Caineghis was missing.

If Giffca wanted to account for every possibility, there might be someone out there who knew of Caineghis’s current location… however, he certainly wasn’t one of them, so as far as he was concerned the king of Gallia was missing.

It had been a week since they had returned from the Tower of Guidance following Ashera’s defeat and—while it wasn’t entirely new behavior—it seemed like Caineghis vanished into thin air the moment he no longer had any immediate obligations. That week, as it so happened, was also the exact amount of time that Giffca was willing to give Caineghis to stop his disappearing act before he would start hunting him down, so he now had a job to do.

After asking around and comparing his own observations, Giffca arrived at three facts.

Firstly, Caineghis had not been seen leaving or entering the castle during these absences.

Secondly, Caineghis had not been seen within the castle during these absences.

Finally, and quite thankfully, these absences never got in the way of anything Caineghis was genuinely needed for.

The first and third points pointed towards Caineghis remaining within Castle Gallia, but the second was a bit harder to explain. Caineghis was far from a master of stealth and concealment, so he had to have been somewhere people wouldn’t go, but still somewhere close enough to the throne room where he would be able to easily return when he was needed…

Ah.

Of course.

How could Giffca have forgotten?

He was up on the roof, like usual.

Caineghis had a garden up on the roof of the throne room, and, while it wasn’t exactly a secret, Giffca was the only other person who would dare to go up there.

With a sigh, he went off to find the ladder he used to reach the roof, as, unlike Caineghis, he did not have the luxury of being able to transform at will and jump great heights whenever he felt like it.

The ascent was much easier than when he had to climb up by hand, and in a few short moments he had arrived at his destination.

The first time Giffca had been up here had been nearly a century ago, during a particularly intense dispute they had about how Gallia should’ve been run. After a heated exchange, they reached a tentative understanding that would go on to form the basis of their current relationship and Giffca walked away having learned two additional things about Caineghis.

Firstly, Giffca learned that gardening was the hobby Caineghis had chosen to dedicate his free time to, as well as his main reprieve from his duties as king of Gallia.

Secondly, he learned that Caineghis was fond of using the symbolic meanings of flowers to express feelings or ideas that he found difficult to put into words. It came off as an activity that was akin to journaling, though occasionally Giffca was encouraged to interpret the current layout of the garden. This led to some headaches for Giffca, as the meanings were often both vague and abstract and he suspected that on some level Caineghis enjoyed making it difficult to get an actual answer out of him.

Combined, these two facts formed the basis for a little game that would pop up every few years, though it had been a considerably longer since the last time he was up here.

Whenever Caineghis had something he wanted to say to Giffca and it was neither something urgent nor something he was especially interested in saying outright, he would theme his garden around that idea and lure Giffca to the roof to guess what was on his mind.

That would be why Giffca was incredibly unsurprised to find Caineghis waiting for him, having set up two chairs and a table with some refreshments in an arrangement that resembled a tea party without any tea.

That was also why Giffca was equally surprised to find that that instead of planting flower beds or flower bushes, Caineghis had chosen to plant several trees on the roof. In fact, the only flowers in sight were two pink flowers in a small, subdued vase on the table.

The trees were clearly meant to be the main event, though, and they were far from the kind of plant one might expect to be included in archaic Begnion courtship rituals. Would they even have a meaning? Or was Caineghis just making things up again?

“Trees?” Giffca asked.

“Trees,” Caineghis repeated, nodding sagely, “You should take a seat.”

Giffca eyed the spread on the table as he approached and sat down. Sitting beside the vase was an assortment of small finger sandwiches, a basket of clementines with a knife to peel them, and a nice selection of liquor—including some of the most excessively expensive bottles from Caineghis’s private collection.

It seemed like today was a special occasion.

“Did you make these?” Giffca said, picking up one of the sandwiches and inspecting the ingredients. This one was roast beef and horseradish, a combination he was quite fond of.

“Of course.”

Caineghis was blatantly trying to appeal to his tastes and, at least for now, Giffca was all too happy to oblige.

“You’ve gotten better,” he said after finishing his first sandwich.

