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[Fanfic][FFVI] Visions of Peace

Posted: 28th March 2006 05:06

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Visions of Peace
by Colin

Visions of Peace is an epic telling of an alternative universe FFVI, one that diverges during the events of the Floating Continent. As a massive rewrite of the ending, it ignores all events in the World of Ruin and rather strives to continue the tale from the World of Balance:

Magic was revived by the Empire and the world was plunged into war. Then came heroes that fought bravely against the dark power. Now the Empire has fallen, its greatest weapons lost and its leaders dead. Its armies, headless, begin to fight amongst themselves. The Imperial Civil War has begun and thousands march across the southern lands to fight a new war. Our heroes continue their fight to restore peace in the world, but at what cost?

Table of Contents

1 - The Floating Continent
2 - The Long Night
3 - Dawn of a New World
4 - Hidden in Plain Sight
5 - Imperial Affairs
6 - Eye of the Storm
7 - Messis Luna
8 - A Bargain Struck
9 - Presage
10 - Seriatim
11 - Before the Gates
12 - Tears of Ice
13 - Firestorm
14 - The Raging Tempest
15 - A Deepening Shadow
16 - Daybreak
17 - An Unavoidable Destiny
18 - The Sleeping Giant
19 - To Provoke a Colossus
20 - Outbreak
21 - Quarantine
22 - No Mercy

This post has been edited by Elessar on 5th May 2007 06:06
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:12

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Disciplinary Committee Member
Posts: 589

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Member of more than ten years. Member of more than five years. 
The First Chapter - The Floating Continent

Locke snapped awake, the sudden euphoria of sight and sound overwhelming his tired mind. His ears were ringing, and he could feel the dried blood caked against his cheeks. He could feel the pain in his side; something blunt was digging into it. The rocky crevice he had fallen into was not his first choice for rest. He tore off his blue headband and wiped his face.

"Locke!"

To the self-styled treasure hunter, the world suddenly focused. It was a common side-effect of the phoenix downs. The loud droning background sounds clarified into the screams of his friends. The blurred grey splotches before him turned into the skull-like rock formations that plagued the Floating Continent.

The Floating...

Locke shot to his feet while ignoring the sudden pain in his side. He clutched at Ifrit, the former esper hanging off a thin silver chain around his neck. The magicite had grown dark. Locke could still feel the headache brought on by his sudden reliance on magic. He had totally forgotten about the battle.

"Locke! Get Terra now!"

Edgar Figaro's order told Locke exactly how long he had been out. No less than a minute. The young king was too busy aiming his crossbow to cast Locke a look, but his voice was as commanding as ever.

Locke scanned the scene, looking for Terra. Their defensive line was a mess. The attempt to defend one of the few outcroppings of rock that the airship could reach was disintegrating into a pitched battle for their lives. Celes' men were all good soldiers. They were men of honor, fighting for the belief that their General had never betrayed the ideals of the Empire. They fought back with a tenacity that rivaled the monsters that massed on the Floating Island. However, they were few, and the Emperor's Imperial Guard was far better equipped than any of them.

But Locke cared little for the defense of the port. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her prone body, lying on the field far to the north.

The young thief charged across the battlefield blindly. An arrow or two grazed him, but he didn't feel a thing as he reached Terra's side. The green haired half-esper lay on her back. She was not visibly injured to Locke's relief, but she was not moving either. He pulled a phoenix down from his pocket, but could already tell that Terra would not be woken by the battlefield medicine.

Locke carefully moved Terra into a less compromising position. Her head lay lifelessly against his knees. Her eyes were open but unseeing.

Something had happened with the Statues. Locke had seen Terra act like this when she was first exposed to the esper Tritoch. Something was very wrong, and the Statues were at the bottom of the mess.

But the statues were even farther to the north. Terra had guided Setzer to the perfect landing spot: a large empty field large enough for their airship, the Blackjack, to land but miraculously close to the Statues. It was such a perfect spot that it had been occupied by the Emperor's personal airship and a contingent of soldiers. They secured the port, cut off the Imperial Guard and then kept to a simple plan: hold the soldiers back as best they could, while Terra, Celes, and Cyan took care of the statues. After all, Terra and Celes had far more experience with arcane magic than any of them could claim to. They were the only hope against whatever mad scheme Gestahl had planned.

"Terra... what happened?" Locke whispered.



Edgar swore as his hands grasped in vain for another cross bolt. He was out of ammunition at last; hundreds of bolts had been spent. First there had been the soldiers protecting the port, then came the monsters attracted by the airship's approach, and now the Emperor's most elite soldiers. He was almost relieved; the job of an archer had been more than strenuous. It was a constant adrenaline rush. Each bolt had to count; each reload was precious time that could leave someone dead. Being an archer was to be the protector of the men at the front. But at the same time though, the young king knew that it would only get more dangerous from here.

So be it.

His mythril spear shone in the midday sun as he made his way towards the front. Edgar knew what he looked like. The gleaming half plate on his chest and the great flowing blue cape behind him drew the attention of every single man of the Imperial Guard. Many had seen him before in Vector, the King of Figaro and a champion of the rebel cause. He was a pillar of light in the midst of Celes' loyal men, his long blond hair and tall stature a stark contrast to the brown armor and helmets that those soldiers wore.

Edgar had lead the assault by using the rocky inlets and passages of the Floating Continent like trenches, arrows and bolts flying from side to side as archers tried to pick one another off. The Imperials had been caught unawares; they were surprised that their own men, an organized task force at that, had attacked them from behind. Archers had killed the first charge across the unprotected plains, popping up from the trenches and striking with lethal precision. When the Imperials realized the extent of the attack, they began emulating the same with their archers while their foot soldiers charged in the maze-like trenches, looking for a protected way of reaching the traitors. There was a passage in plain sight of the south, and now that passage was a mass of soldiers hacking at each other. A second narrower passage had also been found to the east, but Sabin had closed it up personally and Edgar had repositioned some archers to oversee that area.

Edgar quickly scanned the battlefield. It was to the east that was the most hotly contested. The narrow passage made it impossible to swarm, and archers meant little due to the height of the walls and the location. Edgar ran down the maze to his brother's aid.

A blast of lightning ricocheted off his reflect spell. Edgar whispered a prayer of thanks to Carbunkl, the esper that was now safely stowed behind his half plate. He would never have thought of protecting himself in that manner, despite the troubling numbers of Imperial soldiers that had been infused with magic. But the esper had touched his mind and Edgar had reluctantly cast the spell.

With a great battle cry, Edgar charged into the fray, swinging his spear wildly and making his way towards his twin brother. Sabin was in the thick of the battle, a flurry of fists as the skillful martial artist made fools of the Empire's best soldiers. Edgar knew his brother was in no danger, but he could probably use the help. Sabin had positioned himself directly in the midst of the passage, at the narrowest point no less. Two men, one in silvery plate mail with a great broadsword, the other in green chain mail holding two twin swords, held their ground beside Sabin.

The two men were Captain Marcus Sandford and Lieutenant Michals Bethon. Marcus had ambushed them while they had been preparing Setzer's airship for an assault on the Floating Continent. As a former Imperial Special Forces leader, Marcus had tracked down his former commander, General Celes Chere, with intention to save her from the rebels. Upon learning the truth however, he and his men had defected. Their loyalty to Celes was astounding, and they were the only reason that the Emperor's guards had not torn them apart before they even landed on the continent.

Edgar tore apart the Empire's best eagerly. He ducked beneath the blades of his foes and didn't even miss a step as another blast of lightning hammered against his protective shield. Charging the Magitek Knight that had just attacked him, he took the man's arm off cleanly before decapitating him.

"King Edgar!" Captain Marcus shouted as he kicked his opponent aside. The poor soldier fell to the ground, his last thoughts clouded by fear as Marcus brought his broadsword down. "We can handle this!" the soldier shouted. "You should stay far outside of battle!"

Edgar pushed his latest opponent aside, stepping back far enough for an arrow to pierce the soldier's heart. Marcus' sharpshooters were still cocking arrows and giving them what support they could. "Marcus, we need to fall back. Your Magitek Armors can't defend this area, and we're running out of arrows back there!"

The scruffy soldier looked like he was about to speak when an earthquake shook them both to the ground. Edgar fell to his knees as the massive rumbling ravaged the entire island.

Carbunkl grew hot against his chest, the dead esper seeming to react to the earthquake.

Edgar stood up slowly, cautious because of Carbunkl's reaction. The four of them were alone. The Imperials had stopped attempting to rush the narrow passageway, allowing Sabin and Michals to easily demolish the few that had remained behind. Neither had been off-balance during the quake and easily gained the upper hand while their opponents fell.

"What was that?" Marcus asked, "And why are the Imperial Guards running away like this? That bunch of fanatics wouldn't turn tail even if-"

The second quake was not as surprising as the first, but Edgar looked around in horror as the passageway began to crumble. Carbunkl had warmed again, this time before the quake had even begun. It was as if the dead esper was reacting in pain to the earthquakes.

"I think we better head back," Michals said as they steadied themselves against the walls.

"I think you're right," Edgar replied. Never had the magicite heated up of their own accord. The shards of Espers actually became as cold as ice at times of usage. The heat against his chest worried Edgar.



Celes cursed under her breath as she got back to her feet. She brushed back her hair as she focused a blast of lightning at the retreating shape.

"Kefka!" she screamed in anger. She gave little thought in her rage, completely caught in the moment.

A dark shadow knocked her over even as she felt her back heat up rapidly. Her brilliant white cape smothered against the ground while she rolled to a stop. Celes looked up in surprise and relief, as Shadow stood protectively over her. Her blond hair was slightly charred; she knew that she had just barely survived a full power fire beam.

Behind her, the mighty Magitek armor planted its legs firmly against the ground, steam releasing from what seemed like ears. Its huge form, over three-men tall, loomed over them with deadly intent. The machine seemed almost alive, its arms stretching outward as the dark armor began to glow an unearthly yellow. Its head pointed into the air as it let loose a bone-chilling scream.

Celes barely saw Shadow's arms move. The ninja quickly launched three shuriken at the armor, the metal stars hardly scratching the great machine. Unfazed, Shadow jumped into the air as he threw yet another trio of stars.

Within the armor, the pilot drew his last breath.

The Magitek continued forward though, ignoring the death of its pilot. A beam of blue light shot from its right arm, and Celes dived out of the way as the ice beam tore its way through the maze-like passages of the floating island.

Suddenly, another quake shook the island to its very core. Celes was lucky, and saw the cracks in the ground open up. She jumped aside as the ground began to fall apart, grabbing a hold of a solid outcropping of rock. The Magitek armor was not so lucky, as the cracks had seemed to wind their way around the great machine. The ground beneath its huge legs gave way, and the armor teetered to the ground before falling right through.

A powerful hand grabbed the former General and pulled her up. Celes found herself staring into the face of Cyan, the old knight looking quite concerned over his female charge.

"Celes, art thou wounded?" he asked her.

Celes glanced back in the direction that Kefka had fled. "I need to finish him! We can't let him bide his time and make a second try for the statues."

Cyan shook his head. "The very land shakes in pain. This monstrosity will fly no longer, and we must take our leave now."

Celes narrowed her blue eyes. The young Magitek Knight glanced back at the horribly shifted Statues. The image of Gestahl falling off the edge of the island still haunted her, and she made up her mind in an instant.

"Cyan, we were lucky to catch Kefka unaware," she said as her hand smoothly made its way down to her waist. "If we abandon the Statues now, he'll try to get his hands on them again, and I will not let that happen twice."

"There is no time to-"

She didn't have the time to argue, and Cyan was as stubborn as Locke was irritating. Not pausing to wonder why she had compared Cyan to Locke, Celes freed her long sword quickly and rammed the handle deep into Cyan's side. The old knight was surprised and gasped as his breath was driven out of him.

And that was all the time Celes needed to whisper the words. Her hand shot out, throwing Cyan back on a blast of air.

Celes turned away from the sight of Cyan traveling hundreds of meters on a single blast of air. She would apologize to him if she survived. And if she didn't... her apology would be the dead body of Kefka.

"If you think you can catch me like that, you had better think again, General."

Celes was caught off guard by Shadow, who had abandoned the Statues and stood mere inches away from her. His dagger, a wickedly curved blade, was a hair away from her neck. He leaned close to her, a mere breath's away, his intention lethal.

"Shadow, I'm going after Kefka," she said with as much force as she could. Her eyes locked with the ninja's shrouded eyes, black globes that betrayed nothing of their owner. She swallowed, fighting against the rising fear inside her. A part of her wanted him to fight, to force her to return to her friends. The part of her that did not wish to die, the selfish portion that was appealing to her logical side. And despite the courage that had welled up within her. Despite the dead body of Gestahl that was a constant reminder of Kefka's treachery. Despite her memory of Leo, Yura and the Espers... despite all that... the fear was winning.

Celes did not want to die.

Shadow was silent for a moment. He seemed to be considering something, but then lowered his blade quickly. "Then we better hurry," he said.

The path back to her friends vanished.

Celes frowned. "I appreciate the help, but-"

"No one double-crosses me," Shadow said. The ninja turned away from her and jumped off the outcropping.

Celes replaced her blade and followed the ninja's path. Her doubts disappeared as she mused the turn of events. Shadow had already saved her life on plenty of counts, and it would have been foolhardy to go after Kefka alone. And... there was nothing to fear from death. After all, she had company on her journey to hell.



Edgar looked at the condition of the old knight. "Locke," he asked questioningly. "What happened here?"

Locke was annoyed by the question and his sudden change in roles. He was about to snap an angry remark when Cyan interrupted him.

"The statues-" the old knight gasped.

Edgar knelt to the ground to face Cyan. The former Doma Knight had been pulled out of from a landslide. So far, the only explanation offered had been that Cyan had flown like a bird, crashing through one their blockades with great force and knocking out one of the Emperor's commanding officers in the process.

How absurd.

"Where's Celes? Why did Terra appear out of nowhere near the port?" Edgar was growing evermore concerned. Carbunkl was warm to the touch, and that made him uncomfortable. "What happened with the Statues? Where's Kefka and the Emperor? What is going-"

"King Edgar, please."

Edgar moved aside as a soldier held up a small flask of bluish liquid. The soldier held it up to Cyan's mouth, urging the old knight to drink it.

"Celes is alone right now," Locke commented.

"Shadow is with her," Cyan said, his voice growing stronger. The soldier helped Cyan stand, steadying the dizzy knight.

"That mercenary?" Edgar snapped. "How?" he shook his head. "Never mind that, he's-"

"He was betrayed by Kefka," Cyan interrupted. "Helped us fight Gestahl," his black eyes locked with Edgar's. The former Doma Knight had decades of battlefield experience. Those many years gave his voice a commanding tone that silenced everyone else with sheer authority. "The statues were moved out of place, the balance Strago warned us about no longer exists. There is little time before this monstrosity falls apart."

Locke's eyes widened. "The statues-" he started.

"Where's Celes," Edgar snapped.

"The lady General chases Kefka." Cyan answered. "She forcibly sent me back here with her magic."

That treacherous Imperial witch, Edgar finished the rest of the sentence. He could see that Cyan barely caught a hold on his anger.

Locke shot to his feet. "We have to go after her!" he declared. "If the island is falling apart, then we can't leave her behind."

Edgar nodded. "This isn't the time for insane one-man heroics. I'll order Marcus to begin the retreat and carry Terra somewhere safe, we three will go after Celes," the King stood to his feet, one hand gripping his spear.

"The retreat is already well under way, King Edgar," Marcus announced. The three, in their emotional outburst, had forgotten the existence of Marcus and his aide standing right beside them. Marcus tapped his aide on the shoulder, and the well trained soldier ran back in the direction of the port.

"Marcus! Good," Edgar didn't have the time to be embarrassed. "If you would-"

Marcus held up a hand, cutting Edgar off. "Edgar, despite General Chere leaving you in charge of the defense, I will not let you order me around. My men have already begun the preparations to fly the Emperor's airship. Once we get that ship in the air, the Blackjack can dock and we can load the rest of the men." Marcus referred to the airship still in port. The Emperor had his airship landed close to the Statues while the Imperial Guard had landed further out. Because the Emperor had taken the only port close by, Setzer had dangerously hovered over the port while they jumped off. They had quickly captured the airship for their own and then proceeded to build the line of defense they had been holding for nearly an hour.

Unfortunately, Setzer could not dock. The Emperor's airship had to be searched for traps before she could be flown and the port cleared. That endeavor had taken quite a bit of time.

"Marcus, we're going after your General," Edgar said, his tone becoming ever-more irritated. They were wasting valuable time.

"You will not," Captain Marcus said with finality. "General Chere has given her final orders, retreat and safeguard your lives. Otherwise, she would not have bothered sending the Doma Knight back to us."

"Listen to me Marcus," Edgar threatened, "I will not-"

"No!" Marcus shouted. "This is not a discussion!" The Captain of an Imperial Special Forces Unit was obviously unused to discussion within the ranks. "While you have been mindlessly chatting away, you failed to notice the flags Michals has already put up!" His gloved hand pointed ahead.

Edgar gazed in the direction pointed. The color in his face drained as he saw the red flag flying; the monsters were back.

"Edgar!" Locke pointed in the direction where Terra once laid.

Edgar spun back around, watching in awe as a huge purple behemoth appeared out of the rocky plains. The ground had split open, and the giant monster floated up serenely, its blood red eyes staring in their direction. Its bulk enlarged the hole in the ground, rocks falling off the thick skin of the monster as the ground beneath tried to close.

The four men drew their weapons, realizing they could not allow such a dangerous monster to remain behind their defensive perimeter. The behemoth beasts were easily larger than even the Heavy Siege Magitek Armors. Nearly half the size of an airship, its huge horns and heavily muscled mass undermined the magical powers that lay within. The purple monster advanced on them, its four feet causing the ground to shake with every movement, on top of the trembling of the floating continent.

"Well, at least we know how Terra got back," Locke grumbled as they charged.



They returned to find the port in chaos. Wirey dragons hovered above and surrounded the airship. The small winged creatures gathered in numbers, grey wings blocking out the sky as they attempted to land and attack. Three of the Gigantos had made their way through the blockades. Those grey-skinned giants were the real problem. While the wirey dragons were easily handled by arrows, the thick skin of the giants made them almost impervious. Their sheer size and bulk was causing havoc as the monsters attempted to attack the Emperor's airship with massive clubs. Marcus' men tried to shoot the monsters down, but many were off-balance. The ground was shaking constantly now, and the truly skilled were engaging the giants in physical combat. Locke spied Gau fighting a Gigantos on his own; the young child easily maintained his balance in the face of a greater foe.

"They're attracted to the airship," Marcus grumbled.

"Locke, find Terra and make sure she can survive the jump. We'll wait for Setzer, Marcus, you should board-" Edgar commanded.

Marcus screamed a battle cry and charged at the nearest giant.

Edgar swore as he dived aside. A huge boulder, thrown by one of the giants, hammered past them. The King rolled to his feet, watching Cyan join the battle by Gau's side. Locke had already scrambled away. The thief was irritated and angry that they were not going after Celes, but the thought of Terra had quickly pushed the conflicting thoughts out of his mind.

Edgar pulled the camera out of his pack as he ran to the edge of the continent. It was disturbing to see the ground suddenly fall away into thin air, and Edgar was almost afraid that one of the smaller dragons would attack him. But the dragons remained concentrated around the airship, being blasted apart by the two Magitek armors.

The camera let loose a brilliant flash, powerful enough to shock anyone looking in its direction. Edgar hoped that Setzer would see the flash, and quickly set the camera to continue emitting light every few seconds.

