Chapter Text
Two weeks into living in Ilsabard, she started to smell the oil. The old train terminal was thick with the grease leaking from the corpses of decrepit machinery. Clove oil, like the kind she used on her own weapons, was liberally applied to swords and armor to fight the powder snow that was ever pervasive outside and and even worse in the station once it melted into slush. In front of her, Jullus dabbed a thin, odorless liquid onto a small cloth and ran it along the disassembled interior of his firearm. Oil on skin, cooking oil, accelerants. It was a new sensation, the ability to smell, and Zero didn't know whether to cover her nose or breathe it all in like it was the last of her humanity.
"Zero! Are you well?" Jullus asked, looking up at where Zero stood next to the open train car-turned-office door. His hands stilled on his work when he did. Jullus was the sort of man who gave all of his focus to one thing only. It was overwhelming to be the subject of it, like standing under the sun at high noon.
Zero didn’t quite know how to answer him. It was loud and the straps on her armor were a bit too tight. Or maybe they were normal and everything just felt a bit sharp. How did one say "it smells too much" without coming across as rude?
She didn’t generally care how people saw her. The Warrior of Light found it to be grand comedy when Zero said something that other people considered impolite. But this was Jullus's territory, and if she knew anything, it was that the smallest slight could be a challenge to authority. Jullus was an unseasoned leader. He wouldn’t care about that sort of thing, but that wouldn’t stop problem subordinates from looking for a chink in his armor, and Zero did not want that to be her. It was better for Jullus' reputation if Zero treated him like the officer he was, not the friend that he was, so she said “Yes, sir,” and stood motionless at the door.
"You're restless," he said when she didn't respond.
"Yes," she admitted. Not that it took a genius to determine.
He wiped his fingers on a pale blue cloth that was nearly too saturated to do anything besides smear, but she could tell it was habit. She wondered if he had been military in a previous life, or if all Garleans were so strict about the maintenance of their weapons.
"I've been thinking about that a bit,” he said, and it took her a moment to realize they’d been talking about her alleged restlessness. “If this is too much to ask, please don't feel obligated, but…"
"But?"
“One moment and you shall have my full attention,” he said as if he hadn’t already given it to her.
She watched his hands, so deft despite the cold, reassemble his gun. He wrapped it in waxed canvas and fit it into a slim leather case. She prepared herself for the weight of said attention as he slid the packaged weapon into the bottom drawer of his desk and turned his pale eyes on her. It felt less like the air pressure in the room didn’t rise if she looked at his hands instead, so she did that. They were pink and chapped around the knuckles. She wondered if she was cold too and just didn't have the sensation for it yet, or if the eternity in the darkness of the void had made her immune to the absence of warmth.
"Would you be open to assisting me here?” Jullus asked. “The twins are wonderful, but if I'm honest, we need all the help we can get."
"I had not expected to stay here for free," she said.
He looked chagrined. "Oh, no,” he said. “No, we would pay you, the way we do anyone else."
Jullus did not, however, pay the twins, but that was not his choice. He had tried once but had subsequently received a donation of triple the amount he had given them. Alisaie had simply replied, "I haven't wanted for money a day in my life. I'm not about to take it from those who need it." Zero, who had never known an existence that wasn't filled with greed and with an insatiable need for the currency of light and aether, had shrugged the experience off as vaguely discomfiting. She couldn't imagine having enough. But she did understand that coin was useless to her and precious to these people. Gil as payment for her work did not seem like a beneficial bargain to either party.
"I don't need your coin," she said honestly. If and when she returned to the 13th, it would do her no good.
His expression flickered between disappointment and determination. His sky blue eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made her want to shift away.
"Is there anything you do need?” he asked. “Anything that one such as I can provide, that is. "
Your aether, she thought, and quickly shut down the impulse. Once upon a time, she had made a deal with another and had watched a second world descend into darkness as a result, but she wasn’t like that anymore. She was no longer the beast that sold its autonomy for scraps. And Jullus was nothing like Zenos. She trusted him, for one, and wasn’t that a dangerous thought.
"You liked spicy food," he said. This one, she was pretty sure, was a question.
"I do,” she agreed. “I can taste spicy. My sense of taste is returning slowly as I am exposed to ambient aether."
"What about that?" he asked. "We don't have much in the way of food here, but perhaps I can find a way to help you recover more quickly."
"Can you?" she didn’t mean to sound so doubtful, but it certainly came out that way.
"Probably not, " he admitted, "but I can at least try. If nothing else, I’ll bring in more things for you to enjoy."
