CHAPTER TEN: RESEARCH
"Hey Chopperface, ya hear the news?"
Dinobot didn't look up from the tray of mineral samples in front of him. "I have been far too busy to keep up with current events. As you well know."
Chuckling, Rattrap leaned against the side of the table. "Right, so. After that mess in Ala Mhigo a few weeks back, boss bot had to take that femme back down to safety, so he used that glamour disguise his dragon friend made for him, right?" Dinobot twitched slightly at the reminder, but said nothing. "The thing is, if 'Copper Dawn' vanishes now, someone might ask questions. And sure, that ain't automatically a problem for us, but if he needs to use that face later, someone might recognize it and ask questions we don't want 'em asking. So, boss bot has had to spend time making sure his new fake identity has some metal on the framework. Very time consuming busywork, apparently he's found it quite annoying."
"Is there a point to this," Dinobot grumbled, "or are you just enjoying informing me that the captain has more reasons to be irritated with me than previously thought?"
"Because he's so busy, being the captain and all, he's had some mechs working on rigging up a holomatter shell to look like Copper Dawn. That way, someone else can go planet side, and spend time being a nice, innocent adventurer. Of course, they'd need to be a bot with the right proportions and kibble to fit into a Roegadyn disguise. Plus a focus on melee combat would be preferable. Copper mostly uses a sword, after all-"
Putting the tray down, Dinobot took a deep breath. "I know what you are trying to imply vermin. Given my frame and skill set, this would be a perfect opportunity for me to perform the sort of tasks that I am not only highly qualified for, but I would greatly enjoy. Alas!" he declared, spinning and raising a hand to the sky dramatically. "This problem was created because of my impulsive actions! Thus, cruel fate will deny me the opportunity to take part, instead forcing me to watch as another takes my place!" Lowering his hand, he smirked at Rattrap. "Does that cover the situation that you wished to mock me over?"
The third mech in the room, a large brown and green beastformer, snorted loudly at that, not looking up from his own work. Rattrap scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "Ruin all my fun why don't ya?"
"With great satisfaction," Dinobot replied, returning to his work and ignoring Rattrap stomping out of the room.
After a moment, the other mech turned to look at him. "I thought you knew about the captain looking for a stand-in."
"He doesn't need to know that," Dinobot shrugged. "Besides, I'm not going to ruin all of the vermin's fun."
Rhinox laughed, a short sharp noise that rattled his frame. "Fair enough." Turning back to his work, his lips twitched in a smile. "You still wish you could get the job, don't you?"
"Don't you start!"
***
If Countdown was being honest with himself, he'd enjoyed being Copper Dawn again. Playing the role of a simple adventurer, providing aid to those that asked, had been oddly relaxing. Be it as simple as acting as a courier, or going out into the La Noscean wilds to hunt wildlife, it had been a delightful change of pace from centuries of starship command and datawork. Even the logistical issues with returning to the Axalon as needed via orbital jump wasn't enough to dampen his enjoyment.
But the fact of the matter was, his responsibilities to the expedition took precedence. And while he had learned quite a bit about modern Eorzean culture, none of it had really helped with the expeditions main goal of contacting Hydaelyn. Which brought him here, to the ruins of New Sharlayan.
Originally a research outpost established by Old Sharlayan, an island nation far to the northwest of Eorzea, it had grown over the centuries until it was a city-state equal to any other on the continent. Famed for its academia, research facilities, and the sharing of knowledge across the known world, to the point that many forgot it was actually still a province of Sharlayan proper.
That all changed a decade ago when, in a single day, the citizens of New Sharlayan abandoned the city en mass, returning to their distant island and leaving nothing but buildings, records, and more than a bit of wildlife that had been intended for research purposes. That second detail, combined with the fact there was seemingly no sapient lifeforms living in the region, made it perfect for the Cybertronian expedition to start finding solid data.
But as he stood in the area marked out for incoming orbital jumps, looking at the bursts of flames that rose above the decaying buildings to the south, accompanied by monstrous roaring and furious screaming, Countdown couldn't help but wonder if there was a detail he'd missed. "Is this something that I should be worried about?" he asked mildly.
"FOUL BEASTS! YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE US?! YOU SHALL BURN IN THE FIRES OF THE PIT FOR YOUR INSOLENCE! BURN! BURRRRN!"
"Nah, it's fine," Hardtop replied, waving a hand dismissively. "The local morbol population keeps getting curious about us. Inferno's just enthusiastic about teaching them to stay away."
Considering that for a moment, Countdown winced slightly. He'd been unfortunate enough to encounter that particular species of seedkin during the Fifth Astral Era, and remembered all too well the mass of tentacle-like vines, mouths larger than him with massive fangs, and breath full of poisons and acids that could strip the paint from his plating in moments. A bit of furious screaming at facing such creatures, and the use of large amounts of fire in their eradication, was certainly something he could understand.
"Honestly it could be worse," the larger mech continued. "At least we don't need to be subtle in dealing with them. No local intelligent life does have its advantages." He frowned slightly. "Gotta say boss, I'm still suspicious about that little detail."
"Likewise," Countdown agreed. Initial searches of the city carried out by the survey team had found remarkably few signs of looting in the decade or so since the city had been abandoned. Even most of the buildings were still locked, their interiors suggesting nothing more violent than an orderly evacuation. Logic would suggest that the Sharlayans had left people behind to ensure the security of anything valuable that they couldn't remove, but even after weeks, the survey team hadn't found anything . "Given most routes to this area go through Dravania, I suspect difficulty of access is a major factor."