The ground suddenly shook with renewed vigor, but Edgar had already known it was coming. Carbunkl warmed up before each tremble and allowed Edgar to balance himself.

He noticed he was not the only one that had realized the magicite could predict each of the earthquakes. Gau and Cyan each had let the sudden rumbling knock over the giants, and then pounced on the defenseless beasts.

But the last Gigantos had made its way through the few men that remained on the floating island. As per Marcus' orders, many had already boarded the Emperor's airship. The great giant roared, confident of his superiority while he stood on top of dead Imperial soldiers, and turned to next closest target:

Locke, carrying Terra on his back.

Even unburdened, Locke would never have escaped the grasp of the monster. It was no surprise that he lowered Terra swiftly and drew his knives. The dull black blades were deadly sharp but paled in comparison to the size of the threat he faced. Locke strode towards the beast without fear though: he had made a promise and it was time to fulfill it.

Their showdown was not to be, as a blur of dark metal stepped in front of Locke's path. It had moved faster than its size would suggest. The massive three-man tall Magitek Armor proved once again why the Imperial Army was the most deadly force in the world.

Magitek pilots were raised to defend their people from the monsters that constantly threatened their cities. This was no different; they were protecting civilians from harm. Though many Magitek pilots became obsessed with the power that they wielded, Marcus' men knew their limits. The Armor took a defensive stance. Its arms shot forward, the great claws piercing the Gigantos as the monster charged.

The giant screamed in pain. Blood pumped out of its chest wounds, but that did not stop it. The Gigantos dropped its great club and grabbed the machine by the shoulders. Muscles bulged and fresh blood spurted out as it tried to tear the arms off. The Magitek Armor fought back by cleaving its way through flesh and bone, steam being ejected from the sides as gears ground in effort. The All-Terrain Armor was the bread and butter of the Imperial war machine but despite bladed hands it was never meant to fight a monster in hand to hand combat.

The Armor was losing the battle, even though the giant was roaring from the pain of gaping wounds. The ground tore apart as the Magitek Armor's legs were pushed back against its will. Gears began to whine and groan as powerful engines strained to keep up to the demand that its pilot asked of it. But the pilot had already knew the result of such a melee and already planned ahead. From behind, a beam of fire ripped into the giant, the heat so intense that it seared the arm right off. The second Armor had repositioned itself at an angle, and immediately followed through with another controlled burst of blistering elemental magic.

Edgar made it back just in time to witness the giant collapse, the first Armor's claws still buried within its chest.

With a sudden roar, the airship began to rise. Propeller blades spun as the small ship rose into the air with its contingent of soldiers on it. Being so close to the airship, Edgar thought he was going to be blown off by the strong winds. With the ground shaking as well, the world seemed to be tearing apart.

The winds began to calm down as the airship gained altitude. Edgar turned back to what remained of the defensive line, wondering how many would be evacuated hastily on Setzer's airship. Marcus and Michals were still fighting beside Sabin, Gau and Cyan, and there were the two Magitek pilots remaining as well. But every other soldier had retreated on the Emperor's airship.

Which meant everything was now up to Setzer.

With the airship gone, the wirey dragons had flown off. And with another of the giants felled by Gau, the five warriors easily handled and slew the last Gigantos. The five men dashed back, knowing full well that the Floating Island was going to break apart at any instant.

"Edgar!" Locke screamed.

Edgar turned around to see Locke leading a dazed Terra. A look of relief touched his face. It looked like she had recovered, though her eyes seemed haunted and distant.

But the thief was not intending to draw attention to Terra. Instead, he was waving frantically in the air.

"Get down!" Locke screamed again.

After spending months fighting together, they had learned to simply trust each other's commands without pause. Edgar dived to the ground without a question, and just in time. A great dragon, one of the many they had seen the Imperial Air Force take apart, missed his head by inches. The speed of the green scaled monster carried it into the distance, wind and rocks following the wake of the giant beast.

The dragon turned back to Edgar, its eyes locked with the young king, as it landed on the shaky ground. Unlike its smaller wirey cousins, this one easily dwarfed even the behemoths in size. Built like a tank, green scales that were as strong as metal protected it. A mighty tail, as long as the body, waved menacingly in the air. Wings spread wide; the dragon opened its mouth and spewed forth a great column of fire. Edgar scrambled out of the way, feeling the flames lick at his back.

A beam of magic, blue this time, ripped into the dragon's right wing. The green scaled monster screamed in pain, its wings flapping despite the icy blaze that was freezing it to death. It turned to face the Magitek Armor, deadly breath meeting the controlled beam in gout of fire and ice. Elemental magic fused together in a lethal mix, fire and ice magic splattering on the ground like liquids. Yet the liquids reacted magically to the ground, the crust rupturing from the very contact.

As the Magitek Armor and dragon battled with magic, a green figure dashed towards the dragon unchallenged. Michals jumped onto the back of the dragon, his twin swords spread out for balance as the skilled soldier ran up the dragon like it was part of the ground. With practiced grace, the Lieutenant flipped over the dragon's head, landed and turned about. His twin swords tore into the dragon's vulnerable neck, red blood spraying as Michals sliced four times.

But even as the dragon began its death throes, Edgar could see that they were in far worse trouble than he had originally anticipated. He cursed loudly. Sabin and Marcus were attempting to handle one behemoth, while another of the accursed beasts charged towards them. This was simply becoming ridiculous; Edgar shook his head as despair took him. It was as if the monsters all were rushing towards them to--

Edgar scrambled to the top of a rock formation, a sudden feeling of dread washing over him. Pulling a pair of binoculars to his eyes, he looked back towards the Statues.

It walked towards them. As the continent continued to fall apart, earthquakes tearing entire sections of the ground away, the monster strolled towards them without a care in the world.

It looked like a grey dragon, but there were no wings. Instead, great golden spikes protected its back, and blue fiery hair danced on its head. The deadly glowing blue eyes were turned in their direction, for it knew that the men who had defeated it mere moments ago were still on the island.

Atma Weapon.

The wounds that they had dealt to the great beast could still be seen, even at this distance. But where once great rifts in flesh had been, blue flames burned brightly. It had stopped bleeding, even Atma Weapon would bleed when cut, and instead the flames closed the wounds while some sort of aura slowly regenerated the demonic flesh of the creature. That regeneration aura had nearly killed them when they first met Atma Weapon, moments after securing the Emperor's airship.

"Marcus, Sabin!" Edgar called out to those that were farthest away. Locke, Terra and Cyan had made their way as close to the edge of the island as they could. Gau was helping the fallen Magitek pilot, and they were quite close to port as well. Michals stood guard over the fallen dragon with the last Magitek armor behind him. But Sabin and Marcus were in the front, tearing apart a behemoth as they tried to keep the monsters far away from the port.

"Marcus!" Edgar screamed again, "ATMA!"

Those two syllables caught Marcus' attention. With fluid grace, Marcus ducked underneath the purple monster's claws and tore a crippling wound to its legs. Marcus turned to Sabin as he easily sidestepped a powerful blow. "You heard your brother!" he shouted.

Sabin nodded. They did not want to face Atma again. The last time had nearly been fatal, and they were well rested and far more prepared at the time.

The two warriors ran with all their strength from the dying behemoth.



"Well," Locke said as he helped Gau push the crippled Magitek armor, "this is just complete idiocy."

Gau moaned something unintelligible as the two men continued to strain themselves.

Davis Malsbury, the Magitek pilot, groaned as he finally squeezed his way from beneath the armor and monster. "Thanks," the weary soldier said, happy to be finally out of his prison.

"It's the least I could do," Locke sighed in relief as he let go of the Magitek armor. He wanted to sit down, as tired as he was, but knew they were still very much in danger. The island's rumblings had grown more and more violent, and the regular shaking was only serving to agitate the monsters nearby.

"Are you hurt? I don't think the Blackjack has the time to land," Locke glanced at Davis, concerned. The Imperial pilot had risked his life to save him when it was probably unnecessary. It wasn't the first time, both Magitek pilots had taken plenty of risks while they fought the Imperial Guard. Locke had stared down entire squadrons of charging soldiers only to witness their firey demise. He felt greatly indebted, even if it was to the brown uniform of the Empire. "It's probably going to be quite a jump, and we have enough injured already." Locke pointed at Terra and Cyan. Though the Doma knight acted otherwise, it was clear that he was quite wounded from being airborne and then buried beneath a landslide. The knight was resigned to defend Terra if all else went wrong, and Locke would ensure Cyan did not stand alone.

As for Terra, she had yet to speak. Though she was conscious again, something had shaken her to the very core.

"I'll be fine," Davis said. "The men will be jealous that I survived a melee with one of those giants and," the older pilot beamed, "it'll make a great story for my kids."

Locke flashed his signature smile. No one noticed how much it quivered.

The three hurried their way to Terra and Cyan. Though they were close to the edge of the continent, they had avoided straying too close. Many of the quakes had dislodged great chunks from the continent's periphery. No one was keen on falling to their death.

"Locke," Cyan turned towards him. "Art thou confident Sir Michals and Lady Siana will be safe?"

"Don't you worry about Siana," Davis answered. "Though she might not look like it, she's been piloting armors longer than I have."

Locke glanced over at Davis, an eyebrow raised. Pilot First-Class Davis Malsbury looked to be in his early forties, though the clean-shaven and unscarred warrior might have been older. However, the last time Locke looked over the luscious redhead in the cockpit of the second Magitek Armor, she looked as old as Terra or Celes.

"I can tell you don't believe me, but Siana's been piloting those things since," Davis paused. With the exception of Terra, everyone watched with a measure of envy as Siana's Magitek armor burned through another rampaging behemoth. Two quick beams had instantly taken out the legs of the gigantic purple monster. As the monster crashed to the ground, two more beams ripped into the bulk of the monster. The great beast screamed in pain as its flesh began to bubble and burst, red steam rising from the fiery discharge.

"As I said," Davis beamed as Siana turned the rampaging behemoth into a burning corpse. "She piloted that unit before Tzen joined the Empire. I was a mere grunt at the time."

Locke shrugged, "does that answer your question, Cyan?"

Cyan nodded. "I will retire to the edge. I have a feeling Setzer shall show up soon."



"Michals," Sabin gasped as he and Marcus reached the Lieutenant and the last Magitek armor.

Marcus grunted in pain, running in full plate had exhausted the soldier. "Lieutenant, ideas?" he asked as he caught his breath.

Michals was relaxed, his twin blades sheathed behind his back. "The Imperial Guard is in full retreat, I doubt even Nairne would be crazy enough to stay when this island is clearly going to fall apart. We should probably do the same," he responded. "Nairne is a fanatic but he's not an idiot."

Sabin glanced up at the Magitek armor, something was bothering him.

"And the men?" Marcus asked as the three of them began to jog back to the others. Behind them, they could hear the engines of the Magitek armor whine as it slowly backed up.

"Safe. We managed to arm most of the weapons that were mounted before they got into the air. Sergeant Arthal has experience flying those things, so there shouldn't be any problems," Michals said. "And I don't think the Air Force would fire at the Emperor's Airship, even if they suspected something. They don't have the balls."

"Good thinking," Marcus gave a quick nod of approval. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed the group ahead of them. "Where's the King? He warned us about Atma and then disappeared."

"Atma?" Michals asked. "We can't afford another battle with it."

The three men reached the group now, Terra, Locke, Gau and Davis. They looked around, the port was eerily empty. Aside from the rumbling of the ground, the looming danger of the ground falling away, the port was quiet and safe.

"Where's the Blackjack?" Marcus asked.

Locke shrugged and Davis shook his head. Terra seemed distant, and Gau was... well, doing something, Marcus couldn't quite figure out what the lad was doing to the ground. Marcus ignored the four and scanned the port, realizing that if the gambler didn't show up, they would all die when the island crashed... if Atma didn't kill them first.

As if to calm Marcus' unspoken worries, Edgar shouted. "Over here!"

Edgar was at the edge of the floating landmass, Cyan at his side and looking quite disturbed. They leaned dangerously over the island, staring below.



Setzer Gabbiani glanced to the portside, squeamish about being so close to the floating island. The port had been out of the question, the island was simply too unstable for him to land with any degree of reliability. The airship pilot and accomplished gambler felt a bead of sweat run down his back. This was as close as he could get without risking everyone's lives.

He looked upwards. "That's it!" he shouted.

"That's it?" came the reply. It was the thief's voice, as irritating as ever.

Setzer ignored him and hit the levers to steady the airship's rise. "Any higher and you won't make it!" he screamed.

"This is utter insanity!" Strago Magus, the elder mage and lore-master, strolled to the bridge. "Having them jump such a distance will kill them!"

"They're not as old as you," Setzer snapped. "And if we tried to land, we might all be stuck on that infernal island right now. I might be the best, but I can't land on that shaking island with any guarantees."

Strago mumbled something under his breath as he walked back to his position at the stern of the ship.



Edgar landed as well as he could. After all, he was an accomplished warrior. He had faced many dangers, and jumping great heights was not something that he would back away from. And he was merely three hundred pounds of man and metal diving down through a pitiful twenty meters of open sky. Landing well was absolutely no trouble at all.

He smashed onto the deck, shoulder first, and rolled until he crashed into one of the supporting pillars.

Edgar moaned in pain as he tried to stand. He collapsed back into the heap of broken planks that marked his landing spot, a sudden burst of pain erupting in his legs. He had definitely hurt himself that time, and counted himself lucky that he had not broken any bones.

Cyan was next, the Doma knight casually considering the events of the day as he leaped. After all, this would be the second time in the day that he had flown like a bird. Except this time, it was under his own power.

Experience where it mattered, the older warrior landed considerably better than the King. Cyan still broke into the deck shoulder first, but he managed not to roll into anything.

"What are you trying to do, smash a hole through my ship?" Setzer snapped at them.

Edgar cursed creatively about Setzer's romantic intentions before he finally stood up. "You try jumping that distance!" he shouted.

Davis and Michals were next. Both had watched the men before them. Both improved on the time-honored technique of hurling oneself through open air without any consideration for the landing.

With two more piles of broken planks, a broken propeller and even some damaged rigging, Setzer wondered which would do more damage: landing the ship on an island that was breaking apart, or letting these monsters on board.

To Marcus' credit, the Captain landed far better than any of the men before him. He was totally unhurt, and did not break Setzer's airship anymore so. The Captain landed on two feet, rolled, and smashed into a rapidly recovering Edgar.

As the two men began cursing each other, moments short of a fist fight, Terra and Locke landed on the airship without any incident. The thief had cleverly spelled himself and Terra. They had floated through the air; Terra blindly led by Locke, and touched down on the deck beside Relm. Locke even knelt down, patted Strago's granddaughter on the head, before shaking his index finger side-to-side at Edgar and Marcus.

Michals picked himself off the ground and made his way to Setzer. "There should be three more, everyone else left on other ship," he said. "After them, we should make best haste to Albrook."

Setzer turned his black eyes at the green armored Lieutenant. "Albrook is back south, in the direction of the IAF. We're not going back there."

"But-" Michals began.

Setzer shook his head. "Unlike your men, we are not flying the Emperor's personal airship. We're not getting back through the blockade without some serious artillery."

"What could the Imperial Air Force still field? Between what we annihilated on the way in, and the number called back to the Vector airfields, I can't see anything being powerful enough to take care of this ship. Especially not with the speed you demonstrated earlier," Michals said.

"Listen, there's three airships circling the island from above, and they're all looking for us," Setzer pointed upwards. "It'll be difficult enough to outrun them without having to deal with the southern fleet."

"Three airships?"

Setzer turned around, recognizing the Magitek pilot instantly. It had been quite the challenge to fit both Magitek units onto his airship. He had worked closely with both pilots to ensure no unnecessary damages. They were both quite friendly and resourceful.

"That's right Davis, three of them," Setzer turned back to Michals. "And that's why I'll be taking us directly north, with all intentions of getting back to Figaro before the IAF comes after us. Even they will think twice before crossing the ocean."

Michals nodded in understanding. "Alright, but just keep in mind that the Imperial Air Force doesn't operate under standard policy. They get orders direct from the Emperor and-"

"I know that!" Setzer interrupted the Special Forces soldier. "You think I've lived this long flying an airship without knowing how the IAF works? I'm telling you right now this is the only way we'll live!"

"Very well," Michals left Setzer to his own devices, but Davis stayed behind and whispered in awe. "Incredible, you were flying around with three airships on your tail? How did you survive for this long?"

"Ingenuity, skillful piloting, good looks," Setzer flashed a dashing smile.

"Yeah, and having a mage that could set fire to the decks of your enemy couldn't have helped, could it?" Strago asked.

Before Setzer could respond, Marcus cut him off.

Marcus, finally separated from Edgar by Cyan, had asked the obvious.

"What's taking them so long?"



Sabin dived, pushing Siana out of the way. The strange monster missed, its claws swiping at thin air as it reoriented itself. Standing on one leg, the clown-like monster grinned at them. It looked like a starved circus performer, scrawny with its skin colored by paint. Its right half was red, its left white. A hideous mask covered its face, hiding all but the aggravating grin.

"Nerapa thinks Lord Atma will like these," it said.

Sabin put himself between the monster, Nerapa as it called itself, and Siana. The Magitek pilot had just dismounted when the monster had struck them. Sabin had stayed behind when he realized that they were not going to be able to load the armor back onto the airship. That was fortunate, as he had managed to save the red haired soldier before she was ripped apart by the clown. When he had tried to attack the monster, the thing jumped around him and had tried to strike Siana again.

Nerapa twisted, bending backwards in an inhuman fashion.

"I hate clowns," Sabin mumbled as he watched the monster continue to hop around on one leg in a rhythmic, mesmerizing pattern.

It suddenly shot forward, its entire body coiling like a viper.

It was fast, but Sabin was faster. The martial artist nailed the monster in the side with a spinning kick, sending the lightweight clown flying backwards.

"Siana, get on the airship!" he shouted. He was keeping his eyes on the clown, but spared a quick look back to ensure that the Magitek pilot was running. Knowing that she was too far for Nerapa to strike easily, Sabin concentrated on crippling the monster.

But as Nerapa stood back up on one leg, Gau struck. The beast child tore at the clown savagely, a strange mix of martial prowess and primal instinct, before the monster simply overpowered Gau and sent him backwards into the air.

Yet Gau landed on both feet, flipping over in the air like a cat. Sabin did not join the melee, knowing that he might cause injury to Gau. And... it seemed that the kid was actually doing quite well on his own.

Nerapa hopped towards the beast child, again in a rhythmic, one-legged fashion. Gau merely stood his ground, watching...

The monster coiled out, lashing quickly as it had before against Sabin. Only this time, it did not bend backwards. It intended to surprise its opponent.

Gau stepped to the side, a wild grin on his face as he raised one leg like the monster. He bent backwards as well, to Sabin's utter dismay, and shot forward. The young child landed a number of blows to the mask of the clown. The clown screamed in pain as fell to the ground. Gau continued landing blows on the fallen monster, but Nerapa recovered quickly. With a leg and an arm, it struck Gau in the stomach. It flipped upside-down, maintaining its balance on one hand, and sent Gau backwards with a single powerful roundhouse kick. It flipped back onto its feet, satisfied with the last blow.

Sabin charged forwards, nailing Nerapa in the leg before punching the clown in the face. The mask was hard, but nothing compared to behemoth's thick skin. And Sabin had used all his strength, along with his momentum.

Nerapa fell to the ground, stunned momentarily.

Without a second thought, Sabin turned around and ran. He grabbed Gau with one hand, picking the child up by the skins he wore, and simply ran as fast as he could to the edge of the island.

