Tale of Moon and Sun

The crowd stared down to the courthouse floor in utter disbelief and hesitant reverence. Braska felt his body go numb from astonishment, and was hardly present in his mind as the royal guard picked their king up and got him on his feet again.

Shiimoa and Auron circled Baralai’s captive area protectively, casting solemn eyes at the crowd. Shiimoa leaned into the circle and helped Baralai to his feet. The young man gasped and gaped at his serpentine benefactor who loomed over him.

“It is all right, Baralai,” said Shiimoa quietly, stroking through the youth’s snowy white hair. “We could not let you do this alone.”

Auron slithered across the courthouse floor with a sour expression set into his chiseled features. “Braska, why would you let injustice and lies prevail in a courthouse under my name?”

The king was pushed forward by his guards, stammering to find himself. “I-My-my-lord… I-I…” but nothing came out. Auron gave a deep “Hnh” of disapproval, circling back to Baralai and Shiimoa.

“This man pleads guilty, and you mortals would see a grave injustice done. Baralai has lied to you. He did not kill Lady Yuna,” spoke the great crimson naga, his voice shaking the courthouse with his anger. Someone found his voice and cried out: “Then who did?”

Shiimoa was the one to reply to this, cooling the room with a raised hand. He moved slowly, as the egg inside his body was preparing to be birthed. “We do not know. But this young man has been marked by us, and we watch him at all times. He…” Shiimoa looked at Gippal, who stood with his family, a pained expression on his face. If Shiimoa’s testimony revealed their love affair before Bevelle was truly ready to accept it, it would still mean scandal. “He was not anywhere near Lady Yuna during the Eclipse Celebration. In fact, he was one of the last people to see her alive, I promise you that.”

The citizens in that courthouse all looked to one another in shock. Surely not the gods, nor their avatars would lie, would they? No, Baralai had proved deserving of their favor, and Shiimoa’s words made everyone think about what Baralai had done for Bevelle’s sake.

Auron picked up on this train of thought and continued the momentum. “Baralai has already sworn to us that he wishes for Bevelle’s prosperity, not its downfall. I, for one, believe him to be true. Stop this travesty of justice immediately.”

Braska finally found his voice and spoke up, his words causing all to go deathly still. “But our laws are absolute, Lord Auron. If he has plead guilty, then he must face punishment, true or false.” The look on Braska’s face made him wish he had not said a thing, but it was true, and Auron dictated the word of the law.

The red python showed his disapproval of this fact, but as The Proponent of Law, he could not argue it. Auron closed his good eye and lowered his head slightly, defeated by his own system.

“If someone is to be punished, I will take Baralai’s place.”

All eyes turned to the cobra naga, who stood proudly with his decision. Shiimoa looked at Braska directly, who shook his head.

“Lord Shiimoa, I cannot-”

“Do you want to know who killed your daughter?” asked Shiimoa, a bit annoyed that Braska would try to argue with the Avatar of Winter.

Braska nodded. “Yes, but why?”

Shiimoa let Baralai go, in spite of the jeweler clinging to the great snake’s tunic and begging for Shiimoa to change his mind with his eyes. “I want to know who killed her as well. All of Spira wants to know. I believe that Baralai may be able to find out who. And I know the law demands punishment for those who plead guilty. I have not been Auron‘s lover so long as to forget that.”

The people of Bevelle quietly began discussing this among themselves, wondering what Braska would do. Auron slithered to his beloved husband and quietly tried to argue with him. “Do you know what will happen to you if Braska agrees to this?”

Shiimoa nodded firmly. “I do. I know your laws well enough to know that a king is allowed to make such a decision as he sees fit. I am stronger than you credit me, dear Auron.”

“Shiimoa, please -”

“Auron. Don’t.” Shiimoa cupped his husband’s face with one hand, smiling in confidence of the situation. “I will be all right.”

Braska interrupted their fight after a long mental deliberation with himself. Truly, this was more of an opportunity than he ever expected to have, and the grieving king did not want to see Baralai die, not now.

“I accept your offering, Lord Shiimoa. And I appreciate it. The sentence will be life-long imprisonment until Baralai has completed his investigation. Baralai, your sentence is to seek out my daughter’s killer and bring them to justice.”

Baralai stood in shock of what transgressed before his eyes. Moments ago, he was doomed to death and now he was to seek out Yuna’s killer? The young man tried to interject, but found his tongue working against him and keeping him quiet, even when the shackles were finally removed from his hands and he was let free. Gippal climbed across the courthouse bleachers, making his way to the gabbatha and sprinting down the stairs as the people began a loud and confused chatter about what just occurred.