“We both know I had plenty of time on my hands while I was stuck in the castle during the war.”

Giffca glanced at the trees surrounding them. They were evergreens of some kind, but, being less horticulturally-inclined than Gallia’s king, he couldn’t identify them any further. They reached up to around his shoulders when was standing, but the proportions were awkward and almost …adolescent.

It felt silly to think of trees in those terms, but… they were not quite young, but not quite grown, either. The trees were not quite unpleasant to look at, but, especially when compared to the red and white rose bushes that were here last time Giffca visited the roof, they didn’t leave behind a particularly favorable impression either.

“On the other hand, I am not quite as sure about your sense of aesthetics.”

Caineghis looked away and let out a long, forlorn sigh.

“The plan was for me to do this next spring, but…”

He chuckled.

“I suppose it would be unbecoming of me to complain about the war ending a bit quicker than anyone could’ve expected.”

Giffca poured himself a glass of his preferred drink—a nice Crimean single-malt Usquebaugh from 447—and then set the glass back down. Under ideal circumstances he would’ve immediately sampled its exceptionally nuanced flavor profile, but there was a more pressing matter to attend to.

He watched the liquid grow still as he thought about what Caineghis could be alluding to. Something that had to wait until the end of the war, but couldn’t wait until later…

Wait.

He looked back at Caineghis.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve yet to give me the hint I usually receive.”

“Oh, no guessing games today, Giffca…”

Caineghis smiled bitterly and took a sip of his own beverage.

The melancholy in his voice couldn’t be explained solely through him having lost the chance to get up to his usual antics…

Caineghis swirled his drink around in the glass, watching it spin round and round as Giffca waited for him to continue.

“…I just thought it would be nice for us to come up here one last time.”

“Ah,” Giffca whispered, realizing instantly what Caineghis had set all this up for.

“…I think it’s time, Giffca.”

Giffca took a drink as he waited for Caineghis to elaborate. The game… the ritual of the gardening, the ritual of luring Giffca up here, the ritual of the puzzles and the solutions was important to Caineghis… and Giffca shouldn’t rob him of that.

Especially if this was going to be the last time.

Caineghis put down his glass and cupped his hands together, resting them on the table.

“I think—”

He stopped, choking on his own words.

“I think it is time for us to step down,” he said, wincing.

Because, even if there were still factions that opposed him, Skrimir had received the recognition he had needed to become king.

Because, even if Skrimir could be more ready for the position, every other country came out of the war in a worse position than Gallia and doing this while they were all busy cleaning up their own messes was far safer than waiting.

Because, unlike Gallia’s previous transfer of power, Caineghis and Giffca still would be around for quite some time to assist the new king as he grew into his position.

Giffca didn’t have to ask why. The subject had been discussed frequently over the past decade, and the only question remaining had been of when to do it; even if that hadn’t been the case, their relationship was built upon a century of history and the recent developments had done nothing to shake their understanding of each other.

Giffca suspected that the century spent together was the exact reason why this wasn’t such a simple decision.

He reached out and rested a hand atop Caineghis’s.

For better and sometimes for worse, they had been stuck in this job for a long time. Even if every question about Skrimir’s suitability and Gallia’s future were answered, they could never change the fact that it would be a massive change. They were walking away from the life they had lived for what felt like an eternity; how could that not be scary? How could that be anything but terrifying?

But it wasn’t as if they were alone. Caineghis had sought Giffca out long ago, shortly after being crowned, desperately needing someone he could trust and confide in, and though they had their fair share of arguments, disputes, and physical altercations along the way, in the end everything had worked out. Somehow. And it would work out once again.

Giffca rotated that thought around for a moment, examining it further and letting it sink in.

They really were at the end, weren’t they?

If he was honest, he could’ve been happy with the current situation lasting forever, but… while it may be the last time they did this, it had been an honor to serve his king in this way and for this long.

It had been an honor to support Caineghis like this…

…

…But, at the moment it seemed like Caineghis needed Giffca to provide a different kind of support.

Several minutes had passed and Caineghis was still not opening up any further. Physical contact was occasionally effective at getting him to stop holding things in, but it evidently wasn’t working this time.