Rubbing at his nose with a finger, Hardtop frowned. "Maybe," he said, "but not all routes. It's weird, like there's something I'm missing." Another burst of flame rose above the buildings to the south, and the mech chuckled. "Unless the morbols are keeping looters away, which, yeah, that I can understand." The flames were joined by a shark, spinning in the air and launching a pair of missiles from his mouth into the chaos below. "Okay, you know what, I'm going to go check on them." He glanced over to the brown and white feathered Maximal standing nearby. "Skywarp, would you escort the captain to the professor?I can't exactly fit inside anyway,"
"Of course Commander," he replied, bowing ever so slightly, before turning to Countdown. "If you will follow me sir."
As Hardtop transformed to his dune buggy alt-mode and speed off down the street, Skywarp led his captain in the other direction, towards a building still clearly recognizable as a school of some sort. Passing several classrooms, they arrived in a large auditorium that were filled with numerous desks and shelves in an attempt to organize the massive amount of textbooks, maps and cybertronian devices that had been brought in. Given there were several stacks of books on the floor, that had clearly met with mixed levels of success.
In the middle of this, a black and white plated mech stood in front of a blackboard, looking down at a text book in his hands, before glancing back up to scribble down a note. Muttering to himself, he flipped to another page, then made another note. After several moments, Skywarp coughed into his hand. "Professor, you have a visitor."
Twitching slightly, Rewind looked up from the book. "Ah, Countdown, thank you for coming." Placing the book down on a nearby desk, he stepped forward to shake the other bots hand.
Countdown smiled politely, then looked around the hall. "I see you've been hard at work here."
"Fortunately for us, the Sharlayans are apparently strong believers in a comprehensive education," the archivist chuckled, tapping a hand against a pile of books and scrolls. "It's allowed us to start putting together an overview of Eorzea's history since your last visit during the Fifth Astral Era."
"And here I thought you'd focus on the government offices to the north," Countdown said.
Rewind shook his head. "Not as useful as you'd think for this sort of research. Still, we had some bots go through the site. Barely found any paperwork or documentation at all. When they abandoned the colony, the Sharlayans either recovered or destroyed any information related to their government. But that's not why I asked you to come."
He nodded in understanding. "Your message said you might have a lead on finding Hydaelyn."
"It's a theory, based off recent history. So, some background," Rewind said. He moved several piles of books to the side of the central table, revealing a large, locally made map that showed what Countdown recognized as what the locals called the Three Great Continents. Surprisingly, the general shape was remarkable accurate to the orbital maps the Axalon had made over the past month, making the mech wonder just how the local scholars had achieved it. "The realm of Eorzea as it stands now," he said, gesturing at the continent of Aldenard and its surrounding islands. "About a dozen major nations and smaller states, some with relative peaceful relations, others in a state of open war with one another."
Tapping the combination camera/projector mounted to the side of his head, Rewind placed a simple holographic overlay on top of the map, highlighting locations across the Eorzean region that Countdown quickly identified as the nations in question. Then, he placed another light on the map, on the continent of Ilsabard to the north-east. "Here's where things get interesting. A little over fifty years ago, the situation to the north was chaotic at best. Multiple nations fighting over limited resources and sustainable cropland. Then the Garlemald Republic began developing machinery they call Magitek. Technology that is the equal of magic, hence the name. They quickly began to integrate this technology into their military, and the next time their neighbors pushed, they pushed back hard enough to outright conquer them."
"There's a familiar tale," Countdown chuckled.
"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure the next part will be familiar too," the archivist muttered darkly. "The Republic began to shift, becoming the Garlean Empire in 1522, with the then Republican Dictator naming himself Emperor Solus zos Galvus the First." Red arrows shifted outward from the light marking the empire, moving eastward into the continent of Othard. "One of his more famous quotes from the time was 'No lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. Rule.'"
Behind them, Skywarp laughed bitterly. "Another familiar tale."
"Reminds me of a few Decepticon warlords, yeah," Countdown replied. Considering the map before him, he frowned. "At some point they've obviously turned their attentions towards Eorzea, given their occupation of Ala Mhigo."
"And there's a reason for that," Rewind said. A new light appeared, over a region in western Othard. "This is called the Burn. According to historical and geographical records we've found, it's a dead zone. The aether in the region is so heavily drained that barely any life survives there. And the supposed cause are beings that the Garleans call Eikons, that Sharlayan scholars call Primals…" he glanced at Countdown, "and many of the people of Eorzea call gods."
"…Huh." Rubbing at his chin, Countdown considered that fact for a moment. "Ifrit did say that if he manifested without the proper preparations, the consequences would be disastrous. I should have guessed they had practical experience with that."
"Well, seeing the Burn in person was apparently a life-defining moment for Galvus. Garlean expansionism wasn't just about putting all lands under his rule anymore. Now it was about 'bringing civilization to the savages' 'eradicating the lies of religion' and 'destroying false gods before they destroy us all.'" Rewind rolled his optics before continuing. "And unfortunately, over the past few decades, summoning gods has apparently become something of an accepted military tactic by smaller nations here in Eorzea."
Turning away from the map to look at Rewind, Countdown raised an optic ridge. "As in, gods on the battlefield directly? Seriously?"
The other mech nodded. "Seriously." He tapped a book whose title suggested it was about recent military history. "There's been several major incidents involving beings similar to your descriptions of Ifrit, Titan and Leviathan, at the very least. I haven't found any details on just how it's done, but I suppose that the local governments would prefer that to not be common knowledge. But more importantly, I suspect they're the key to finding Hydaelyn. "
Behind them, Skywarp tilted his head to the side. "You wish to ask the gods themselves for aid."