To attempt at something was to expend energy and time upon something. Jullus had little enough of either of those things after his duties to the reconstruction effort. Time and energy were precious to him, and he was bartering with them. She could respect that. And really, she was self aware enough to realize that she was looking for an excuse to agree.
"Very well," Zero said.
Zero had thought that maybe Jullus would put her on monster elimination. Guard duty would have been expected. Courier would have been a reasonable use of her skills. Leading a supply platoon was neither a good use of her skills nor something she had any experience in at all. Zero had no clue whatsoever why Jullus had appointed her the command of a small platoon. Why had he bothered to ask for her help if it had not been to get her expertise on things she was actually well suited to? She had absolutely no idea how to go about leading or teaching. Hells, she could barely conceptualize a hypothetical some days. How was she supposed to ensure the success and survival of these people?
With each passing day, the camp changed like a fungus: collapsing on one end and ballooning where it was fed, growing outward in reach of more sustenance. New parties of refugees had become more common as the glacial passes became less hazardous. The Eorzean Alliance sent as much aid as they could, which was something different week to week. There were scholars that came by in robes so white they might get lost in the snow. Military leaders landed miniature airships on the glacier to coordinate trade and assistance before departing shortly thereafter.
Others were people who didn't know how to live without the structure of the military and moved to join whatever forces were most likely to see active combat. Jullus hired them, provided they didn’t have any lingering loyalties to the former prince, because the amount of people able bodied enough to serve as a barrier between raiders and beasts were few and far between. It made for a tenuous peace balanced on the edge of a knife. It would have made sense for Zero to lead these people, she thought. If someone truly dangerous happened upon the camp while the Warrior was elsewhere, she would be the next best asset. But Jullus did not assign her to the guard.
The vast majority of new bodies in camp were simply there because they had nowhere else to go. Garlemald had fallen and taken with it any trade routes that may have kept people fed, and the winter had made any sort of relief effort completely impossible. And then there was the End of Things, and there was no one left to farm, or to hunt, or to work the ceruleum wells. Those that had survived the winter picked their way downwards to the valley at the base of the mountains, and upon seeing something that resembled civilization, stayed. They were malnourished from months of travel and often ill, but Jullus took them in without a moment's hesitation. He was stretched so thin that the skin beneath his eyes was dark with exhaustion and Zero thought she could see a tremble in his hands grow subtly more prominent. Jullus had seen these people, and somehow his sleep deprived brain had thought, “Ah, yes, surely the bizarre reaper woman would be most helpful here.”
His actual words of course had been kinder.
“I’ve spoken to them, Zero. Some of them had families that couldn't travel. Some of them are from towns that the cartographer didn’t have written on his map. We need to find survivors, and we need to do so quickly. They’ll need help.”
He had given her a stack of papers, a scribe, and thirty-five people.
Thirty-five people was more than she'd spoken to in what was very likely centuries, though the years in the black tended to meld together. They were not soldiers. If there was anything at all that was true about every single one of them, it was that they were not trained men and women.
The stack of papers had been a description of their information, history, strengths, and statistics. She had spent three entirely sleepless days sorting them into groups, shuffling, and doing it again. These thirty-five (thirty-six, including her) misfits were to take advantage of the short season to reach as many remote villages as they could to offer resources, relocation, and medical supplies. Only a handful of them had any medical background at all. Some of them had only qualified to be assigned to her based on the fact that they had gotten a clean bill of health.
At least Jullus had the foresight to pull a small number of assets from the Guard, though they were few enough that she would be forced to divide them one or two to a group. She didn't like it. Relying on a single soldier to keep a group of civilians safe was a disaster waiting to happen. And so she shuffled the stack, assigned groups, moved members around, and then did it again.
“Oh seven hells,” Jullus cursed as he slid open the door to his office and took a step inside only to find Zero sitting on the floor of the pitch black room surrounded by stacks of paper. “By the Twelve, Zero. You scared the daylights out of me.”
“You need better security,” she said, having decided that she was irritated with him and that he did not deserve an explanation. “All I had to do was walk in. Not a single person made to stop me.”
“Because I told them to let you in,” he said, running a hand over his face. Instead of crossing to his desk, he picked up one of her papers and sat on the floor facing her. He flipped through it. “Well?” He asked. “Has sitting on the floor in the dark revealed any secrets?”
“Why would you tell them to let me in?”
“Because you're one of my officers now,” he said. “I trust you to help me run this place.”
