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Luka Belhan never had an easy life. Being born in Ala Mhigo and forced from his home at a very young age due to the Empire and their conquests, his initial years were filled with conflict. Fate continued to be unkind when it stole his parents from him at age four, leaving him alone in the world. Without anyone to claim responsibility for his life, the refugees did what they could to assist him, and when they fled for Ul’dah, he went with them. Once they made it to the walls of that gilded city, the refugees had bigger worries than to care for an outsider orphan.
Life was more than hard for an adolescent boy on the streets of Ul’dah, let alone a refugee. The rich kept getting richer, while the poor only grew more impoverished. As he grew, Luka began to realize how unforgiving the world could be. And despite his young age, bitter seeds were planted inside of him.
“The Flames will save us!”
“The Brass Blades will come to our aid!”
“Praise the Sultana!”
Luka heard the words every day and hated them. What good were lofty ideals if they weren’t acted upon? What good would it do to believe that people would save you, when more likely than not they would kick you when you were down?
The older he became, the more Luka hated everything that Ul’dah stood for. There was no work for a poor, orphaned miqo’te child on the streets and so, thievery called to him. It helped Luka to survive, and day to day that was the only thing that truly mattered. The young miqo’te found that lifting coin purses in the Sapphire Exchange was easy enough, and his hands were deft and nimble. On the rare occasions that he was made, his speed lent him an escape. It worked well as a means to support himself, until his eighth summer.
The season had been unusually hot, sweltering in the Thanalan desert air. It had been a few days since Luka had last eaten anything substantial, and what water he had managed had been in pilfered, hurried handfuls from fountains. It was the weakness brought on by the combination of all these things that led to a fateful meeting.
Luka had been eyeing his mark for a few bells, trying to ignore the way his vision swam worryingly. The young man couldn’t have been all that old, his face still carrying youth in it, but one could tell he was in adulthood. His white hair made him stand out in the shadows of the market. But, he was a flirt, with two different girls hanging on his arms. They had gone down the stalls and as the young man bought each girl small trinkets, Luka couldn’t help but fantasize about the amount of gil that his coin purse carried. Its weight was obvious, even from a few yalms away.
As the bells ticked by, Luka formulated a plan, tongue darting out to moisten chapped lips. As soon as the girls parted ways with his mark, Luka could use the time and distraction to lift the purse and be along, none the wiser. Then he could eat, maybe even something more substantial than bread or weak stew.
His stomach twisted, painfully empty. The young boy pressed a small hand against it, as if the motion could stifle the sound. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Luka blinked back the dizziness once again, watching from behind a corner. His mark was bidding farewell to his female companions and as they walked away, Luka made his move.
He hurried along, as if on an errand, but not fast enough to arouse suspicion. It was simple; a hand to slide between folds of cloth, where he had seen the man store his purse earlier, as Luka bumped into him.
The miqo’te had done it a million times. However, whether due to the heat or nerves, his legs stumbled and his hand was clumsy as it latched onto the bag. Quick as a flash, the man’s hand shot down, clamping down on Luka’s frail wrist.
Panic surged through the boy’s chest as he tried to pull his arm back, refusing to loosen his hold on the pouch.
“Let go of me,” Luka hissed, tugging his arm as hard as he could, but the white haired man’s calloused hand was firm and unyielding.
“I will as soon as you release my purse,” he answered. Up this close, his youthfulness was more apparent and Luka could only guess him to be in his early twenties. Still, that face was calm, and his voice was surprisingly pleasant. But Luka had learned long ago not to trust a book based on the cover it presented.
“No, I won’t,” the miqo’te replied, his face determined as he continued to struggle, to free his hand.
“Look, I’ll let this all go if you just walk away now,” the man said with a small sigh ghosting at his lips. “I won’t tell the Flames or the Brass Blades about this, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There was a tense moment between the two, Luka silently struggling before the young stranger frowned.
“C’mon, kid, please just give it up-”
“I can’t! I need this!”
The words tumbled out before the boy could stop them, and he mentally yelled at himself for showing any weakness. Showing weakness was an easy way to end up dead in this city.
However, the man looked over Luka, as if the words caused him to see the miqo’te in a new light. Their standoff lasted a few moments more before the man spoke in that same pleasant tone.
“Listen, if you let my purse go, I’ll buy you some dinner. It won’t be a whole purse full of gil, mind you, but it will at least be something.”
Luka immediately looked with distrust at the other, eyes narrowing as his mouth twisted in a harsh line.
“What the hell do you get out of this deal?”
The white haired man smirked, as if expecting Luka to have responded like that. But he only answered, “It keeps my money in my pocket? And it will keep you out of trouble, at least for a small while. You were stealing to eat, yes? I can hear your stomach from here.”
Luka flushed in embarrassment, his free hand pressing once again against his stomach to try and hide the sounds it made. His mind churned in a tumultuous storm, chewing on the offer and trying to weigh the pros and cons.
He could walk away from this, find another mark and try again. But...there was no guarantee that Luka could find someone, or that the appropriate opportunity would present itself for him to steal anything from them. Then again, trusting the stranger presented problems of its own, mainly the risking of his safety. But, if the stranger was telling the truth…
The miqo’te’s stomach made another low growl and the boy scowled before making his decision. He released the purse like it had burned him, his brow furrowing. The moment he did, the man released Luka’s wrist and smiled.
“There we are. Now, let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”
He turned and began to walk away from Luka without a second glance, causing the boy to look after him, cocking his head before hurrying after.
“I’m Thancred, by the way,” the stranger explained as Luka caught up to him. The boy looked on in utter confusion; why did it matter if he knew the other’s name or not?
By the silence that followed, it was obvious that Thancred had expected a name in response. However, when he didn’t receive one, he simply sighed and smiled, leading Luka along.
It wasn’t long until Thancred had led him to a food stall. The smells wafting through the air made Luka’s stomach snarl unpleasantly as hunger jumped up his throat like a wild coeurl. Behind the stall, a jovial looking roegadyn stood, calling out to passersby about his wares. When he spotted Thancred, his face lit up with a large grin.
“Thancred! Where have ya been, my boy? Ya been avoidin’ me or somethin’?”