The nagas, Baralai, Braska and the guards who had escorted the prisoner in began departing from the courthouse, followed by Maechen and the others in the Al Bhed royal family who took a conventional method of leaving. Gippal tracked after the caravan of people heading for Braska’s throne room, calling out to Baralai, though it became futile when the halls began to fill with the thunderous sounds of dozens of Bevellians leaving the bleacher floors. In fact, Gippal did not even get close to Baralai again until they reached Braska’s throne room, followed shortly after by his family.

“Baralai!” gasped the single-eyed royal, grabbing and hugging said jeweler with an embrace that should have crushed him. “Don’t ever… what were you… Dear gods, don’t ever get yourself into trouble again!” said Gippal finally, dotting Baralai’s face with relieved kisses.

Shiimoa chuckled as he leaned against his own lover gently, the weight of his egg wearing out the centuries-old naga. “You two are true lovers,” cooed the azure serpent before Braska called everyone to attention.

Seated in his throne, Braska took a deep breath before making his announcement to those present. “All right, my sentence has been given, but I am not ready to see it carried out. All this has been too much for me these past weeks. I need a moment to steady myself before I see this carried out.”

As Braska finished, Zanarkand’s second son appeared in the throne room with his entourage, pushing through everyone to get to Baralai. When Prince Tidus stopped before the jeweler, the short blonde gave Baralai a scrutinizing look before taking both of his hands.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find Yuna’s killer, Baralai?” asked the prince, breaking the silence.

Baralai took a deep breath and responded truthfully. “Honestly, I am not sure, but if Lord Shiimoa has this much confidence that I can, then I will certainly do everything in my power to try.”

Tidus nodded gratefully and revealed the rest of his reason for being there. “Then, if you think you can, I wish to help you. Come to Zanarkand when I leave Bevelle. I believe the Oracle of Lunaris and his Priestesses can help you with this investigation.”

Baralai nodded, giving the prince the first warm smile he had been able to muster in two weeks. “Thank you very much, your Majesty. I will accompany you to Zanarkand if you so wish it.”

Gippal nodded hastily and threw himself into the lot. “Yeah, me too. I’m not letting Baralai out of my sight again.”

Braska was the first to give up a hearty chuckle. “Very well… I may as well leave this court to the children… Everyone else wants to make my decisions for me…” he laughed, a bit too enthusiastically to be real. In reality, this whole turn of affairs sat in the bottom of Braska’s stomach. Now he had to stay in waiting, wondering who the killer was and eagerly waiting Baralai’s return - if he managed to return at all.

Eventually, the investigating party blossomed from two people two several, as Kimahri volunteered to go on this quest to not only find Yuna’s killer, but also to act as he had before - a bodyguard, but now he was going to guard Baralai - and keep him on his adventure. Aside from Gippal and the Ronso, the guards Yaibal and Clasko were assigned to the task of maintaining the investigating party’s well-being also.

Once the party was assembled, it drew time to carry out Shiimoa’s part of the sentence, something the King of Bevelle dreaded doing to the Avatar of Winter. However, Shiimoa seemed ready to accept his imprisonment, and allowed the guards to close in with their weapons with one exception. As a spearman approached, Shiimoa tilted the young man’s weapon skyward and away from his bulging abdomen.

“Careful where you point that. I am the prisoner, not my child,” commanded the cobra, giving the guard a look that spoke that he would only receive that one warning.

Braska stepped from his throne up to the great blue snake and bowed before him. “My Lord, you know that you do not have to do this to yourself, not if you are with child. I can repeal my-”

“-No. I am allowing this as a collateral offering. Your entire country will know of this by tomorrow, and as a ruler, it would make you look weak to let someone ‘go.’ Taking me prisoner may keep your people from rebelling if they know that a servant of the Gods is captive within your palace.” Shiimoa’s voice still carried its confidence from earlier, as if the serpent knew everything would go well. Of course, Auron had his own fears and doubts, but knew he could not sway Shiimoa once his mind was set. The red naga was sullen as his lover was led ever lower into the castle’s dungeons, even though an offering of guest accommodations had been made and refused by the azure cobra.

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Three days of preparations went by with a choking tension hanging in the air. Prince Tidus’ ship was prepared for the voyage back to Zanarkand with the accompanying guests of the Prince’s invitation. As per Braska’s orders, the investigation group had been given a large amount of supplies to start their quest, as well as a decent sum of money for additional supplies once they reached their destination.