Using his free hand, Giffca picked up a sandwich and brought it to Caineghis’s mouth.

“Hm?” Caineghis made a vague questioning noise.

“You will feel better if you eat.”

“I—”

Caineghis foolishly went to say something, creating a vulnerability Giffca could exploit to get the sandwich into the king and muffle whatever protests he was making. He quickly retracted his hand out of biting range, leaving Caineghis to glare at him as he begrudgingly ate the sandwich.

“You are, somehow, more of a menace than I ever could be,” he grumbled once he was finished, “I have no idea why nobody else sees it.”

“Did the sandwich help?”

“No, not at all.”

He was speaking now, though, so as far as Giffca was concerned it had done its job.

“So,” Giffca said.

“So,” Caineghis echoed, still a bit mad.

“To confirm, why now and not next spring?”

Caineghis had to pause to gather his thoughts, but not for long.

“Skrimir does not know how to be a king. He will learn by doing, and he will not be able to learn by doing without doing, so he must become king first. There are several factors we need to consider when it comes to deciding the exact timing, but since we can expect most people in Gallia to have its best interests at heart, we can ignore them for now and worry about everyone else.”

Giffca nodded and helped himself to a second sandwich.

“Everyone will need to take some time to recover from the war, but we’re in a relatively favorable position compared to our enemies. Crimea and Phoenicis also fared rather well, and… while Kilvas and Goldoa will be undergoing changes in the near future and we cannot simply assume they will be in our favor, it should take some time for the effects of those changes to reach us.”

Caineghis paused.

“We have every reason to do this as soon as we can. Skrimir has made his presence known both in Gallia and abroad, and we won’t be bothered by other countries for a while, so now is the best time to put him into a position where he’ll get hands-on experience navigating a world where he needs to cooperate with elder statesmen—”

“—older retainers—” Giffca continued.

“—and, of course, ministers,” they concluded in sync.

They both took a sip of their beverages.

“He’ll hate having to work with them,” Giffca mused, “Though I suppose that’s the fate of every Gallian monarch.”

Caineghis rolled his eyes.

“…Do you think he’s ready?”

“He has shown me that he is able and willing to grow. I am not without worries, but… we will be there to guide him. The start will for certain be rough, but I trust that everything will be okay in the end.”

Caineghis took another sip and sighed.

“I suppose that’s that, then? We’ll proceed with the succession?”

“If there’s nothing else that you think needs to be discussed. I—”

Giffca paused.

“You’re certain you won’t explain your choice in plants this time?”

“I won’t,” Caineghis shrugged with a sly smile, “It’s not like I’ve suddenly denied you access to my private library; you know exactly where to find the answers.”

“I do, and I also know that your guidebooks aren’t illustrated. A name or two would be much appreciated.”

Caineghis’s smile faded slightly as he considered being less difficult.

“I suppose you’ve earned one or two acts of mercy after all these years of service.”

He picked up the paring knife and started to peel the clementines.

“The trees are arborvitae, which…” Caineghis looked away from the clementine he was peeling and towards the trees, stressing Giffca out immensely, “I’ll probably have to replant them somewhere else soon. They need a lot more soil than I expected, and I won’t have access to this roof forever either. Something to think about when we’re looking for where we might live next.

“The flowers,” Caineghis gestured toward the vase with the knife, “are meadow saffron. I had originally planned to plant more of them, but… they are highly toxic to beast laguz, and I didn’t want any unfortunate accidents to happen right at the end of my time here.

“And the clementines…” Caineghis handed Giffca the first peeled fruit and started on a second, “I would’ve planted a tree if I had time, but… we’ve already talked about that already, haven’t we?”

Giffca nodded.

“…I’ll explain these, actually,” Caineghis said, holding up the half-peeled fruit in his hand for a moment.

“Oh?”

“You’ll understand why I didn’t want to dwell on the others when you look them up, but clementines—or rather, their trees—represent new beginnings.”

“It’s fitting.”

“Mhm.”

Caineghis finished peeling his clementine and held it up towards Giffca.

“To new beginnings?”

