Aria di Mezzo Carattere

Balance and Ruin

 

 

Irene didn’t come back to help Seulgi with her lines. Instead she sent Yeri, who took to hitting Seulgi on the head with the script if she forgot her parts. Seulgi wasn’t sure if that it was better or worse than how Irene would have drilled her, but she was a little distracted wondering where the ex-general might have gone. And normally she would be a little alarmed to realize that she had begun to think like this - wondering where Irene was whenever she wasn’t around - but in thinking about her, Seulgi had suddenly remembered their conversation down in the lobby.

“Yeri?”

Yeri paused in the middle of her rather obnoxious rendition of the male lead’s melodious soliloquy. She was supposed to be helping Seulgi, but she was beginning to have a bit of fun with this opera herself.

“What is Irene the general of?” Seulgi asked as she stared down at her script in her lap. She had to ditch her brand new suit in favor of a white, ruffled ball gown, something a little too garish for formal evening wear, but perfect for catching the audience’s eye on the stage, letting them know immediately that she was the focus of the scene.

Yeri froze and opened , but closed it again. Seulgi looked up at her when she didn’t respond.

“Is she from Figaro?”

“No.”

“From Doma, then?”

“... No, but Seulgi-”

“Then where? What other kingdom has a standing army?” she asked in a leading tone. There was only one other option, according to the way her brother had described the complicated conflict. “I’ve tried to wait and let her tell me herself. I’ve listened to you guys dance around it ever since I met you. At first I thought maybe she was from Doma, and that you were trying to protect her feelings about what happened there.”

“Seulgi…”

“But you were protecting mine, weren’t you?”

“This isn’t something I can talk to you about!” Yeri finally blurted out. “It’s not fair to her, Seulgi. You need to talk to her about it.”

But Seulgi held Yeri’s gaze. “She’s from Gestahl, isn’t she?” That would explain everything; every averted gaze, every time a hush would settle over the group whenever Seulgi would join them, and of course Irene's unique talent with ice. They had kept it from her, even knowing that her brother had been murdered by the Empire. Or, perhaps they had kept it from her because of that.

“It’s really not my place, Seulgi,” Yeri repeated as she noticed Seulgi’s mood darkening. “But listen to me, okay? Irene... she’s really on our side.” Seulgi’s expression was making her desperate. They were getting so close to achieving their goal, she was so close to finally being able to exact her revenge, and Seulgi had made herself a key piece in their plan. They couldn’t fail now.

“How can you know that? How can you trust her?” Seulgi scoffed suddenly, her anger rising at Yeri’s confirmation through omission. “A general from Gestahl? What about Joy? How can you be so sure that she’ll be safe?”

Yeri regarded Seulgi for a moment, contemplating her answer. “Because I found her under arrest, Seulgi.” Thinking back to that day brought all of the noises and sensations with it; the smell of thousands of corpses rotting under the sun, the croaking and groaning of those who still clung to life, the sight of Gestahlian troops combing through the town, breaking into homes and gunning down the survivors.

“The Empire was going to execute her.”

 

Yeri saw immediately that it was too late to save Doma and doubled back to the Imperial camp to see what information there was to gather. She found it mostly emptied of troops as they were all at the castle finishing their grisly work, and had a relatively easy time passing from tent to tent on her way towards the command center.

There was still a skeleton guard leisurely patrolling the grounds, knowing their victory was assured, and Yeri strained to pick up any conversation she was close enough to overhear from them as she ghosted along.

“... I don’t know, doesn’t it kind of feel like overkill? I mean the women, too?”

“Women can be dangerous, don’t underestimate them,” the other soldier countered.

“I’m talking about servants, not soldiers,” the first soldier clarified irritably.

“... Yeah, I guess I feel the same. But we knew this was coming - once the Court Wizard arrived, I figured this would end pretty quickly.”

“But is it worth it? Doma doesn’t even use steam power; I doubt they’d ever try using magic. They would have never been a real threat to us.”

“Well, they held us off for this long, didn’t they?”

“But maybe General Bae was right, maybe we should have just waited for reinforcements…”

“Hey! Careful saying stuff like that! They’re calling her a traitor now for standing up to the Court Wizard. You don’t want to get mixed up in that.”

The first soldier put up his hands disarmingly. “Whoa, no, I mean what’s done is done, and I’m glad it’s over, but… I guess I just think maybe that’s a little bit of overkill, too. Sentencing her to death? Seems a little extreme to me.”

