Chapter 18: A Waste of Potential

Some wise man once said that in order to become closer to the gods and appreciate the mysteries and beauty of life, a person had to die—or at least come close to death. Corbin would happily argue that drinking a potion blessed by a Mender’s own hand was a pleasant alternative.

“Woooow!” The Guardian mumbled dreamily as he stared up into the cloud of tiny bright lights that trailed away from the burning street lamps into the air above father and son. “Can you see this?”

“Basilius’s Mercy—” John Larkin growled with evident restraint. “For the twenty-fifth time, Son. No—I can’t see them. I’m not the one high off [Althea’s Blessing].”

“I know, it’s fucking amazing!”

The Commander clamped a hand down on Corbin’s shoulder and yanked the grinning Guardian back in the right direction.

Corbin stumbled and corrected himself with a reproachful glare at his Father. “You’re frowning—why are you frowning?” The Guardian snorted as he tried his best to look serious—for about a fraction of a second. “You won! Not that anyone expected differently.” He brushed his father’s hand away and raised both fists towards the sky as he stomped loudly ahead and whooped, “All hail the great and powerful Commander John Larkin!”

“For the love of Fantasia, keep your voice down!” John protested with a grimace as a few windows around them lit up.

“I’m sorry,” Corbin apologized while laughing and hastily slapped a hand over his mouth. A moment later, he was once again drawn to the tendrils of pure ether magic which flowed along the streets of Highguard towards the palace walls of the Paragon’s home. “Can Menders bring people back from the dead?”

John flinched at the question as he corrected Corbin’s wandering feet again and sighed. “Not unless the Mender is a Praeditus, and even then—not often.”

“Not often?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know enough. Something to do with Althea finding the person worthy and whatnot.”

Corbin rolled his eyes. “So basically, can this person pay for their resurrection if Mender brings them back to life? Oww!” The Guardian flinched as the Commander’s open palm clapped sharply against the back of his head. “Careful! I don’t want another concussion.”

“Don’t run your mouth about things you don’t understand, boy. That Mender—the one that blessed the potion that lets you see all the pretty lights—isn’t someone you can so easily judge.”

“I wasn’t talking about her, sheesh,” Corbin rubbed his stinging scalp furiously. “Highguard is lucky to have a Mender, but the only people allowed to see her or receive a blessing are those who pay. That’s all I’m saying.”

“The Paragon keeps the Mender protected, as he should. He also restricts who has access to her and how many potions she can make a day, as he should. Can you imagine if the Mender was responsible for healing everyone that showed up at the Paragon’s door? The temple guards turn away over a thousand visitors every day. The Mender is only a Consultus now. Imagine if she were expected to heal 2,000 people every day. Let alone 5,000 or 20,000? She wouldn’t make it that far or last for very long now, would she? Instead, the Mender blesses holy water for the temple which the Paragon gives to those he considers deserving.”

“Those who can afford it,” Corbin quipped as he gestured between them. “Praeditus.”

“Bah!” John shook his head and caught Corbin’s arm as he turned down a side street.

“Where are we going?” The Guardian asked as he squinted at the street sign blurred by a few green and brown ether lights. “Why are we headed towards the Fire Gullet?”

“I need to have a word with Ms. Hache,” John replied with a backward look over his shoulder. “And you need a moment to clear your head before Beatrix sees you.”

“And grills you about why I’m in such a state,” Corbin replied with a smirk. “Wait, why do you need to see Madam Hache?” The Guardian pulled his arm free and covered his face with a mock gasp. “Thana stay her hand—are you going behind the Warden’s back—again?!”

“No!” John growled as he hastily pulled Corbin’s neck into an armlock to shut him up. “I just have a few things I need to clear up with her since we need to kill time as it is.”

“Right,” Corbin snorted as he stumbled along helplessly inside the Commander’s grip. “T-tight—can’t—breathe!” He protested as John flexed his biceps around the Guardian’s throat.