“No, never Kryd! I’ve just been busier than I’d like and I haven’t had a chance to stop by my favourite kabob place in the whole of the market.”
The roegadyn let out a booming laugh at that before finally seeming to notice Luka hovering awkwardly behind Thancred.
“Well then, who’s the stray? Looks all skin an’ bones, the poor lad!”
Luka scowled and folded his arms over his chest in annoyance. But Thancred just smiled and waved a hand between them.
“Met him in the market and couldn’t resist the chance to convert someone else to your amazing food. In that vein, two kabob specials, please!”
The roegadyn (Kryd, was it?) smiled and nodded with energy before moving to prepare the food. Thancred, seeming at ease, leaned against a wall and began chatting with nearby vendors. All the while, Luka remained motionless, tense and wound up tight like a spring. It was as if he were prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice. The white haired man’s eyes trailed to the boy every so often, as if to ensure that Luka was planning to stick around.
After what felt like an eternity to the miqo’te, Kryd returned with the kabobs, wrapped up, the meat and vegetables on them still sizzling. He handed them over to Thancred who dropped some gil on the stall counter before approaching Luka. He smiled at the miqo’te, holding out the kabob in a silent offer. One might think it was poisoned with the amount of wariness in Luka’s eyes. However, his hunger clawed at him and the young boy snatched the food without warning, clutching it like Thancred might suddenly try to take it back.
But, the other did no such thing. He gestured for the boy to follow him to a nearby bench that was nestled in a small alcove. That survival instinct of Luka’s wanted him to run away, find somewhere safe and secluded to eat the food before he lost it...but a small part of his mind figured that he owed Thancred the minimal effort of eating the food that he had bought together.
So, Luka followed and sat beside Thancred, though with as much space between them as the bench would allow. Only once he saw the other beside him bite into the kabob did Luka dare take his own bite.
Immediately, his mouth was assailed with spices and herbs that he had never tasted before. To say the sound that came from the miqo’te was one of joy was a gross understatement.
Luka ate like he was starving; really, he was, but he could barely spare a thought for anything but the food in his hands as he nearly inhaled it. The boy could feel Thancred’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care how the other judged him. Luka had learned early on that if you didn’t eat quickly, there was no guarantee that you’d eat at all. There was no such thing as a leisurely meal for a poor kid on the streets of Ul’dah.
His speed ensured that he finished his food well before Thancred, but he used his remaining time well, licking every bit of grease and herbs from his bony fingers.
A strange feeling settled over the two as they finished eating. Now that the food was gone, Luka wanted nothing more than to run away, cut his losses for the day and start again tomorrow. But, there was a pregnant pause, an unspoken expectation keeping the young miqo’te still. The longer he sat, the more antsy he became until his tail flicked in agitation, and his leg jumped. Before Luka could open his mouth to ask if he could go, Thancred spoke.
“Ah, I’ve eaten a lot of food during my travels, and yet nothing compares to kabobs from Kryd’s place.”
He smiled at Luka and the boy frowned in response, hesitating a moment before he began to slide off of the bench to his feet.
“Yeah, they were good. If that’s all, though, I think I’m going to go now…”
As he began to make his escape, Thancred’s voice stopped him midstep.
“Would you like another meal?”
Luka hesitated once again, knowing that logically he shouldn’t fall for whatever the other was selling. But, for some reason...he couldn’t walk away. Perhaps it was his hunger grasping full control of him. Or perhaps the heat of the day had finally burned away the last of Luka’s senses. Whatever the reason, he turned slowly, a silent gesture to show that he was listening, though still wary.
“What’s this next meal going to cost me?”
Nothing came without a price, that much Luka knew. And when Thancred didn’t answer him immediately, it made the miqo’te’s chest tighten in pangs of anxiety. However, the man did reply after a few moments, his voice calm.
“I have a few errands to run here in the city, and I’d be welcome of the extra hands. When those errands are finished, I will buy you that meal. Does that agree with you?”
Luka frowned, but chewed on the offer, rolling it over in his mind to look for potential disasters awaiting within. But, it wasn’t all that bad; a few hours potentially of work for another meal? It wasn’t like the miqo’te had much going on except for picking out marks and stealing from them. Taking one day away from that certainly wouldn’t hurt. And, if it ended up being a ruse for something else more sinister, well...Luka could handle himself when or if it came down to it.
“A...Alright. Guess I can tag along if I’m not too busy.”
The answer seemed to amuse Thancred, who just chuckled before standing.
“It’s a deal then. Let’s meet here by Kryd’s stall tomorrow, say...after midday at two bells?”
Luka felt the wariness flooding back into him, an unfortunate and necessary habit when faced with an offer from anyone. But, his nod was firm, and he even managed a small smirking smile at the other as the hyur nodded.
“I will see you then, kid.”
Thancred lifted a hand in farewell, but stopped when the miqo’te’s small voice spoke.
“Luka. My name is Luka, not kid.”
Thancred looked momentarily surprised, but he smiled before extending a hand towards Luka.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Luka.”
===
The sun was no kinder the next day, beating down through the streets of Ul’dah like a tyrannical overlord. It was the heat, Luka insisted to himself, that woke him up at the crack of morning. Surely not his anxiety over meeting Thancred once again.
Despite how seemingly calm and normal the other had been the previous day, experience had taught him to be wary of everything. One never knew when things might turn.
However, as the young miqo’te’s stomach snarled in hunger once more, Luka knew that no matter how cautious he was to be, his mind had already been made up about meeting Thancred again. It didn’t stop him from slipping a stolen knife down his boot. Just in case.
He set out in the morning to get some work done, picking pockets and stealing unattended gil from stalls, in case things went south with his meeting with Thancred. However, it wasn’t as lucrative as he had hoped and the young boy only managed a few handfuls of gil from unobservant shoppers and stall attendants. Sooner than he liked, it was time to meet up with Thancred.
Luka had planned to arrive early, to give him time to stake out potential escape paths should it come down to it. But as he approached their meeting place, the miqo’te scowled to see that Thancred was already waiting by Kryd’s stall.