In front of him, Siana stared into the space that she was to jump. It seemed quite impossible, and she felt nauseous just looking over the cliff. The airship was a long way down, and the deck seemed awfully small considering all the open sky around it.

Sabin picked up the red haired pilot with his other hand and threw her onto his shoulder as he had done with Gau. With both child and pilot, one on each shoulder, the mighty warrior leaped into the air.

The three flew into the blue sky, carried solely by Sabin's momentum. Siana had quickly gone from screaming at Sabin to let go, to screaming at him to hold tight. One look below him, and Gau also held on for dear life. "Mr. Thou!" he screamed.

Locke watched as Sabin landed on both feet. Edgar's brother cracked the deck as he landed, but remained upright. He let go of Gau and Siana, Gau falling onto the floor, while Siana was still holding onto Sabin for her life. Both were completely scared out of their minds.

"You--" Locke pointed at Sabin.

Sabin glanced over at Locke, and then over to the broken planks that marked landing sites for everyone else. He looked at his brother, who was still covered in splinters from the wooden columns he had smashed into, and then to Davis, Michals, Cyan and Marcus.

Sabin laughed.



The Blackjack sped away from the island as it collapsed. Its flight path, previously floating above Vector, had deteriorated and was now headed north.

Which was perfect for Setzer. They sped away in safety, the island blocking the southern Imperial fleet's view, as Strago and Relm once again proved their skill with magic.

The Imperial Air Force had always had its own airships for military use. A well-kept secret, only a few had knowledge that the Air Force actually had functional ships. It was public knowledge that the Empire had built airship engines, Vector's electrical generators were based off the same concepts. But actual flying ships were unknown to many. The reason was two-fold. Despite having access, it was rare for top-ranked commanders to use airships in warfare. They were too expensive to waste transporting a pitiful number of men across the ocean, so most of the armed forces had never seen the airforce in action. This lead to their use in the secretive Special Forces. Outfitted with weapons that rivaled those defending the Magitek factory in Vector, they were capable of minor bombing tasks, quick hit and run attacks on terribly outmatched opponents, or expediently delivering soldiers in insertion and extraction missions.

They never expected to be fighting another airship though. And certainly not an airship with accomplished descendants of Mage Warriors on board.

Strago and Relm unleashed a chaotic explosion, the two working in tandem as they cast spell after spell at their pursuers. To the commoner, it would have looked like a rainbow of colors from one ship showering three others behind them.

The airship captains flew erratically, never prepared for a war of magic. The Blackjack was well out of range of their mounted cannons, and the Imperial Air Force did not have Magitek Knights aboard.

Setzer screamed orders without bothering to tear his eyes from the displays in front of the wheel. Much like their flight towards the island, the Blackjack was pushed to her limits. Unlike their flight in, they did not have the safety of commandeered Sky Armors around them. Of course, they were also far faster now, since they were not carrying a company of soldiers and two Magitek Armors.

Still, Setzer screamed orders to simply keep the ship going as fast as it was. Relm and Strago cast spells until they tired themselves out, and even then they continued.

But it was not enough.

Spitfire Sky Armors, twin propeller aircraft with little in the way of artillery, caught up with the Blackjack. The few that escaped the blasts of magic that Strago laid down jumped onto the deck of the Blackjack. They could see that the mages could easily destroy their Sky Armors and chose to fight on foot instead.

However, those men were torn apart wherever they landed. Sabin, Marcus and Michals positioned themselves well; the capable warriors more than a match for pilots turned foot soldiers. They fended off with ease whatever the IAF attempted.



Under the deck, Locke held Terra's hands. Her blue eyes were still distant, and that made Locke more than a little worried.

Siana Deardon was also there. Unlike Davis, she had no experience with airship engines. She had tried to help Edgar, but the King told her to rest instead.

"What happened to her?" Siana asked.

Locke shook his head. "I don't know. She's been like this for a while now and I'm almost certain that the Statues have something to do with it." He felt powerless, he had promised to protect Terra and he could do nothing now. He should have gone with them to face Gestahl. Edgar had been adamant that they couldn't afford to let anyone else other than Cyan go with Terra and Celes. Locke gritted his teeth. He had allowed himself to be swayed by Edgar's smooth words. Against an old man and a crazy clown, three to two odds were great compared to the twenty to one odds they had faced against the Imperial Guard. Locke shook his head. He shouldn't have listened to Edgar. He had failed her again.

"She's half-esper, anything to do with the statues would affect her before it would affect us," Siana agreed. The red haired pilot had been told about the statues, nearly all of Marcus' men had been told. After all, they had the right to know what the Emperor had intended to do. They had to make the choice for themselves: whether to follow the Emperor, or their former General.

Locke wondered about Celes, and whether she was alright. The Floating Continent was breaking apart as it fell, the magic holding it in the sky slowly losing its grip. He swore at the helplessness of his situation. First Edgar had stopped him from protecting Terra and Celes when they needed him, then Marcus had delayed until they were forced to abandon Celes to the island. His fists were shaking from uncontrollable anger.

"The statues-"

Terra's hands suddenly gripped his, the shock causing Locke to grimace in pain. Her eyes went wide, shock replacing the emotionless look that had been on her face for so long now.

"Locke, the statues," she said.

"What about them?" Locke asked, the rage boiling inside forgotten in an instant as he watched Terra eyes refocus.

"The statues, they're resonat-" Terra let go of Locke's hands, clutching at her ears as she closed her eyes in pain.

Locke narrowed his eyes. "Terra?"

Terra closed her eyes, tears welling up as she rocked in her seat. She hunched over, her long hair cascading off her shoulders to hide her face. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

"Terra!" Locke grabbed at her arm, concerned at her sudden lapse.

"The statues..." Terra said as she collapsed against him, so intent on keeping the noise from reaching her ears. "They're... in pain."

"In pain?" Locke echoed.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide open.

The fine hairs on the back of Locke's neck rose.

Terra was bleeding; from the ears, from the eyes. Locke was simply scared by the look on her face. A look of torture and agony, her eyes were driven wild by the pain that only she could feel.

"The world is going to end," she whispered hoarsely.

This post has been edited by Elessar on 28th March 2006 05:13
Post #112281
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:14

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Relm saw it first.

A beam of light, bright white, erupted from the Floating Continent. The light hit the ground, raking along the earth. It tore apart the surface and left a trail of angry red magma. A huge fireball followed the trail and grew ever larger, bright yellow flames devouring everything that the light had missed.

And another.

They stared in shock as beam after beam tore across the land in every direction. At first there had only been one. Then a second appeared, lancing out in another direction. Before their brilliance faded, dozens shot from the island in every direction. Blazing white light projected from the center of the Floating Continent, tearing it apart as they shot outwards. What little they could see of the light was more than enough to scare them.

Where the light hit, the very ground was annihilated. Like the floating continent, the land that the light destroyed did not merely rupture on contact. It tore apart with the force of hundreds of explosions. The land seemed to ripple and break, great chasms opening. Rifts in the land spewed out the fires beneath. Red streams of molten lava that erupted forth added to the infernos that followed each brilliant display. The world spewed forth its lifeblood, trails of black smoke and dust rising from opened wounds.

Each successive blast of magic -- no one pretended it was anything else -- seemed to grow more destructive, more apocalyptic. One shot directly underneath the floating landmass, the ground beneath instantly disintegrated as a fireball -- a glowing ball of deadly gas -- was released from the explosion. The fireball consumed everything around it, quickly expanding while it grew brighter than the Sun. It was one of many tiny stars that had suddenly been born that day.

Towards the south and beyond the Kavanagh Mountains -- where the initial beam of light had struck -- was the first fireball. It had cooled while it expanded and rose; losing enough of its glow so their naked eyes could watch without pain. Smoke and dust had been dragged into the sky and formed an unnatural mushroom cloud. The cloud continued to cool, its color gradually turning white as it formed layer upon layer of overlapping cloud cover. Rain began to fall from the sky, a deadly black cascade of water that dragged down with it poisonous dust and debris from the initial explosions.

"The Goddesses protect us," Strago whispered. "The world is dying."

Edgar realized he was holding his breath. The black rain could be seen from their position, so far away that the Kavanagh Mountains were dots on the horizon. It was the most frightening thing he had ever seen, and nothing in his education could explain any of the things he was seeing now. None of the blasts of light that were still scattering from the midst of a huge black cloud -- the floating island's remains, though Edgar doubted it was still floating -- caught his attention like the darkness that fell upon the lands.

Then a beam of light came towards them.

Relm screamed while Edgar stood in shock, both watching the light thunder towards them. Setzer was still concentrating on his airship, pushing the Blackjack's engines so that they could escape the Imperial Air Force. Marcus, Michals and Sabin were too well trained to stare at the destruction behind them. They had been in motion the whole time, though that would never have saved them.

The beam missed, by quite a wide margin, and instead swept across the mountains before them.

Edgar watched in awe as the mountains exploded, great balls of fire erupting from the lands before them. The mountain peaks were cleaved from their foundations, great precipices of rock crashing into the pyres below. Another glowing fireball rose into the air and lit up the blackening sky. Yet another mushroom cloud in its infancy, but surrounded by a massive screen of smoke that expanded.

Then he realized it was not smoke, but what had been blown off the ground.

Dirt, gravel, trees, boulders, it did not matter. Debris rose in a giant wall before them, traveling faster than any airship. A blast wave of highly compressed and fast moving air that carried with it the surface of a forest.

Edgar dived towards Relm, his thoughts only of protecting the child from the apocalypse.

The airship rocked in the sudden gust, Edgar smashing against yet another pillar. He screamed in pain, but could barely hear himself speak. The winds ripped into the airship, his stomach lurching as the deck twisted and turned. He thought he dimly heard Setzer screaming in the great gusts, but could make out no words. Instead, he concentrated all his power in remaining on the deck of the airship, the winds trying to tear him off and send him flying into the skies.

Edgar held Relm close to the deck as the gusts of wind ripped by. He could hear nothing but the rushing winds, and saw nothing but a brown haze. He kept his eyes closed; the winds stung his eyes every time he attempted to figure out his surroundings. He lost track of how many times the airship spun, his stomach twisting and turning as they flew through the screaming cries of a dying world.

And then everything cleared up.

The ringing in his ears continued, but the winds died down. The airship's floor returned leveled off. Edgar got to his feet, looking around in wonder.

They had survived.

Edgar grinned, somehow, they had survived.

And then he realized that Setzer was still screaming. Edgar looked around, noticing that Marcus and Michals had thrown themselves close to the bridge, taking advantage of the instrument panels to break the winds and save themselves. Sabin was on the ground, one hand firmly holding onto a pillar, the other holding onto Strago.

It was a lucky coincidence that everyone else had gone below.

That was when Edgar realized Setzer was still screaming orders, and that the airship, though it seemed calm, was not calm at all. It was calmer than when the winds had threatened to tear him from the Blackjack's deck, but the airship was still rumbling.

The ringing in his ears died down, and Setzer's mouth suddenly formed real words.

"I can't stabilize the altitude!" Setzer screamed.

Edgar looked up, noticing the huge hole in the airship's wedge-shaped balloon. Black smoke bellowed from the horrendous wound, leaving a trail behind them as they sped towards their impeding doom. His eyes opened wide, a shock of fear paralyzing him where he stood.

"We're going to crash!" Setzer screamed.

The airship streaked past the huge crater where mountains had been moments before, going hundreds of times faster than it was safe to travel at such a low altitude. They had crashed once before, Edgar had been flying the Blackjack, but this time was different. The engines were still pushed to the limits, straining to outrun airships that no longer chased them.

Setzer was a skilled pilot, deftly winding his way through the mountain range despite the incredible speed and lack of lift. The gambler, long white hair flying freely behind him, spun the wheel and continued screaming orders that were not being followed.

But no matter how good Setzer was, he was merely delaying the inevitable. And as the forests beneath them loomed up, Setzer could do no more for his airship.

The Blackjack clipped a great pine, its speed so great that it tore the tree out of the ground. But as the ship spun from the impact, tearing more trees with it, its momentum was used up. The Blackjack smashed into an unyielding wall of pine and spiraled to the ground.

Edgar no longer thought about protecting Relm. There was no time.

As the airship broke upon the ground, Edgar felt the deck disappear beneath him. He looked forward in dread, unable to avoid the unavoidable.

The ground broke his fall. The pain that accompanied it only lasted a moment, but it was a moment of such intensity that it felt like an eternity. The agony of a thousand battle wounds, compressed into a single sliver of time. Flesh and bone meeting cold, rigid rock. It was the shock of searing torture that ripped through his body, taking the breath from his lungs. Fire burned through every inch, every muscle in his body felt like it was being pulled apart.

His world went black.


Visions of Peace will be continued in The Second Chapter - The Long Night
Post #112282
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:16

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The Second Chapter - The Long Night

He couldn't breathe.

The fumes, the smell, it was absolutely horrid. Thick black smoke made it impossible for him to take a breath; he was literally choking on the ashes in the air. There wasn't much time and if Relm was in the house, he had to save her. After all, Terra-

Terra. The name was like a bolt of lightning, shocking Locke back into reality. The thief's eyes snapped wide open, only to quickly close as the fumes stung his eyes. His memory slowly cleared up... This was not Thamasa. The ceiling of a house did not just cave in on him. He was not trying to save Relm from being devoured in the magical inferno.

Hell, they weren't in Thamasa at all. He tried laughed at his own stupidity, but the deadly fumes denied him even that.

Locke tried to move, but couldn't. His legs, he couldn't feel them at all. His arms felt like cardboard left out in the rain, weak and completely useless. He opened his eyes, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings, but all he saw was smoke. Locke narrowed his eyes and made out the scorching inferno beyond; a red haze of flickering flames that licked at the innards of the airship, devouring everything and spewing forth thick knots of black smoke... but there was no sign of Terra. Attempting to cry out her name, he coughed uncontrollably instead; his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

Locke's eyes watered from the pain as he searched for any sign of Terra, threatening to close against his will. Locke could barely see that his legs were trapped beneath debris. Debris that had yet to catch on fire, but...

Great, Locke thought. Again he was trapped underneath what would soon be firewood, except this time he did not have a Cane of Ice from Strago's home.

The thief twisted around, trying to get on his back. His arms burned in effort as he attempted the most difficult push-up of his life. If he could just get some wiggle room, it might be possible to-

Locke screamed out in pain.

Curses flowed freely despite his lack of air. The prison of broken lumber that encased his legs had collapsed even further. He could feel splinters digging into his ankles and opening fresh wounds. Warm blood was dripping down his legs and the world was beginning to spin dizzily. Locke collapsed back onto his stomach, his arms spent from the attempt. Tears ran down his cheeks, his eyes too watery for him to clearly see anything at all.

"Terra," he gasped with the remainder of his energy. I'm sorry, -- even his voice had failed him now -- I couldn't keep my promise.

As he lay dying in the ruins of the Blackjack, his thoughts wandered back to forbidden memories. Tears of sorrow welled up in his eyes as he relived that fateful day in Mt. Kolts.

"Rachel. I failed you..."

Anger rushed through his veins. He would not die like this. He would not fail again. He had made a promise, and even if he had to fight his way through the entire Imperial Army, he would keep his word. Half-blind? Unable to move his arms or legs? Too helpless to merely get out from under some mere dead trees? That was not enough to stop him!

Locke gritted his teeth as he felt renewed vigor rush through his veins. His arms pushed against the floor, muscles feeling like they would simply rip apart as he gave it his all.

Whatever had been digging into his leg drove harder into his feet. Locke would have cried out in pain, but he was simply too numb to care anymore.

He would not die. Not here. Not yet. He had too much to atone for.



Sabin collapsed on the ground, drawing the attention of Cyan and Relm. The Doma Knight quietly told Relm to continue her work and went to Sabin's aid.

Sabin was burned badly. His blond hair was charred and much of his tanned body reddened from the fires of the airship. Patches of his skin were blackened and leathery. Other parts of his body were blistered and chafed. The warrior had gone back into the inferno against their advice, and it looked like he had tested and exceeded the limits of his strength.

But he had dragged out an unconscious Davis.

Cyan dropped to his knees and examined the Magitek pilot. His leather armor was mostly burned to ash, with much of his skin red and swollen. Blisters were everywhere and like Sabin, some of his skin had turned black and leathery. Dried blood masked the entire right half of his face.

For the old Doma Knight, it was nothing new. He had seen injuries like this all his life. Fire was always a heartless murderer.

Cyan was silent, his fingers moving as he worked to alleviate familiar wounds. He ripped off pieces of his tunic and tried to clean off Davis' face as much as he could. The pilot had a pulse and he was still breathing. Those were good signs, Cyan thought. The irony of the situation was lost on him though. After all, he had treated many of his countrymen in the same manner during the war with the Empire, and now he was treating an Imperial pilot.

A cry of relief brought Cyan's head up. Relm and Terra were both standing with their hands out, a soft blue glow surrounding them, as sparkles of magic showered the airship. The fires shrank from the blue flashes, and then quickly died with hardly a puff of smoke.

At least that was something that finally worked. Relm and Terra had been trying to put out the fire with their magic for sometime now, Cyan couldn't remember how long. They had worked tediously after Relm had regained consciousness.

Cyan was still torn inside, frightened at the prospect of such a young child involved with their affairs. Fortunately, Relm had only bumped her head. She had been lucky. If she had died, he didn't know how he would deal with it.

Terra ran up to Cyan, her jacket in tattered pieces but covering the grievous wound across her back. Her eyes were red from the strain, and she looked like she was ready to collapse as Sabin had. To her credit, she remained upright.

"I can do more for him than you can," Terra said. "Please... the airship..." Her voice had regained some of its strength and she had stopped crying.

Cyan nodded in agreement as his hands lowered Davis' head back to the ground. He was careful, unlike Sabin, and made sure Davis was lying on the ground in a comfortable manner. He turned to the remains of the airship as Terra tended to the injured pilot.

The Blackjack was broken in two. It had splintered on impact and nearly killed them all. Much of it was unrecognizable now, a pile of smoking rubble that could barely be perceived as anything more than firewood.

And still in the debris were their friends.

"I'll help."

Cyan turned to the side. It was Edgar. Cyan took note of the King's right arm hanging uselessly in a makeshift sling.

Edgar looked terrible. Gone was the regal aura that accompanied him. His heavy armor had been left on the ground, broken in many pieces, and he wore a dirty bloodstained shirt. His blue cape was gone, having been removed to cushion Relm while she was unconscious. Dark shadows lined the creases on his face, creases from stress unbefitting to one so young. Although he kept his tall stature, he was a shadow of his former self.

Siana and Terra had saved Edgar's life; a combination of experienced first-aid and powerful magic kept the King from dying due to his concussion and internal bleeding. Terra's ability to heal others had been taxed this day, and it was fortunate that Siana could dress battle wounds in her sleep. The pilot had even created the sling for Edgar's arm, fashioned out of clothes in their packs.

Cyan noticed Siana trying to bandage Sabin's burns. The burned martial artist scowled as the Imperial pilot applied ointment to his skin.

"She'll do a good job, and he's my brother," Edgar said as he noticed Cyan's distraction. "He won't die," he said it like a statement of fact.

Cyan nodded, his slow motions betraying his fatigue, and made his way to the airship.



They gave up two hours later. It was close to dusk by the time, and the heavily clouded skies made it a nightmare to see. Dark, thick clouds had swarmed overhead, blocking out the sun and added to the shade that the forest canopy provided. As dusk approached, it was simply too difficult to search the debris without at least torches, and even then, the flickering light was dangerous to health and safety. That didn't take into account the constant rumblings of the ground, like distant earthquakes, that threatened their balance and felled a few trees every few minutes.