"Exactly. The last time you were here," Rewind said to Countdown, "Hydaelyn knew you were coming long before you even arrived in-system. With the help of smaller gods, she laid out a trail of energon crumbs that led you to her, while also arranging to warn countless people of an impending disaster. I think that, even if they can't get us in contact with her directly, they can set us on the path to finding her."
Scratching his chin, Countdown considered that for a while. "In fact, they might even already have instructions to do just that," he said at last. "Where would we need to look?"
Turning back to the table, Rewind shifted the hologram over the map again, marking out several points across Eorzea. "Admittedly, these particular records are about seven years out of date now. That said, it's still a place to start. Near Limsa Lominsa, the Kobolds had summoned Titan, while the Sahagin summoned Leviathan. Just prior to the Sharlayan evacuation, the Ixal summoned Garuda in Coerthas. But the one I think you'll be interested in is this one here…"
A specific point on the map blinked, and Countdown nodded, smiling slightly. Now known as the Sagolii Desert, it wasn't far from the place where, once upon a time, he started on the path that led him to the O'riana Matrix. "Ifrit."
"Ifrit," Rewind agreed. The Amalj'aa have been clashing with the Sultanate of Ul'dah constantly over the years, and your old friend has taken to the field more than a few times. Which is a change from your reports of the Fifth Astral Era, I must admit."
Snorting in amusement, Countdown folded his arms over his chest. "Ifrit wouldn't manifest during an invasion of his peoples city by voidsent and undead without the Matrix fragment to provide power. Now he's willing to risk reducing the amalj'aas territory to a wasteland? Something doesn't add up there."
Shutting down his holographic projector, Rewind tilted his head. "Only one real way to find out. I wonder if he'll remember you?"
***
As the remains of the last morbol fell to the ground, smoke rising from the hole that had replaced its main body, Hardtop lowered his rifle and turned to look at the group of young mechs that had been assigned to deal with the seedkin. "'Watch out, they breathe acid.' I believe those were my exact words?"
Wincing slightly, the shark twisted to glance at where the acid in question had burned away sections of the artificial skin along his side, revealing the metal underneath. "Yes sir, you did," he said, in the tone of voice of a mech that knows what's coming.
"Did you think I was exaggerating perhaps?" he asked the young mech. "That organic monsters couldn't possibly threaten you? Or did you just get so excited and worked up that we could see the flames and hear the screaming from blocks away?" he added, turning his gaze to Inferno, making the fire ant squirm.
"We might have gone a little overboard…" he admitted.
"Did I mention the captain just arrived from orbit and saw that?" The assembled mechs all flinched slightly, and Hardtop chuckled, deciding to show a little mercy. "Luckily for you, he's dealt with morbols before, so I was able to convince him you were just a little overenthusiastic. That said, clearly we need to discuss what is acceptable behavior when handling perimeter security."
A short distance away, a frog sat on a rock by the riverside, watching the giant machines with the curiosity of a wild animal dealing with the unfamiliar. Eventually, he jumped off the rock and into the river, quickly vanishing underwater, unnoticed by all.
Ten minutes later, he surfaced a malm upstream, where the valley that contained New Sharlayan was being replaced by the steep cliffs that served as the divider between Dravania and Cortheas. Standing up on its hind legs, it made its way into a small cave, proceeding through the tunnels with familiar ease, before emerging in a small cavern that had been modified and expanded over time. Timber floors, shelving carved into the walls, lanterns installed in secure fixtures, everything that was needed to make the cavern livable long term. Several other frogs, several carrying staffs and wearing hats, were performing various chores and paid him little attention, while several brooms danced around, animated by complex magical charms. "Mistress Matoya, I've returned," he announced.
At a table in one corner of a cavern, an elderly Hyur woman looked up from her study of a thick tome and considered the Porrogo for a moment. "If you're bothering to announce it, I assume you have something to share with me," she grumbled.
"Yes Mistress," her familiar said, quickly waddling over to where a crystal ball rested in a crudely carved stand. Placing his hands on the underside of the sphere, he closed his eyes, and his recent memories faded into view on its surface. Matoya watched as the assorted mechs fought the morbols, all of them switching between robot and beast modes in the process, and were then scolded by their commander over their carelessness in doing so.
"Well now, aren't you an interesting bucket of bolts," Matoya mused. "Not some new fangled Garlean machina or relic of Allag. Too smart, too naturally alive. And they… change…" Staring at nothing for a moment, she tried to remember just why that sounded so familiar. Then she snorted softly, banging her staff against the timber floor. "Puro Roggo!" One of the other Porrogos hurried over. "Go into the library and see if we still have that copy of Saint O'riana's full journals. The full one, mind you, not the edited drivel the Forum decided to publicize." The familiar nodded and hopped away, leaving Matoya studying the images of strange machina.
***
Yda had mixed feelings about Limsa Lominsa at the best of times. The massive white stone towers, and the network of bridges that connected them, were certainly a remarkable sight, and a nice change of pace from the seemingly endless forest that was Gridania. On the other hand, the sheer number of pirate crews that made up most of the population meant that all too often, violence was a hairs breadth away from breaking out at best, creating an odd tension she'd never quite gotten the hang of. To say nothing of the smell when the wind was at the wrong angle.
Today, she was finding a new reason to dislike the city. The simple fact was that Limsa Lominsa was not built to accommodate a woman in a wheelchair. While there were a great number of ramps and walkways, most were far too steep for a chair to manage them easily, and far too many flagstones were poorly spaced, leaving gaps that she often caught her wheels in. Even with her colleagues on hand to assist her, getting up to the Drowning Wench tavern, located in the central tower, was a time-consuming and stressful affair, one that left her temper remarkably frayed.