Luka hesitated a brief moment, wondering for the hundredth time that morning the prudence of this, rolling the pros and cons over in his head once again before sighing and approaching the other.
“Do you often arrive to meetings early, or am I just that special?”
Thancred turned his head at Luka’s voice, giving the boy a small smirk.
“Good afternoon to you, too. I suppose I could ask you the same question, however.”
The dark haired youth met the smirk with a scowl of his own, folding his arms over his chest and looking away before answering softly.
“I like to make sure I’m prepared for anything.”
The words caused Thancred to stare at Luka for a few moments, making the boy shift uncomfortably as he felt those eyes weighing heavily. But, the moment passed and Thancred nodded before pushing himself from his leaning position.
“Right then, day is wasting, so let’s get through with these errands, shall we?”
The man began to move through the market streets, looking back after a few steps to make sure that Luka was following. And, after a hesitating few seconds, Luka did just that.
“So..what are these errands I’m helping you with, anyway,” the boy asked, quickening his pace so that his shorter legs could keep him walking beside Thancred’s longer legged speed. “Where are we even going?”
“Well, first stop is to head to the Quicksand. There’s a package there that I need to collect from the proprietress, Momodi. I assume you know the Quicksand?”
“Know” was certainly a way to describe it. Luka had picked more pockets of drunk, handsy patrons there than he could ever admit. However, when he spoke, it was in a quiet tone.
“I’ve lived in the city almost my entire life. Of course I know what the Quicksand is.”
“Of course.”
Thancred’s voice made Luka stiffen; it was as if the other knew just what the miqo’te had done within the walls of the tavern, but said nothing else to comment on it.
They moved down the street, the midday sun as unrelenting as ever. Luka felt himself sway a few times, but he mentally scolded himself and tried to hide it. He didn’t dare show any more weakness to this stranger, who had already seen so much weakness from him.
They arrived without incident and the shade of the building was a more than welcome reprieve. The noise of the patrons was cacophonous as ever, hitting the young miqo’te like a wall the moment he stepped through the doors.
Luka felt a few pairs of eyes fall on him as he entered and he tried to school his face into an impassive mask. But he needn’t have bothered; the moment that those looking at him spotted Thancred at his side, they busied themselves with looking anywhere else.
Odd.
Still, he was glad of it and couldn’t complain at whatever caused their heavy looks to find other targets. Luka followed as Thancred led him to the bar counters lining the back of the rounded room, towards a friendly looking red-haired lalafell woman. When she saw Thancred approaching, she sent the taller man a smile and wave.
“Thancred, on time! Never thought I’d live to see the day!”
“What are you on about, woman? I’m always on time!”
“Yeah, sure you are. And I’m prepping to go into the gladiatorial arena next week.”
Luka couldn’t help but smirk, though he tried to hide it. It seemed his mysterious benefactor was well known and seemingly liked by several important people in the city. Momodi just sighed before jumping down to retrieve a wrapped bottle.
“Don’t know why you insisted on taking this to Hamon, though. Aren’t you up to your ears in busywork?”
She placed the bottle on the counter, sliding it toward Thancred who only smiled at her words, as if happy she said them.
“You’re right as always. Maybe I should get someone to step in for me. Speaking of which, Luka…”
Thancred gestured for the miqo’te to step forward, which he did, albeit hesitantly.
“Luka, this is Momodi. She runs the Quicksand here, and the Adventurer’s Guild. Momodi, this is Luka, the kid I was telling you about.”
The young boy didn’t like hearing that Thancred had told this woman about him, but he was spared from his thoughts as her gaze swung around to meet his.
“I’ve seen you in here before.”
Panic suddenly flooded Luka’s gut as he tried to school his face into a flat mask. If she recognised him from thieving around the tavern, she could very well turn him into the city guard for pickpocketing.
Luka felt his flight response flaring to life, urging him to flee from the dim room. But Thancred, as if sensing the young miqo’te’s thoughts, clamped a hand down on Luka’s shoulder.
“I can vouch for him, Momodi. If nothing else, he’s fast.”
Confusion spilled across Luka’s features as he looked back at the older boy.
“What are you talking about? Vouch for me for what?”
He turned to look at Momodi who was eyeing him with cautious eyes. After a few moments, however, she responded to his question.
“I’m looking for someone to do deliveries for me. Thancred has been helping me for several years whenever he can between his other duties. But, I have need recently of something a bit more consistent. When I said I was looking for some help, Thancred here suggested he had someone to recommend for the job.”
It took a few moments for the words to register in Luka’s mind, but when they did he couldn’t keep the look of utter confusion off of his face.
“You...recommended me for a job?”
He looked to Thancred for an answer, but it was Momodi that spoke up once again.
“I can’t pay out the arse, but it’ll at least be consistent. And I’m sure that I can scrounge up meals for you when I can.”
It was like trying to understand a different language. Someone was offering him a job...to pay him, and even give him meals every so often?
There had to be some sort of catch. No one offered these types of things without a million strings attached in this city.
When he remained silent, Thancred squeezed his shoulder before chuckling.
“I’m sure it’s all fine, just probably a lot for him to take in. Luka can come by sometime this week to talk over the particulars with you, Momodi. For now, I need to get this to Hamon, or else the old man will have my head.”
Before Luka could protest, Thancred used the hand on the boy’s shoulder to steer him away from Momodi and towards the door. He released Luka once they were outside once again, moving to lead the way. The miqo’te paused before following along quietly after the other, still trying to make sense of what had just occurred.
Thancred was...confusing. He had brought Luka along to assist with these so called errands, but so far the other had asked nothing of the younger boy. And more confusing yet, he had suggested a known thief for a job. A million questions swirled around in Luka’s mind, but it all centered around one; why? What was Thancred playing at? And what did he want from Luka, truly?
He didn’t get long to dwell on his inquiries. Before long, they arrived to their next destination, the Pugilist’s Guild. Even outside of the doors, Luka could hear the sounds of training, which only amplified as Thancred pushed open the doors.
The miqo’te couldn’t help but look around in curiosity. He never usually spent time in or around the guilds, especially those filled with fighters. It was a terrifying thought to try and pick a pocket, only to be met with trained fists, or the steel of a blade to his throat.