A small campfire burned. The paltry flames provided light and warmth, but it was little comfort to the few that gathered around it. They had not yet left the crash site and instead made themselves as comfortable as they could near the smoking wreck. The shadows danced in the flickering light beneath the forest canopy where they made shelter for the night. They were a gathering of tired adventurers, drained and exhausted, drowning in their shared sorrows.

Off to the side of the camp was a single tired soul, her green ponytail undone in such a manner to hide the bloodied wounds on her neck and back. Her hands hovered over the head of a child, sparkling white magic dancing from her fingertips in vain.

Terra closed her eyes, a single tear running down her cheek as she gave up. She felt the still-uncomfortable sensation of reverting from her Esper-form. The lifeless body in her lap rolled to the side, long since dead.

It had been a hopeless task: to try to save his life. She should have given up a long time ago, as exhausted as she was. Even tranforming had done nothing. Her Esper-form had never been any more skilled at healing.

She didn't know how long she sat there, the wisp of a spell still glowing on her fingers. But the sound of footsteps eventually brought her head around.

Cyan said nothing as he helped Terra up. The two walked back to the fire. Only Locke glanced up, the only one of them that still had any hope remaining. But the thief saw the look on Terra's face and knew immediately.

Cyan and Edgar had found Locke alive in the wreckage, after somehow crawling his way underneath one of blackjack tables that Setzer had owned. He had been unconscious at the time, but aside from small wounds he had survived. It was a small miracle; neither Cyan nor Edgar could imagine how Locke had managed to avoid being crushed when the airship collapsed. According to what Terra and Siana had told them, the two women had been thrown clear to one side, while Locke had been thrown to the other. The airship had the splintered in two and collapsed, with Locke trapped in the worse of the fragments.

Terra tried to sit down, but ended up simply falling to her knees. Her shoulders shook -- not from the rumbling as another earthquake seemed to pass -- as she struggled to keep her composure.

"It's not your fault," Locke managed to say. Even with a half-injured leg, Locke had made his way beside Terra. His hands were on her shoulders, trying to reassure her.

Even Edgar was silent. He had a look in his face that Locke had never seen in all the time he had known the King. As Returners, they had been through worse. The Empire had never been kind dealing with strife, much less a group that was outright rebellious. Many friends had been lost to the Imperial Army.

They stared at the fire lifelessly. The flickering light showed the looks of despair and pain on each face for a moment before moving on to the next.

Michals was dead. The Lieutenant had been thrown clear of the crash, like Edgar, but had landed on his back. They had found him before the fires of the airship had begun to burn with incredible intensity. Two trees had broken his fall, and his body had been found underneath both fallen trunks.

He was Terra's first patient, before the fires devouring the airship had been put out. Terra had tried to heal the soldier's body, knitting broken bones together and tying flesh back to where it belonged.

He was Terra's first failure.

Terra had cried as Michals thanked her for everything. She had cried as Michals lost his voice, and could only squeeze her hand in reassurance. She had cried as she watched the life disappear from his clear blue eyes.

It marked the beginning of the worst day of her life.

For Siana and Sabin, watching Davis slip away had been beyond painful. Sabin had nearly gotten himself killed to save the pilot buried beneath the bowels of the airship. Davis had been in the engine room giving Setzer the speed he had needed. He was in the engine room when they hit the ground, nearest where the fires began.

And Sabin had pulled him out. Sabin had braved the inferno and personally carried the pilot out -- The martial-artist, ever the aspiring hero.

Davis was equally heroic. He had been burned alive, but refused to die. His skin had turned black and leathery, blood seeping from crisped skin, but he had stayed alive. Yet they could do nothing, even as Terra attempted with all her magic, to save his life.

Davis never even regained consciousness to witness their efforts. His heart had given out -- hours later than they had expected -- and Davis took his last breath in the arms of a teary half-esper.

Minutes later, they found Setzer buried beneath the pillars of the airship. On the bridge until the last moment, Setzer had still been at the wheel when his ship snapped in half. He had still been at the wheel as the forest fell around them. And finally, Setzer was knocked unconscious by pieces of the airship he had tried to save.

Perhaps it was because Setzer still breathed. Perhaps it was because his heart did not simply give out like Davis' had. Perhaps that had given Terra a small sliver of hope. The half-Esper was the only one of them that knew how to cast healing spells and she had tried her best to save everyone.

Setzer did not move. He had not yet woken from the grievous blow to his head and, like Davis, he had been burned quite badly by the fires. But he still breathed.

Yes, it had to be Setzer that had lifted Terra's spirits, even for a short while.

At least, until they had found Strago.

The old man was luckier than most, found underneath a pile of rubble untouched by the fires. Relm had cried seeing her grandfather injured so. She and Cyan had done their best to remove the old man without injuring him further. Though Relm was unpracticed, she and Terra combined their abilities and had somewhat stabilized Strago. Like Setzer, he had yet to regain consciousness. Although Relm needed the reassurance that her grandfather would be alright, they could give none. If the old man slipped away like Davis, well...

They had yet to find Marcus' arm.

Relm and Siana had been looking for a certain plant in the forest shortly after they stabilized Strago. They had found the Captain's body, quite far away from the airship.

He was worse off than anyone else, one leg broken and bleeding heavily from wounds in his chest. His armor was plastered with dried blood, and what little could be done for Marcus was not enough. He remained breathing, but with the extent of his injuries, it was doubtful that he would live through the night.

The last to be found was Gau. The young beast child had been in the engine room as well. Sabin had never seen Gau though, as he had been safely imprisoned beneath fire-resistant canopy that was to be used in case of engine fire. The same thing that had kept Gau from being burned alive had kept him from being rescued.

The young child, no more than thirteen, had suffered a massive concussion to the head. His arm had been broken, and he was suffering from blood loss when Cyan and Edgar found him.

Terra had tried her best, taxed far beyond her limits, to save the child. She had tried for the last two hours, watching Gau fade farther and farther away.

It had been hopeless, she knew. She should have given up, but how could she? He was barely thirteen.

Tears wet her lap. Terra had thought she could cry no more, but as she thought of Gau they welled up uncontrollably.

The small group was silent, surrounded in a lonely forest without as much as a whisper of life. The only noise was the sound of one green haired woman sobbing for her lost friends.



No one knew how long they watched the fire burn. But at some point after the distant quakes had quieted, Sabin stood up and dug his way through the supplies they had rescued from the airship. They had found a couple packs that had been salvageable, and amongst the supplies, the martial artist found a shovel.

For a long time they sat watching a small fire gradually die down. The sound of Sabin, shoveling alone, would be heard. His grunts of effort, despite the horrendous burns across his body, echoed in the dark forest.

Cyan joined and then shortly afterwards, Locke as well. The three men said nothing to each other but worked together without coordination. They dug from the ground, sharing the two shovels, and expected nothing from those around the fire.

Relm was fast asleep, falling unconscious beside a burned out Terra. The child had used her magic to the point of complete mental fatigue. Working alongside Terra, the two had exhausted their abilities and barely had the strength to move.

Edgar stared into the fire, deep in thought. He did not go to help; his broken arm would only get in the way. But he wanted to do something, anything, to take his mind off the thoughts of their dead friends. He noticed Siana was still tending to the injured: Setzer, Strago, and Marcus.

"My lady, you should get some rest," Edgar said as he approached the Imperial pilot. Siana was about the same age as Terra, Edgar was concerned that she was working herself into an early grave.

Siana did not take her eyes off of Marcus as she gently cleaned off his chest with a cotton rag. "The dirt in these cuts has to be removed or else they'll cause infections," she said plainly.

There was an edge in her voice that Edgar assumed was due to exhaustion. Deciding to be a bit more diplomatic, his voice took on a warm and friendly tone, "you'll do more harm than good when tired; one mistake and you'll just-"

"Then stop harassing me," she interrupted him rudely.

Edgar frowned. It was an undeserved snub, but he let it go. He watched silently while Siana continued her work. She remained focused on her task, applying healing salves after cleaning deep cuts. He decided that she was doing better than anyone else and returned to the campfire. He saw that Terra had also fallen asleep, and he was suddenly reminded of their initial meeting in Castle Figaro. A short-lived smile appeared on his face; his technique really was rusty.



The campfire, if it could be called as such, had died out. By then it was around midnight by Edgar's reckoning. They had finished the graves and gathered a small pile of firewood in the center. Each grave was marked with a small stone, the best they could find in such a short period of time. In the darkness of the forest, they were the only ones that made any noise. It was completely quiet, unnaturally so, and that only added to the despair they felt. They were alone in the world.

Locke lit the fire and stood back. The dark forest was once again illuminated by flickering orange-yellow light.

The group gathered around the fire, silent.

Terra stared blankly, her eyes long since dry of tears. She had witnessed the worst while trying to save lives. She had watched, her vision hazy while her spells fizzled, as Michals had died in her lap. It numbed her more than the chilly night could.

Beside her, Locke thought of Davis. His fist tightened thinking of how cruel life was. Davis had children, wasn't that what he said? Children that would now be without a father. One day, Locke promised. One day, he would find those kids and tell them how what kind of man their father had been.

Davis Malsbury and Michals Bethon, they had been their allies, their friends. They might have been Imperials but they were good people. Locke took Terra's cold hand and squeezed.

Cyan's eyes were dark and distant. He was no stranger to funerals. He knew that all the tears in the world would not bring the dead back. The knight watched the flames and said his prayers. The words were recited from memory without pause, yet another ally departing the living aboard the Phantom Train.

For Sabin, the loss of Gau had been a terrible blow. It was his fault. He had involved the child personally. He had failed to find him in the engine room. He had left Gau to die in the airship.

The martial-artist was silent. To anyone that might have been observing, Sabin looked like he was mourning the loss of his friends. But to Edgar, there was something else. Edgar could see it in Sabin's eyes. The same look in those blue eyes reminded him of the past, years ago when their father had died of poison. When they were still children themselves but forced to decide the future of their kingdom.

It was not sadness; Edgar knew that Sabin was blaming himself for each person lying in their grave. It was foolish, but Edgar knew that Sabin actually believed it in his heart. As always, his younger brother would carry the burden alone. Yet Edgar knew of no way to reach his twin brother.

Ten years had passed since their father had died from the poison of the Empire. And just like back then, Edgar could do nothing. His eyes wandered across Siana, who was standing close beside his brother. Her red hair was done in a bun, long red locks hidden underneath a beret. She stood tall and proud. Her uniform somehow looked crisp and clean despite the all the dirt and blood. She seemed to be reciting something under her breath, and then a crisp salute -- a clenched fist over her heart -- that was held for far longer than Edgar could watch.

He turned away from the fire, away from the grief and despair, and most important of all, away from the dead.



It was dark when Edgar woke. He had fallen asleep watching over Relm, concerned for the youngest of their group. With his back against the trunk of a tree and a short sword digging uncomfortably into his ribs, he had slept without the comfort of a blanket or a makeshift pillow. Even the dirt may have been softer than the bare bark that his back chafed against. The few bedrolls they had salvaged had been given to the injured, and then to Terra and Relm first. After that, there was little left to go around.

Edgar took a quick head count. Everyone else was still fast asleep. Edgar shook his head with wonder. It was a small miracle that they had lived through the night. They had been so distraught and unorganized that no one had suggested watches. In the past year there was hardly a single night without at least two people on watch. Yet here they were, in an indefensible open neck of the woods, totally unprepared for any danger.

Of course, none of them expected anyone to chase after them. Certainly not the Imperial Air Force, which had probably been ruined by the beams of light that tore apart the lands. At least the hells that had been visited upon them were undiscriminating. The Air Force was probably scattered across the lands in pieces, and whatever survived was probably no better off than they.

Monsters, on the other hand...

Edgar shook his head. No, there was no reason for the monsters to be still chasing them. Atma Weapon was resigned to the Floating Continent. It had some obscene reason to stay close to the Statues along with the legendary beasts that were the legions it had command over. Command, Edgar scoffed. That was a strange word to describe the control that Atma seemed to wield at times.

No, Atma Weapon would not chase them in vengeance. Not after they left the island. The other monsters were unintelligent beasts; nothing that could track them despite the blazing trail they left across the skies.

Yet Edgar still felt uneasy. Despite cold dictating logic that they were safe, he felt the opposite. Something was getting to his nerves, but he could not figure out what. Supplies were not a problem. Food was actually abundant. They couldn't carry all that Setzer had stored. At the bottom of the airship had been chests of Imperial rations. They were edible and would last a week or two. Setzer had kept a steady supply of the foodstuffs in his cargo bays, for what reason no one knew. They would not have to resort to foraging or hunting yet.

Water was a problem. What little they had would not be enough; they needed fresh water in unbroken skins or bottles. Fortunately there were plenty of those, again Setzer and his miraculous fire-resilient chests. There had even been some Imperial metal canteens. Finding clean water in the mountains might be difficult though. Edgar looked up towards the sky, expecting the black rain he had seen pour from those demonic mushroom clouds. There was nothing... yet.

Their lack of weapons was a serious problem though. Most of their gear had been irretrievable from the wreck, and what they could find had been broken. His favorite spear had shattered at some point during his fall, and much of his armor had been rendered unusable. He had found a short sword at some point during their search of the airship, but there was little else.

Edgar frowned. It dawned on him what was making him uneasy. As a young child he had often camped out in the woods near South Figaro. At that time, it had been peaceful and his father cared little in preparing them for their future. He had enjoyed many a night counting stars beside Sabin. They would ensnare rabbits and make a delicious stew, listening to stories from his father's knights. He could still remember one of the better stories. The Knight had paused, lengthening the suspense. It was then that Edgar could remember the chirping of the crickets, the call of the birds, as he had leaned closer to the fire waiting for the next stunning revelation.

This forest was quiet. Not just quiet, but dead quiet. The serenity of a forest that should have been full of wildlife chilled Edgar to the bones.

Surrounded by unnatural silence and covered by a blanket of darkness, Edgar Figaro stared at the ashes of a long dead fire until sleep took him again.



"I think I hear water."

They turned to Sabin, who had taken the lead with one of the three torches they carried.

No morning sunrise greeted them when they woke. Instead it was suffocating darkness, cold and unfriendly. According to Edgar, they had rested for well over ten hours. They all trusted Edgar's timekeeping skills. He had proven his ability to keep track of time without tools over the course of their journey. Many of their plans would have failed if it were not for the king.

The sky was still filled with dark black clouds churning violently far above them. Weak, sickly light that made it through the heavy cloud cover could not penetrate the thick canopy of the forest.

Fortunately, the lack of a morning sunrise was their only disappointment. Their first problem was the injured. Terra had checked on the three unconscious men. Setzer, laid out in a makeshift bed of leaves and bandaged all around, was still as docile as when they found him. His breathing was regular now, but his pulse weak. Strago was worse; his breathing was deep and rare. At times, they thought the old man had simply stopped breathing, only to wait a couple of minutes and see him draw another breath. It was nerve-racking.

Marcus made their injuries look like mere scratches. With his broken leg, missing arm, and the huge bandaged gash that had opened his chest and spilled much of his lifeblood, Terra winced in pain every time she looked at him.

Yet three men had made it through the night, and were still alive. That was a small relief.

It was too dangerous to move any of the injured. Terra's abilities had their limits, even with Relm's help. What little in the way of medical supplies they had was either not enough or unsuited to the task at hand. After all, concoctions were made to banish fatigue on the battlefield. They were not a replacement for real rest and capable treatment at the hands of a skilled doctor.

Cyan suggested they make a litter to carry their injured friends. At least if they remained lying down, they might stand the chance of surviving the journey that lay ahead of them.

After they finished a meager breakfast, the second problem became even more apparent. They were fast running out of fresh water.

Since Cyan was the only one who had made litters before, he had stayed behind with Locke to build what they could. Terra and Relm had remained behind as well. Although the reasoning had been so they could watch over the injured, everyone shared the same unspoken concern: the two girls were simply still too weak to travel.

Sabin, Siana and Edgar had struck out from the campsite, each with a torch lit by magic. Searching for water was one priority, trying to get their bearings was the second.

"My ears aren't as good as yours," Siana replied to Sabin. "But considering the thicket, I wouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of mountain stream that flowed nearby."

Siana was in better shape than either of the two brothers. Her injuries were minor and whatever had troubled her mind was pushed aside. She had pulled her long red hair into a pony tail and was now unconsciously twirling it around a finger as she looked around the darkened woods. Her hair looked like it was on fire because of the way their torch-flames danced.

"Agreed, I think we're getting closer to the highlands as well," Edgar commented. "The forest is getting sparser. Perhaps we could climb high enough to find out where we are."

They were completely lost. The mountains north of Tzen were quite expansive. Even when the Empire was expanding its territory, it was rarely traveled by people. With his compass broken, Edgar had assumed the sun would light their way, but the fates had conspired against them. Even the moss that normally grew on the north side of trees was nowhere to be found. Edgar had hoped they could find that moss, he had used the stuff to find his way home in the past. After finding conflicting directions though, Edgar had given up.

"I wouldn't suggest that," Siana said. "So far, we've been lucky and the ground has been pretty even. The closer we get to the mountains, the more difficult it'll be to get around. Especially in this freakish dark... with nothing more than these torches, it will be extremely dangerous. If any of us break a leg-"

"Then I'll just carry you back," Sabin interrupted as he broke a particularly large branch that was in his way.

Siana gave Sabin an irritated glance. "And if you break your leg? You're the least cautious of any of us," she snapped.

Sabin looked back at her, a quizzical look on his face. "Then I'll walk back," he replied nonchalantly as he continued his way through the heavy underwood.

Edgar chuckled at his brother's bravado as they followed the martial artist through the thicket. Pushing aside thorny bushes, they found themselves in front of a small stream of running water.

"Water, like I said," Sabin repeated. "I would never miss the sound of a river."

"This barely qualifies as a creek, much less a river," Siana retorted. The creek was barely two feet deep, though it was quite wide. It looked more like part of a ford than a creek. She bent over, dipping a finger into the cold water. "It's clean," she announced.

Edgar looked down, orange-yellow light from their torches reflecting off the crystal clear water.

"We could follow this to the sea," he said.

"Unless it leads into a valley," Sabin pointed out.

"The lady is right though," Edgar said. "Climbing higher so that we can see over the forest sounds great, and then I think about our total lack of light. Even if we make it without injury, the clouds are still blocking the sun so we probably still can't see anything! Getting back down would be hazardous at best. We're lacking any gear to make the climb, and even if we did, it could be a week's journey before we get high enough."

Sabin filled up his waterskin, shrugging. "If you think it's wise to follow this stream, then I guess we can do it," he said. "What do you think, Siana?"

Siana was filling a fourth canteen; her pack was full of containers that could hold water. She looked up, shaking her head. "We have no other options. The old man won't last long in his condition if we don't get to a doctor soon."

Edgar's mood soured as he thought of Strago passing away. Despite the fact that everyone wanted to keep Relm's mood up, no one was going to lie. The little girl, her age barely two digits in length, was doing her best to keep her grandfather alive. She was perceptive and intelligent. Relm knew the chances better than anyone else.

Edgar pushed the depressing thoughts from his mind, taking a well-deserved swig from his own waterskin in the process. "We better head back. We'll decide what to do when everyone has had something to drink," Edgar declared.



To Edgar's surprise, they were well-received when they returned to the crash site. They had taken the wrong route trying to return from the stream and nearly gotten lost in the cursed shadowy forest. Frustrated and tired, it was Siana who recognized a curious landmark of a jagged rock jutting out of the ground into a pine, as if the very earth had tried to fell a tree but failed. From there, the three adventurers had found their way back to the crash site, bringing fresh water to a thirsty crowd.