"Sooner I get out of this chair the better," she growled, mentally cursing the fact she still couldn't stand or walk for more than a few minutes before vertigo set in.
Across the table, an older Lalafell man considered her for a moment. "I know it tests your patience," Papalymo Totolymo said. "I would be worried if it did not. But please do not push yourself harder in the hopes you can render that chair unnecessary sooner."
For a moment, a part of her wanted to snap at the man, to scream that he didn't get to tell her what to do. She resisted the urge, and the rage vanished as quickly as it appeared, as it often had over the last few weeks. Leaning back in her chair, she stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I know, I know… I'm just being grumpy."
"As is your right," he assured her, smiling gently. It was a welcome sight, one that Yda was more than happy to see. The man had been plagued by guilt over his inability to aid his friend during whatever had happened in Ala Mhigo, and there were times she feared he blamed himself more than the Garlean soldiers she'd likely fought. She would need to discuss that with him soon, before it had time to lead somewhere unpleasant.
For the moment, she pushed the thought aside as Y'shtola returned to the table, accompanied by a rather scruffy looking Hyur man carrying a tray with several drinks on it. "Yer order folks," said Baderon, the taverns owner and local leader of the Adventurers Guild, as he placed the tray down on the table. "Now, Y'shtola here tells me yer lookin' fer someon' I might know."
Taking his drink, Papalymo nodded. "Indeed. An adventurer by the name of Copper Dawn." He raised a hand. "I assure you, we have no hostile intentions towards the man. Quite the opposite actually."
"He saved my life a few weeks back," Yda said, gesturing at her still-battered body for emphasis. "But he left Aleport before I could properly thank him, and I was hoping for the chance to do so."
"Aye, that sounds like the fella," Baderon chuckled. "And yer part of Y'shtolas crew, which sure as anythin' says ye can be trusted. But I'm sorry to say yer too late. He left port a day or two ago, bound fer Vesper Bay." He waved a hand. "Ye all know how 'venturers can be, runnin' round, wantin' ta see everythin' they can."
Slumping back in her chair, Yda stared up at the tavern ceiling. "Well damn. I really wanted to meet him properly." Carefully, she picked up her own drink, quietly cursing how her fingers didn't quite want to wrap around the handle, before turning her gaze back to Baderon. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me anything about the man I owe my life to?"
Rubbing his beard, the man considered that. "Not much ta say really. Man's a model 'venturer. Didn't talk much 'bout himself, liked to listen to stories when he was in here. When 'e wasn't, 'e was workin'. Usually out of town, huntin' monsters and the like. Hard worker too, spent a lot of nights campin' in the fields," he noted.
Taking a seat, Y'shtola paused. As the Circle of Knowing's representative in Limsa, she'd worked closely with Baderon for years, leading to her being more than familiar with the man's expressions. "There is something else, isn't there?"
"…Aye," he said at last. "His accent. Can't place the bloody thing. I traveled a lot in my youth, but where 'e might be from is beyond me." Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head. "Now I ain't sayin' he might be a Garlean spy or somethin' like that. They'd try'n sound more like someone from Eorzea. It's just unexpected."
Yda resisted the urge to laugh at Baderon commenting on someone else's accent, given just how thick the mans Limsan accent was, possibly deliberately so. "Well, if we do meet him, I could ask him for you," she offered.
"Might just take ye up on that lass," the man chuckled, then glanced across the tavern as someone called his name. "If ye'll excuse me…"
Placing his mug back on the table, Papalymo glanced between the two women. "Well now, isn't that an interesting detail."
"Indeed," Y'shtola said, tapping her hand against her cheek thoughtfully. "Whilst I am inclined to believe the best of the man, I must admit he is becoming quite the mystery."
"If he took the ferry to Vesper Bay, he's probably heading for Ul'dah," Yda noted. "We could overtake him and meet him there."
"Perhaps," Y'shtola agreed. Then she smiled almost playfully. "But that is a thought for later. For now, you have far more important concerns."
Lowering her drink, Yda glanced at her friend in mild confusion, before someone slammed into her from the side. Gasping at the brief flashes of pain that sent through her, she looked down to see a familiar mess of blonde hair pressing into her chest. For several seconds, she stared in shock at the girl who, as far as Yda had been aware, was supposed to be on the island nation of Sharlayan, several weeks away by sea. "Lyse?!"
"Stupid!" the girl responded into her older sisters chest. "Stupid reckless… Idiot!" Any further words were lost to incoherent sobs, her arms wrapping around Yda, who quietly returned the gesture.
"Yeah… Yeah, I deserve that," she said gently, glancing towards the entrance to the Drowning Wench, where two familiar faces were approaching. A white haired Hyur man about her own age, and an elderly Elezen, his skin weathered by sun and time. "Forgive me sir, but I didn't realize you were coming. Either of you," she added, looking back down at her sister again.
"Well, when news reached us of your survival, someone needed to escort your sister here to ensure her safe arrival," replied Louisoix Leveilleur, founder of the Circle of Knowing, and long time mentor to all its members. "Fortunately, the Forum agreed that my status as her provisional guardian in your absence was sufficient."
Yda's eyes narrowed skeptically. The Sharlayan Forum, the governing body of the nation, had been increasingly isolationist and unwilling to let any of its citizens travel abroad, especially men such as Louisoix, who had been publicly and loudly critical of their policies for over a decade. The man had likely been waiting for an excuse that would let him return to Eorzea that they could not deny. Then she looked down at Lyse again, and her anger at being the convenient excuse quickly faded. "Thank you."
Louisoix merely nodded in reply. "May we join you?"
