| [Every now and then, Francel thinks that the Heavens' Ward saved his life. Other times, he thinks that's only his own conceit.
It's not as though they're an internationally renowned, world-touring, chart-topping band, of course. The Heavens' Ward is something of a mini-orchestra — a group of twelve fine Ishgardian men who play classical music throughout Eorzea. Sometimes they play in quartets, or in trios; other times, all twelve perform in a full ensemble. They are popular enough to sell out concerts and have millions of subscribers — four or five might even be charitably described as having fangirls — but they're not so popular that they dance eternally in the public eye. Being an unparalleled cellist in today's day and age will never be quite as demanding as being a teenage idol or a pop star in leather pants, after all.
The Heavens' Ward has just finished a performance — one which was slightly more well-attended on account of the fact that the planned setlist included covers of some very popular songs, one of which was featured in a recent blockbuster hit at the movie's climax — and now it's time for the fan meet-and-greet. Members of the Ward will spend some time shaking hands and signing photos, posters, postcards, and sheet music for their dedicated fans before they head off to the VIP lounge to have dinner with those well-heeled or dedicated enough to pay top gil to see their favorite musicians in the flesh.
The curious thing, for Zephirin, must be this: the same young man has bought all three of his last VIP meet-and-greet opportunities.
His name is Francel de Haillenarte, of the famed House Haillenarte (even in Ishgard's modern age, some respect is still afforded to the old nobility) which certainly explains the amount of money that he seems to be willing to pay for this (the VIP tickets involve a not-unreasonable fee for a professional musician's time, but the privilege is above most budgets). The curious thing is that this Francel hasn't asked for much of anything, each and every time he's sat down for dinner with the musician. He's offered Zephirin no albums to sign, no business opportunities to discuss — hasn't even, as some groupies do, pressed the man into taking him to bed. And yet, far from being a moneyed brat with coin to spend on careless trifles, Francel is obviously a true fan; he's attended many concerts and knows most of the Heavens' Ward discography by heart.
He asks seemingly nothing of Zephirin, in short, except to have dinner with him and talk to him like a friend. And yet, at the same time... surely there must be something he wants from all of this?]
Oh, Zephirin. There you are. You were wonderful today!
[Do these dinners alone satisfy him? But if so, then why?] |
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