What they had not expected were the smiles on the fire-lit faces of Terra and Relm. It wasn't mere relief, it was actual joy. The two girls were in a happy mood. It was the first smile seen on Terra's face since... Edgar could not remember. Perhaps it was when Gestahl announced his plans to stop the war, many months ago back in Vector. When she had last smiled was no longer important, because things had changed.

Marcus was awake.

As the Captain drank his fill of the fresh water, Locke told Edgar what had happened.

While Cyan and Locke had been making the litter, Terra had decided that she was well rested enough to attempt a few spells she had seen cast in Thamasa. Although Strago had attempted to teach Terra some magic, she seemingly did not have the ability to learn from the books of lore he owned. However, she did try to copy and imitate what she saw.

As unnatural as it was, the younger Relm was actually the more learned of the two magic users. Relm had been schooled by Strago for most of her life and her textbook control of magic was a foil to Terra's chaotic instincts. As a result, Terra managed to stabilize a new healing spell-form with Relm's help.

Unfortunately, they had only one chance to use the spell. Keeping in mind that the effects of healing were not so much of the mind, but of the body, they decided to use it on Marcus, the most grievously injured of the three. From Terra's previous experience with Davis, the injuries to Strago and Setzer could only be overcome by the victim's own strength.

The spell apparently had not worked as they expected. Locke had been busy with Cyan by then, so he had missed out on what had happened. By the time they finished felling the trees and preparing the logs, Terra was taking a nap. According to Relm, Terra had exhausted herself doing all they could for Marcus.

Marcus awoke shortly after they had finished the litter.

Although it didn't seem like he would remain awake and conscious, Relm declared that Marcus was definitely recovering. By the time Edgar, Sabin and Siana had returned, he was wide awake and discussing with Locke what they should do next.

Edgar sat down next to Locke. Siana was checking on Marcus' bandages with a big smile on her face.

"You have no idea how happy we are to see you awake," Edgar said, picking his words carefully.

Marcus nodded. "Siana, I'll be fine, if you could just leave me alone for now," he said.

"Yes sir," Siana naturally responded. She took a seat on a fallen log next to Edgar.

Marcus turned to Edgar. "I think I can say that no one is happier than me to be awake," he said with a wisp of a smile on his face.

Edgar shrugged. "I suppose, but now that you're awake and the litters are made, we have some tough choices to make."

"Yes, Locke gave me an update on the airship crash. I didn't get a good idea where we were before we landed, but I do know the area surrounding Tzen fairly well," Marcus said.

"We have no idea what our bearings are," Edgar admitted. "The stream where we found fresh water is probably coming from the mountains, but that route is too treacherous for this darkness."

"I don't think we would have seen the ocean from the mountains anyways," Locke said. "As I was telling Marcus, I think our best bet is just to stick to the lowlands. It lowers the chances of the ground becoming a hazard, with dead leaves and vegetation hiding pitfalls and other dangers. We can't climb anyways: no light and too many injured. The litters are delicate enough."

"Agreed, but we'll the stream we found instead of just sticking the low ground. It should eventually make its way out to the sea," Edgar added.

Marcus nodded. "I agree, although I can't do much in the state I'm in," he coughed. "At least our water supply won't be an issue that way, and we can try to collect berries or something so we do not deplete our ration supply."

"These clouds are the real issue," Edgar stared upward. "Without the sun, it's going to get cold very fast. And from the looks of things, I don't think they're going away for a while."

"Magic?" Marcus asked.

Edgar shook his head. "Probably not," he thought back to the destruction the beams of light had wreaked on the world. "Have you ever seen a volcano?"

Marcus and Siana both nodded.

"An exercise was keeping the Magitek armor working even in extreme conditions," Siana explained. "One of those conditions ended up being in lava caves east of Albrook."

"Then you both know how much smoke rises from a volcano. I think the same thing happened when the Floating Continent unleashed those beams of light," Edgar said. "I can't begin to grasp the implications of what had happened. I'm no scholar. But the clouds aren't magical, although the cause is. I'd guess maybe a couple days at least before the clouds break up."

"A week of darkness..." Locke mumbled.

"Yes, and if making our way through the forest doesn't get us, the cold eventually will," Edgar added. "We had best gather what we can from the wreckage."

The group, their hearts lifted with Marcus' revival, made a final search of the airship. They gathered what supplies they could, especially bandages or clothes. Edgar told them it was going to get quite cold as long as the dark clouds churned above them so they bundled up as best they could.

While Cyan, Sabin and Locke argued about which of the three would carry the litter with Setzer and Strago, Siana and Relm finished a pair of crutches for Marcus. Unfortunately, he had lost one arm, so he still needed help to move around. Terra was hopeful that she could heal his leg by the next day.

Edgar, with his broken arm in a sling, stuffed their packs with everything that was still usable. Even partially burnt bedrolls could be used to keep them warm. He had been told stories of Figaro soldiers in the far north, beyond Narshe. The sun would set for weeks there and the cold was enough to freeze a man's tongue right off.

However, they soon reached the limits of what could be carried. Even Relm would have quite a load, and Cyan and Sabin had the litter to carry along with their own packs. The journey was going to be slow and grueling.

Locke lit two more torches, giving the second to Terra. Locke had avoided carrying Setzer and Strago by volunteering to stay in the lead. It was the most dangerous role since he would be forging a path for everyone to travel. Locke had fashioned a cane out of a particularly thick branch and was testing to see how he could poke at potential covered pitfalls. Once he was satisfied that the stick would easily tell the difference between leaf-covered ground and leaf-covered holes, he took out his knife and expertly carved a handle.

By that time, everyone was ready for the short march to the river. It was getting near sunset, and even if there was no sun to mark the coming of night, their muscles burned from the exhaustion of the day.

Edgar found Marcus and Siana near the graves of Gau, Michals and Davis. Siana held a torch with one hand, her other was steadying the Captain. The two had their heads down and stared at the ground. It was Marcus' moment of respect paid to his friends before they left. Everyone else had already said their piece the night before. For Relm, Terra and Sabin, they seemed to avoid the graves as often as possible.

Edgar said nothing, giving the two soldiers all the time they needed.

Marcus finished his prayer for PFC Davis Malsbury, making a note to himself that he would have to deliver the news to Davis' son. His son was his only child to survive the Esper attack on Vector. Marcus felt a surge of hatred from within, a condemning feeling towards the despicable espers. But he forced the feelings aside, instead turning his attention to the rock that signified Michals' grave.

Lieutenant Michals Bethon of the former Imperial Special Forces would rest for eternity here. Michals had been his best subordinate, both loyal and capable. He had been his closest friend. When suspicion had fallen on the ISF after General Chere's supposed treachery, Marcus had been one of the men under extreme scrutiny. Michals had stood behind with unwavering loyalty. When the ISF was broken up by Palazzo's orders, Michals had turned down a promotion and stayed with Marcus. When news that General Christophe was dead and General Chere had been kidnapped by the Returners, Marcus' request to rescue their General had been turned down. Before Marcus returned to their base, Michals had organized a platoon of former-ISF to go on the mission anyways. And when Marcus had decided to throw his lot in with the Returners, Michals had already been loading supplies onto the Blackjack.

Neither man deserved this, denied the dignity of a proper burial. Marcus would return one day and make sure both men were properly laid to rest.

"For the glory of the Empire," Marcus whispered. His fist went to his heart. Beside him, Siana did the same.

Then Marcus turned to Edgar, a hard look in his eyes. Fire light danced behind, casting shadows across a man marked by battle scars, physical and mental.

"Let's go."
Post #112284
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:17

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They made their way to the stream with no problems. Sabin and Cyan managed to haul the litter with ease. It helped that Cyan's armor had been broken and he had tossed the chain mail for a leather vest. Otherwise, the older man probably could never keep up with Sabin's boundless endurance.

Locke led them quite well. He had traveled forests often in the past. Edgar pointed out the path from earlier that day and this time, they did not get lost.

The going was slow but nowhere as slow as they expected. Marcus kept pace with Relm despite his injuries. Strangely enough, Terra had volunteered to help Marcus. Siana had looked quite relieved. Edgar assumed that though the two shared common bonds, it was probably uncomfortable for her to be so close to her commander. Edgar had plenty of experience with authority intruding on friendships.

Meanwhile, Siana told them a story while they walked. A couple years ago, she had been deployed to Tzen. They were to catch a pair of thieves who had apparently stolen a Magitek armor prototype. Chasing the two men had been easy; they left a trail that even a child could follow through the thicket. After all, Magitek armor was not exactly easy to hide or sneak around in.

However as they got in sight of the stolen armor, the two thieves had attempted to use the prototype to defend themselves.

Cyan grimaced as Siana told them how the thieves had foolishly activated the armor. Sabin laughed as he remembered Cyan's attempts to pilot the armor while they escaped the Imperial camps so many months ago.

While the two men shared an inside joke, Siana explained that the thieves discovered how to use the prototype missile launcher. However, they had failed to aim properly and ended up detonating the missile inside the armor. Fortunately for the would-be thieves, the missile was not explosive.

Instead the missile had sprayed sticky white glue on the thieves. The glue had been designed to interfere with other Magitek armor and slow down large groups of enemy soldiers. Detonated at point blank with merely a single armor and two men near it, the adhesive worked wonders.

"When we returned to Tzen," Siana said, "we carted in a single Magitek prototype with both thieves stuck to the sides. The base commander was not exactly too happy about that since apparently, they didn't have anything to dissolve the glue with ease."

They shared a laugh, though it was not because the story was funny. They simply needed to laugh to relieve stress and frustration.

The rest of the trip was in relative silence. Terra and Marcus talked quietly; mostly Terra was concerned with his health. She was unsure of her grasp of the spell's mechanics despite Marcus' assurances that he felt fine. The loss of one arm was a pittance compared to his life and if she could heal his leg, then he would be more than in her debt.

Terra assured him that it was possible, especially with Relm's help. They just needed time to prepare.

"I always thought magic could easily mend broken bones," Sabin said. He looked back at Terra. "Seems like magic should be able to do stuff like that pretty easily, otherwise it wouldn't be magic."

Terra shook her head. "Strago taught me quite a bit in Thamasa. Healing has always been a challenge for them and there are some that dedicate their entire lives to learning how to heal," she said as she tightened the buttons on the tattered pieces of her brown jacket. "I'm trying my best."

"Weird, limits on magic seem to make it..." Sabin trailed off, watching his steps as he led the litter around a particularly thick root along the forest ground. Cyan followed, being careful as to not injure the two hurt men anymore than necessary. "Well," Sabin said as he cleared the obstacle. "It's just less magical, especially after seeing all that Gestahl or Kefka did."

Terra brushed a strand of hair aside, her green hair taking on a strange shade in the yellow-orange light of their torches. "Well it's just hard to heal. I'm trying my best," she repeated quietly.

"Hard to heal but easy to destroy, how fitting," Marcus said. The soldier steadied his single crutch. Since Terra was leading him, she did not see the look in his brown eyes. But the anger in his voice was not lost. "It seems obvious what magic is really meant for: death and destruction."

Terra looked to the ground, her mood darkening.

"It's not my fault," she whispered to herself.



They reached the river roughly around nightfall, although that was debatable since they couldn't see the sun set. Locke scouted the area with Siana and Edgar, finding a sheltered grove of trees that they could consider camp for the night. They felled a few trees for firewood but did not look very hard for sources of food other than the rations. Everyone was tired and running around in the dark with torches was dangerous enough already. So they ended up eating Imperial rations with a bit of dried fruit and meat for flavour.

When nearly everyone was finished eating and had begun to drift away, Edgar turned to the Captain. "Marcus," he said in between bites of jerky. "What do you think the situation will be like in Tzen?"

"Excuse me?" Marcus asked. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well," Edgar began, "Tzen will be the closest city once we manage our way out of this forest."

Marcus nodded. "There's a couple smaller villages nearby, but Tzen is the only city this far north," he answered.

"I wanted to know what you think would have happened in Tzen, considering the Floating Continent, the Emperor's death, and those beams of light..." Edgar trailed off.

Marcus looked around, noticing that only Edgar and Siana were paying attention to them now. Sabin had disappeared with a torch soon after he had finished his meal. Terra and Relm were discussing magic farther away. The Doma Knight sat against the trunk of a dead tree, his eyes half closed as he rested. He didn't see Locke anywhere.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss this when we cross that bridge," he said. He did not feel right discussing anything about Tzen, whether Celes had trusted them or not. In the end they were Returners. They were nothing more than Rebels and he was still an Imperial soldier.

An Imperial soldier that had tried to kill the Emperor. That made them traitors, far worse than Returners.

Marcus banished the thought.

Edgar shook his head. "I want to know what we're getting into. It is public knowledge that the Emperor had broken the treaty after the disaster in Thamasa," he stated.

Marcus nodded his agreement.

"And even you were fooled into thinking that we had killed off Leo and Celes," Edgar continued.

"With the help of the Espers," Marcus added. "Yes, we were told that you Returners had betrayed us."

"Right," Edgar said. "Then I don't think going to Tzen, an occupied city, will exactly cause us to be showered with rose pedals."

Marcus sighed. "Tzen is not occupied. It's been years since the war and they're a province within the Empire now. The army's presence there is only for the protection of the citizens," he said. "We protect the people from the monsters and to secure the coast. Every so often, we'll even deal with petty crimes like thievery as well."

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "Do you really believe that?" he asked.

Marcus paused, judging his words. What game was this aristocrat playing here?

"What are you getting at?" Siana put in. She looked angry, although it might've been the fire light coloring her cheeks in disdain.

"Repeating lies adamantly does not make them true," Edgar stated quietly.

"That's ridiculous!" Siana nearly shouted. "Tzen wants, no-" she corrected herself. "They need us there. We've been requested to step in many times by the Governor," she defended. "At least three times that I know of personally."

Edgar narrowed his eyes, a wisp of a smile on his face.

"Siana, stand down," Marcus said. The one armed soldier stroked his unshaven chin. His brown eyes stared daggers into Edgar. "I admit, we've been fooled before by faulty information. Leave Siana out of this though, she's just a pilot. It's not like they get much news anyways." He didn't like anyone picking on his men.

Edgar nodded.

"What are you talking about, Marcus?" Siana asked, now thoroughly confused.

Marcus sighed again. "He's testing us," he answered. "We've been fooled before with covers over our eyes. Now that we see clearly though, he wants to see if we're still so blind to follow the things we're told. After all, selectively telling the truth works better than any lie." The soldier looked into their campfire, using his sword to turn over a log that had grabbed his attention. The orange-yellow light was becoming an annoyance to him; the light, tedious in its unchanging state, was damaging his sight. He paused, letting Siana think things over, before speaking once again. "You're right," he directed at Edgar. "There have been a couple cases of uprisings in Tzen and its surrounding villages... even the city of Ethelben had some problems. We've been told it was mainly due to the work of you Returners, but I'm not sure if that's entirely true anymore."

Cyan took a seat near Marcus. The conversation had caught his interest.

"Tzen has a commander, a General at that, who isn't exactly the kindest," Marcus further admitted. He paused and watched Siana find another seat further away, on the other side of the fire. "Officially it looked like a reward, but it does make sense that there's anti-Empire sentiment there, otherwise someone that prestigious wouldn't have been assigned such a position. I still think you Returners have had your fair share of meddling in things."

Edgar grinned. "I wouldn't admit to it. Figaro is still allied with the Empire," he said with a smile on his face.

"I suppose that's a joke I don't understand," Marcus retorted. The comment made little sense to him. "Either way, there's a substantial garrison in the city of Tzen itself and that's without mentioning the forces located on the coast and throughout the province. With the Emperor's death and General Christophe dead, then Palazzo..." he trailed off.

"Kefka is dead."

They turned around. Locke was leaning against a tree, listening into their conversation from a safe distance. The thief had his headband off and looked horrible in his bloodied white shirt. His blue jacket was missing as well; he had given it to Terra earlier.

"We don't know that," Marcus said. "No one liked General Palazzo, not even Nairne," Marcus nearly spat out the names; such was his hatred of them. Kefka and Nairne had ruined Celes' reputation and caused the mass execution of dozens of her loyal officers. They had even dared sentence her, though that plot had been foiled by the Returners. It was one of the few deeds that redeemed the Rebels in Marcus' eyes. "But he was insane and powerful, and without seeing his body, I don't tr-"

"I trust her! Celes would have finished Kefka," Locke interrupted. His voice was both strong and bold, hiding an underlying current of emotion that threatened to surface.

Marcus paused, his heart and mind fighting for a moment as he wrestled with his loyalty and cold logical reasoning.

"Enough of this speculation," Edgar said. With a few words, he defused the angst-filled situation between the two headstrong men. "Getting back to Tzen, you were talking about the commander there?"

"No, I wasn't." Marcus stroked his chin again. "Palazzo had positioned plenty of his loyal men throughout the Empire in positions of power. He wasn't much of a soldier, but he was good at internal politics. He played the House of Lords against each other and somehow retained the ear of the Emperor. He wrecked the careers of a couple more popular generals, even sending one to a pointless political appointment down in Albrook. Still, I didn't think he would go so far as try to execute General Chere..."

Edgar folded his arms. "Strange, for a mere Captain, you seem to know a lot."

"I am an ISF Captain," Marcus answered.

"So we'll be dealing with one of Kefka's lackeys?" Locke asked.

Marcus laughed, catching everyone off-guard. "No, most definitely not," he replied between chuckles. "General Danielle Meras is a decorated war hero." He saw the questioning look on Edgar's face. "Her actions broke the back of Tzen's Army," he gave them a toothy grin. "She conquered Tzen a decade ago."

"So she's a bloodthirsty power-hungry Imperial. Well that just lovely," Locke grumbled from the side.

Edgar ignored the comment. "Gestahl is dead and his closest advisors are gone as well. And if I remember my stay at Vector, most of the high ranking folk were slaughtered when the Espers attacked. That means there's going to be a huge power vacuum. What do you think we're walking into?"

Marcus considered Edgar's question. "I can't say for sure. But I know one thing. There's no shortage of ambitious officers; wars tend to bring out those kinds of people," he sighed. He already knew the answer to Edgar's question. "In the past year, Palazzo's control of the Emperor's court wasn't well received by the upper brass. When that monster tried to kill General Chere, it probably sparked the huge reorganization that I found myself a part of. It's likely they were consolidating their power just in case."

"And now?" Edgar asked. "How likely would they use that power?"

"They'd never listen to the civilian leadership," Marcus replied. "That means several generals are commanding mobilized armies in a headless state, chaos and disorder..."

"No..." Siana gasped. She stood up, a look of shock on her face.

Edgar nodded. "I already thought about that. That's probably the worst thing that could happen," he said.

"You were leading me to that conclusion," Marcus accused. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Siana leave. He didn't like the idea of a civil war anymore than she did, but he didn't have any family. Siana still had her mother in Albrook. Marcus turned his attention back to Edgar.

"Perhaps," Edgar said, grinning again.

Marcus shook his head, not enjoying being lead around like a child. The grin on the nobleman's face angered him. "Alright Figaro. You want to know what I think will happen in Tzen?"

Edgar bit off a snappy response.

"Well, I'd say General Meras wouldn't lose control of the city. Her men are fiercely loyal, bordering on fanatical. They'll do anything for her," Marcus said.

"Sounds like someone I know," Locke said under his breath.