"Hey Chopperface, ya hear the news?"
Dinobot didn't look up from the tray of mineral samples in front of him. "I have been far too busy to keep up with current events. As you well know."
Chuckling, Rattrap leaned against the side of the table. "Right, so. After that mess in Ala Mhigo a few weeks back, boss bot had to take that femme back down to safety, so he used that glamour disguise his dragon friend made for him, right?" Dinobot twitched slightly at the reminder, but said nothing. "The thing is, if 'Copper Dawn' vanishes now, someone might ask questions. And sure, that ain't automatically a problem for us, but if he needs to use that face later, someone might recognize it and ask questions we don't want 'em asking. So, boss bot has had to spend time making sure his new fake identity has some metal on the framework. Very time consuming busywork, apparently he's found it quite annoying."
"Is there a point to this," Dinobot grumbled, "or are you just enjoying informing me that the captain has more reasons to be irritated with me than previously thought?"
"Because he's so busy, being the captain and all, he's had some mechs working on rigging up a holomatter shell to look like Copper Dawn. That way, someone else can go planet side, and spend time being a nice, innocent adventurer. Of course, they'd need to be a bot with the right proportions and kibble to fit into a Roegadyn disguise. Plus a focus on melee combat would be preferable. Copper mostly uses a sword, after all-"
Putting the tray down, Dinobot took a deep breath. "I know what you are trying to imply vermin. Given my frame and skill set, this would be a perfect opportunity for me to perform the sort of tasks that I am not only highly qualified for, but I would greatly enjoy. Alas!" he declared, spinning and raising a hand to the sky dramatically. "This problem was created because of my impulsive actions! Thus, cruel fate will deny me the opportunity to take part, instead forcing me to watch as another takes my place!" Lowering his hand, he smirked at Rattrap. "Does that cover the situation that you wished to mock me over?"
The third mech in the room, a large brown and green beastformer, snorted loudly at that, not looking up from his own work. Rattrap scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "Ruin all my fun why don't ya?"
"With great satisfaction," Dinobot replied, returning to his work and ignoring Rattrap stomping out of the room.
After a moment, the other mech turned to look at him. "I thought you knew about the captain looking for a stand-in."
"He doesn't need to know that," Dinobot shrugged. "Besides, I'm not going to ruin all of the vermin's fun."
Rhinox laughed, a short sharp noise that rattled his frame. "Fair enough." Turning back to his work, his lips twitched in a smile. "You still wish you could get the job, don't you?"
"Don't you start!"
***
If Countdown was being honest with himself, he'd enjoyed being Copper Dawn again. Playing the role of a simple adventurer, providing aid to those that asked, had been oddly relaxing. Be it as simple as acting as a courier, or going out into the La Noscean wilds to hunt wildlife, it had been a delightful change of pace from centuries of starship command and datawork. Even the logistical issues with returning to the Axalon as needed via orbital jump wasn't enough to dampen his enjoyment.
But the fact of the matter was, his responsibilities to the expedition took precedence. And while he had learned quite a bit about modern Eorzean culture, none of it had really helped with the expeditions main goal of contacting Hydaelyn. Which brought him here, to the ruins of New Sharlayan.
Originally a research outpost established by Old Sharlayan, an island nation far to the northwest of Eorzea, it had grown over the centuries until it was a city-state equal to any other on the continent. Famed for its academia, research facilities, and the sharing of knowledge across the known world, to the point that many forgot it was actually still a province of Sharlayan proper.
That all changed a decade ago when, in a single day, the citizens of New Sharlayan abandoned the city en mass, returning to their distant island and leaving nothing but buildings, records, and more than a bit of wildlife that had been intended for research purposes. That second detail, combined with the fact there was seemingly no sapient lifeforms living in the region, made it perfect for the Cybertronian expedition to start finding solid data.
But as he stood in the area marked out for incoming orbital jumps, looking at the bursts of flames that rose above the decaying buildings to the south, accompanied by monstrous roaring and furious screaming, Countdown couldn't help but wonder if there was a detail he'd missed. "Is this something that I should be worried about?" he asked mildly.
"FOUL BEASTS! YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE US?! YOU SHALL BURN IN THE FIRES OF THE PIT FOR YOUR INSOLENCE! BURN! BURRRRN!"
"Nah, it's fine," Hardtop replied, waving a hand dismissively. "The local morbol population keeps getting curious about us. Inferno's just enthusiastic about teaching them to stay away."
Considering that for a moment, Countdown winced slightly. He'd been unfortunate enough to encounter that particular species of seedkin during the Fifth Astral Era, and remembered all too well the mass of tentacle-like vines, mouths larger than him with massive fangs, and breath full of poisons and acids that could strip the paint from his plating in moments. A bit of furious screaming at facing such creatures, and the use of large amounts of fire in their eradication, was certainly something he could understand.
"Honestly it could be worse," the larger mech continued. "At least we don't need to be subtle in dealing with them. No local intelligent life does have its advantages." He frowned slightly. "Gotta say boss, I'm still suspicious about that little detail."
"Likewise," Countdown agreed. Initial searches of the city carried out by the survey team had found remarkably few signs of looting in the decade or so since the city had been abandoned. Even most of the buildings were still locked, their interiors suggesting nothing more violent than an orderly evacuation. Logic would suggest that the Sharlayans had left people behind to ensure the security of anything valuable that they couldn't remove, but even after weeks, the survey team hadn't found anything . "Given most routes to this area go through Dravania, I suspect difficulty of access is a major factor."