“Stop talking nonsense, and maybe I’ll let you have more air,” John growled but then relaxed his grip enough for Corbin to pull free. “And—don’t let me do anything stupid while we’re at the Fire Gullet.”

“Like drink—or open your mouth?”

“This is what I get for spoiling you.”

Corbin snorted. “If nearly sending me into a coma is considering spoiling—”

“You did well today—in the arena,” John interrupted as he slapped a hand gently on the Guardian’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I let anyone slip past my defenses so easily.”

Corbin studied the Commander’s face cautiously and rubbed away an awkward grin. “You—weren’t taking me seriously. If you were, you would have come fully buffed.”

“Don’t disparage yourself like that, Corbin. No one expects a Materia to beat a Praeditus, even more so if they have the same Nucleus.” John clapped a hand around Corbin’s neck and offered a rare smile. “Rare skill or not, those instincts were yours, and you made good use of them.”

“Ahh,” Corbin shrugged out of the Commander’s grip. “You’re just buttering me up so I won’t tell Beatrix about your little visit to Madam Hache.”

“Bah!” John sighed but said nothing further as they approached the Fire Gullet. The three-story pub had earned its name from the owner, Debra Hache, the surviving daughter of Highguard’s previous City Commander. Madam Hache, as she preferred to be called inside her pub, was an A-rank Fire Magus who had come back to Highguard after retiring from life as a Bounty Hunter for the Imperial Family.

Fire Gullet was a popular hangout for members of the City Guard, primarily because of its rather strict door policy, which read, ‘No Sentinels Allowed.’

The story behind the rather provoking display of bias towards the city’s famous monster hunters remained largely a mystery. However, most rumors implied that it was due to the open animosity between Madam Hache and Warden Beatrix.

John Larkin had found himself playing the role of peaceful negotiator between the two well-liked but temperamental women when he took over as City Commander. Unironically, John had also managed to date both women before marrying and subsequently divorcing Beatrix after five years of hot and cold marital chaos.

Whatever the original trigger, Debra “losing” John to Beatrix had only increased the hostility between the two women and their respective social circles. Paragon Delancy settled the dispute by knocking down a few buildings to build the Sentinels a pub of their own. Intentionally or otherwise, the western and eastern districts of Highguard became split between the City Guards and Sentinels due to the respective locations of the Garrison and the Fire Gullet; Sentinel Guild and the Crow’s Nest.

“Will Madam Hache even be here this late?” Corbin questioned as he glanced towards the tall glass windows of Fire Gullet’s first floor that flickered dimly with light.

“She lives upstairs, so where else would she be?” John replied with a hint of uncertainty as he adjusted his cloak and then took the first step that led up to the pub’s wide porch.

The Fire Gullet’s front doors banged open as an imposing raven-haired woman with streaks of gray running through her voluminous hair dragged two pitiable men through by their ears. “When I say it's closing time, that means finish your beer like it's your last sip off your mother’s tits and get lost!”

John retreated as the two relatively young men dressed in the City Guard uniform tumbled down the stairs at his feet.

“And don’t you dare badmouth your mother in front of me again, Joel Mather!”

“Evening, Debra,” John called up before he leveled a stern look at Joel and his companion. “You two appear to be out rather late. Name, rank, and unit?”

Corbin shook his head as the shabby pair scrambled to their feet and attempted two rather sloppy salutes.

“J-Joel Mathers, Commander. Ranger Class, Materia. Unassigned at the moment, Sir!”

“Unassigned?” John narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Just enlisted—three weeks ago,” Joel paused as he gagged and swallowed something rather unpleasant. “I’ve been on temporary assignment to the gates since then to help with the refugees.”

“Ahh,” John nodded and turned his gaze to the slightly older and darker-skinned guardsman. “And you?”

“Clive Schultz, Sir,” the man answered with a glance and nod in Corbin’s direction. “Duelist Class. I was promoted to Materia alongside your son.”

“Were you now?” John replied with unfiltered sarcasm. “Unit?”

“Also unassigned, Sir!”