The second soldier paused and tugged at the chinstrap of his helmet. “... Yeah. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on…?”

Yeri’s curiosity was piqued; maybe her reconnaissance mission had time for a little look-see in the camp’s detention center.

She skirted down the periphery of the camp until she came to the only tent with a heavy guard, though even so, there were only four soldiers lazily grouped around the front. As she approached, she saw that they were smirking to each other and as she carefully circumnavigated around to the back of the tent, she could hear why.

Whoever was inside was receiving a beating.

Yeri quietly cut a slit in the seam of the tentwall with her dagger and peered inside to witness two guards in their shirtsleeves taunting the limp figure of a woman chained between two tentpoles. Was that really her? The Ice Princess? The Scourge of Maranda? She didn't look much like the General of the Gestahlian Empire, her figure bloodied, bruised, broken.

One of the soldiers squatted in front of her where she knelt in the dirt.

“Hey! Hey Ice Princess, wanna order me to mop the factory floors again? Remember that? In Tzen, when you ‘punished’ my whole squad? Go on, what’s the matter? Cait Sith got your tongu-”

WHAM!!!

Perhaps she was not so broken after all.

Yeri had to clap both hands over to suppress her laughter as she watched Imperial General Bae Irene viciously headbutt the soldier as he leaned in. He fell back on his in the dirt and blood was already seeping through his fingers as he covered his nose.

“YOU ! YOU STUPID-” and he choked on his own blood as his in a breath in his rage. The other soldier helped him up and they left the tent together. “You just wait! You just WAIT…!”

And the general did wait, kneeling there unphased, her tired form hanging limply from her chains.

Yeri only hesitated for a moment before widening the slit in the seam and rushing over to girl’s side. The general didn’t seem to even register that Yeri was there until the thief had successfully picked the lock of one of her manacles.

Irene looked up through the blood running into her swelling eye in wonder as the blonde girl rushed around to her other side to free her other arm. Irene had no idea who this girl was; clearly she wasn’t a soldier - no uniform, no standard equipment - so who could she possibly be?

It was a tense moment when her other hand was freed and they stared at each other warily. After a beat, Yeri gave her a cheeky smirk and offered her a hand. Irene declined and pushed herself up, eliciting an eyeroll from Yeri. The thief wordlessly stalked back over to the slit she had made in the tentwall and beckoned Irene over. The general paused only long enough to grab her officer’s coat and sabre from the table and followed after her.

 

Yeri was pulled out of her memories by the sound of Seulgi’s satin gown rubbing against itself as she crossed her arms. There was so much she wanted to explain to the rancher but Yeri was conflicted. Yeri had spent the first few days of their partnership viewing the ex-general as an asset to leverage against the Empire, but had long since come to see her as more of an ally. A friend. How could Seulgi seriously be second-guessing her after everything they’ve been through together?

“Would she teach you how to fight as intensely as she does if she just wanted to betray you to the Empire?” Yeri tried.

Seulgi glowered. Even if Irene had been sentenced to death by the Empire, hadn’t she still been a general for them? For how long? How many city-states and kingdoms had she conquered before finally turning her armies on Doma?

“It’s probably all she knows,” Seulgi grumbled defensively. She didn’t like how hard Yeri was trying to convince her that Irene had really repented for her service to the Empire.

“That’s not fair, Seulgi. I know you know better than that.”

“You know what’s not fair?” Seulgi asked tensely as she suddenly stood. “That my brother is dead, because of her Empire! Every single person in Doma is dead! How old is she? How long was she in the army? How many people did she kill during that time?”

“Seulgi, stop!” Yeri demanded, standing as well. “You have no idea what kind of sacrifices she’s made! She abandoned everything she knew because she didn’t believe in what she was doing anymore!” Yeri was making a few assumptions; she knew precious few details beyond what she had been able to piece together from the Returner’s intel reports and the events at Doma itself, but she knew Irene had proven herself to be a woman of principle.

“She gave up everything, Seulgi,” Yeri iterated. “She only has us, now.”

And that seemed to finally get Seulgi’s hard gaze and stiff jaw to soften. Once again, Seulgi heard that line Yeri had said way back on the Veldt: that grief had touched all of them. She didn’t know what that meant for Yeri or Joy, but she found herself wondering what that phrase really meant for someone like Irene.