“Just because people are under your command does not make them safe to trust,” she said, appalled at the very idea.
“And if I don't trust them to act on my– our– behalf, I am greatly limited in what I allow them to accomplish. It's a leap of faith, yes, but with so much that needs to be done, it's necessary. I have to trust that everyone here is loyal to the idea of keeping the people of Garlemald safe and healthy, if nothing else.”
Zero said nothing, but the expression on her face must've conveyed her thoughts perfectly.
“And,” Jullus said, “the Scions lent me a small group of spies. If you recognize the blonde man in the eyepatch, don't single him out.”
This made more sense. Zero approved of this.
“Good,” she said. “Perhaps we won't see you dead after all.”
He tried to cover a smile in the collar of his jacket and looked down at the documents in his hands.
“What are your plans?” he asked her, flipping to the next page.
Zero had decided on six groups, each with at least one defense specialist, one survivalist, a medic, combat support, and one other of any skill level. These people would be the ones to brace the mountain passes and make contact with the locals. Ishgard had lent cold weather Chocobo to help with the transportation problem and there were still some working vehicles, but not enough to go around. Most of the squads would have to make their way on foot with a single bird to haul a sled of supplies. The real problem she was facing was distribution.
If the support squads could resupply at the base of the mountains instead of traveling all the way across the plains each time, they might be able to save weeks. But with six groups of five teams, there weren't enough people to have manned distribution camps. At least not enough to be useful.
“I think I need more men,” she said, shocking herself even as she said it. Jullus raised both eyebrows.
“That's just about the last thing I thought I would hear you say.”
She unrolled a map from a tube that rested against the window. It was large enough that it spread to cover both their laps. Jullus held his end steady for her, and she pointed to four locations along the edge of the range. Each one was at an elevation above the valley but below the pass. Each one had a clear view to the other and to both Camp Broken Glass and the station.
“Depending on conditions, the journey from here,” she pointed to where they were, “to the base of the northern mountains can take up to a week. That's a week of supplies. That's a week extra of travel if they have casualties. They are more of a target for a longer distance. We need a way to reduce the travel necessary and make communication easier so that we take fewer losses.”
“So, what? You're thinking resupply points?”
She nodded. “At least three, but possibly four. One at the base of each major pass.”
“That's reasonable.” He nodded slowly. “If we keep supplies on site, they would become easy prey though.”
“I agree, but trying to predict timing for returning teams would be impossible with the weather, so there needs to be emergency rations and medical supplies on site at the very least,” Zero said, gathering speed. “Someone could coordinate runners to bring supplies the relatively short distance at a signal. There would have to be a way to talk to base even when the weather shuts down linkpearl, though. I think light signals bright enough would work, but someone will need to be there to keep watch. Ideally, the resupply points would serve a defensive purpose. If one sounds the alarm, it gives the soldiers here more time to respond to something coming over the pass. I would want two guards to each post for trading shifts. Hence why I’ve run out of people.”
Jullus seemed to have been frozen in a state of shock that only allowed movement in his eyebrows, which steadily climbed towards the ceiling. By the time she finished, he was staring at her with a gleam in his eye that conveyed the barest hint of cocky confidence.
“You give yourself much too little credit, my friend,” he said. “This is good work.”
Zero felt her stomach do something that felt a little like nausea.
“And I want to be put on one of the teams,” she said.
“Okay,” Jullus replied.
“Really?” she asked, not expecting his easy acceptance.
“That you’ve done this much for me is more than enough. And to be completely honest, I think if I try and keep you here, you might begin eating some of my personnel.”
Zero grinned at him. It was neither a confirmation nor a denial.
Her soldiers were a ragged bunch to say the absolute least. One was a boy barely old enough to grow hair on his face. Another was a woman just short of elderly. Their tank was missing most of one arm, though he claimed to be able to hold a sword just fine. They were nothing at all like soldiers she had ever known, but all that Garlemald had left to offer. In that, she supposed they were alike.
“You walk like a bull,” Majda said. She kicked Cornelius' boots. “Who told you to wear these? Was it the Captain?”
Majda had as little regard for authority as one could have, and Zero didn't bother correcting her. Madja was abrasive, but she was a frightfully competent survivalist. She had skin that had gone so far beyond tan it had become leather and spoke to many years in the unforgiving cold. The only thing about her that hadn't been hardened by a life in harsh climates was the hair kept permanently in a braid at the base of her skull. Much of what she said was completely devoid of any kind of social grace whatsoever, and Zero liked her for that. It was a relieving contrast to Cornelius and his excited chatter.
