at them on sight to foul up their aether before they can do it to me.” The lizard wizard muttered mutinously.

“That’s the spirit!” Kofle replied with a laugh as the bridge came into view. As the convoy came closer, Muur began to make out a few details. First being that it was built close to a great rocky plateau as tall as Ul’dah’s own. Though not close enough that it was at the risk of boulders falling down and damaging it.

This did mean that it hadn’t been built at the narrowest point. Still, it wasn’t exactly long. Maybe… a hundred metres in length– maybe a bit less? Despite being relatively short, it was fairly wide. By the Au’Ra’s estimate, there was plenty of space for two caravans to pass side by side. There was even a large platform, maybe twice the width of the bridge, placed right atop the lone supporting pillar to let smaller wagons give way to larger ones if necessary.

That was about all she could say about it. Based on the noticeable lack of flourishes and embellishments, this was a structure meant for practicality and little else. It did have some sorts of obelisk looking things dotted along its length, but she’d seen similar things in other parts of her current city of residence serving as lamp posts. So chances were they served the same role here.

In short: truly a bridge of all time.

Riding onwards, the caravan was poised to cross without any sort of issue. Hell, Kofle even managed to buy a pair of freshly baked flatbread loaves from a particularly enterprising Lalafell that had set up a small bakery stand in a corner of the platform. Unfortunately, the good times did not last.

The first thing that signaled that something wasn’t quite right was the sound of hammers hitting rocks with great force. It came from just behind a bend in the road, past the bridge, “Ah, hells.”

“How much trouble?” Muur asked even as her aether boiled to the surface, the stench of ozone filling the air as she fed the focus crystal of her staff, building up a buffer of power.

Rather than answer, the man turned to the rest of the convoy, “OI! Venturers! Time to earn yer keep! Hammerbeaks are out there!” 

“Alright. If anyone has any objections to a lightning barrage hello, say so now.” The Thaumaturge said as her focus crystal shone like a star, garlands of violet lightning dancing between the mythril flanges housing it.

“Bloody hells–!” The guy on the cart swore, before aggressively motioning Muur to stop in her casting, “Stop that would you!? Do you want the whole damn herd to fall on us!?”

“And that’s why I asked.” Muur replied with a huff as the Lightning aether returned to her body, the focus crystal dimming to its resting state. You’d think people in this stretch of Eorzea knew this was just the thaumaturgic equivalent of drawing steel, but apparently no.

“Sorry about that,” Kofle apologised on her (quite unapologetic) behalf, “New staff and all that.”

“Bah, of course it'd be– don't matter where they'd be from, Adventurer’s are all the damn same–” Muur was saved from his ramble as the other adventuring pairs filtered in.

A quick discussion between all eight sellswords. Seeing as the beasts were off doing whatever it was they were doing, they would split their numbers. Half of them would remain with the caravan, for safety and just in case. The other half would move to confront the monsters and clear the way forwards.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Kofle and Muur had elected to go. With them came a spear-wielding beanpole of a Hyur, and a Roegadyn that claimed to be a healer. Not of a type that Muur recognised though, her outfit screamed ‘stuffy scholar’ more than anything. Especially her pince-nez glasses.

She was also a midget– which for her race meant that she was ‘only’ a head taller than Kofle. 

“Do adventurer Thaumaturges really have that bad a reputation that civvies will just assume the worst the moment there’s a bit of a lightshow?” The wizard lizard asked once they were well out of earshot, her staff once more sparkling and sparking as she pooled in Lightning aether. She would rather the Hammerbeaks weren’t able to get off any toxin sprays. 

“No” “Yes.” “Why in the world are you starting a spell so soon?” Muur’s question earned her three different answers. The first two belonging to Kofle and the spear-wielder respectively. However, and perhaps fittingly, the Roegadyn’s response was to ask her own question.

The other two had looked ready to argue their points, but instead turned to their healer, a quizzical expression on their faces.

“What? The beasts are not in sight,” She defended herself, “There's hardly a need to prepare a spell when we've not even ascertained the situation.”

The Hyur nodded minutely before asking his own question, “I must ask. My lady, are you perhaps an arcanist? Your garb seem to mark you as one.”

“And if I am?” Her answer was curt and just a tiny bit caustic.

“Then, would I be wrong in the assumption you've hardly ever found yourself far from civilisation in the course of your adventurership?” Interestingly, the bean-pole's mannerism was quite refined. His words each carried a hint of poshness and nobility as he spoke. Which contrasted somewhat with the worn out set of chainmail he wore. When the arcanist only answered with a nod, he kept going, “Then it is of no wonder you are confused. Knowing that your Guild deals in the art of logistics and ensuring merchants pay their dues, you've surely encountered threats, but not what lurks far from where learned men and women dwell. Believe me that while our… teammate is of the overzealous type, her actions are hardly surprising.”

For some reason though, he seemed to just dislike Muur on principle. They hadn't even exchanged more than a sentence!

“The further away you get from the city states, the more it pays to be ready at a moment’s notice,” Kofle agreed, “And I'd wager traveling half the world to come here cultivated a certain attitude, no?”

“Pretty much, nevermind how the Xaela tribes are.” Muur replied as she drew on her body’s memories, “Priming a spell is no different than having an unsheathed sword in your hand, the only difference is that some monsters are magically sensitive enough to sniff it out. But those are rare and usually you’ll want to flare your aether anyways. Either they will get scared away and are one less thing to worry about, or they would jump you when you start slinging spells at your actual target so better to draw them out and dispatch them first.”

“Granted, when you’re trying to be discreet, it’s not exactly the best of ideas,” Kofle said with a shrug before turning to the arcanist with a raised eyebrow, “My question’s why you haven’t summoned your carbuncle yet.”

“I will call upon it once the situation has been ascertained,” The Roegadyn said with a scoff, “Not a moment before. It’d be a waste of my aether otherwise.”

“I thought those only took an upfront cost and no upkeep after that?” Muur asked with a small frown, genuinely curious.

“I will not hold your lack of education against you,” The woman scoffed, “I doubt your origins would afford as scientific an insight into the arcane. Thaumaturges are hardly known for researching the how of spells, only how to produce more powerful ones, after all. But no, carbuncles most certainly have an ‘upkeep’ as you would say.”

“You can count on me being an exception to that once I’m finished stabilizing my aether from a really obnoxious condition.” Muur retorted dryly, but no less honestly, “Although while I have you here, I may as well ask. I know the principle behind equations with at least two variables being translatable to geometry and graphing, and arcanists using certain geometric arrays to weave their aether into effects, but how did this come about? Was someone far in the past scribbling and doodling and happened on a shape that caused aether to react by blind luck? Did someone try to graph out a mundane maths problem and stumble on a piece of magic?”

The small Roegadyn narrowed her eyes at the question, silently weighing the words before huffing, “I do not have the discretion to reveal Guild knowledge to unvetted individuals.”

“It’s not like I’m asking what methods you use to measure and analyze aether or how you handle research and development, but suit yourself I suppose.” Muur replied with a careless roll of her shoulders. She had a feeling that the lady actually didn’t know that piece of history and was just trying to save face, but no sense pressing her on it. 

It wasn’t exactly a shock that this put something of a damper on the mood. Not that it was particularly high to begin with. Regardless, after half a minute or so of walking, the team of four reached the source of the noise and took position behind a large, conveniently placed rock, “The Hammerbeaks’ll be behind there. Let’s take a peak before making a decision.” Kofle whispered before peeking out.