Rubbing at his nose with a finger, Hardtop frowned. "Maybe," he said, "but not all routes. It's weird, like there's something I'm missing." Another burst of flame rose above the buildings to the south, and the mech chuckled. "Unless the morbols are keeping looters away, which, yeah, that I can understand." The flames were joined by a shark, spinning in the air and launching a pair of missiles from his mouth into the chaos below. "Okay, you know what, I'm going to go check on them." He glanced over to the brown and white feathered Maximal standing nearby. "Skywarp, would you escort the captain to the professor?I can't exactly fit inside anyway,"
"Of course Commander," he replied, bowing ever so slightly, before turning to Countdown. "If you will follow me sir."
As Hardtop transformed to his dune buggy alt-mode and speed off down the street, Skywarp led his captain in the other direction, towards a building still clearly recognizable as a school of some sort. Passing several classrooms, they arrived in a large auditorium that were filled with numerous desks and shelves in an attempt to organize the massive amount of textbooks, maps and cybertronian devices that had been brought in. Given there were several stacks of books on the floor, that had clearly met with mixed levels of success.
In the middle of this, a black and white plated mech stood in front of a blackboard, looking down at a text book in his hands, before glancing back up to scribble down a note. Muttering to himself, he flipped to another page, then made another note. After several moments, Skywarp coughed into his hand. "Professor, you have a visitor."
Twitching slightly, Rewind looked up from the book. "Ah, Countdown, thank you for coming." Placing the book down on a nearby desk, he stepped forward to shake the other bots hand.
Countdown smiled politely, then looked around the hall. "I see you've been hard at work here."
"Fortunately for us, the Sharlayans are apparently strong believers in a comprehensive education," the archivist chuckled, tapping a hand against a pile of books and scrolls. "It's allowed us to start putting together an overview of Eorzea's history since your last visit during the Fifth Astral Era."
"And here I thought you'd focus on the government offices to the north," Countdown said.
Rewind shook his head. "Not as useful as you'd think for this sort of research. Still, we had some bots go through the site. Barely found any paperwork or documentation at all. When they abandoned the colony, the Sharlayans either recovered or destroyed any information related to their government. But that's not why I asked you to come."
He nodded in understanding. "Your message said you might have a lead on finding Hydaelyn."
"It's a theory, based off recent history. So, some background," Rewind said. He moved several piles of books to the side of the central table, revealing a large, locally made map that showed what Countdown recognized as what the locals called the Three Great Continents. Surprisingly, the general shape was remarkable accurate to the orbital maps the Axalon had made over the past month, making the mech wonder just how the local scholars had achieved it. "The realm of Eorzea as it stands now," he said, gesturing at the continent of Aldenard and its surrounding islands. "About a dozen major nations and smaller states, some with relative peaceful relations, others in a state of open war with one another."
Tapping the combination camera/projector mounted to the side of his head, Rewind placed a simple holographic overlay on top of the map, highlighting locations across the Eorzean region that Countdown quickly identified as the nations in question. Then, he placed another light on the map, on the continent of Ilsabard to the north-east. "Here's where things get interesting. A little over fifty years ago, the situation to the north was chaotic at best. Multiple nations fighting over limited resources and sustainable cropland. Then the Garlemald Republic began developing machinery they call Magitek. Technology that is the equal of magic, hence the name. They quickly began to integrate this technology into their military, and the next time their neighbors pushed, they pushed back hard enough to outright conquer them."
"There's a familiar tale," Countdown chuckled.
"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure the next part will be familiar too," the archivist muttered darkly. "The Republic began to shift, becoming the Garlean Empire in 1522, with the then Republican Dictator naming himself Emperor Solus zos Galvus the First." Red arrows shifted outward from the light marking the empire, moving eastward into the continent of Othard. "One of his more famous quotes from the time was 'No lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. Rule.'"
Behind them, Skywarp laughed bitterly. "Another familiar tale."
"Reminds me of a few Decepticon warlords, yeah," Countdown replied. Considering the map before him, he frowned. "At some point they've obviously turned their attentions towards Eorzea, given their occupation of Ala Mhigo."
"And there's a reason for that," Rewind said. A new light appeared, over a region in western Othard. "This is called the Burn. According to historical and geographical records we've found, it's a dead zone. The aether in the region is so heavily drained that barely any life survives there. And the supposed cause are beings that the Garleans call Eikons, that Sharlayan scholars call Primals…" he glanced at Countdown, "and many of the people of Eorzea call gods."
"…Huh." Rubbing at his chin, Countdown considered that fact for a moment. "Ifrit did say that if he manifested without the proper preparations, the consequences would be disastrous. I should have guessed they had practical experience with that."
"Well, seeing the Burn in person was apparently a life-defining moment for Galvus. Garlean expansionism wasn't just about putting all lands under his rule anymore. Now it was about 'bringing civilization to the savages' 'eradicating the lies of religion' and 'destroying false gods before they destroy us all.'" Rewind rolled his optics before continuing. "And unfortunately, over the past few decades, summoning gods has apparently become something of an accepted military tactic by smaller nations here in Eorzea."
Turning away from the map to look at Rewind, Countdown raised an optic ridge. "As in, gods on the battlefield directly? Seriously?"
The other mech nodded. "Seriously." He tapped a book whose title suggested it was about recent military history. "There's been several major incidents involving beings similar to your descriptions of Ifrit, Titan and Leviathan, at the very least. I haven't found any details on just how it's done, but I suppose that the local governments would prefer that to not be common knowledge. But more importantly, I suspect they're the key to finding Hydaelyn. "
Behind them, Skywarp tilted his head to the side. "You wish to ask the gods themselves for aid."