Thancred led the way into the training hall, heading to a much older man who stood above the sparring ring, barking out orders. When he saw Thancred’s approach, his face brightened considerably.
“Please tell me you have my spirits!”
The younger man lifted the wrapped bottle before handing it over to the other.
“Fresh from Momodi. You’re welcome, by the way, Hamon.”
Despite the words, Thancred was smiling as the old man moved to stash away the bottle. When he returned, his eyes fell on Luka. With a grunt, Hamon looked the miqo’te over before his gaze flicked back to Thancred.
“He the one you told me about?”
Thancred nodded and paused before taking an obvious step away from the boy. Luka was thrown off and about to demand an explanation-
When suddenly, Hamon’s fist was flying at him.
The miqo’te swore and jumped back, barely avoiding the blow. Adrenaline surged through the boy’s body, his blue eyes wide as his tail flicked back and forth in agitation, thrashing.
“W-What the hell was that? What’s going on?”
His questions went unanswered as Hamon looked him over a second time. Whatever he was looking for, the old man seemed satisfied and nodded.
“He’s got good reflexes. With training, I think he can become very skilled.”
“Wh-”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Thancred said, his words cutting off Luka’s protestation. The two men smiled over the boy’s head before Hamon looked back at Luka.
“Come in tomorrow and we will begin your training.”
The words were a dismissal and the guild master turned away, refocusing his attentions on the sparring combatants of the ring.
Luka blinked once, then twice before a red hot wave of anger flooded him. What was this? Was Thancred playing some sort of huge joke on him that Momodi and this old man were in on?
Whatever it was, he had hit his breaking point and his mind demanded an answer. But before he could turn on Thancred to demand that answer, the white haired man began to leave the guild. Red tinted Luka’s vision as he hurried after the other, withdrawing the blade from his boot. They only managed to get a few feet from the doors before Luka shoved Thancred against a wall, pressing that blade to his gut.
“What the hell is all this? You explain yourself right now !”
Either he got held at knifepoint often, or he didn’t see the young miqo’te as a threat, but either way Thancred’s face remained impassive as he answered.
“I don’t see what’s to explain.”
Luka growled and pressed that blade more firmly against Thancred’s body.
“Explain all of this! The supposed errands that you needed my ‘help’ with, telling that Quicksand woman and the old man about me! Is this a sick joke? Laugh at the poor street kid?”
Luka’s body was trapped between panicked responses; he wanted to hurt this man, and he wanted to run away to his own territory where things were familiar, and thereby safe. But, he couldn’t do either and so, he could only wait for the white haired man to speak.
“I am helping you.”
“Helping me!?”
Luka was surprised at the amount of venom and bitterness in his voice. He gritted his teeth, trying to stop the anger from making his hands shake.
“I don’t need any of your damn help, nor did I ever ask for it!”
“But you do need it, unless you’d prefer to live on the streets for the rest of your life,” Thancred said, that calm voice even.
Before Luka could blink, Thancred was moving, grabbing the miqo’te’s wrist that held the knife and swinging his foot under the boy’s legs to knock him off balance. It was over quick as a flash, with Luka disarmed and on the ground, and Thancred standing above him, holding the knife at his side. The other’s brows were furrowed as he met Luka’s glare, but he squatted down to address the boy.
“Now listen here. I am trying to help you. I’m not doing this to make fun of you or to hurt you. I am sorry that I spoke to Momodi and Hamon about you beforehand and without your knowledge, but I promise I do so with the best intentions. Now, you have a job, a way to make an honest means, and a way to learn to protect yourself. Of course, you don’t have to take either opportunity, but they’re there if you so choose to take them.”
As Thancred flipped the blade, offering it grip first to Luka, the boy’s mind whirred, trying to piece together what was laid before him.
Thancred had done this...to set him up with work, and protection. Without asking for a single thing in return. It just...didn’t make sense.
As Luka reached for the blade, he asked the question that refused to let alone inside of him.
“Why? Why would you do all of this, put your neck on the line, for me? I...I tried to steal from you!”
That made Thancred smirk, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned on the balls of his feet.
“Would you believe that someone who I tried to steal from afforded me a similar opportunity after I tried to make off with his coin purse?”
The young miqo’te’s eyes went wide as he looked at the man before him with new eyes. Thancred had been a thief like him, but now it seemed that he had a normal life, real and honest. And now, he was extending that same offer to the boy, giving him that same chance at that life.
“How did you even know that I’d come back? You could have set all this up for nothing,” Luka asked, his young mind still trying to fit all the pieces together. But Thancred’s words caught him off guard and managed to short circuit his brain.
“I didn’t.”
“What ? Then, then why did you-”
“Luka, the world is full of darkness. Some of it is out of our control, and yet some of it is darkness that we can combat, that we can stand up against. It all starts with faith. I wanted to have faith in you, like someone did in me when I was young.”
Thancred stood up, towering over the young boy still on the ground before he extended a hand with a warm smile.
“So, what do you say?”
The hand was an offer to get Luka back on his feet...but it carried unspoken implications. If he took that hand, then Luka would be accepting this offer; work, protection, things he had never had before in his young life. But his wariness was hard to let go of. Having Thancred offer these things without asking for any sort of payment scared him. All Luka could feel was fate, dangling this tempting prize before him, only waiting to snatch it away.
Still...it was tantalising in a way the young miqo’te could never fully describe. Safety, security, after years of struggling, fighting the world tooth and nail for each stolen day.
The more the thoughts twisted in his mind, the more his decision became clear to Luka. Thancred had spoken of having faith in the boy...and now it was his turn to place his faith in this confusing stranger.
Squaring his shoulders, the young miqo’te reached up to clasp his hand in Thancred’s, a small smirk lifting his lips.
“Sure, I guess I have nothing better to do.”
As Luka got to his feet, Thancred met that smirk with one of his own before nodding at Luka.
“Well, alright then.”
Pain throbbed through Luka’s head, his torso aching as he leaned against the wall. He thought himself strong enough to remain on his feet, but it was clear when he began to slide down the wall that he had overestimated himself.
