'Three parts Silex...'
Daemon Glass wasn't too difficult to produce, though it was time-consuming. I had picked a day when Minfilia wasn't training to ask for her help in negotiating with the Moogles. It wasn't until deep in the night where I could safely depart from our bedroom, shambling along like an undead while Minfilia practically skipped around, that we finally made progress.
The framing of the negotiations were important. I didn't have much to offer the Gridanian Moogles, so I had to ask them to reach Moghome for me as a reward for information. The information being that I knew where their ancestral lands were.
'One part Natron...'
While Minfilia spoke steadily, I kept my gaze from looking at the furry big-headed bat things flying to and fro with obvious excitement. I was excited too.
If I could gain the processing documents or at the very least, establish trade, then my plans for wealth were ready to go.
There was almost no benefit at all by trying to approach Moghome on foot. And considering just where I'd have to go, I could kiss my pink ass goodbye.
'One part Carbon Fiber...'
The risk wasn't the only thing stopping me. A panicked Ysayle notified me that I was being sought out. I thought that I was rather careful when traversing Ishgard, but perhaps I wasn't. Or maybe I was sold out by someone? But who could get that close to the higher orders of the church? Why didn't an inquisitor come? Why Countess Caulignon?
Ysayle didn't know either. I warned her not to look into it. I was perfectly safe and didn't need her taking crazy risks before the story even began. She seemed less stubborn, but who could truly tell?
The issue with being on a persons of interest list was that the chances of me traversing Ishgard to reach my destination once more was zero. I wasn't going to Tailfeather for quite a while.
'One part Glass Fiber...'
I wasn't going to cry over that result. A dumber man would seek danger and look for secrets and hidden opportunities. I wasn't going to stumble into a hidden sect garden, touch base with an ancient and unknown goddess or find the patriarch's daughter being attacked by a group of thugs that she couldn't beat yet I somehow could.
'Seven portions of crushed Lightning Crystal...'
My familiarity with XIV ensured that I didn't take too many stupid risks. It kept my head on straight, despite knowing the Primals were out and about, and allowed me to focus on the most important matters. Like bouncing back and forth in between my studies and scrounging around like a squirrel, fiending for some nuts on the forest floor.
Kupo Nuts, of course.
'And Seven portions of crushed Water Crystal.'
I poured yet another blend of carefully measured ingredients into a crucible that was larger than me. After melting this batch of glass, I could pour it into a mold and shape it however I desired, provided that the heating circuits that I engraved actually worked this time.
I glanced over at the previous failed attempt at a glass bottle. It looked fine near the lip, but then as you go down the sides of the bottle, small holes appear in the glass and slowly turn into larger and wider gaps, eventually ending in a stubby and rounded half-bottle. The other half never made it to the bottom of the mold before solidifying.
The magic of Daemon Glass was the Transpose Rune engraved into every bottle. I hadn't made the dominant wine tank to hold all the ill gotten gains just yet, as that effort would require the perfect casting process on the first go around. If I couldn't manage a bottle, then I surely couldn't manage the tank.
'Three parts Silex...'
...This was going to take a while.
---
"Ughhh...put me down..."
"Still your tongue, Snowball."
Thancred considered himself to be merciful and gracious at this very moment. Was he not doing both himself and Little Winter a favor? The little bastard didn't know how to say thank you! As a result of his rebellious nature, the young man ended up slung over Thancred's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He had to disable Little Winter one way or another, otherwise the strange mage would flee for his life.
"...I'm going to be sick..."
"Shut it."
"But...what if we see him?!"
"We won't."
"HOW CAN YOU KNOW?!"
"Persist in your yattering and we will."
"hic"
He was afraid of one peculiar looking man that walked around in his smallclothes. An absurd character that had confronted Little Winter the very first time that he put together that absurd Santuh outfit.
---
It had only been a couple of years after Little Winter arrived in Ul'dah. Thancred had more time to himself back then. He leaned on the sandstone railing of the Quicksand, sipping applemelon cider and watching the bare-chested elder staring at Little Winter through his rounded dark red shades.
