Once in the courtyard of the tower, the gate shuts behind us and the party is attacked by some sort of gray-brown smear on the floor. At least, that’s what it was after the battle; I didn’t get a very good look at it beforehand, and it’s existence had no bearing on anything. I do have to ask: are we not officially ‘in’ with the Occuria at this point? If Ashe and her cronies all get eaten by a giant tortoise on the way up the Pharos, what’s the Occuria’s backup plan? Do they have any other fallen heirs of the Dynast-King to half-manipulate into preventing their traitor from assuming absolute power over Ivalician affairs? Sure, they need some way to verify it’s us climbing the Pharos and not some very lucky shipwrecked Seeq, but the door to the Pharos’ interior doesn’t even open until the Dynast-King’s heir stands in front of it, so you’d think that would be a system they could rely upon.
Fran neglects to mention how she knows the age of the message. I mean, everyone should already know because all the structures on the island are clearly ancient, but maybe radiocarbon dating is yet another unadvertised feature of the viera olfactory facilities.
Standing before the entrance, the party stops to examine a message carved into the wall. Fran says it looks very old before reading it, but it seems the last 1,100 years has done little indeed to change the written word of Ivalice, because the grammar, spelling and diction are all indistinguishable from the party’s own. That’s lucky; if I found a note written by King Arthur in 1100 AD’s Middle English, I’d be pretty well fucked.The message is actually written in English, merely with a stylized font. The words with double letters stand out easily, in particular the signature, “In Blood, Raithwall.” Check the double-L by Fran’s elbow in the image above. The Galteans make the Al Bhed look like expert cryptographers.
The note starts off, and I’m paraphrasing here, “This tower is tall.” Eureka. Then it sermonizes for a bit: “He without power, want it not; He with power, trust it not; He with sight, heed it not. Rend illusion; cut the true path.” Ashe is content to space out and pick her nose until Fran reads that it was signed by Raithwall himself. Wait, so Raithwall thought the whole, “Hey we’re the gods, we’ll give you nukes since you’re fucking aces in our book,” deal was sort of sketchy, too? And he still went on to found a four-hundred-year golden age followed by seven hundred more years of relative peace that we’re only now just shitting up? Let’s never take that into consideration, okay, Ashe? Awesome, you’re the best.
Continue reading ⟩⟩ “A Travelog of Ivalice, Part 14: To the Peak”
The Rocketeer —PLEASE—STAND—BY—
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