Darkness tinted the edges of his vision as he laughed gently. It served him right for trying to pick fights…
His thoughts were disjointed, broken threads that he had trouble grasping onto. Luka wasn’t sure if he passed out or not, but the next time he opened his eyes, Thancred stood above him.
It had been a few months since the miqo’te had seen his mentor and Luka gave him a weak smirk.
“Well, I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but I can’t tell whether or not I’m hallucinating this.”
Luka expected a smirk back, perhaps a witty retort, but Thancred’s face remained hard and impassive. Upon seeing that, the dark haired teen’s smirk slid away, unable to tell if he was about to get reprimanded or not. Thancred sighed gently before crouching down before him.
“What in the seven hells happened to you, Luka?”
The miqo’te let out a small huff of air, trying to sit up to the best of his ability. Seemed like it was going to be a reprimand afterall.
“There were some thugs beating up on some street kids. So, I stepped in to help.”
Thancred’s scowl deepend and he pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh.
“Luka, you’re thirteen summers old. You should know better than to pick fights. How many of these thugs were there, anyway?”
The boy looked away, evading the question for the moment as he clicked his tongue.
“What would you have me do? Turn a blind eye to something like that? I can’t just turn away when there are kids getting beat up in front of me. Especially when it’s five guys against-”
“Five ? Gods, Luka, you could have gotten yourself killed!”
“And yet, here I stand...sit...whatever. You know what I mean,” the miqo’te said with a grin, though the expression was short lived as a fresh wave of pain swept over him. Thancred, seeing the flash of pain across the boy’s face seemed to withdraw his next round of scolding words. Instead, he extended a hand in offer, so much an echo of the hand he offered Luka five years ago.
“C’mon, let’s get you to somewhere you can rest. Preferably not against a wall in an alley,” Thancred said with a small smile as Luka grabbed his hand, managing to get to his feet.
“Where am I hauling your foolish ass,” the older man asked, slinging one of the teen’s arms over his shoulder as his other arm twisted around to support Luka’s back.
“The Quicksand. I’ve got a cot in one of the supply closets,” the miqo’te answered, looking away with a small frown, already knowing what was coming from the older man upon hearing that, even before he opened his mouth.
“You’re still staying at the Quicksand? I thought you were going to be saving up gil from deliveries to get your own place.”
“I am,” Luka interjected, wincing as they began to shamble along slowly. “I just...there are kids starving in the streets, and I have the gil to give, so…”
He trailed off, keeping his face turned away to prevent seeing whatever expression passed over Thancred’s face. From the small sigh he heard, Luka guessed it was disappointment, which stung.
“Luka...I understand your desire to help the destitute children of Ul’dah, but you have to think about yourself too. Help when you can afford to, surely, but you need to make sure that you have enough to help yourself.”
Thancred went quiet as Luka’s face twisted slightly. The older man had a point, loath as the teen was to admit his mistakes. But, Luka couldn’t help the feelings that flooded into him; he wanted to make a difference. Not just here in Ul’dah, but all across Eorzea and beyond. To save those that he could, so that no child would have to go through what he did.
The two faded into silence as they continued to shuffle along, but Luka felt like he needed to fill the space, to make up for disappointing Thancred.
“How did you even find me? Should I be worried that you’re stalking me?”
That managed a chuckle from the older man, which helped to ease some of the tightness in Luka’s chest a small amount.
“One of the kids that you rescued. He recognised you from the Quicksand and ran back to Momodi to tell her. She then contacted me via linkpearl. You’re quite lucky I was in Thanalan at the time or else it might have taken me much longer to get to you.”
Luka nodded at that, just glad to hear that the other children had gotten away safely. He lifted his head, looking ahead as they came up to the Quicksand. It took all of his energy to climb the stairs and make it into the bustling tavern, even with Thancred helping him. As they moved to the door that led to the storage area, Momodi spotted them and quickly came out from behind the counter, hurrying to Luka’s side. Her hands fluttered over his injuries, trying to decide how best to assist. In the end, she hurried ahead to hold the door open for the two of them.
“I’m so glad you found him,” the lalafell said once the door was closed, muffling some of the overflowing din of the Quicksand. She rushed forward again to get the door to the storage room that Luka called home.
The room itself was on the larger side, but the excess of shelves against every wall gave the room a cramped, claustrophobic feeling. Below a shelf filled with bags of beans and nuts, there was a small cot. It was a bit unkempt, but it did the job.
Thancred managed to get Luka to that bed, which the boy collapsed gratefully onto. His vision swam for a few moments, but he heard Momodi saying that she would be right back before Luka heard her depart the storage room. As soon as the door closed, Thancred sat on the foot of the miqo’te’s bed looking around.
“Cozy in here, isn’t it?”
Luka smirked at that, rolling his eyes before relaxing into the mattress. It was cozy, and worlds better than living on the street. One day, he would have his own house but for now, this was enough. And if Momodi did ever kick him out, well...the street would always be there.
Luka hadn’t realised he had been flitting in and out of consciousness until Momodi’s return snapped him to alertness. The teen turned his head to watch her enter the room, kicking the door closed as her arms were ladened with bandages and salves.
“I’m certainly no healer, but I’ve tended to enough dumb brawls to ensure I have supplies always at the ready,” she said before placing the items on the bed. Thancred smiled at her as he grabbed for some of the salves.
“Thank you, Momodi. I can get Luka bandaged just fine, so you can head back to the bar.”
The smaller woman looked surprised, but the expression melted into a smile as Momodi nodded and began to head towards the door.
“Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Thancred. Take care to rest, Luka. I mean it!”
There was rolling of eyes from the young miqo’te, and a grumbling under his breath, causing the lalafell woman to roll her own eyes before quickly exiting the room.
An odd silence fell over Luka and Thancred for a few moments before the older man gently patted Luka’s knee.
“C’mon kid, sit up. I’ll get you all bandaged up and then you can pass out, okay?”
The miqo’te sighed gently but didn’t argue as he struggled, managing to sit up with a wince. He quietly pulled his tunic off, trying to ignore the streaks of blood on the linen. As Thancred saw the extent of Luka’s injuries, he frowned as his eyes darkened.