“Let’s just see this thing through, alright? You don’t have to like it, Seulgi, but I think we’re all making deals with Bahamut these days. Just focus on your revenge- on protecting those who still remain,” Yeri said, correcting herself.

Seulgi eyed the now-crumpled script in her hand and nodded solemnly. Yeri was right. About a lot of things. And not the least of which was that taking down the Empire was more important than seeking justice against one of its defected officers.

+++

 

“You’re sure you’ll remember?” Yeri asked for possibly the fiftieth time as she and Seulgi waited in the wings of the stage.

Seulgi was trying to block the smaller girl out as she read and reread the script. “Shh!”

“You’re right, I’m sure you’ll be fine. After all, how could one forget such asinine writing?” Yeri snickered.

That brought Seulgi out of her fixed concentration. She frowned at the thief. “I think it’s kind of nice,” she protested, though the end of her sentence was drowned out by the sudden roar of applause from the audience.

Seulgi looked out and could see the Impresario walking to center stage. He gave a series of bows - to the box seats, the mezzanine, the general audience, and then nodded his head at the maestro in the orchestra pit.

The theater erupted in a wash of sound as the orchestra launched into the opera’s powerful overture and Seulgi felt her heart swell. Her country life had exposed her to few artistic performances - mostly troupes passing through the new saloon, certainly never anything of this scale - and suddenly she was struck with the thought that she was about to go out there as the prima donna and would be expected to carry the story with her acting and voice.

The Impresario narrated the setting of the opera, in a surprisingly strong voice that projected well throughout the theater. It was a disturbingly familiar story, of war and conquest, petty squabbles and honorless warlords.

The battle between the East and West grew fiercer with each passing day. Draco, the great Hero of the West, thinks of his love, Maria. Is she safe? Is she still waiting for him?” After this somber introduction, the Impresario bowed and left the stage, and the orchestra shifted into the first real movement of the opera.

As Draco, Seulgi’s counterpart in this story, took the stage and sang of his undying love for Maria to the gathered audience, she realized just how far away she had strayed from her own home on this journey with the Returners. It was like she had stepped into a completely different world as she peeked out at the sea of men and women in the audience, with their silk top hats and oiled goatees, their gilt opera glasses held in their fair, delicate hands.

They may have dyed Seulgi's hair to try and disguise her as Yerin, but there was no hiding who she truly was.

The Impresario took to the stage again to continue his narration of the opera’s story, and all too soon, Seulgi began to hear the rise of a piano through the fading notes of the last scene. It was her cue.

The West fell, and Maria was taken by Prince Ralse of the East. Though, she never stopped yearning for Draco.

If she lingered, she’d miss her line, but as Yeri gave her a hearty thumbs-up, she paused, noting that Irene was still nowhere to be found. Yeri blinked at her hesitation and with both hands pushed her out onto the stage.

Seulgi barely reached her mark in time, in the cloister of a fake castle, and took a deep breath.

And she sang.

It was an echo of Draco’s soliloquy from the beginning of the play, a mournful refrain that lamented the persisting war in the story that kept them apart. And as she carefully recited the lyrics line by line, she ascended the castle’s stairs up to a balcony, where an apparition of Draco himself awaited her. They danced together in a dream-like sequence as the music rose, giving Seulgi a break from her lines. But too soon, the fantasy was over and Draco’s ghost took his leave, and in his place was a bouquet of roses.

Yeri took this as her cue to find their seats in order to get a better view of the stage, but when she reached them, high up in the relatively deserted mezzanine, she noticed that only Joy was up there. Alone.

Yeri sat next to Joy and immediately leaned over to whisper to her. “Where’s Irene?”

Joy roused herself from a reverie she had fallen into, and whispered back, “I thought she was with you.”

Yeri shook her head and thought for a moment. Seulgi’s untested stage singing was adequate for the performance, but Yeri was positive there wasn’t a person sitting in the audience who thought she was Jung Yerin. Maybe the Impresario could pass her off as an understudy? Still, Moonbyul could pounce at any time and she remembered that they weren’t actually here to watch a show. She began to stand up again. “I’m going to go look for her.”

But Joy reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Wait… I’ll go,” she suggested. “You stay here and keep an eye on Seulgi.

Yeri slowly sat back down, a little stunned at Joy’s insistence, but as she watched the queen walk away, Yeri saw how stiffly she moved, how tightly her fists were clenched. Joy was barely holding it together, Yeri realized. After all, they were in her sister’s domain now. Yeri sank back into her seat and tried to focus on watching the stage for any signs of mischief.