"Exactly. The last time you were here," Rewind said to Countdown, "Hydaelyn knew you were coming long before you even arrived in-system. With the help of smaller gods, she laid out a trail of energon crumbs that led you to her, while also arranging to warn countless people of an impending disaster. I think that, even if they can't get us in contact with her directly, they can set us on the path to finding her."
Scratching his chin, Countdown considered that for a while. "In fact, they might even already have instructions to do just that," he said at last. "Where would we need to look?"
Turning back to the table, Rewind shifted the hologram over the map again, marking out several points across Eorzea. "Admittedly, these particular records are about seven years out of date now. That said, it's still a place to start. Near Limsa Lominsa, the Kobolds had summoned Titan, while the Sahagin summoned Leviathan. Just prior to the Sharlayan evacuation, the Ixal summoned Garuda in Coerthas. But the one I think you'll be interested in is this one here…"
A specific point on the map blinked, and Countdown nodded, smiling slightly. Now known as the Sagolii Desert, it wasn't far from the place where, once upon a time, he started on the path that led him to the O'riana Matrix. "Ifrit."
"Ifrit," Rewind agreed. The Amalj'aa have been clashing with the Sultanate of Ul'dah constantly over the years, and your old friend has taken to the field more than a few times. Which is a change from your reports of the Fifth Astral Era, I must admit."
Snorting in amusement, Countdown folded his arms over his chest. "Ifrit wouldn't manifest during an invasion of his peoples city by voidsent and undead without the Matrix fragment to provide power. Now he's willing to risk reducing the amalj'aas territory to a wasteland? Something doesn't add up there."
Shutting down his holographic projector, Rewind tilted his head. "Only one real way to find out. I wonder if he'll remember you?"
***
As the remains of the last morbol fell to the ground, smoke rising from the hole that had replaced its main body, Hardtop lowered his rifle and turned to look at the group of young mechs that had been assigned to deal with the seedkin. "'Watch out, they breathe acid.' I believe those were my exact words?"
Wincing slightly, the shark twisted to glance at where the acid in question had burned away sections of the artificial skin along his side, revealing the metal underneath. "Yes sir, you did," he said, in the tone of voice of a mech that knows what's coming.
"Did you think I was exaggerating perhaps?" he asked the young mech. "That organic monsters couldn't possibly threaten you? Or did you just get so excited and worked up that we could see the flames and hear the screaming from blocks away?" he added, turning his gaze to Inferno, making the fire ant squirm.
"We might have gone a little overboard…" he admitted.
"Did I mention the captain just arrived from orbit and saw that?" The assembled mechs all flinched slightly, and Hardtop chuckled, deciding to show a little mercy. "Luckily for you, he's dealt with morbols before, so I was able to convince him you were just a little overenthusiastic. That said, clearly we need to discuss what is acceptable behavior when handling perimeter security."
A short distance away, a frog sat on a rock by the riverside, watching the giant machines with the curiosity of a wild animal dealing with the unfamiliar. Eventually, he jumped off the rock and into the river, quickly vanishing underwater, unnoticed by all.
Ten minutes later, he surfaced a malm upstream, where the valley that contained New Sharlayan was being replaced by the steep cliffs that served as the divider between Dravania and Cortheas. Standing up on its hind legs, it made its way into a small cave, proceeding through the tunnels with familiar ease, before emerging in a small cavern that had been modified and expanded over time. Timber floors, shelving carved into the walls, lanterns installed in secure fixtures, everything that was needed to make the cavern livable long term. Several other frogs, several carrying staffs and wearing hats, were performing various chores and paid him little attention, while several brooms danced around, animated by complex magical charms. "Mistress Matoya, I've returned," he announced.
At a table in one corner of a cavern, an elderly Hyur woman looked up from her study of a thick tome and considered the Porrogo for a moment. "If you're bothering to announce it, I assume you have something to share with me," she grumbled.
"Yes Mistress," her familiar said, quickly waddling over to where a crystal ball rested in a crudely carved stand. Placing his hands on the underside of the sphere, he closed his eyes, and his recent memories faded into view on its surface. Matoya watched as the assorted mechs fought the morbols, all of them switching between robot and beast modes in the process, and were then scolded by their commander over their carelessness in doing so.
"Well now, aren't you an interesting bucket of bolts," Matoya mused. "Not some new fangled Garlean machina or relic of Allag. Too smart, too naturally alive. And they… change…" Staring at nothing for a moment, she tried to remember just why that sounded so familiar. Then she snorted softly, banging her staff against the timber floor. "Puro Roggo!" One of the other Porrogos hurried over. "Go into the library and see if we still have that copy of Saint O'riana's full journals. The full one, mind you, not the edited drivel the Forum decided to publicize." The familiar nodded and hopped away, leaving Matoya studying the images of strange machina.
***
Yda had mixed feelings about Limsa Lominsa at the best of times. The massive white stone towers, and the network of bridges that connected them, were certainly a remarkable sight, and a nice change of pace from the seemingly endless forest that was Gridania. On the other hand, the sheer number of pirate crews that made up most of the population meant that all too often, violence was a hairs breadth away from breaking out at best, creating an odd tension she'd never quite gotten the hang of. To say nothing of the smell when the wind was at the wrong angle.
Today, she was finding a new reason to dislike the city. The simple fact was that Limsa Lominsa was not built to accommodate a woman in a wheelchair. While there were a great number of ramps and walkways, most were far too steep for a chair to manage them easily, and far too many flagstones were poorly spaced, leaving gaps that she often caught her wheels in. Even with her colleagues on hand to assist her, getting up to the Drowning Wench tavern, located in the central tower, was a time-consuming and stressful affair, one that left her temper remarkably frayed.