“I'll have you know,” Cornelius said, not letting the shoe discussion drop, “they're the best for combat in the snow. She said I could take them if I wanted to.”
She, of course, meaning Zero, because Cornelius had more respect for authority only if it meant he could throw the person holding it under the bus.
The old woman narrowed her eyes at Zero. “Why did you tell him he could dress like this? He is slow!”
“We don't have enough paddle shoes to go around,” Zero said with a sigh. “We just have to make up our speed with turns on the sled.”
“That means he gets to ride all the time, then?” Kazik said, glaring at Cornelius. He had the type of stink-eye that only an Elezen could manage. “Layabout.”
“Hey, it's only fair. I don't weigh as much,” Cornelius said, waving the few inches of arm he had past the shoulder. How he wielded his massive gun blade with a single hand was beyond her, but he radiated enough confidence that Zero bought it.
“You weigh twice Majda," Kazik pointed out. He was the medic, and he seemed to be local, but he had made no effort to share anything about himself, and Zero of all people wasn’t about to press.
“Trade off,” Zero snapped. Their banter had begun seconds after leaving camp, and after hours of it, she did in fact want to, as Jullus had put it, eat one of them. “Whoever rides swaps with Cornelius’ boots. He can put them on when we're getting near town.”
“This takes too long,” Majda said. “I will make him some the old way.”
Kazik raised his eyebrows. “You can do that?
“Yes. I will dry green branches over the fire tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Zero told her quietly. Majda just nodded in response without taking her eyes off of the snow.
Eventually, Corn couldn't keep up his unending stream of consciousness observations and they were too new to each other for the silence to be comfortable. The youngest, Octavian, kept looking between them like he wanted to say something, but he had yet to find the courage. Zero didn't have the patience to encourage him, but Cornelius did not have the same reservations. He sprung his ice breakers on them as soon as they'd broken camp for the night like he'd been biding his time.
“Well, I think I'd like to get to know the people I'm trusting my life to, how's about it?” Cornelius said, clapping his hand against his knee for emphasis.
The party stared blankly at him. Zero had no plans to participate in this. In her experience, the best leaders kept themselves apart from their people. Of course, that was generally in circumstances where they could get more than fifty feet from each other without becoming a safety risk.
“Uh, I'm Octavian?” Octavian said. He worried his gloves together between his hands.
“I know your name,” the big man chastised. “Give me anything about you at all!’
“I'm from the city?” Octavian tried.
“That's the most impersonal thing you could have said. Tell me something fun, kid.”
“I don't know what you want me to say!”
“I have seen all of your files,” Zero added. “Assuming the information is accurate, I believe I know all of you well enough.”
Cornelius turned to her with a performative glare. His blue eyes and dark lashes gave him the effect of looking more pouty than angry. “Has anyone told you that you're a downer? Come on. We never saw any files. Play along.”
Zero raised her hands in the air in a show of acquiescence. “Fine,” she sighed.
“Alright!” He whooped, and clapped her on the shoulder. “So I made this game up on the road–I thought it would be a good way to get to know each other better.”
“I'll play,” Octavian said, so earnest that it made Zero feel a little guilty.
“Excellent choice.” Cornelius beamed at the young man, who blushed at the attention. He had the sort of complexion that made him blush at just about everything. “The way it goes is as follows: we each take turns. I'll start. I'm going to say two things that are facts about myself and one thing that I made up. The rest of you have to guess which one is which.”
“You did not invent this, you asshole,” Kazik said.
“Didn't I? Well we're too far in to stop now. Three things, let's see…” Cornelius sat up straighter like he was in front of a podium. He flicked up one finger for each ‘fact’ about himself.
“I've never done magic,” he started. “I have a cousin also named Cornelius. When I was seventeen, I got burned so bad they had to take off two of my fingers.”
“You're Garlean,” Madja said. “You can't do magic.”
“That's a truth!” He said, pointing at her in victory. “A freebie, but still.”
“You do not have a cousin also named Cornelius,” Kazik said, scornful.
“Is that your final answer?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” the healer said, his voice flat.
“My aunt never forgave my dad for it. Family dinners were really something,” Cornelius said gravely.
Zero snorted at the horrified look on Kazik's face just as Octavian broke down and cackled into his gloves. Cornelius grinned like he'd been victorious, and Majda eyed him for a moment before nodding her approval. Something warm was rising beneath Zero's breastbone and it simmered pleasantly.