“He works with me at the gate, Commander,” Joel supplied helpfully.

“Which explains why you both think that no one will notice if you show up to work tomorrow late and hungover,” the Commander replied grimly.

“No, not at all, Sir!” Joel protested.

“It’s my fault, Commander,” Clive interjected quickly. “I got engaged and well—” the guardsman exhaled deeply as his gaze drifted lower to the ground, “—now I’m no longer engaged. Joel was just trying to cheer me up.”

John frowned and shot a glance at Hache, who shrugged.

“Cunt ran off with some fancy merchant from the Capital,” the Fire Magus explained with what might have been a grimace of sympathy.

Clive locked his jaw as he glared at the ground in front of his swaying feet.

“I see,” John muttered and then sighed. “As unfortunate as that may be, you’re both new recruits of the City Guard. Madame Hache and this establishment are not something fresh recruits can afford to disrespect—so I will allow Ms. Debra to decide your punishment.”

Joel drew in a sharp breath and muttered, “Fuck,” as he caught hold of Clive’s arm to keep the drunker of the pair upright.

“Oh, they’re hardly the first pair of soldiers to come in lamenting a broken heart,” Hache snorted as she threw a pointed look in Corbin’s direction. “I’ve seen my share of those who don’t know how to let go of what’s not good for them.”

Corbin rolled his eyes and turned abruptly towards the street.

“Corbin,” John growled as he caught hold of his son's arm.

“I think it would be enough of a punishment if you double their morning run tomorrow,” Hache continued with a satisfied smirk as both Joel and Clive blanched at the very thought.

“It would certainly help them to think twice before drinking so heavily in the future,” the Commander replied as he gave the pair another stern glance.

“Could we do our punishment another day?” Clive asked with a tired sigh.

“Shut it, will you!” Joel hissed angrily out the side of his mouth.

“Better make it three days,” John declared with a grin as he pulled Corbin back over. “And just to be sure that neither of you slacks off, you’ll be reporting to my son, Lieutenant Corbin, starting tomorrow morning for exercise and guard duty.”

Joel’s grim face brightened instantly as he straightened and offered a salute. “It would be my honor, Praeditus.”

Clive looked less enthusiastic but mimicked his comrade's salute before the Commander dismissed them both and sent the stumbling pair back in the direction of the Garrison barracks.

“Really?” Corbin growled once they were out of earshot. “You pick two random drunks to fill my squad?”

“No one said it was permanent,” John replied with a shrug. “And they’re both Materia. See for yourself if they have potential. Either way, with a proper officer looking after them, they should straighten up in no time and become useful assets to your squad and the city.”

“Well,” Hache interjected as she strolled down the steps towards John with a warm smile. “Now that business has been all settled. I wonder, what is it that brought John Larkin to my doorstep so late at night?”

Corbin cleared his throat loudly as the Fire Magus brushed some form of invisible dirt from the Commander’s cheek.

“Oh, and Congratulations to you as well, Lieutenant Corbin!” Hache added with an amused smile as her hand trailed down the Commander’s chest with all the familiarity that had led to John’s rather messy divorce.

“Thank you, Madame Hache,” Corbin replied politely before throwing John a pointed look. “We just dropped by on our way back home to eat dinner with the Warden.”

John coughed loudly as Hache took two quick steps back, her fingers tightening into a fist around a flame that she quietly snuffed as the night air sharpened with the scent of burnt pine.

“Oh? The Warden still comes over for family dinners, does she?” Hache tilted her head inquiringly at the Commander. “How strange. Especially given the two of you never had children together.” Her amber eyes shifted over to Corbin. “Beatrix wasn’t especially close to Corbin either—rather the opposite in fact.”

“We’re both Praefecti—and things are—amicable between us again,” John answered hesitantly.

“Amicable?” Hache’s eyes narrowed as she lowered her hand to the step railing. “I see.” The Fire Magus trailed her fingers over the wooden surface before offering the Commander a rather dangerous smile. “So then—why are you here, John?”