Marcus shot a glare at the thief before returning his gaze to Edgar. He stared across the fire at the King of Figaro, a man that was his enemy no less than a week ago. "She's probably locked down the area, mobilized her troops to take whatever supplies are necessary. Considering the Floating Continent, the beams of light, and now these dark skies, if she hasn't deployed every single Magitek unit at her disposal, mobilized the army and declared martial law, then I'm a flying chocobo. It might not have happened yet, but only an idiot would believe the Emperor could have survived on the Floating Continent when it blasted itself to pieces. So soon, very soon, Tzen will be swarmed with soldiers. "

"Outright mobilization. Great, just what I feared," Edgar commented. "Do you think she'll take kindly to us showing up?"

Marcus chuckled at the image that popped into his head. "She'll execute you on sight for assassinating General Christophe. And this time, Celes won't be here to stop the attack," he said, reminding Edgar of a certain ambush. Just days earlier, Marcus and his men had sprung a trap that would have slaughtered Edgar and all his Returner friends had Celes not halted the strike.

"I wasn't planning on going toe to toe with Magitek armor," Edgar said. "What about you? You said you knew this Danielle, would she take kindly to you? We need to get medical attention for Strago and Setzer," he said.

Marcus shook his head slowly. "She wouldn't remember me. I'm might be a Captain in the ISF, but that's still far below her immediate circle. She'll just assume I'm a grunt that defected."

"Great," Edgar grumbled. "Just great."



When it was time to sleep, Edgar and Locke had taken the first watch while Cyan and Marcus had volunteered for the most brutal of the three, the middle one. Sabin and Siana had taken the last. Edgar was surprised when Marcus woke up on his own. He had grown used to waking the others when his turn was up. It was nice to work with another professional.

Edgar waited as Cyan slowly got to his feet. Marcus had limped his way to the other side of their camp, so they were alone and out of earshot.

"Cyan," Edgar said quietly.

Cyan had also woken up on his own, though less readily than Marcus. In addition, Edgar could see that Cyan was still tired. That was strange, as normally Cyan would be more alert than anyone else.

The Knight readjusted his sheathed sword before turning to meet Edgar's eyes. His eyes were red, more so than from just fatigue.

"Yes, Edgar?"

Edgar sat down on a log beside Cyan. He lowered his voice. "What do you think of our new allies?"

Cyan's hands were brushing against his tunic in a strange fashion. Edgar wondered what he was wrong. That kind of idle activity was something Celes would normally do, not Cyan.

"He is more than he seems," Cyan said after some thought. "Sir Marcus is a loyal soldier though, capable of thinking beyond the dogma of the Empire."

"So you like him," Edgar concluded.

"Do not assume such things," Cyan glanced over at Marcus. "He knows too much. I would be weary of trusting any Imperial soldier, especially one who is as free-speaking as he."

Edgar nodded. "Very well, then I believe this would be the best time to discuss Setzer."

"His loyalty," Cyan finished in a quiet voice.

"What do you think now?" Edgar asked.

Cyan sighed heavily as he folded his arms. "Setzer returned for us on that monstrosity. Were he still a spy..." he trailed off.

Edgar knew what Cyan was hinting at. They had discussed the possibility that Setzer had been an Imperial spy for a long time now. The two men had never believed the gambler could have been so easily convinced to help the Returners, not when he commanded an airship. Yet Setzer's actions had never been anything less than as a devoted member of their team. Even if his reasons were less than agreeable...

"I mostly agree, Cyan. It doesn't matter whether Strago and Relm were on the Blackjack or not, he still saved our lives when he didn't have to. Perhaps his motives are actually to woo Celes."

"Mostly... thy speech betrays thee," Cyan pointed out.

Edgar nodded. "I won't trust Setzer fully. The airship is a piece of technology that I can't believe Setzer built on his own. He's connected to the Imperials in some manner, and until we find out what that is, I'll always be suspicious. Just look at all these chests of Imperial supplies: rations, canteens, even blankets and clothes. All of it was on the airship even when he wanted the Blackjack to be as light as possible. It doesn't make sense!"

"It is indeed perplexing. I have not an answer to avail thy suspicions."

"I just wish Strago was around," Edgar sighed. "He always had something insightful to point out, something that I never saw even though it was right in front of my eyes. I grew used to his sagely advice Cyan."

"This mystery cannot be solved at the present."

"And he's done nothing but risk his life to help us," Edgar sighed. "You're right, I know. I'm just wasting my time."

"Very well," Cyan unfolded his arms and clutched at his tunic. "I believe we understand one another. He is a comrade-in-arms, and we shalt see to his expeditious recovery. I shalt take my watch now, Edgar."

Edgar nodded and watched him leave. Wearing little more than a ripped up tunic, Cyan looked nothing like a Knight of Doma. His back was hunched and the bandages about his wounds were soaked with dried blood. Streaks of ash and dirt covered what skin was unbandaged. At that exact moment, it occurred to Edgar that Cyan's armor -- one of the few things Cyan had brought from Doma -- had been broken in the crash.



The rest of the night passed by without issue as the watches were more than sufficient. Each had reported the same: the forest was utterly silent. There was no chase from the Imperial Air Force, no monsters to be fought off, no animals, birds... nothing. Edgar would have shared his concern about the bizarre quietude, but they had too much on their minds already.

There was no change in Setzer or Strago. Though it was good news in a way, it did not help their moods. Terra and Relm were the only ones to have slept the entire night but they still looked tired. Locke and Edgar put on false smiles for everyone else and hid their fatigue. Cyan was reserved as usual and Sabin was irritatingly energetic. He even looked fresh since the bandages that covered his burned skin had been redone, lucky for him to be on the same watch as Siana.

Marcus seemed better. He hid his disappointment when Terra told him nothing could be done for his leg yet.

They set out when everyone had woken and eaten. Torchlight lit their way as they followed the creek. The ground was wet and slippery. Dead leaves covered the lay of the land; a single slip and one might fall dozens of meters. The waterway tended to twist and turn through the thicket, at times sinking lowering into the ground and making it treacherous to follow. Terra and Relm had both fallen twice, Marcus once, before Locke decided they had to stray farther away from the creek. They had been lucky no one had been lost or hurt yet, but they couldn't keep taking chances. They all agreed; the dark forest deadly to travel through with mere torchlight.

The vegetation did not change in any perceivable manner, nor did the ground steadily slope downwards. Locke and Edgar quietly shared words with each other many times, pretending to calmly discuss their surroundings. However, a fight was boiling below the surface. Tension and frustration had grown high and the collision of two strong-willed men left a lasting grudge. In the end, they agreed to disagree. They would follow the waterway by sound and have faith. The creek itself was now much larger, almost a stream, and this was evidence enough for Edgar; they were heading on the right path.

Camp for the night was made a stone's throw away from the stream. They could hear the sound of water trickling close by as they ate, the only sound in the forest to be heard. Their dinner was far better than before. While they had journeyed through the dark woods, Siana had happened on a harvest of berries. After declaring them free of poison, the adventurers had gathered as many of the sweet berries as they could.

It was a small luxury that they could afford.

Later that night, Terra and Relm attempted to heal Marcus' leg. With a glowing blue aura surrounding the two girls, they wove practiced spells around the Captain for nearly two hours. It was quite a long time and those watching had grown tired of the light show.

Cyan remained silent, too silent in Edgar's opinion. But the King was not sure why the knight was so distant. Originally he had assumed it was the age difference. Cyan could pass as their fathers and in Relm's case, grandfather. Taking even that into account, it did not explain the quiet aura that surrounded the former retainer of Doma.

Locke watched Terra for the duration of the spell casting. He was the only one whose interest did not fade.

Green, blue and yellow sparkles of light spiraled around Terra's fingers as she laid one hand on Marcus' ankle. The blue aura around her had turned a warm shade of yellow as she whispered arcane words under her breath. A cascade of white light encircled Relm, whose eyes were closed and hands holding onto Terra's shoulders. The trees around them shone brightly and created a colorful rainbow of reflected light that pleasing to the eyes. It was a pleasing contrast to the monotonous torchlight that had been their only source of illumination.

Then the enchanted luminescence faded away. The forest returned to the orange-yellow flickering of their torches.

Yet as one source of happiness faded, another took its place. A cry of delight rang out in the silent woods. It grabbed everyone's attention with its unique tone. Rare was the sound of good cheer in these past days.

Marcus stood without help. He had one less arm, but two working legs. There was a big smile on his battle-scared face, one that was only outmatched by a joyous Terra.

"By the gods, it actually worked!" Marcus was saying. "I didn't really expect it to work, but it did!"

Relm cheered, "I knew we could do it."

Marcus swept the two girls off their feet, giving both a one armed hug.

"Congratulations," Edgar found himself saying. "And welcome to the club," he added as he rubbed the sling his arm was in.

Marcus laughed. "Maybe these miracle workers can help you as well," he said. "They did in hours what normally takes months."

Terra beamed.

Everyone shared in the celebration; Marcus had become a symbol that things would get better. They told stories around the campfire, sharing in rounds of jolly laughter as they tried to forget the past few days. Between Sabin and Locke, there were comedic stories aplenty. Especially since the two men had decided to start sharing stories of Edgar's rather tragic attempts at flirting with the opposite sex. The King was not too pleased about that development and subtlety nudged the stories to center around Locke's adventures. After Locke had amply embarrassed himself, he tricked Marcus into telling the next story.

In between bouts of laughter while Sabin declared he would tell them a story to upstage Marcus, Edgar noticed that Cyan had hardly joined in the fun. Yet there was a smile was on his face, almost hidden underneath his thick moustache. The King of Figaro grinned. He put an arm around the Doma Knight to make sure he would join in. No one would escape telling something embarrassing about themselves.



The village of Beckett was in the core of the Empire. Traders from Sellenger would stop in Beckett to stock up on supplies before traveling the narrow and often dangerous Anthony's Pass. People always wanted to avoid going around the mountains -- the Plains of Callaghan were too far to the south and the Gap of Reddenhurst too far to the northeast. Although the rockslides and avalanches of Anthony's Pass regularly claimed the lives of inexperienced merchants, it had been a toll that most were willing to pay.

Nancy was one of those rookies that had decided to try her luck with Old Man Anthony. She led a caravan of chocobo-pulled wagons, filled with foodstuffs that were now several days late. Nancy did not regularly deliver by this route, her produce typically arrived from Fanshaw and so safer to travel through the Plains of Callaghan. This trip was different, it was time-critical and her usual ten-man crew was accompanied by something else:

A squadron of Imperial soldiers.

The brown-uniformed men kept their torches high while they rode slightly ahead. Nancy's delivery had been deemed important enough to require a heavy guard. Even if Nancy wasn't as smart as she was, it would have been easy to guess why the Empire had suddenly sent her an escort. The dark clouds in the sky swirled at great speeds. People had gotten around to calling it the Long Night, and Nancy prayed to the gods that it wouldn't be changed to the Eternal Night.

"Lady," the Imperial officer at the head of the escort motioned for her stop.

Nancy halted her chocobo. She was at the head of the caravan, and the wagon drivers behind also reined in their chocobos. She got down from her wagon and hurried to the officer's side.

"Kurtfield, check ahead," the officer gave orders as he dismounted into a puddle of black tar. The foul stuff clung to his boots and the soldier cursed loudly.

"Dennis?" Nancy had taken care where she walked. She had been lucky enough to avoid the hellrains, but there were plenty of people that told her all about it. She shivered whenever she thought of those that lived through the black downpour. Nothing could remove that sticky stuff. It fell on trees, leaves, hands, even the skin. Their escort of soldiers had kept those afflicted with the hellrain far away. Many that had suffered through the rains had fallen to deadly sickness, or so the rumors suggested. Nancy wondered what the soldiers had been sent to actually guard them from.

Dennis turned to her. "Miss Nancy, right?" After she nodded, he pointed ahead. "The hellrain thickens past this point. Since we're coming close to Beckett, I think we should be on our guard."

"What's happening, Dennis? What should we be afraid of? This black stuff doesn't kill you," she pointed at the ground.

The soldier shook his head. "No it doesn't. But the hellrains only poured near where death beams hit. People near the death beams get sick, body and mind. You should get back to your wagons; we won't be staying in Beckett."

They stayed on the road for another hour until the soldiers returned. Nancy and her fellow drivers exchanged cautious whispers. A few had been brave during the sleeping hours -- that's what the soldiers called it since night meant nothing now -- and snuck away from their escort. They had talked to some traveling away from the cities near the death beams. Everyone had a different horror story to tell and Nancy couldn't believe most of it. Men whose skins had been completely burned off? Women had found themselves with blisters the size of balls all over their bodies? It just wasn't possible. Nancy had seen what fires did, it didn't make skin hang like rags from the bone.

"Miss Nancy," it was Dennis. He motioned at the drivers and they continued along the road finally. When they reached Beckett, Nancy didn't see any of the horror stories. The village was covered in hellrain and in the center a small group of soldiers were standing guard.

They dismounted there and Dennis told Nancy that none of the supplies in Beckett could be trusted. They would just have to take Anthony's Pass without fresh food; if necessary they would dig into the wagons.

"Where are all the villagers?" Nancy asked as she looked around Beckett. It looked like a ghost-town, completely deserted and covered with black, sticky tar.

Dennis shook his head. "Don't ask uncomfortable questions ma'am. You don't want to know the truth."

Nancy paled at the rebuke and hurried back to her wagon. The soldiers were just doing their job, she told herself. She pushed the questions from her mind and went over the checklist for the wagon. As she looked over the wheels, her eye caught movement in between two small shacks. Looking to make sure none of the soldiers were watching her, she snuck over to the pile of week old-trash and realized what she had seen.

It was the body of a man -- well she thought it was a man -- whose entire left side was burned away. The right side was a mass of purple, and on his face, his eyeballs hung out and his mouth was frozen in maniacal grin. The rags that covered his body were charred and at his leg-

Nancy backed away slowly. A weak scream had died in her dry throat as she stared into the wolf's deadly red eyes. It was big. Nancy wondered how she hadn't noticed the grey beast earlier. It was easily twice as big as she was, and its razor sharp teeth shimmered in the light of her torch.

Then the screams of the other drivers came from the wagons. The sound of swords being drawn were heard and desperate cries from the Imperial soldiers as they struggled against the pack of monstrous wolves. Nancy instinctively turned towards the sounds and saw dozens of grey furred beasts. Dennis and two other men had drawn their swords, striking several monsters down before they fell to the hoard.

Nancy started to run. She ran away from the wagons, away from the slaughter, away from Beckett. She dropped her torch at some point and couldn't even see where she was going. But it didn't matter, she just ran far from the sounds of her chocobos dying, far from the death cries of her fellow drivers and vicious growls of the monsters feeding. Nancy tripped and fell into the inky darkness. She vaguely realized that she had fallen off a cliff; the air was whipping past her face stronger than any wind she had felt. Though her heart was still pumping and blood pounding into her head, she felt an odd sense of peace.

Ten seconds later, that peace was permanent.



Edgar wiped at his brow with his one good arm. He could feel sweat dripping down his back. The forest was getting quite cold by the way their breath left mist in the air. Edgar pulled his coat tighter. He would be drenched in sweat, but if he didn't stay bundled up then he would get sick.

The last few days had seen them cover a lot more ground. Their meals were meager; the remainder of the gathered berries, some trail mix, and the Imperial rations. Everyone was more refreshed thanks to Edgar and Locke. The two had decided -- after a lengthy argument -- everyone needed extra rest. Their arrived conclusion was that Terra and Relm would dictate when everyone else would wake. Usually being on the last watch, they certainly had the power to make such a decree. No one complained. Only Edgar could tell time in the perpetual twilight.

They continued following the stream. In front, Marcus helped Locke search for a good route to ease Cyan and Sabin's injured charges. With two eyes out front, they covered more ground faster. The stream had grown large, rushing waters and a greater depth making it difficult to ford. Many times they had to search for a long way around when a tributary cut them off from the waterway that was their guide.

Muscles began to tire as another day wound to an end. It was then that Locke approached Edgar.

"The plants, have you noticed it?" he asked. He kept his voice low so that no one else heard. Hopefully, everyone else would assume they were discussing camping options as usual.

Edgar nodded. "There have been more and more dead plants, I did notice. It's the lack of sunlight," though he was quiet, he kept the same strong and confident tone.

"I hope it's just that. I have a really bad feeling about this," Locke grumbled before rejoining Marcus in front.

Edgar said nothing.

After camp was made, Terra and Relm worked yet another night trying to revive Strago. However, despite being better rested and a couple days of additional experience, their spells fizzled and deteriorated. The successive failures to help Strago finally took their toll and Relm broke down. While she cried in Terra's arms, the half-esper looked around for help. Around the campfire, there was little reassurance from the rag-tag band of warriors. They had never even given thought to having children, much less taking care of one who was devastated by her grandfather's deterioration. Each gave Terra a saddened look. They could fight to protect lives, topple regimes, and save the world, but they were powerless to reconcile a crying little girl.

That night, long after Relm had fallen asleep in Terra's arms, Edgar and Locke were on the second watch. Though most watches were quiet by their very nature, the two were busy in a heated argument. Locke was adamant that they were wasting time. Edgar disagreed. Even if they were wasting time, there were no other options available. The two debated whether they were headed inland or towards the sea. To that extent, they brought up the plants, the trees, even the color of dirt.

When their watch ended, Edgar got up and went to get Marcus and Cyan. Cyan was fast asleep and required a jab to the side before he would wake. Marcus was sleeping lightly and woke up moments after Edgar disturbed Cyan. The king went to sleep. He was genuinely angry at the thief. There was simply nothing else they could do other than to follow the river. Locke was more and more irritable as the days went by and it was getting on his nerves.

In the morning, their routine breakfast was not so routine for two reasons. The first was a ray of light. The clouds in the sky still cast their dark shadow upon the world, but there was light. It was little and wholly depressing; empty grey beams that filtered through the clouds, neither bright nor warm. Yet it was the first time that day actually seemed like day. Though they still required torchlight in order to travel, it was a heartening feeling.

The second reason was not so uplifting. They had found out when Terra checked up on Setzer.

The gambler had taken a turn for the worse. His breathing had become ragged and his pulse weak. Terra had no idea how long Setzer could last at that rate. Tzen was still far away even if they were near the ocean. Magic had failed so far and there was still the matter of Strago's even worse condition. Were they going camp for a day and let the two girls tax their abilities for a single slim chance? Even worse, were they going to have Terra and Relm choose who would die and who would live?

The choice was obvious; they would go forward and pray they were near Tzen.

The woods were getting colder but they still sweated. It was exhausting following the river, climbing over rocks, cutting through the thick bush and making their way around fallen trees. Fortunately, the deep thick mud that they would have to trudge through had frozen. Between that and the pale light, they made good time. So it was that in the middle of the day, Edgar's worse fears were realized.

The lush green vegetation had been covered with a putrid, smelling black tar. The further they walked, the foul stuff covered more and more of the trees. Soon the plants had disappeared. The grass beneath their feet thinned out and then replaced with barren dirt. The trees around them were nearly all dead, what had not been burned away was covered in the black tar. The ground became hard and ashes from fires were everywhere. They followed the river for a little while longer but everyone already knew the horrible truth.

The group found themselves at the edge of a cliff; unnatural as the ground had simply sloped away. The black waters poured over the side, as if it were following a path that no longer existed. It dived into a crater of hardened rock that was once molten lava, escaping from the innards of the world. Mist floated from the bottom of the crater, obscuring their view of the depths of the unnatural valley.

All around the huge crater, miles across, was the stench of death. Trees had been burned to ashes, the ground horribly defiled. It was the remnants of an inferno that had devoured everything in sight.

