(Right before the end of Heavensward)
One day, a certain Duskwight and Warrior of Light entered Ishgard’s highest house of records. He’d entered this house many, many times. Each time he was denied by the head scribe. Each time nobles would smirk or laugh at him for trying to get instated as their peer. The nerve, what cheek, et cetera.
Just a freak who came from the degenerate cave elves the Ishgardian Duskwights had since transcended. Who would trust a lord with eyes of blood?
But today, the hour of their shock had arrived. This time the mostly quiet, sad-looking elf in the shaded spectacles wouldn’t… couldn’t be denied. He waited his turn politely, silently, patiently. When the clerk working in the head scribe’s name saw him, he began to protest, but Dacien held up his hand to interrupt him, easing that same hand over to snatch the glasses from his face and put them into a coat pocket.
Those blood red eyes seized this clerk firmly, gazing through him with a hardness rivaling that of the Knights Most Heavenly.Oh please Halone, let them turn me to stone. Let this gaze kill me. I can’t bear it. I’m not paid enough for this. How did they get so red? he thinks to himself. But he does not get his wish.
“My name is Dacien Chevalier, and I am the only Duskwight of House Chevalier left. By rights I should be its Patriarch. I’ve earned that much. My People need me that much. Your superior and your aristocracy has denied my claim many times before, but not today.”
While the clerk nearly trembled, the head scribe arrived, angry already. “Mr. Chevalier! That’s enough of this game! You know the requirements for a House to be recognized, even a minor one, and you don’t m-” at last, the clerk was spared that terrible gaze. Dacien unslung the shield he’d been wearing on his back. A red unicorn against the black. He set it down on the counter with enough force to make it clang, but with enough reverence to keep the symbol on it facing skyward.
“Requirement One: A new noble house must gain the favor and sponsorship of an existing major house. The patriarch of House Fortemps is in grieving at this moment but behold the symbol of his approval. Look upon it with reverence, this shield used to belong to a good friend of mine.”
“That still le-” Another deep breath, another interruption. This time he set one of Nidhogg’s dread fangs next to Haurchefant’s shield.
“Requirement Two: A new noble house’s patriarch or matriarch to be must have proven himself or herself in any conflict against the terrible dragons. Will having bested Nidhogg do?” “Well, I imagine s-” a fragment of a magitek binding device joined the tooth. “Twintania too?” “That’s quite e-” “Tioman? She’s Nidhogg’s consort, you know. Or was before I killed her.” a draconic nail this time.
“Fine! But Requirement Three, as you are well aware, requires a House own land legi-” There it was. The seal of Ul’dah and the Sultanna. Dacien Chevalier owned a manor in the Goblet. It even had an address: Ward 2. #27.
He had the minimum. 3 of 7. All charges against the Chimeriad had been dropped, too. No disqualifying based on fugitive status anymore.
“Please sir. I have a lot of things to do today. My friend Mrs. Rocha needs me. I have a lot of furniture to order for my estate. I must inform my foster heirs that they have a home ag-”
“FIIIIIIIIIINE!!!” the head scribe screamed. Now all eyes were on the scene unfolding, if they were not already. Pens stopped scratching parchment. Dacien didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t blink. His presence merely grew more and more powerful.
“Please sir. Do you have something to say to me?”
“I…” gritted teeth. A form. A seal and a stamp. “This institution and house of records acknowledges the legitimacy of House Chevalier, recognized as a minor house given its current numbers and political status. Founded by its last heir, the duskwight Dacien Chevalier. A formal ceremony will follow in the scheduled time at the scheduled date…” he paused. Dacien still stared at him expectantly. “... congratulations, my… lord.”
“Thank you. I’ve no further business here.” he reslung Haurchefant’s shield onto his back, put the dragon artifacts away. He felt the shock in the room, felt the sheer bewilderment.
They couldn’t accept that he’d won. He’d bested their societal hurdle.
House Chevalier was back, however small it was for the moment.
Dacien reached into his coat pocket and recovered his sunglasses, slipping them back onto his face with one smooth motion. Oh, excuse me, Lord Dacien of House Chevalier.
He turned around just as smoothly. He felt lighter yet his footsteps felt firmer.
The head scribe yelled after him “You’re not married! That looks very bad, patriarch! They’ll mock you in secret for it!” one final stab at Dacien’s ego.
But Dacien wouldn’t break stride for that. “I’ll start dating then. I’ve been alone for too long, don’t you think?” Oh no, oh no, this freak would be courting and wooing Ishgardian women? NON-ISHGARDIAN WOMEN possibly?! He watched him vanish through the building’s double doors. Some nobles admired Dacien now, others hated him even more. That was fine with him. He didn’t do it for them. He did it to give the elves he’d liberated from Dunant a future.
He had his People back now.
Do you see, Lord Dunant? He’s beaten you. Again.
N-no, no, NO, no, NO!
Are you distressed at this development?
I’LL KILL HIM! HE’S TAKEN EVERYTHING NOW!
Why don’t you propose to him? Lord Dunant, husband of the man who got back at him for his treason. It’s romantic, don’t you think?
DON’T FUCKING MOCK ME, ASCIAN!
Somewhere, Dunant was dying. A figure clad in black, with a crimson mask, grinned with both playfulness and malice.
AhAhahaHAha… fine then. Fine then! The more amusing option. Do you want a chance at your own revenge, Dunant? Or do you want to die here? I leave the choice up to you.
It isn’t a choice. It isn’t… a choice. I have to destroy him. Or I won’t be whole again.
Then let us make you whole, Dunant.
But it will cost you.