John looked at a loss for words as he shifted uncomfortably beneath Madam Hache’s heated gaze. “To—tell you that—I won’t be—”

Hache held up her hand sharply. “If this is you breaking things off again because you’ve gotten back with that—” she hissed through her teeth as her eyes flickered with the magic she once used to burn wanted Erros into piles of dust. “I don’t want to hear it,” she finished sharply.

Corbin tried to pull away from John’s grip and leave the pair to finish this awkward conversation, but the Commander held onto him firmly.

“I’m sorry, Hache,” John said, his tone heavy with sincerity.

“You always are,” Hache replied with an empty smile as she turned and swept up the stairs towards her bar. “Don’t come by the Fire Gullet for the next three months.”

“Alright.”

“And don’t let me hear so much as a whisper of you setting even one foot into the Sentinel’s Pub either, John or I swear to Cosima I’ll burn it and you to the ground!”

Corbin flinched as the bar doors slammed shut behind the livid Praeditus, then turned to stare judgingly at the Commander.

“What?” John snapped as he finally moved away from the bar.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into that!” The Guardian shook his head. “Using your son as a shield while you break up with one of Highguard’s most dangerous Mages.”

“You weren’t in any danger,” John replied dismissively, then grabbed Corbin’s arm again as he pulled the Guardian away from yet another lamppost. “I could have handled that much better if you’d kept your mouth shut.”

“Oh yeah? What story were you going to tell her this time?”

The Commander shot Corbin a warning glare and turned the Guardian back towards the main street that would lead them home. “Nevermind that now, you need to focus on your trip to Dawnskeep. Your new unit looks like it could use a bit of extra discipline before you head out in two days.”

Corbin groaned as he shoved the Commander’s hand away.

“Now, don’t sulk,” John said quickly with a smirk. “A loss is a loss. You agreed to the bet, so take it like—”

“You say that as if I had a fair chance at winning!” Corbin snapped irritably. “If you wanted to remind me how weak I am compared to a senior A-Ranker like you, then congratulations! You made that very clear when you nearly broke my head open!”

“Alright,” John held up his hands placatingly. “I took it too far with that last hit. But there’s no reason for you to get hung up on that, Corbin. You have yet to reach your full potential, and judging by what I saw today—” the Commander cleared his throat and sighed. “Going to the Capital will give you plenty of opportunities to grow stronger. There are always monsters along the merchant’s roads.”

“There are likely just as many monsters around Fraydale, which is closer to Highguard,” Corbin countered swiftly.

“You’re not ready to face a Gate—”

“The Gate will be closed by the time we get there!”

“—or witness the aftermath of an invasion!” John finished grimly then fell silent as a patrol of City Guard walked past after offering the Commander a salute that he returned briskly. “Warfare is far more brutal than you can imagine, Corbin. I don’t have a poet’s words or Bard’s tongue to even begin to describe—how utterly devastating—I can only say that the carnage humankind wrecks upon each other pales in comparison to a city ravaged by a Dementher Gate.”

“I get it—”

“No, you don’t! And you won’t until you've walked into the remains of over one hundred houses and find nothing but limbs, entrails, and bones of the families that once lived there.” The Commander locked his jaw and drew in a quick breath as he focused on the gated walls of the upper-class residences around and ahead of them as the Larkin’s home came into view.

“Anyway,” John continued after clearing his throat. “I plan to write you a letter of introduction to Paragon Alexina of BladesCoast. Her brother, Warden Stuart, runs the Sentinel Guild in that city.”

Corbin’s steps slowed as he turned narrowed eyes on his father. “Why?”

“So you can join the Sentinel Guild there!” John replied sharply. “You’ll have to take a detour on your way back, but—”

“No, I mean, why would I be joining the BladesCoast Sentinel Guild?”