The victim on the nude man's visit, Little Winter, was frozen in shock. Thancred nodded his head lightly. For anyone with a bit of sense in their head, it was understandable to react like that.
Sunglasses, sandals, and nondescript white underwear. A wrinkled cloak of skin that was on a bizarrely sturdy frame. A pointy white beard that matched his cropped white hair.
Godbert Manderville was a master level Goldsmith and founder of an amusement park located within Northern Thanalan.
The glitz, the glamour, the bright lights and clinking of gold! It could only be one place.
The Gold Saucer.
"Greetings, young... man...?"
"....Yes. Greetings..."
A dark shadow flitted across Little Winter's eyes, but the elder didn't seem to notice. Thancred was said to look feminine every now and again as well, so he could empathize with Little Winter's struggle, though the young man had it so much worse. Those looks, if he didn't grow a beard when he was older...
"I've heard that you've taken up the mantle of Saint Nymeia, is this truth?"
Godbert Manderville was the patriarch of a prominent Ul'dahn family. Their wealth had just recently prompted an invitation from the Syndicate. Thancred didn't know if it was accepted, his contacts didn't have any updates on the strange man and his affairs.
Well, save for that stranger child he had running around and playing detective.
The two chatted in a stilted conversation for a while, only for the potential Syndicate member to stroll away peacefully. Little Winter walked up to Thancred and put his hands on the bard's shoulders.
"I... I could've died... Oh my god..."
"???"
---
Well, these days Little Winter worked his ass off to avoid Godbert whenever possible. He was scared senseless in such an irrational manner that Thancred didn't know what to think. Perhaps he saw something terrifying using his Oracle power? But why then, did he not kill him?
It wasn't a method of thinking that Thancred was happy to explore. After hearing about his actions in Camp Drybone, the bard had half a mind to scold his Little Brother. He should have spoken with Thancred first, but after seeing his eyes, Thancred dropped the issue.
Little Winter wasn't one to shy away from killing those he deemed to be threats. Whatever Godbert Manderville was, he couldn't be a threat, but then, why the fear?
Thancred looked over the side of the airship, feeling Little Winter shifting on his shoulder. Why was he so light? So weak feeling? And yet he carried two swords that combined weighed even more than he did. What a bizarre body.
"You're not going to throw me... Are you?"
"Haven't decided yet."
"..."
Little Winter turned out to be a good luck charm for the Archon, who found himself in need of some extra coin here and there. Overtime, it became a standard ritual for Thancred to set a trap for Little Winter and then kidnap him for the trip.
If Thancred asked nicely, Little Winter would certainly say yes, but it was no fun. This time, Thancred baited his trap with a old looking book that he found in the garbage. Little Winter had an association in his mind where old meant valuable, and so Thancred took advantage of it.
---
"This is obviously a trap."
Little Winter stared hard at the book that sat in the middle of a thick rope snare. Just like he said, it was obviously a trap. He likely even knew who set it just for him. Despite knowing the trap and gleaning its purpose, the young man was still a bit of an airhead at the end of the day.
"Hmph... We'll see about that."
Or perhaps just arrogant. A common folly of mankind.
Thancred didn't know what Little Winter's plan was, but the young man tried to grab the book during the middle of a roll, planning to evade the trap with a clever feat of acrobatics that Thancred himself taught. However, Little Winter obviously forgot what Thancred taught before even letting his feet touch the ground.
'Always be aware of where you are dodging to.'
The destination this time, Thancred's second snare trap.
PUUULL-YANK
"AHHHHH! NOOOOOOO!!!"
---
A fresh smile painted Thancred's face. Where could his heart feel such joy outside of his beloved brother? It felt like the world was out to get him at times, but at the end of the day, he could always be unreasonable like this.
"You're a terrible man."
"smile I know~"
---
The Gold Saucer was a glorified casino in the form of a Cactuar. A very large one. The peoples who frequent this casino know this massive Cactuar figure as Senor Sabotender. There was even an actual mascot walking around in the carpeted halls of the casino. The mascot would be an overly passionate Lalafell after the Calamity, but I didn't know who wore the suit now.