Besides the bruises slowly forming along the teen’s pale skin, it was easy to see where a blade had grazed and cut him. Thankfully, most seemed shallow enough. The worst of them were a deep gash across Luka’s cheek, and another deep slice along his side.
“Gods, Luka…”
“Hey, it’s not as bad as it seems,” the boy said gently, only to be met with a withering glare that made Luka frown. Thancred delayed his response as he grabbed a few cloths to dip in the salves, wiping with careful motions at the wounds.
“It is bad. One wrong move and you could have gotten yourself killed. You need to be smarter-”
“Yes, I know I made a stupid decision, thank you,” Luka interrupted in a sour tone, folding his arms across his chest. Thancred withdrew his hand, his face softening with a gentle sigh.
“I am not trying to kick you when you are already down, Luka. I just...I worry about you. If anything were to happen to you…”
Thancred trailed off, his hands stilling for a few moments before he looked up at Luka.
“You are someone that I care about deeply. I’d like to think that after all these years…well, I think of you as my son.”
He seemed to pause a moment before clearing his throat and returned to tending to Luka’s wounds.
“You need not share the sentiment, of course. Just know that you will always have someone on your side, no matter what the world may choose to throw at you.”
As Thancred worked over the teen’s wounds, Luka sat still, mind lost in thought. Did he see Thancred as a father? Surely not at first, but as the years stretched on, the viewpoint had changed, evolved. If nothing else, Luka had a never ending amount of respect for the older man. And he did look up to him, hated to disappoint him. But did that equate to seeing Thancred as a father?
After a few moments, Luka made a small sound. It hurt his head to think about it. The important thing was that he had Thancred in his life, by his side. It was enough to make the miqo’te smile and chuckle gently before sitting back against the wall.
“Is this your way of saying that I won’t be able to rid myself of you?”
Thancred cracked a smirk at that, setting aside the salves to reach for the bandages.
“If it helps to think of it like that, then please feel free. Now, put your arms up so that I can get these bandages in place.”
Luka rolled his eyes but obeyed. The salves were already helping with the pain, which was more than a relief. By the time Thancred finished, the adrenaline had worked its way out of his system, leaving the teen drained. He laid back on the cot with a small sigh as Thancred watched him carefully.
“How are you feeling, Luka?”
The miqo’te was still for a moment before he looked up at the older man.
“Stupid, if I’m to be honest. Stupid and weak.”
Luka paused a moment before looking away, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a frown. There was a beat of silence while he formulated his thoughts, speaking once again.
“If I cannot stand up to the injustices doled out by street thugs, then what am I supposed to do? All I want is to help people. I used to just think about people in Ul’dah, kids on the street like me. But…I want to do more than that. I want to help people, not just in Ul’dah, but everywhere in Eorzea. And even beyond that. It’s why I have to get stronger. I want to help people, and I want to change the world.”
Luka sat up a bit as he spoke, hesitating a moment before looking back to Thancred as his ears lowered a mote.
“Is that…a foolish dream?”
The white haired man watched the miqo’te for a few long moments, chest swelling with pride. He had been privileged to watch Luka grow up into the young man he had become. With a heart full of compassion and kindness, and enough passion and drive to make real change in the world around him…Luka would become the person he strived to be. Thancred could almost see it, like a vision behind his eyes.
“No, I don’t think that it is a foolish dream at all.”
He smiled at the boy as Luka settled into the cot, looking forward to the years ahead of them and taking the journey together.
Luka couldn’t help but to pace, anxiety twining a tight cord around his heart as his tail flicked arhythmically behind him. His fingers picked at his hand wraps and he swore that he could feel every heartbeat stretch on for an eternity.
“Luka, you are like to wear a track in the stones if you keep that up,” came a voice through the doors behind him. The miqo’te blinked, looking at Y’shtola as she approached, cocking a brow at the teen. But he frowned a bit as her words finally seemed to penetrate his overly anxious mind.
“It’s not like I have planned for these sorts of nerves. I can’t help it.”
Y’shtola’s face seemed to soften a mote before her eyes flicked to the door of the Solar behind Luka.
“Are they still in talks?”
His gaze followed her’s for a moment before he looked away with a heavy sigh and nod.
“It’s been nearly half a bell. Surely they must be close to finishing,” Luka murmured, picking at the wraps on his hands once more. However he paused as he heard Y’shtola’s soft chuckle.
“Luka, have patience. You have waited for this moment for a long time, yes, but it is not a simple thing that you are asking for. Our fight is one that is not only difficult but dangerous as well. And you are still so young-”
“I’m not that young. I am seventeen. Louisoux has said that his grandchildren have both shown interest in this fight, and they are younger than I am by quite a lot.”
He tried not to pout, knowing it would do no good but Luka couldn’t help the small bit of petulance that laced his expression. But Y’shtola just sighed gently, shaking her head as she looked back to the teen.
“I understand your desire to help people, and to do good. But you must understand that no one here wants to see you come to harm. The fights that loom on the horizon will be more dangerous than any we have fought thus far. I know that both Minfilia and Thancred would not wish to see you put yourself in that line of fire underprepared.”
“But I am well prepared. I train nearly every day, I’ve done research into the threats you all face, I’ve done scouting missions and helped with taking out Garlean patrols. I am not a child anymore, much as many of you all would still see me as one.”
Luka folded his arms across his chest, his ears flattening a bit as Y’shtola’s brows furrowed gently.
“If you do not wish to be treated as a child, then perhaps you should not act as one, as you are now.”
The words hit their intended mark and Luka flinched gently at them, looking away as his own face crumpled into disappointment at himself. She was right, even if it stung to hear. But Y’shtola must have realised she had overstepped, for she sighed gently and moved to pat Luka’s arm.
“It is alright. I apologise, I know that you truly want to help. But think of it this way; we are fighting so that you and others like you won’t have to fight. We are striving for a better world so that you can help others without fear of a darker evil hanging over your head.”
She spoke the truth and Luka knew that Y’shtola and the others in their group cared for Luka. He had grown up with them since he had been taken in by Thancred. What he was asking couldn’t have been easy for them either.
Before he could answer, he heard the Solar doors open behind him and the nerves returned in double as he turned to see Thancred emerging. The man smiled at the miqo’te, though there was a bit of stiffness in his face that Luka spotted. It made his stomach twist as Thancred approached.