As was described in the script, Seulgi scooped up the bouquet and walked out to the edge of the balcony of the fake castle, ready to continue her solo now that the ghost of Draco had disappeared. Up above the stage at this height, she had a commanding view of the audience, and likewise, all eyes were on her.

This was the big of her character’s arc: after saying her goodbyes to her embattled lover’s ghost, she was supposed to toss the bouquet from the balcony in a metaphorical act of resigning herself to her fate.

But as she held the roses out over the balustrade, a figure suddenly descended from the rafters, standing with her foot in the loop of a long rope. It was a woman sporting a head of beautiful, silvery hair, and a long, black coat, unfastened to reveal her silk shirt beneath. Everything about her attire screamed indulgence: the fabric, the embroidery, the gold stitching, the shined leather boots with their silver buckles. It reminded her quite a bit of the outfit she had met Joy in, and Seulgi was certain that this woman could also buy her family's entire ranch - undoubtedly all of Mobliz - just with the sale of this outfit alone. All in all, it was an impressive sight. 

And not one bit of it was in the script.

As the woman stood there in mid air, she gave Seulgi a lazy smirk and took the bouquet from her, giving it a sniff.

“For me? You shouldn’t have~” Moon Byuli, Captain of the Blackjack, said as she swung from her rope jauntily. She gave the flowers a toss out into the audience and suddenly looped her arm around Seulgi’s waist.

With a sharp whistle from the captain, they were hoisted into the air, forcing Seulgi to throw her arms around Moonbyul’s neck or risk falling.

This wasn’t in the script, either, but Seulgi desperately hoped it was part of the plan.

+++

 

Irene was outside, leaning against a tree, trying to cool her head. “It looks good on you,” she muttered to herself irritably. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the trunk. “Of course it looks good on you. Everything. Looks. Good. On. You,” she continued with more punches. The suit. The sword in her belt. That stupid hat. Irene sighed and leaned back against the tree, letting her head rest against the bark in much the same way as she had when she rushed out of Seulgi’s dressing room earlier.

Now was not the time to get distracted by a pretty face.

Irene frowned. No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t just her pretty face. It was her gentle manners. Her pastoral mien? Her open expressions? It was her easy-going nature. Her willingness, no, her readiness to help others in need. Seulgi was everything Irene herself was not, and with a growing sense of horror, Irene realized she wanted to spare Seulgi from all of the things that had earned her the nickname Ice Princess in this war.

She wanted to protect her.

With a growl she rounded on the tree once again, but before she could land another hit, she heard an unfamiliar, rhythmically repetitive noise cut through the air, and she slowly looked towards its source… up in the sky… slowly descending on the roof of the Opera House.

Oh.

It was propellers.

From an airship.

Irene drew her sabre and sprinted back inside.

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ThisIsHaro
I messed up this chapter a bit structurally but more will come soon so I'm trying not to kick myself about it too much

Comments

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born10966 #1
Chapter 30: Oh gosh. Wendy entered the Esper world.
I think the elders had a hidden purpose. Thanks for the update Author Nim
railtracer08
358 streak #2
Chapter 30: Yay update! Happy new year! Everyone's (Eunji<3) together again too. Time to go rescue Wendy? 😶‍🌫️

(I finished FF12 lol. The battle system took a while to get used to but after setting up the right gambits it was fine.)
Oct_13_wen_03 36 streak #3
Chapter 30: Happy new year author nim 🤍, can't wait for more 🤍
KaiserKawaii #4
Chapter 30: Author! Happy New Year!
railtracer08
358 streak #5
Chapter 29: Finally caught up! And i gotta agree, it does feel like im watching the actual game lol (so much so that i finally got around around to starting ff12 cause i was in a ff mood 😂)
I wonder what's Moonbyul's story tho, and if it has something to do with our yet to be seen moo girls 👀 assuming they'll ever show up lol
P.s. Seulgi's too precious for this world
railtracer08
358 streak #6
Chapter 19: Joy + chainsaw is a combo i never knew i needed lmao 🤣
railtracer08
358 streak #7
Chapter 11: Girl, you got it baaaaad 😏
Oct_13_wen_03 36 streak #8
update please author nim
Eris78
#9
Chapter 29: Thank you for coming back!
eunxiaoxlove #10
Chapter 29: Aaaaahhh I missed this