Crossing the ocean was a two week journey faced with minimal difficulty, but great unease among Tidus’ guests. With Yuna’s death and the uncertainty of the mission they faced, hardly anyone spoke to each other. Even Baralai isolated himself from his lover for the first week of the journey, only staying close long enough to share bed space as the Al Bhed slept fitfully.

Arriving in Zanarkand was another matter entirely. Prince Tidus was warmly welcomed home, with curiosities piqued about what had taken so long. As the Prince explained to his brother and sister the situation, the travelers from Bevelle were welcomed into the Zanarkand Palace with open arms.

Once all had disembarked from Tidus’ ship, and their supplies handled by a crew to be loaded onto a new ship provided by Emperor Shuyin’s navy, Baralai, Gippal, and the other party members were immediately ushered to the Temple of Lunaris as Tidus had suggested.

Entering the building appeared more like walking through a giant black mirror as the group was brought to the temple of the moon god. The cadet guard, Clasko, had to be dragged along by his partner Yaibal as they approached the enormous cathedral, the former of the two having stopped to marvel at the building and it’s observatory.

“Welcome, guests, to the Temple of Lunaris,” came a rather buoyant and jovial male voice. A stocky, red haired man of perhaps middle age, swathed in heavy white robes, approached the visitors, introducing himself with a smile that seemed to not waiver as he spoke. Upon spotting Tidus with the group, the man parted the guests to gently shake and kiss the hand of the young Prince before addressing anyone else. “And many welcomes again to you, Your Majesty. Ah, all right guests, my name is O’aka the 23rd, bishop to this temple. But you may all call me just ‘O’aka.’ Wouldn’t hear it any other way.”

Baralai chuckled as Gippal nudged his lover with his elbow. “Who is this guy?” whispered the Al Bhed, immediately being reintroduced to the bishop with a snappier tone of voice.

“O’aka the 23rd, and don’t you forget it, young man. Who might you be?”

Gippal crossed his arms over his chest and grinned before answering. “Prince Gippal, second born son to Shiido, Sultan of the Al Bhed Dynasty.”

O’aka immediately bowed and offered many apologies and kisses to Gippal’s hand, his attitude changing drastically. This earned light laughter from all involved, as well as a gently returned nudge on Baralai’s part. “Gippal, stop acting so royal,” hissed the white haired youth between giggles.

“My apologies, M’lord, I didn’t recognize you at first. Then…” O’aka turned to Baralai with another warm grin. “Then you must be Baralai.”

The jeweler balked at offering his hand to O‘aka‘s, the bishop snatching Baralai’s hand and giving it a kiss and many rapid shakes. “You’re the one we’ve heard of, the boy blessed by the Naga. I’m sorry to hear of what happened to you, sir, and you as well, Prince Gippal-”

The Al Bhed prince cut O’aka off with a raised hand. “Look, we’re here to see the oracle or whatever. You can kiss our butts later, all right?”

The bishop’s smile faded only slightly at Gippal’s statement before he perked right up again. “Very well, follow O’aka. High Priest Nooj’s chamber is this way,” he said merrily, leading the party deeper into the lunar temple. After a long walk through halls of highly polished black marble, the party came to a room with a high ceiling that opened up to the observatory style roof that Clasko had been admiring earlier. Now, the young guard vocalized his astonishment.

“Whoa, this room is huge!” exclaimed Clasko, craning his neck as far as it could go. The only person who seemed unimpressed was Kimahri, perhaps because the Ronso did not care for show, and seemed to be all business.

O’aka gestured for everyone to quiet as the group began to murmur among themselves, marveling at the walls’ polished appearance, reflecting them all around the octagonal room. In the dead center of the room was a tall marble obelisk with a figured seated upon it. At first appearance, it seemed to be a statue of a young man, but as the Bevelle party watched, they could see his chest rise and fall in very deep breaths. The man sat straight up atop the large pillar, seated delicately on a large silken pillow. In his lap sat a polished stone ball composed entirely of clear quartz rock, approximately the size of a human skull. The man’s eyes were closed, but he sat facing a large mirror constructed of a thin sheet of a highly reflective volcanic glass that stood at the apex of another pillar of the polished marble. The man’s hands rested on his folded legs, his wrists at his knees, palms open skyward. From what they could see, he had a long trail of hair that disappeared behind him and the pillar, and was dressed in black silk pants. Light from windows cut into the ceiling was reflected by the walls as well as many hanging mirrors of precious silver, pouring cool white light over the seated priest.

O’aka let them take the High Priest in before announcing in a jovial, yet quieter tone, “This is Meyvn Nooj, our High Priest and the Oracle of Lunaris.”