“She’s ready to see you now.”
Luka nodded for a moment before moving to step past Thancred into the Solar. He tried to remember to breathe as the doors closed behind him as the white haired man followed him into the small room.
Minfilia stood behind her desk, offering the duo before her one of her usual soft smiles.
“Luka, ‘tis good to see you again. I feel it has been an age since we last had the chance to speak.”
He nodded for a moment before putting his hands to his side in an effort not to pick at his hand wraps.
“Yes, it has been a few months, since the last time I joined a scouting mission at the nearby Castrum.”
“Ah yes, I remember.”
There was a silent moment that felt as though it stretched an eternity to Luka before Minfilia stepped around the desk to stand fully before the miqo’te.
“To the matter at hand, Thancred has told me of your desire to join our fight.”
Luka nodded, his heart slamming against his ribs as he took a deep breath.
“I have always wanted to make a difference, to help others. And I feel my best way to accomplish that is alongside all of you. I have known you all and your kindness and your strength since I was young, seen the way you fight for the good of others. And I want to be a part of that.”
He let out a small breath, fighting the urge to once more pick nervously as Minfilia stared at him with a searching gaze. There were a few more quiet moments before she looked away, and that small action was enough to splinter pain through Luka’s chest.
“While I appreciate your heart and your desire to see the world become a better place, I am afraid that I must decline your request at this time.”
A part of Luka had hoped, prayed that she would accept, happily. Even knowing that rejection was a possibility, hearing the words from Minfilia were enough for that pain to drive deeper into his heart.
“Forgive me, but I don’t understand why. You are all strong, yes, but surely you could benefit from another set of hands to help in this fight.”
The woman frowned gently as she looked away, her arms folding across her chest.
“Well, while that is true, it is not as simple as all that. While we could always use the help, you are still young and have much of life ahead of you. I wouldn’t feel right asking you to take on that burden, knowing that it would put your life at risk. And, after discussing it with Thancred, he agrees with me.”
The words made Luka’s gaze snap around on his adoptive father and, to his credit, Thancred did look a bit cowed. The dark haired miqo’te frowned, unable to stop the words as they bubbled up out of him.
“But…you said you knew I was ready. You said that you knew I had the strength to change the world!”
The white haired man frowned at the words, his brow furrowing as he looked at the young man before him.
“And I firmly believe that is still true. But you are going to put yourself at risk to follow this dream of yours and I cannot bear to see it. I want you safe, so that you can continue to grow into the man I know you can be.”
Luka was still, his chest tightening in that same unfamiliar pain. It wasn’t until he looked back to Minfilia that he could recognise it; betrayal.
“Please, if you’ll just give me a chance, Minfilia, I know that I can be of use to you all-”
“I am sorry Luka, but my answer remains the same now and going forward; no.”
He flinched at the words before looking to Thancred again, a bit of desperation in his eyes and splintering across his expression.
“Please, Thancred. You promised once that you’d always be on my side. I need you on my side for this, now more than ever!”
There was a silence that stretched between them and Luka could count every beat of his heart, every breath in his chest while he waited for an answer. After a few moments as he saw Thancred shift, he thought that he knew the words that would come from those taut lips of his mentor, the man who had saved him and protected him these many years, his father . But Luka froze as Thancred’s eyes met his, the words hitting him like a slap to the face.
“I cannot stand with you on this, Luka. I am sorry, more than you know.”
He couldn’t help but to go still, feeling that betrayal stinging, digging its claws deep into his heart until nothing but a throbbing, aching pain remained. Thancred, the man who to this point had always been in his corner, fighting for him, could not do the same when the time came, when it truly mattered. Did he not believe in Luka, in his dream, his strength, his passion? Whatever it was, whatever the truth, he supposed it mattered little.
Without a thought or word, he turned on his heel and left the room. He heard Thancred calling after him, but the sound was too far away past the pounding in his ears. He had to get out, out and away from the hurt. He couldn’t break down, not here. It wasn’t fair…
He moved out of the Solar, past Y’shtola who watched him with pity in her eyes. The look only served to sink that pain deeper, rising anger filling the newly formed hole in his chest. He didn’t need pity, he needed them to believe in him.
He made his way out of the Waking Sands and into the dry Thanalan air, only just barely tinged with salt of the nearby water. He tried to curb his anger as he walked through Vesper Bay, but it was hard. Being rejected by the Path of the Twelve stung, but being rejected by Thancred cut deep in a way he couldn’t describe. Thancred, who had always been by his side choosing this moment to turn his back on the boy he had once called his son…
Luka grit his teeth, his ears flattening against his head as his tail thrashed wildly behind him, anger cementing a steely resolve in his chest, as strong as newly forged iron.
Fine. If Thancred would side with Minfilia, if they both thought him ill prepared to join in their fight, then fine. Luka didn’t need them or their permission. He would chase his dream in his own way. He didn’t know the plan for everything, but he had heard enough talk of the Grand Companies preparing for battle, supplies being ferried to the Carteneau Flats. Surely, the Companies wouldn’t turn down an extra body to send to the frontlines.
For a brief moment, Luka felt guilt crawling through him at going against Thancred, Minfilia, and the others. However, it was short lived. No; he didn’t need to feel guilt. They didn’t understand. He would show them, prove to them that he could fight. He had to.
With a deep breath, he headed through the marsh, towards Horizon and Ul’dah, prepared to fight until his last breath.
===
Luka looked upon the sky above him through bleary eyes. His body ached and he felt mud and blood soaking into the fabric beneath his armor. Around him he could hear the sounds of conflict, but they sounded so far away, muffled beneath the humming in his ears.
He had been prepared to fight, but he hadn’t been prepared for war. There were no even lines that met each other on the field of battle, there was only chaos sown between the conflicting factions in a mess of bodies and weapons, screams and gnashing, clanking machines clawing at one another.
He supposed he should have counted himself lucky that he hadn’t succumbed to his injuries, but he could feel a chill creeping through his body that should have worried him. However, it felt too far away for his mind to cling onto that worry, that fear.