Their hearts sank along with the river. It was not the crater that was catastrophic, nor the death and decay around them.

Clearly visible, across the mammoth gorge, were the mountains of Tzen. Formidable peaks of towering rock stood between them and salvation for their friends.



Visions of Peace will be continued in The Third Chapter - Dawn of a New World
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:27

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The Third Chapter - Dawn of a New World

They were well ordered; line upon line, rank upon rank of gleaming military prowess. A small sample of the might of the Imperial Army, one rarely gathered such numbers in public since the disastrous display of might before striking Doma. Soldiers in shining armor, freshly polished to sparkle under city lights, were arrayed into neat squadrons. Their chain shirts shone beneath leather vests, clean-shaven faces underneath helmets that had been scrubbed a dozen times in order to remove the battle-grunge. These men stood tall and attentive, ready to die at the command of their General.

Danielle kept herself from smiling too broadly. It would do no good for her troops to see that she was actually content. Let them sweat; nothing caused more grief than imagined inadequacies.

General Danielle Meras prided nothing more than efficiency. Tradition should hold no sway in the army, especially in the life or death situations that so often plagued them. To that end she was dressed in a traveler's cloak, clean but tarnished from heavy use. Her boots were wiped but unpolished. Brown hair that barely reached her shoulders was hidden beneath a simple green hat. Neither cape nor decorative medals adorned her. For any other high-ranking officer it was unthinkable, especially a General. For Danielle Meras, it was to be expected.

Her heels clicked together as she came to a halt. She spun to the side, her aide already holding out a small notepad for her. A slight motion of her head was all that was necessary to dismiss the assistant before she turned her attention to the second highest ranking officer in their midst.

"Major," she said in a crisp voice.

"General," Major Terrance Cassidy addressed her respectfully, disregarding her distaste of ceremony. In his heart, she had always been his General. Their sole commander; not Palazzo, not Christophe, not even Gestahl could override her orders. There was not a man under her command that did not share that sentiment. She sent them off to die, and they loved her ever more for it.

"Deploy."

Her word was final, her orders unquestionable. His fist pounded against the metal guarding his heart. "For the glory of the Empire!" he shouted proudly.

"For the glory of the Empire!" returned the cheer of three-thousand soldiers.

Terrance turned to the regiment that stood before them.

"Move out!" he shouted.

A small regiment of her army, truly hers in the days that had recently passed, marched their way north. Those standing guard at their posts watched as three thousand men, nearly a third of those on chocobos, began their journey. Squadron upon squadron, their rhythmic footsteps stormed past the outermost sentries of Tzen. It was grand gesture of power, one that might have been used to quell rebellions in the past. Yet these dark days had changed many an outlook. Where they might have once recoiled in fear, it was now a heartwarming sight.

Refugees that gathered around the city stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide in a mixture of admiration and relief, to watch the army leave. Men and women alike backed away as chocobos charged past. They had all come to Tzen for protection and now they saw a small sample of that protection, offered under the Imperial flag. The cavalry was in the lead of the formation, torches flying high in order to provide better lighting for those that followed. Foot soldiers, banners held high, marched proudly forth. Their boots met the cobblestone roads with drilled precision; each ordered rank filing past the disordered peasants without as much as a glance. That disregard was reciprocated by the hushed audience; all eyes were focused in the center. The foot soldiers were mere protective fodder for the true might of the Imperial Army.

Magitek armors, five hundred strong in ordered formations of five, strode in the center of that great formation. They were huge beasts whose footsteps thundered throughout the land, their sheer size dwarfing even guard houses. White light shone from each machination, lighting the path far better than the torches of the cavalry. Their black metal bodies blended in with the nightly shadows that covered the world, but sharp metal claws on each arm glistened in the presence of light. In battle, those floodlights would be turned off. For now, they served their psychological purpose.

Danielle watched it all until they were too far to see, hidden beyond the veil of darkness. It was proper for her to watch them head north. She had sent her men to bring order to those mountainous villages; too far away to flee to Tzen yet too close to ignore. All things considered, it was the only proper thing to do. The problem of monsters could not be ignored.

"Danielle."

She turned to face Colonel Farin Starson, one of the few that dared address her by her first name. He was almost similar to the General in his regard for ceremony. His cloak matched her simple style but he wore no hat. His hair was flat at the top, a buzz cut that was reminiscent of his late mentor. He didn't show any signs of exertion, though Danielle could tell by his clothes that he had run here.

"What is it?" she asked as she began to walk back. There were many other responsibilities to handle and standing around the city perimeter would not get those tasks finished.

Farin followed Danielle through the darkened streets of Tzen. The two men that were with them were handpicked -- her personal guards. They were accustomed to listening to the General's conversations, some highly classified, and were more than capable of keeping silent.

"We've verified the commands of the House of Lords and General Caleigh," he said.

Danielle knew Farin's style. He would never personally report such dribble unless it both shocking and important. "Who?" she asked. She cut straight to the point, depriving Farin of the little joy he had in reporting such matters.

Farin paused for a moment. He did not recall the name immediately, although he should have predicted that Danielle would see through his game instantly. "Anson Tilton," he replied at last.

Danielle frowned. "Him?" she asked in an incredulous voice. She was not one to often show surprise, but she was both amongst trusted friends and truly thrown off by this development. "He's a popular one," she murmured.

"Indeed. I would have thought the House too cowardly but this is an ingenious move," Farin remarked. "There is something else though."

"Lilienthal," Danielle scowled.

"Outside Maley's Point. Caleigh's not backing down. My men could barely believe what followed."

Danielle could only shake her head in wonder. "Then it's official," she mused.

"We already assumed as much, but yes, I guess it is official now," Farin replied. The four soldiers halted. The alleyway they had made their way through had opened up into the street and Danielle rarely drew attention to herself by interrupting traffic. The streets were busy even with the dark clouds above. Businesses did not grind to a halt; there was money to be made in dangerous times. The city lights made sure that everyone could work normally and the people did their best to pretend everything was fine in the world. "It took less than ten days," Farin mused quietly.

"Ten days? No, this has been brewing for months now," Danielle answered equally quietly. "This will be much less bloody than I had originally predicted. I suppose the Espers could be thanked for that, though I wouldn't admit that to anyone else," she gave Farin a meaningful glance.

"We were fortunate to have been delayed in the Mansfield, or else we would have also been in Vector during the disaster," Farin reminded her.

"I doubt it was happenstance. Either way, it's fortunate that Cassidy just left for the north," she said quietly. "While having a Cassidy would bolster our credibility, he and his men are too green." Danielle didn't need to state such things; Farin had already considered it and would have alerted her beforehand if it was crucial. The Colonel was quite reliable in that regard.

Farin nodded his agreement. "I'll take a division to the Gap," he stated.

Danielle narrowed her eyes. Those brown globes stared at Farin, as if by her will alone, she could discern the reasoning behind his sudden and strange statement. It was her place to command, not his.

They crossed the street now that the chocobo-drawn traffic had died down. Civilians gave them wide-berth despite not knowing who they were. They always avoided soldiers. Lack of visible rank was meaningless to them. They were always afraid of the army. Old grudges died hard in the city, and there was still the matter of martial law. Unlike the refugees outside, these citizens did not live in constant fear of the monster hoards. They continued their ignorant existence while maintaining a certain disdain for the men that protected them.

The four soldiers continued their way to the mansion that served as their headquarters. The busy sidewalks cleared a path for them.

"You're out line Colonel. Major-General Layton will be in overall command," Danielle answered after much deliberation. She watched his eyes for any sign of disappointment. If there had been any, he hid it well. She clicked her tongue while her mind scanned all the possibilities. "Go to Ethelben and alert Brigadier Keigwin. You will take command of the 22nd Division there. Do not disappoint me," she warned. Her voice was deadly calm, but the threat was no less potent.

"For the glory of the Empire," Farin stood tall and saluted, pounding the leather armor over his heart with great force. Danielle gave a slight nod of her head and then Farin turned back down the alleyway.

Danielle addressed her silent guards but never slowed down her pace. "Baldric," she directed at one. "Send the pigeons to Albrook and Maranda."

The stone-faced man nodded. The order was ambiguous but he knew his job. He only had to free the birds and they would deliver the news clutched in their talons. The letters were written well in advance for a situation like this.

After all, one did not go to war on a whim.



They ate dinner in silence. The day had not gone well and despite the possibility that the sky would finally clear up, no one could shed the sadness that gripped their hearts.

Edgar had verified their bearings. The rays of light had streamed through the cloud cover had been extremely weak, but with the entire day and little else to do, Edgar had figured it out.

The good news was that they did not waste the past ten days.

The bad news was that they had to cross the mountains ahead of them.

In the most ironic of ways, both Edgar and Locke had been right. They had been going the right way, except the right way was towards the mountains and into the highlands. Setzer had been an extremely skillful pilot and that skill might have cost him his life. The Blackjack had managed to fly past the Tzen mountain range and ended up sea-side. After all, they had been trying to shake off the Imperial Air Force and make their way back to Figaro. There was no way to reach Edgar's kingdom without crossing those heights.

Now those very same mountains stood in their way. The peaks were far too high and they were far too ill-equipped to attempt a climb. Yet Tzen was across those mountains. To turn northward and reach the ocean would take about two weeks and then another three weeks more in order to go all the way around. They could possibly cut two weeks off that route if they found chocobos. But that was not an option, they couldn't fight off Imperial troops if they got stopped and identified.

An outcropping of rock near the base of the mountain served as their camp. Sheltered safely beneath a ridge, they spent the night in restless slumber.

The next day was one of many trials. The clouds had grown thick again and what little light was available the day before was snuffed out. An unnatural mist had settled close to the ground. Simply seeing no more than ten paces ahead was now a difficulty.

There was also the matter of Setzer's deteriorating health. Even had the mountains been leveled and grassy plains replaced them, they estimated no less than a week's journey before they reached Tzen.

Marcus proposed the only possible solution. They would split up and scout the mountains for a trail of some sort. It was dangerous but also their best chance of finding a way through. Terra and Relm would stay at the campsite and do what they could for Setzer. Cyan would stay with them for their protection.

Despite the audacity of Marcus, who had proposed his plan much like he would give orders to subordinates, there was no dissention. They formed the two scouting parties quickly. Edgar, Sabin and Siana would be one group. The other was Marcus and Locke. These were the best teams they could create. Marcus had the best knowledge of the area while Sabin was the most familiar with mountains in general. The two men would lead their respective groups and hopefully forge a path through the lofty peaks.



It took them three days to find it. They scouted the mountains practically blind from the combination of fog and shadows. At any other time, they would have been ridiculed as lunatics. Instead, it was a courageous and heroic effort born of desperation.

Setzer was still alive, but his life hung by a thread. Terra had strained her abilities trying to save him. Some malady had afflicted Setzer, one that was not of his visible injuries. His heart was weak despite the gambler's fantastic physical health.

"I don't understand it," Terra crumpled on the ground. Sweat dripped off her brows from the repeated but futile efforts.

"He's very weak," Relm noted. "I guess we're just not powerful enough to pull him back."

Terra shook her head. "It's not that though, it feels like there's some kind of wall blocking me... blocking us," she picked up a pebble and tossed it in frustration. "Don't you feel the same way, Relm?"

Relm shook her head.

"Sometimes it's so close... I can feel the spell form at my fingertips. Then suddenly it just slips away without reason," Terra looked for another stone to throw; the first hadn't gone very far. "It's not as if I can't keep up with the spell's needs, I just..." her second stone had flown deep into the mists and she located it.

"It's alright Terra, you'll find a way," Locke piped up. He finished his meal-in-a-can, their name for the Imperial rations, and put it aside. "We all trust you," he gave her a meaningful look.

Terra felt uncomfortable and turned away. "Maybe I was right the first time. Perhaps something it's a malady of the mind taking advantage of his sudden weakness. I don't know what could do it, but it could be possible," she mumbled.

Their rations were running low. What little they gathered from the forests before had long since been eaten. Now they faced the prospect of starvation within the week and had already begun cutting back. At least their water skins and bottles were full. They had filled everything that was water-tight at the river. It would soon be time to leave.

"What do you think of it?" Sabin asked.

Sabin had been the one to find the trail. It was overgrown but the marks on the ground showed that once, long ago, the trail had been in heavy use. It had been difficult to find because the highland ground was rocky and left hardly any impressions, regardless of how much traffic had gone by. Sabin's experience from living in the Kolt Mountains had been the only reason why they even found the chocobo markings.

It was the first thing that had gone right since they fixed Marcus' leg.

"I think it's an old trail, but these markings show recent use," the Captain said. He knelt down to examine the markings closer. "Maybe a month ago," he declared.

Sabin nodded his agreement. "I think it'll lead through the mountains. Chocobos can't fly or jump across chasms."

"Yes. As well... these black marks here," Marcus brushed aside a few weeds, showing the dark trails to Sabin. "They're old, but I think they're tire tracks."

Sabin looked at him quizzically. "It could have been anything," he said with a frown. "But if they were wheels, then that means the chocobos were pulling wagons."

"That makes sense. This could be an old trail that once fed the old mines around Tzen," Marcus mumbled.

"Old mines?"

"In the past, the Empire used to have quite a couple settlements deep in the Tzen Mountains," Marcus pointed south, but all Sabin could see was fog. "They were mostly on the southern-side, but some came up this far in order to search for treasures hidden in the caverns. A couple of those settlements mined for metals; gold and silver mostly," Marcus answered as he stood back up.

"I wonder why we haven't seen anything of the sort," Edgar mused. He stayed back and let the experts do their job.

"The settlements were abandoned a couple years ago by Imperial orders. I'm not sure why, really," Marcus answered. "It was a pretty strange order at the time, since some of the mines were bustling with business. The gold found here was of the highest quality, better than the mines in Rian or Fanshaw. It was soft and delicate, with high luster and polishable to a brilliant shine. There was high demand back in the capital."

"You know quite a bit, I thought you were just an officer, not a connoisseur of precious metals. Or is metallurgy also a part of the Imperial Special Forces education, along with military politics?" Edgar smirked. He was joking, but the questions were always on his mind.

Marcus had a distant look on his face. "I was stationed around here back in those days. There was always the problem of monster infestations harassing the settlements and we were the solution."

Edgar noted the artful dodge. "Alright, so do we follow this or not?"

"Of course we do. The Captain already said it leads through the mountains," Siana grumbled. "Discussion is a waste of time."

"Marcus could be wrong," Sabin snapped to Edgar's surprise. "Not everything he says is gospel."

Siana glared at Sabin and took a step forward aggressively. The height difference between the two made the situation almost comical. Edgar mentally sighed. Imperials... "Alright," he tried to sound decisive. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let's head back and tell the girls the good news."



Everyone was busy packing up their belongings and making sure they had the supplies necessary to continue their journey. The campsite they had stayed at for the past three days had treated them well; it had fresh water, some berries and other small fruits. Now it was time to prepare for a grueling march through the mountains of Tzen.

Edgar, being one-armed, had little to do and finished early. He sat down on an outcropping of rock that, two nights ago, Locke had declared his thinking stone. It would have offered a fantastic view of the crater they had passed, but the fog made that impossible and instead there was a wall of white mist. Far below, Edgar could hear the rumbling of water. It was quite relaxing; Edgar could see why Locke had decided to take all his watches here.

The King of Figaro took a deep breath. It was time to think unpleasant thoughts.

Edgar knew how long it would take them to get through the mountains. Setzer would not survive it, he was almost sure of that. The gambler's health was steadily getting worse. The man needed to be in an infirmary sleeping away his coma with nurses attending him. Instead, he was being carted around the mountainside in a makeshift litter.

Not that they could simply leave Setzer behind. As much as Edgar wanted to entertain the possibility, not everyone shared his distrust of the gambler.

Trust... Edgar frowned. Cyan had recounted their encounter with Gestahl and Kefka. It had appeared that Celes still had feelings for Gestahl. Had it not been for her immense hatred of Kefka, would she have betrayed them?

"King Edgar."

Edgar turned around. "Marcus, my fellow one-armed friend," he held out his hand. "Take a seat on the thinking rock, there's not much for men like us to do."

Marcus sat down. His legs hung off the side of the outcropping, perilously close to the edge. "Nice place. It's relaxing."

Edgar murmured his agreement and lapsed back into his thoughts. The two men rested in the peaceful silence.

Sometime later, Edgar turned to the Imperial Captain. "You know, I have a question for you."

"As long as it's an actual question and not an attempt to lead my train of thought," Marcus replied. He stared out into the wall of mist. "I would prefer silence than another lecture."

Edgar grinned. "No, this is just to satisfy my curiosity."

"Very well, ask."

"There's a rumor, one that I never verified. I was told that Celes torched Maranda."

Marcus's look darkened. "The General is likely dead in her attempt to rid the world of Palazzo. Why should we tarnish her memory with these rumors?"

"So the answer is yes?" Edgar pressed.

"That information is classified," Marcus responded.

"You're not exactly Imperial Special Forces anymore," Edgar pointed out.

"But you're still the King of Figaro, a kingdom that my country is at war with. I have had enough of this discussion," Marcus stood up.

"So she did. I feared as much," Edgar said softly as he turned towards Marcus. He was surprised to see that Sabin and Siana had shown up. The look on Sabin's face was dangerous. Edgar realized his brother had probably heard the entire discussion.

"Captain," Siana shot an angry glare at Edgar. "We're ready to leave."

Marcus ignored her. "King Edgar, you should know that until you wear her shoes, you should never judge hard decisions like that. Insulting her honor like this is something that is far below your stat-"

"Very good," Sabin interrupted. "Don't judge your superiors; they probably have a good reason. Just follow orders even if they're to murder babies, right? After all, your General has to have a good reason."

"Everything is done for a good reason," Siana retorted.

"So you'll just trust your superiors blindly? What happened to your own morals?" Sabin growled

"Soldiers on the front can't see the big picture," Siana defended. "We have to trust the men that lead us."

"Even when killing children."

"That's ridiculous. The Army has never killed children. No one would do such a terrible thing."

"No? I suppose poison isn't killing?" Sabin sneered.

Siana's face went red.

Edgar felt goosebumps down his back. He had forgotten what his brother had seen in Doma. When the Emperor had invited Edgar to dine in Vector, he had discussed the poisoning of Castle Doma. Many within the Imperial ranks had reacted with total disgust, treating the topic as something akin to a low blow. They had already distanced themselves from Kefka's actions. Edgar could see the same reaction in both Marcus and Siana. He tried to think of something to say before the situation became ugly. The air was thick with tension and Edgar was afraid the conversation would come to blows.

"Are you seriously suggesting Celes is anything like Palazzo?" Marcus put his hand on Siana's shoulder and put himself between her and Sabin. "That's an idiotic statement and you know it. She fought and bled beside you, fighting for your ideals and-"

"She fought for her own ideals," the deep authoritative voice of Cyan cut through the air. He stood on the path leading back to the camp with his arms folded. "And you're right Captain," he said with contempt. "She always fought and bled beside us, but never with us." His words reminded everyone of Celes actions in the Magitek Factory, in Thamasa, and on the Floating Continent. Like his blade on the battlefield, Cyan had defeated his opponents with a single blow.

Marcus was silenced, but he shook with rage at how people were disrespecting the memory of his dead general. Siana had retreated behind her Captain. Sabin had relaxed and gave his friend a respectful nod.

Cyan turned away from them. "We have been ready to leave for a while. Let us go."