“Because your potential will be wasted if you rely on the City Guard for growth!” The Commander halted abruptly and turned to face Corbin. “Being a City Guardsman is a fine and noble endeavor for retired Sentinels like me who still have plenty of fight and anger left in us. It’s suitable for Materia who will never reach B-Rank no matter how hard they train—or those with no stomach to delve into dungeons, chase down monsters, or face an active Gate.”

Corbin blinked at the muddy red light that flickered around the Commander’s fingers as John placed his hand on the Guardian’s shoulder.

“But you—are none of those, Corbin. I’ve seen you in a dungeon. I saw you in the arena today. You—inherited your mother’s Nucleus along with her instincts and talent,” John blinked rapidly as he withdrew his hand and looked away. “Zelina—she could have become a Paragon like her sister—if she hadn’t—”

Corbin remained quiet as the Commander fell silent. A large part of the Guardian hoped that his father would tell him just a little bit more about Zelina, his mother, an A-ranked Avenger who had died facing the Dementher Gate that destroyed DuskHaven. But a small part of Corbin wondered why John hadn’t been on that battlefield beside his mother. Why would an A-ranked Sentinel, a Shield Class, choose to flee the city with his son—and leave Zelina’s body behind for her twin sister to collect.

In the story of the fall of DuskHaven, Praeditus Zelina was but a footnote. A prelude to the rise of the Legend of Paragon Thea, known to all Orinthian as the Emperor’s Firebrand, the Avenger who charged alone to face the same Gate that took her twin sister.

The stories of how Paragon Thea clung to life long enough to kill the Draith General in front of his army before ascending to S-Rank while being moments away from death were sung by every Bard that passed through Highguard. One such Bard had even shown Corbin his prized painting that depicted the Firebrand walking back from the collapsing gate, covered in the blood of the fallen Draiths behind her, with the Draith General’s spear gripped tightly in her pale hand.

Oddly enough, the stories and bards never mentioned Zelina’s husband or child. And John never willingly spoke of his connection to Paragon Thea or his deceased wife.

“You are destined to become a Praeditus, Corbin,” John said with a note of tiredness as he continued towards their destination. “The sooner you join a strong Sentinel Guild that will allow you to grow unhindered, the faster you will rise, the stronger you’ll become, and the better prepared you’ll be for the day you face a Dementher Gate.”

“And—the Warden?” Corbin replied in disbelief as he followed behind. Around the streets, the specks of ether light dimmed as the after-effects of the Mender’s Blessing faded suddenly from his vision.

“Beatrix means well,” John answered with a sigh, “But her morals and methods have hampered your progress long enough.”

Corbin barked out a loud laugh. “Are you serious?” The Guardian clenched his teeth as he gazed at the house where the same Warden no doubt waited to lecture them both on being late. “For the last six years, you’ve taken her side in every argument. And now—you want to send me away? What about my unit? What about Fallon?”

“What about that damn girl? She and her father have caused us enough trouble,” John said grimly. “Anyway, it's not as if you two are set on marriage or anything.”

Corbin flinched but shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant! You also know how badly Fallon wants the chance to become a Sentinel. Praeditus Xander has blocked any opportunity she will ever have of joining the Sentinel Guild in Highguard!”

“That’s not my damn problem—or yours!” John snapped.

“Fallon is my best friend!”

“And this is your future we’re talking about, Corbin. Yours—not hers!”

“I know,” Corbin replied and took a breath to calm himself. “But I’m not leaving Highguard if that means leaving Fallon behind.”

“Oh, you bloody fool!” John hissed sharply in exasperation. “Perhaps I should take you to the Mender tomorrow and have your head examined.” The Commander’s angry footsteps halted so abruptly that Corbin crashed into his Father’s shoulder. “What in the three moons?” John muttered darkly as he reached towards the sword at his waist.

Corbin looked up and blinked at the carriage that stood parked in front of their house surrounded by men bearing the Paragon’s coat of arms, a wyvern coiled around a burning blade. “Why is the Paragon at our house?”

“I don’t know,” John growled as he removed his hand from the hilt of his blade. “But don’t let your guard down until we know what he wants.”