Had he the energy to smirk, he knew he would at the thought that Minfilia and Thancred had been right, much to his chagrin; he hadn’t been ready for this fight. However, he had done what he set out to do. Luka had fought, put his strength into the tide of change he hoped to bring to Eorzea and the world.
His disjointed thoughts were interrupted as there was a sudden movement in the sky above him. The miqo’te turned his head, watching as the red moon seemed to shatter, the beast within roaring and stretching to impossible size. As the ground rumbled as the chunks of Dalamud fell, he prayed to any god that would listen that Thancred would be able to forgive him for disobeying. He had just wanted to make his father proud…
Luka wasn’t quite sure what happened as his eyes closed, darkness beginning to envelop his vision and world. But in that place, that cusp of awake and eternal sleep, he heard a voice ringing out like the peal of a bell, calm and clear in the air around him.
Hear. Feel. Think.
Behind his eyes, he saw flashes of images, a bright light, a phoenix, the behemoth above him being defeated all before the images faded only to be replaced with a massive cerulean crystal hovering before him in a void.
Hear. Feel. Think.
For a moment, the pain across his body seemed to vanish along with the rest of the world as they crystal loomed closer, the voice growing louder and clearer.
Hear. Feel. Think.
Before his mind could comprehend anything that was happening, the darkness fully consumed him, dragging him beneath its waves with greedy, clinging hands as he fell to unconsciousness.
===
Everything hurt . From the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet, Luka felt pain across nearly every part of his body. But, he could feel pain. Which meant he had to be alive. An unexpected but welcome change, he supposed.
He tried to open his eyes, struggling to get his body to rally its strength enough. It took him a few minutes to get everything to work as he intended, eyes fluttering open, squinting even in the lower light. The ceiling above him, wood paneled, was unfamiliar and equally confusing. He had been at Carteneau, so where was he now?
Before he could register anything else about his surroundings, a sudden movement and figure appeared beside him.
“Luka? Are you awake? Oh thank gods.”
He knew that voice…
It took a bit more effort, but he managed to turn his head enough to see who the voice belonged to, blinking heavily a few times before his vision could focus.
“Than…cred…”
The amount of relief flooded onto the man’s face made Luka confused and a bit guilty. He tried to sit up, but Thancred instantly pressed a firm hand against the miqo’te’s chest.
“Oh no you don’t. You will not be moving until the chirurgeons have seen to you and given you the okay to get up and about.”
Luka frowned but he obeyed, laying back before he looked around the room a bit.
“Where am I? What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
Luka shook his head, letting his eyes close as he searched his fragmented memories for a hint on his current state.
“I remember falling at Carteneau, watching as Dalamud exploded above me, and then…darkness.”
It wasn’t wholly true; he remembered that voice, that crystal as clear as anything, but…part of him felt as though he should keep it to himself, another part of him worrying that it had been nothing but a delusion on the cusp of death.
Thancred frowned softly at the words before moving to sit back, rubbing at his eyes. Luka noted the dark circles there and wondered just how long it had been since Thancred rested.
“After the battle was finished, after…Master Louisoix called upon the Twelve to rid us of Bahamut, we began to comb the battlefield for survivors. Imagine my shock when Papalymo sent word that he had found you, half dead and unconscious among the survivors.”
There was a moment, a beat of silence before Thancred sat forward, his gaze a mixture of firm and worried as he looked over the miqo’te.
“I want to yell at you, scold you for putting yourself in danger and going against what we all asked of you but…I can’t find it in me to do so. I am just…too relieved that you are here to even have the opportunity to yell at.”
Luka winced, looking away as his ears flattened a bit, unable to help it as the guilt that had bled into him before flooded in to consume every part of his body.
“I…I am sorry. I just…I didn’t think. I just wanted to show you all that I could fight…”
“Your ability to fight was never in question, but your safety was. Honestly, Luka…I was so afraid I had lost you.”
Luka hesitated a moment before his gaze flicked back to Thancred, stilling as he saw the moisture rimming his adoptive father’s eyes. He moved to grab Luka’s hand, squeezing gently before pushing some hair out of his son’s eyes.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear? My heart couldn’t bear it…I am just…gods, I am so glad that you are alright.”
Luka felt the weight of that relief, the weight of his own guilt weighing on him, pulling him into his own mind. Had chasing his own desires been worth this? Bringing this anxiety and worry to his family?
He shifted gently, squeezing Thancred’s hand in return, albeit a bit weaker as he smiled softly, trying to reassure the other as best as he could.
“I am here. I…I’m sorry that I caused you such distress.”
The white haired man took a moment to breathe deeply before nodding, returning the smile.
“Just know that until you are healed up fully, I will be your personal shadow, yes? You can blame your injuries for that. Based on what the chirurgeons said, you are pretty badly beaten up and may be here for a fortnight at least.”
“Well, I suppose it could be worse,” Luka said, aiming for a lighter tone, though it didn’t quite land. He looked away, exhaustion covering him like a shroud as his eyes traced along the grains in the wood above him. He began to drift off gently, unable to help it, until that bell-like voice rang out, causing his eyes to shoot open.
Hear. Feel. Think.
Without warning, Luka’s mind was assailed with images, his body being carried off of the battlefield, Thancred calling out for him with wide eyes, Y’shtola desperately healing as best she could, the battle haggard expressions on his family’s faces.
Just as quickly as they came, the images vanished and left Luka a bit breathless, shaking. Thancred noticed the sudden shift and he looked to Luka with concern.
“Are you alright? Are you in pain?”
The miqo’te shifted, looking to Thancred with furrowed brows.
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
A cold fear wrapped around Luka’s heart. What was happening? It had been the same voice he had heard on the battlefield. And like then, he had seen some sort of vision. What did it mean? And who did that voice belong to? Was it real, or was he losing it? Thancred hadn’t seemed to hear it. Did that make him weak, insane?
The questions swirled around in a mire in his skull, driven by that fear. He couldn’t let anyone know, not until he figured out just what was happening to him.
Luka shook his head, looking away from Thancred before answering.
“No, it was nothing. Never mind, sorry. Everything’s fine.”
Everything would be fine…
Hear. Feel. Think.