"Sooner I get out of this chair the better," she growled, mentally cursing the fact she still couldn't stand or walk for more than a few minutes before vertigo set in.
Across the table, an older Lalafell man considered her for a moment. "I know it tests your patience," Papalymo Totolymo said. "I would be worried if it did not. But please do not push yourself harder in the hopes you can render that chair unnecessary sooner."
For a moment, a part of her wanted to snap at the man, to scream that he didn't get to tell her what to do. She resisted the urge, and the rage vanished as quickly as it appeared, as it often had over the last few weeks. Leaning back in her chair, she stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I know, I know… I'm just being grumpy."
"As is your right," he assured her, smiling gently. It was a welcome sight, one that Yda was more than happy to see. The man had been plagued by guilt over his inability to aid his friend during whatever had happened in Ala Mhigo, and there were times she feared he blamed himself more than the Garlean soldiers she'd likely fought. She would need to discuss that with him soon, before it had time to lead somewhere unpleasant.
For the moment, she pushed the thought aside as Y'shtola returned to the table, accompanied by a rather scruffy looking Hyur man carrying a tray with several drinks on it. "Yer order folks," said Baderon, the taverns owner and local leader of the Adventurers Guild, as he placed the tray down on the table. "Now, Y'shtola here tells me yer lookin' fer someon' I might know."
Taking his drink, Papalymo nodded. "Indeed. An adventurer by the name of Copper Dawn." He raised a hand. "I assure you, we have no hostile intentions towards the man. Quite the opposite actually."
"He saved my life a few weeks back," Yda said, gesturing at her still-battered body for emphasis. "But he left Aleport before I could properly thank him, and I was hoping for the chance to do so."
"Aye, that sounds like the fella," Baderon chuckled. "And yer part of Y'shtolas crew, which sure as anythin' says ye can be trusted. But I'm sorry to say yer too late. He left port a day or two ago, bound fer Vesper Bay." He waved a hand. "Ye all know how 'venturers can be, runnin' round, wantin' ta see everythin' they can."
Slumping back in her chair, Yda stared up at the tavern ceiling. "Well damn. I really wanted to meet him properly." Carefully, she picked up her own drink, quietly cursing how her fingers didn't quite want to wrap around the handle, before turning her gaze back to Baderon. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me anything about the man I owe my life to?"
Rubbing his beard, the man considered that. "Not much ta say really. Man's a model 'venturer. Didn't talk much 'bout himself, liked to listen to stories when he was in here. When 'e wasn't, 'e was workin'. Usually out of town, huntin' monsters and the like. Hard worker too, spent a lot of nights campin' in the fields," he noted.
Taking a seat, Y'shtola paused. As the Circle of Knowing's representative in Limsa, she'd worked closely with Baderon for years, leading to her being more than familiar with the man's expressions. "There is something else, isn't there?"
"…Aye," he said at last. "His accent. Can't place the bloody thing. I traveled a lot in my youth, but where 'e might be from is beyond me." Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head. "Now I ain't sayin' he might be a Garlean spy or somethin' like that. They'd try'n sound more like someone from Eorzea. It's just unexpected."
Yda resisted the urge to laugh at Baderon commenting on someone else's accent, given just how thick the mans Limsan accent was, possibly deliberately so. "Well, if we do meet him, I could ask him for you," she offered.
"Might just take ye up on that lass," the man chuckled, then glanced across the tavern as someone called his name. "If ye'll excuse me…"
Placing his mug back on the table, Papalymo glanced between the two women. "Well now, isn't that an interesting detail."
"Indeed," Y'shtola said, tapping her hand against her cheek thoughtfully. "Whilst I am inclined to believe the best of the man, I must admit he is becoming quite the mystery."
"If he took the ferry to Vesper Bay, he's probably heading for Ul'dah," Yda noted. "We could overtake him and meet him there."
"Perhaps," Y'shtola agreed. Then she smiled almost playfully. "But that is a thought for later. For now, you have far more important concerns."
Lowering her drink, Yda glanced at her friend in mild confusion, before someone slammed into her from the side. Gasping at the brief flashes of pain that sent through her, she looked down to see a familiar mess of blonde hair pressing into her chest. For several seconds, she stared in shock at the girl who, as far as Yda had been aware, was supposed to be on the island nation of Sharlayan, several weeks away by sea. "Lyse?!"
"Stupid!" the girl responded into her older sisters chest. "Stupid reckless… Idiot!" Any further words were lost to incoherent sobs, her arms wrapping around Yda, who quietly returned the gesture.
"Yeah… Yeah, I deserve that," she said gently, glancing towards the entrance to the Drowning Wench, where two familiar faces were approaching. A white haired Hyur man about her own age, and an elderly Elezen, his skin weathered by sun and time. "Forgive me sir, but I didn't realize you were coming. Either of you," she added, looking back down at her sister again.
"Well, when news reached us of your survival, someone needed to escort your sister here to ensure her safe arrival," replied Louisoix Leveilleur, founder of the Circle of Knowing, and long time mentor to all its members. "Fortunately, the Forum agreed that my status as her provisional guardian in your absence was sufficient."
Yda's eyes narrowed skeptically. The Sharlayan Forum, the governing body of the nation, had been increasingly isolationist and unwilling to let any of its citizens travel abroad, especially men such as Louisoix, who had been publicly and loudly critical of their policies for over a decade. The man had likely been waiting for an excuse that would let him return to Eorzea that they could not deny. Then she looked down at Lyse again, and her anger at being the convenient excuse quickly faded. "Thank you."
Louisoix merely nodded in reply. "May we join you?"