He was… initiating a toast with a fruit.

It was the most inconsequential aspect of the tradition, and Giffca had long since learned to not stress over small things that didn’t matter, but he couldn’t help but note that Caineghis’s reign began with irreverence, and it seemed that it was going to end with it too.

“To new beginnings,” Giffca concurred with a smile.

Afterword

(hover over bold text for more info)

This was written for Talking Flowers, a flower language-themed FE zine hosted by IZS. The flowers I chose to use were arborvitae (which means “old age”), meadow saffron (which means “my best days are past”), and clementine trees (which mean “new beginnings”).

In Telllius Recollection, the thing Caineghis that ‘finds important’ is “ガリアの地”, which the fan translation translates as “Gallian soil”. In the years that have passed since I learned this information it has gradually become something that I think might be a very slight mistranslation, my initial understanding of it was quite literal and somewhat informed by him also having an Earth affinity: Caineghis loves dirt. Which struck me as a bit odd, since… he doesn’t really seem to be someone who would have particularly strong feelings about dirt? Brom, for instance, would probably have opinions about different soil types as a farmer, right? But why would Caineghis, as a king? There’s nothing stopping Caineghis from having been a farmer (or something similar) before he was elected, but Gallia is mostly forest and does not appear to rely on a lot of agriculture. So why would he like dirt?

There was a piece of fanfiction that I had read around that time where Caineghis has a conversation with Meg in the Tower of Guidance, and my thought process went something like… Caineghis talks to Meg during RD => they stay in touch after the game ends through letters or whatever => Meg sometimes talks about farming => Caineghis has a lot of free time after he retires => influenced by Meg, he tries out and takes up gardening. Which… is probably not the conclusion IntSys expected anyone to come to, but when has that stopped me?

This all happened the better part of a decade ago and my vision of Caineghis as a character (and my understanding of the kanji ‘地’ :P) has evolved quite a bit, but it’s always been a little piece of trivia that I’ve had attached to him in some way. That finally brings me to talking about this piece… or, rather, the previous iteration of it.

Relatively early in this piece Giffca makes reference to the first time he had gone up to the roof. That was what this piece was initially about, though I had some concerns about it because 1) they are not really recognizable as characters to anyone but me because they’re like… 18ish (‘mentally’/in beorc years) at the time and 2) because it’s taking place around a century ago in a country that isn’t explored in depth, the setting would also be completely unrecognizable to anyone but me. The classic ‘this is basically an OC at this point’ problem, y’know? It was apparently possible to follow, but I decided to write something else because I felt that it would be better if it wasn’t being submitted to a zine, since there are restrictions with the amount of context that can be provided in something with a limited wordcount that must be standalone and that piece really wanted a lot more context than I would’ve been able to give it. Also, it was decently intense, which… uhhhhhhh……… I wasn’t really sure was a great fit for this theme?

Putting aside the path I took to get here, this piece was otherwise pretty standard… which was the whole point of submitting this instead of the previous version, I suppose. I like writing Caineghis, I like writing Giffca, etcetera, etcetera.

The beverage that Giffca drinks (a ‘Crimean single-malt Usquebaugh’) is a …’Tellius-ized’ version of what we in the real world would call Scotch whisky. I almost called it a ‘Crimean single-malt whisky’, but the etymology of whisky caught my eye: whisky comes from usque, which is an abbreviation of usquebaugh, which comes from the Scottish Gaelic word uisge-beatha, which is a calque of the Latin word aqua vitae. I had considered that drink because, while I personally don’t drink, my parents both did and they both liked a specific brand of Scotch, but what sealed the deal was the fact that whisky is ultimately derived from aqua vitae, which shares a root with arborvitae (the tree this piece centers around. Usquebaugh is, while still an English word, a bit more obscure than ‘whiskey’, and I thought that might push someone reading the zine to look up what it means, see the etymology, and go “Ohhhhhh, I get it!”

Hope you enjoyed this. It was nice to write Giffca and Caineghis again and I plan to come back to them (eventually (I swear (for real this time))), since I already have a place in mind where I’ll be able to revisit the previous version of this.