“He’s so young,” observed Baralai quietly, breaking from the group to have a closer look. “He can’t be that much older than myself.” As Baralai took all of Nooj in, he noted that a heavy, crescent-shaped torque of pure silver hung about his neck, as well as other lunar-themed pieces of jewelry that resided on his fingers, wrists, ears, even his toes as Baralai realized that, aside from several small rings, Nooj was otherwise barefoot.

Gippal stepped up behind his lover, nodding his impression of the High Priest. “Yep… that’s him. Ow!”

Baralai lightly backhanded the Al Bhed’s chest, shooting the blonde a “be nice” look. “He must be meditating.”

O’aka came up behind the couple, taking each of them by the shoulder in an attempt to lead them away from Nooj. “He is in meditation, and we shouldn’t disrupt his thoughts by lingering too much longer. Come along, I’m sure you’ll be wanting to meet with his priestesses. I guarantee they are a bit more… accessible.”

Baralai nodded and cast another look at Nooj as the jeweler was pulled away. “O’aka, how high is that pillar he sits on?”

“Hm? Oh, I think I remember the designs marking it at about twenty, twenty two cubits, maybe. I’m not entirely sure… we haven’t really needed a new one or anything…” replied the bishop as he ushered everyone out of the room.

“Twenty plus cubits? How does he get down? That thing is as smooth as glass. Don’t tell me he can fly,” said Gippal rather pointedly, earning a small chuckle from Tidus of all people.

O’aka’s smile did not fade, but his tone sounded a bit irritated at the Al Bhed’s bluntness and seeming disrespect for their religion. “Well, High Priest Nooj is kept aloft to be closer to our god, y’see, and in order to maintain pure visions, we keep him from making too much contact with others. To answer your question, no, he cannot fly, but we have a special ladder that we clean every day that he uses when he has his meals, his baths or when he performs his most holy duties. Otherwise, he stays on that pillar much of the time and the priestesses do a lot of the basic work, such as masses, Sabbaths, weddings… y’know, the usual things that Meyvn Nooj can’t afford to be bothered with.”

Clasko was the one to interject with his own curiosity this time. “So, how exactly does he stay pure? I mean, he’s gotta do normal things, like relieve himself and, well, sleep.”

O’aka spun around on the rookie guard, his face struggling to maintain a smile. “Look, yes, he does normal things that humans do, but he does not sleep. He maintains himself through deep meditation. If y’noticed the smell in there, there are many burners of incense that keep his mind open to the world us mundane folk cannot ever hope to reach.”

Clasko shrunk back as O’aka leaned over him with explanations. Yaibal nudged his companion roughly, indicating that he should ‘knock it off,’ and just keep quiet. The bishop turned to the rest of the group and put his hands on his broad sides, looking them over with more than exasperation in his eyes.

“Any more questions?!”

Baralai raised his hand sheepishly. “Yes… does he ever come in contact with anyone?”

“No. As tradition dictates, he cannot come in contact with ordinary people. If he were to, it could spoil his visions and he would have to face three months of purification rituals to get him back on track. And, before anyone asks, when he walks through the temple, he walks on silk sheets blessed by the priestesses, his food is all blessed by the priestesses as well as himself before he dines and he has his own private bathhouse supplied by water from our holy river. And it’s all blessed before his use. His attendants wrap their hands in silks before they dry him and as they brush his hair. The priestesses’ threefold blessings are just as potent as a single blessing granted by Nooj himself, so that’s what all the blessing’s for. Now, anything else?”

Baralai looked to the rest of the group, and the other youngsters and Kimahri exchanged glances. Eventually everyone shook their heads ‘no,’ and the tour continued on. Baralai walked a little slower, falling behind the party as they were lead across the temple to the priestesses’ chambers. Gippal fell out of step to keep up with his lover.

“What’s up, Baralai? You’re thinking about that Nooj, aren’t you?”

Baralai nodded, his hands folded before himself as his thoughts wandered back to the large observatory chamber. “Am I that obvious? Of course I am. He’s our age, and he never has contact with anyone? Imagine never being able to touch anyone? Having to go through all sorts of rituals just to take a bath?”

“Sounds kinda nice.”

“Gippal, I’m serious. I feel bad for him… he’s a caged bird and he doesn’t even know it…”

The Al Bhed prince stopped Baralai and took him by his shoulders. “Baralai, look, I know you put your heart out for anyone you think deserves it, but keep in mind, this is their whack-job religion.”

Baralai chuckled softly and continued walking. “I know, but that seems a bit extreme.”

Gippal laughed and draped an arm across Baralai’s shoulders. “This coming from a guy who dressed like my cousin in order to fool a couple giant naga.”