Not that it mattered.
"Can you let me down now?"
"No."
I foolishly got caught attempting to snatch up a hidden tome. Thancred's devious ways seduced my heart and stole my faith. How was I to know that the book was about dance steps? When on earth would I need such a thing? My pursuit of arcane knowledge ended with me bound by rope and hauled by airship to the steps of glitz.
In this shell of a skyscraper sat a man that would make any XIV player quake in fear and abject terror. I didn't want to encounter him again. His ferocity against his fool of a son was as violent as his nature against his enemies. That entire family was bizarre from end to end!
I didn't have his son's freak-like constitution!
I was still mortal!
One false move, and Godbert would suplex me into the stony pavement, leaving me for dead!
If I knew this would be the result, I would've never tried to grab that book. Tomes be damned! I would never read again!
"Hello~ Welcome to the Golden Saucer~"
I couldn't see who was talking as my scrawny ass was facing forward on Thancred's shoulder. I assumed it was the reception, a woman in a bunny costume no doubt.
There were many ways to earn gil in XIV, crafting being the most steady and lucrative, but there was a niche for every play style. Gambling was no exception.
"Enjoy~"
Each room in the Gold Saucer was a massive dome made from huge slates of colored glass. Each dome was connected with a rather luxurious tunnel. Spiraling stair cases here and there would take you to the upper levels of a dome, which usually housed the less physically intense games.
"Greetings beautiful. Oh how your eyes sparkle with the gentle glow of the sun and the mournful shine of the moon."
"Hiii Winteeer~"
"Rezula? Is that you?"
"You remembered me?~"
"Haha, of course!"
"..."
Before I got the idea to establish a shadowy wine empire, I had many "brilliant" ideas to get rich. The first of which was a game that Final Fantasy players across the entire franchise learned to adore.
Triple Triad.
It was tic-tac-toe but with 4 sided cards, each side having a number. The game was over after all 9 slots on the grid were filled. A card adjacent to another card would flip it if the number in that direction was higher. Person with the most cards flipped to their side wins.
"Your butt looks so cute!"
"Haha, you can look but you can't touch~"
"We'll see about that."
"Did you say something just now?"
"Not at all!~"
I distinctly recalled being rather good at the mini game. The quest for it took you all over Eorzea, playing against named NPCs and taking their signature card upon winning. But I forgot just how trash the starter deck was. In addition, the Triple Triad Fever didn't seem to have swept Eorzea just yet. Outside of a handful of enthusiasts, the game was niche, as was my ability to gather stronger cards.
The venture for gil turned into a dead end.
"So, what brings you?"
"Helping my brother earn some pocket money."
"He's no good for an honest day's work, ey?"
"You're telling me..."
"Oi."
---
Thancred watched as Little Winter sat down with the Mini-Cactpot cards. All 6 of them being scratched out with some crazy strategy that worked more often than not.
'Statistically optimized by some freaks on the forums long ago. I'd be a fool to stray.'
By whom? Thancred didn't know and certainly didn't care. The results spoke for themselves. Whenever Thancred played, he was lucky to win once, but Little Winter always got at least three lines at a time.
Thancred considered thus act of labor payment for dealing with his brother's antics. He also needed money to buy new daggers, the previous set he had were broken off in the chest of a now dead Brass Blade that tried to ambush one of Thancred's contacts.
The Syndicate were close to picking up on his trail. Thancred's meetings with Raubahn weren't without risk after all. The Syndicate likely didn't want to see the man freed, but Thancred was seriously out of time.
Primals knocking about. A Calamity incoming. An Empire on their doorstep. The Immortal Flames needed to revive as soon as bloody possible. Raubahn had to be freed of his chains. The Bull of Ala Mhigo had to stand. But before all of that, Thancred needed new daggers. And asking his brother for cash was always too embarrassing.
'Should I join that Daemon Comp- hells no.'
Thancred was resolved to make sure Little Winter was never right! He'd join when he was dead!