Following the chocobo path was demanding. It took the combined skills of Edgar, Locke and Marcus to keep them on the path. Marcus was quite used to the area thanks to his previous experiences. He caught on to many places where the trees had been marked by careless drivers, or the weeds and grasses seemed to have been parted aside. At times, the trail would pass vast stretches of hard rock and took hours to pick up again. Fortunately, Locke's sharp eyes allowed him to pick up on what Edgar and Marcus could not in the expanses of smooth bedrock. Other times the route was plainly visible. It climbed sharply in some places, making it all but impossible for Sabin and Cyan to safely carry the litter through. They were walled in on both sides by jagged ridges and rocky hillsides. The woods around them grew ever thicker, the darkness making it next to impossible to make out sudden turns that the path took. As mist drifted in and settled inches above the ground, Edgar took over. He had a strange instinct for knowing how the trail would twist and turn. He could predict the sudden detour around dangerous pitfalls hidden by the mist. A couple times they nearly fell as a group because of sudden drops but were saved by his premonitions.

The worse came when the trail disappeared and each man arrived at a different conclusion. They shouted and argued louder than safe to; Locke and Edgar had not been getting along well and the addition of Marcus and the ever-faithful Siana led to some very heated exchanges. Twice Sabin had lowered the litter and pitched his own opinion, and Cyan had even stepped in to break up an argument because the profanity was too much for Relm. Their work as team should have smoothed over ruffled feathers from the argument earlier in the day, but instead disagreement had only made things more difficult. Sabin and Marcus were at each other's throats, Edgar found himself cursing Locke repeatedly, and things had gotten really ugly when Cyan stepped in. Only the girls had managed to avoid arguing. Edgar could understand why Terra and Relm weren't involved, but for Siana to break her habit of defending Marcus, that was truly strange. Confronted with such evidence, Edgar had no choice but to admit it must have been some sort of male competition.

Still, if it were not for the three dedicated men in front, they would have lost the trail and ended up stranded well before the end of the first night.

They camped in the gloomy woods. The fog covered them like a blanket and not even the campfire could drive it away.

Edgar sat, leaning against a cold rock, huddling in the freezing woods. The tattered remains of a cloak were wrapped tightly around him as he counted the seconds before his watch would end. He glared at Locke's back. It had been years since anyone had gotten under his skin so effectively. Edgar reproved himself. It wasn't Locke's fault, they were all getting frustrated and everything had worked out in the end, hadn't it? Edgar was a diplomat; he could handle a glorified thief.

So why was he so angry?

Locke threw another log onto the campfire, now burning weakly from neglect. He didn't even make eye-contact with Edgar.

Shaking his head and standing up, Edgar walked over to wake Cyan and Marcus. Cyan woke up with a quick jab, his eyes focusing quickly on the King. Edgar turned to Marcus, who took a couple shakes before he woke.

Edgar went to sleep, listening to the sound of running water nearby. He wondered if it was just his imagination, as he did not hear the sound during his watch. The peaceful sound lulled him into a deep sleep and the next day came faster than Edgar wished.

It was not just a dream though. They came upon the rapids, its waters thick with the black tar, only an hour from their campsite. The chocobo trail led to a single wooden bridge, one that looked old and rotten. Edgar noticed that there was something strange in the way it swayed. He held up his hand to stop the party from crossing.

Locke had the same thoughts in his mind as he checked the supports of the bridge.

The two men had taken over scouting for the path. Marcus looked extremely tired and had contributed little over the past hour. He had been in the lead and missed a couple obvious signs when the path forked. Even stranger, Marcus didn't make excuses as he would have the previous day. Edgar and Locke had decided to pick up the slack and let the Captain rest.

"Looks like the supports are chewed up; I don't think it could bear the weight of a chocobo. There's been too much water from the rapids. It's been splashing at it constantly and speeding up the rot," Locke analyzed.

Edgar nodded. "Considering the massive explosions we saw, the rapids are probably stronger than they should be. Entire mountains were removed by those blasts and the firestorms consumed all the vegetation." He was glad that they were talking again as friends.

Locke whispered a few words under his breath. Yellow light tipped his fingers as he enchanted himself.

"Right, you can float us across the bridge," Edgar remembered.

Locke nodded as he continued to cast his spells. They were sparkles of magic that affected the weight of a person so that he could almost glide through the air. He had used it before to safely land on the Blackjack, saving him and Terra the great deal of pain that everyone else felt from the landing. Now he used it again so that they could cross the bridge with relative ease.

Edgar felt a little dazed. The magic was a spinning sensation and his balance appeared to be a bit off. However, he did feel lighter.

He walked across the bridge without it collapsing. The magical disturbance faded away as he waited for the others. Everyone crossed one at a time; they did not want to test how strong the bridge truly was. When Sabin and Cyan crossed with the litter, Edgar held his breath. The four men were last to leave since they had the heaviest burden. The bridge held up with some cracking noises, but the two men ignored the sounds as they crossed slowly and safely.

When everyone was once again on solid ground, Locke set the bridge aflame with a spell he learned from Ifrit. They could not leave the bridge in the deceiving condition it was in.

As Edgar turned away from the bridge, now being fully devoured by unnatural fires, he noticed Marcus acting strange.

"Float spells are still messing with your head, aren't they?" he asked Marcus.

"Yeah," the Captain replied. He massaged his temples, "and..."

It was all too fast for them to predict. No warning, no strange movements. All of a sudden, Marcus' eyes unfocused. His posture suddenly undone, the man dropped to the ground with an audible thump.

Terra let out a surprised scream. Relm jumped up in fright. Sabin and Cyan both checked their surroundings quickly, looking for any sign of an enemy. Seeing nothing, they relaxed... but only slightly.

"Marcus?" Edgar asked, his eyes growing in concern.

Locke bent down, quickly checking for a pulse. He felt around the wrist for a moment and then proceeded to turn Marcus onto his back. The Captain's face was white. Locke checked under the eyelids.

"We have a problem," he said grimly.



The monsters had become extremely bold as of late. They had begun leaving the confines of the mountains and attacked any village they could find. It was mind-boggling as to why they had suddenly become so aggressive. In the past three days no less than twenty villages had been torn apart. Others had been under constant attack and were now barricaded against all outside contact. Many had given up the fight and left for larger towns.

Major Terrance Cassidy felt a certain pride in driving this latest menace away. General Meras was absolutely correct in deploying his regiment. They were lacking experience, but fighting monsters was nowhere as harsh on the mind as fighting other men. It would prove to be good experience as well as making them feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Troop morale was at an all time high.

Despite the dark skies and constant nighttime environment, his men had accomplished their objectives marvelously. Green's Mill and Needham, the largest towns in the area, had their small garrisons reinforced and defenses erected. Chocobo riders had been sent to gather numbers and establish a reconnaissance net around their base of operations in Cartha. Small squads, consisting of ten on foot and two armors each, were sent to relieve villages that had barricaded themselves. A couple platoons were currently headed deeper into the woods. They would clear out the greatest danger: packs of wolves called Lunaris. Those wolves had been the smartest of all monsters; they gathered only in great numbers and their swarming tactics alone had overrun at least five villages. Terrance had heard rumors of more, but he waved them aside as little more than scared ravings.

Terrance leaned back against the rickety wooden chair inside his command tent. It was quiet outside, even though business was flourishing. After all, Cartha was the biggest town in the area. It was a source of booming trade due to its envious position; the town was nearly on top of the rivers that would pass Tzen and empty into the bays of Ethelben. It even had a large garrison; one that had been heavily diminished in the recent days. They had fought against dozens of mutated toad creatures and monstrous grasshoppers. Its commander, a Captain of little note, had been killed in a skirmish just hours before Terrance's scouts arrived.

His second, Captain Godric Waldgrave of the Magitek Corps, flipped through pages of reports. Maps of the area were strewn around the command tent, blue pins sticking out of positions that their troops had been deployed to. Red pins labeled areas where monsters had clustered around, though those were rarer and rarer with each passing hour.

"I've been thinking," Godric was saying as he laid down his notes. "I don't buy the silly superstition going around. The monsters aren't more active than usual because of the longer nights; they sleep just like we do."

Terrance nodded his agreement although he was uninterested in the topic. He read through an interesting report of bandits. Thieves had been caught pillaging one of the villages, Little Pine according to the notes, that had been trampled by a pack of Lunari. Grave robbers, he hated grave robbers. It was utterly despicable; stealing from the recently departed.

"In fact, there's only one thing that really affects monsters," Godric continued unbidden. "Weather. I wonder if the colder days are making the monsters flee to the south. Birds migrate when the winter comes," Godric pointed out.

Terrance yawned. He scribbled a note to send a couple more squads into the area of Little Pine once the Lunari were reduced a bit farther. Now for other matters, like the waterway that had been an abode of loathsome harpies. Those bird-like monsters had been harassing river travel. Without the river it was difficult to send supplies north. That meant his men were restricted to the region around Cartha. If they planned on making any more progress towards the mountains, they would have to extend their supply line to -- Terrance looked around the map -- Nestil.

"But then I thought about it. Birds fly north, not south, when winter comes," Godric continued. "It just doesn't make sense why the monsters would start flocking south when it gets cold."

"It's a puzzle that won't be solved. Stop thinking about it," Terrance grumbled. "And don't we have any newer maps? The ones we're working off of are outdated, considering that squad one-fifteen ran into a river," he pointed at a blue pin on the map, "where there isn't one."

Godric shook his head. "The maps are as up to date as we can get. You saw the death beams that shot out from the floating island. They remade the world into a new hellish image. I've got reports of new valleys and canyons, huge swaths of forests turned into a field of ashes," he flipped through a pile of papers. "Look at this one: river is dry, traced it back to landslide estimated at size of city," Godric shook his head. "Our magical destiny doesn't seem so desirable," he whispered under his breath. He took care not to let his commander hear his treasonous words.

Terrance pushed the report away. "Send a messenger to have one-twelve and one-fifteen follow this river to the source. Take this old path," Terrance pointed out a trail that led to an old mine, deep into the mountains. "The birds concern me; we don't have any air cover and not enough archers for cargo ships."

"I can go personally," Godric suggested. He was one of the most veteran officers under Terrance's command. Godric had served during the Doma war, piloting a Heavy-Siege Armor despite the rocky terrain that plagued Southern Doma. It was a ridiculously difficult task to maneuver such a large and unwieldy machine in anything less than smooth grassy plains. There had been many an accident even on Vector's cobblestone streets while transferring those siege units. With such skill, the pilot had been rewarded with multiple medals and his own task force.

"No, that's not necessary," Terrance said. "If birds attack more often as we get farther upstream, then I'll send you and your unit to cleanse their nests. Until then, we sit tight."

Pacifying monsters, it was something Terrance hadn't done for years. He grinned. This wasn't a campaign to invade a country, but it would serve to showcase his talents. A promotion was certainly within his grasp and all he had to do was defeat an enemy incapable of tactical thoughts. His father would be proud.



As they climbed steadily higher, cold winds had swept the mists away. Frosts covered the rocky trail and snow wouldn't have looked out of place. Terra huddled against a piece of jagged rock, blankets wrapped around tightly as she shivered uncontrollably. It was not the temperature; she had long since been numb to the elements.

She stared blankly ahead, her eyes red from crying. They were quite high up. By following the trail without question through the mountains, they had found themselves on one of the peaks. It was a steady climb that had taken most of the day before, but at least they were headed the right way. The path wound its way around the mountain steadily and they had found shelter within a depression in the cliffs. The view was quite stunning from where they camped. Below them the lands were wooded until it suddenly broke into an expanse of gentle rolling hills. They could see quite a distance and although no villages could be seen, Edgar had guaranteed no more than three days of walking.

Three days of starvation was what Edgar promised. They had finished off the rations they had, despite stretching the food as long as they could. Relm had been the only one to have anything to eat for supper that night; everyone else had gone to sleep on empty stomachs.

Unprompted, Locke suddenly appeared beside Terra. He was quiet, simply sitting next to her and saying nothing. She wanted to ask him why he was bothering her, but she simply didn't care enough.

For a long time they sat beside each other, silent. At last, Locke spoke up.

"You know, the first watch is for me and Edgar. You're stealing our thunder," he joked.

Terra stared blankly ahead.

Locke pursed his lips before sighing. He watched the mist from his mouth dissipate in the night air.

"It's not your fault," he said.

Terra blinked away the inevitable tears. She gave Locke an angry glare and began to speak. She quickly cut herself off though. Her voice was probably weak and she did not trust herself to say the right things.

Terra could see it in his eyes. His words said it was not her fault, but his words were lies. Not even the look of worry could fool her. His eyes betrayed him, no matter how concerned he might look. He blamed her.

She had killed Marcus.

Her. No one else. It was her fault. She was directly responsible for it.

Terra bit her lip. Marcus had been right all along. She was simply an instrument of death -- a killer. Her efforts at healing had failed horribly, but it had been easy to take the lives of hundreds of soldiers.

The spell used to wake Marcus had never been right at all. Magic was often dependant on the emotions of the user; that much she had known all her life. However, all the ways Relm had taught her to calm her feelings in order to heal had failed miserably. Hours of effort to mentally prepare for a single casting, flawed at the very core. A single malignant seed had tainted all her curing spells.

Marcus had been living on borrowed time the moment she had touched him. Her spell had woken him at the cost of his life-force. It weakened him with each passing day, keeping him conscious at the greatest of costs. Everything she had done had been wrong. Corrupt and tainted, spells that feigned benevolence had sapped and drained the poor soldier until he could move no more.

The spell to heal his leg had only sped his race to the grave. Relm had helped her cast that time, but she had been the principle weaver. The spell she wove was directed by her alone, no one else.

It was her fault.

They did not know, could not have known! Marcus had seemed so alive, so vibrant. How could they have guessed that something was eating him from the inside? How could they have known until he collapsed from the emptiness within?

Terra gritted her teeth. Her eyes watered with renewed tears.

She should have known. She could have saved him. She could have changed the spell. Perhaps she could have woven a patchwork; a net to catch him if he fell. Perhaps...

Marcus had laid on his back, his eyes open after Terra's spells had brought him back to consciousness. They had hardly moved from the bridge, the sound of rushing water was still easily heard. Terra had done everything at that time after realizing the extent of the corruption in her original curing spells. Even with all her power though, she could do nothing more than bring the old soldier awake for his last moments.

She had not told him the truth. Marcus had gazed into her eyes as he died, still trusting in her abilities as a mage.

"It's ok," he had breathed. "I trust you."

He trusted her, and she had killed him.

She didn't even have integrity to tell him to his face.

"Terra, it's not your fault," Locke said again.

Terra snapped out of her thoughts. Her eyes focused. She was back on the mountain now, breathing in ragged gasps as tears ran down her cheeks. Terra did not know when she had started to cry. She tried desperately to hold the tears back and looked around. Locke was still there, that fake look of concern on his face. Why did he put up such a charade?

"Stop lying," she managed to say. Her voice was no more than a whisper, hoarse and cracked. Terra avoided Locke's brown eyes. How could he look at her after what she had done?

"Terra-" Locke began again.

Her eyes grew wide, a sudden surge of anger raging through her veins. "I said stop it!" she snapped, enraged. Terra surprised even herself with her sudden outburst. She was absolutely infuriated with him.

"You don't understand," her voice grew weak again. "You don't know what it's like -- to be a child of death."

"You're not a child of death, stop saying silly things," Locke said.

Terra stared across the fields of Northern Tzen. "Death and destruction, that's all magic brings," she whispered quietly. "Magic destroyed the world a thousand years ago and now magic has destroyed the world again; all because of me."

Locke was silenced at last by utter surprise at her words. He looked at her in hopelessness, unsure of what to say.

Her eyes, those beautiful blue globes, turned to meet his eyes. In them was a mixture of anguish, suffering and guilt reflected from the depths of her soul. The breath caught in his throat as he struggled to remain afloat in the angst that drowned her.

"Just leave me alone," she whispered.

And he did.



The past four days had not gone well for Terrance Cassidy. He struggled to maintain his calm, a measured degree of coolness in a situation that would enrage any other. After all, five squads had gone missing. It was a mystery that was deepened by scarce reports and contradicting data; one that had to be solved immediately.

The Lunari problem had been resolved. Hundreds of the wolves had been wiped out by his men. Large wolf packs had attacked his squads en masse, but his soldiers, green no more, had torn the monsters to pieces. Despite being outnumbered, Magitek and superior combat tactics had led to the decimation of the monster threat in the southernmost regions. Cartha was now completely secure, as were the eleven other villages within two days march. Terrance had thought about moving command farther north, but the ease of resupply at Cartha had swayed him otherwise.

It would have been easier to move his base deeper into the forest if their maps were still correct, he thought. If only the world hadn't been rearranged by those death beams, Terrance thought as he gritted his teeth. He knew there was some truth to the rumors that the Floating Island had been the fault of Emperor. How many speeches had he sat through, listening to the old man speak of their magical destiny and the revival of that ancient force? Terrance had been unmoved by the words; he was a nobleman and such sophistry did not affect him.

His father, Lord Cassidy, had always been weary of the Emperor's obsession. It was treasonous to voice such thoughts, but they were nobles. Terrance had grown up under his father's tutelage and knew that things were not always as they seemed. The Emperor was not a god. He made mistakes and the Floating Continent had been the greatest of them all. Now the Emperor was dead and his subjects would have to live in a world forever scarred by that man's hubris.

Terrance turned his attention back to the monster pacification. There were more pressing matters to think about than the dead Emperor. He had lost nearly sixty soldiers in the far north. Originally, the action was hot throughout the forest. Beasts had roamed the forest at random until his regiment had secured the area. Now there was a wall of monsters between them and the mountain range, a curious development to say the least. Though the subject had annoyed and irritated him earlier, he found himself also wondering why the monsters were clustered so far south.

He had sent a couple squads farther north. They were to backtrack and tear apart clusters of the beasts from behind, or to scout close to the mountains. Those men had brought important news. In particular, squads that he had sent along the new river had reported discovering a couple more villages that were in desperate need of defense. Terrance had sent relief in the form of nearly two hundred men. He had even included Captain Godric Waldgrave and his Magitek squadron. Aside from defending and pacifying the monsters so far north, he had wanted Godric to hunt down the monstrous birds that harassed them. Their nests had to be farther in the highlands. As long as Godric was in the area, the nests could be found and destroyed within a day or two.

So once again, he found himself staring at the lists of missing squads. All of them had been lost near the base of the mountain range; they had not been cleared to go deeper into the Tzen Mountains. Most of the men lost had been inexperienced recruits. They had been recently trained for relieving the Doma and Figaro occupation forces. He had expected a few casualties since they had essentially been prepared for simple police work. However, the loss of the Magitek pilots could not be so easily overlooked.

Magitek pilots were a rare breed. They were both experienced and extremely intelligent. Losing them to mere beasts was almost incomprehensible. Admittedly, most of the armors included were merely Light-Patrol Class. Equipped primarily for speed and agility, they were lacking any serious long range capabilities and relied on mobility and cover. They were nothing like the All-Terrain Class Armors that were the backbone of the army. Still, such weapons were designed for mountainous terrain. How could a few monsters tear apart his superior forces?

Terrance sighed. He began to write his report to General Meras. She would not be happy, but he needed more reinforcements. Whatever could tear apart that many squads had to be dealt with. However, he could not devote the manpower to deal with the threat as long as he had the villages to defend. Thus he needed more men. Perhaps a couple heavy armors, although proper deployment in the wooded and rocky terrain would be a near impossibility.

He finished the letter and slipped it into the talons of a messenger pigeon. The bird quickly took flight and Terrance found himself wondering about the monsters again.

Godric had assumed the monsters were trying to migrate south. It made little sense, but that's what the facts showed.

Terrance blinked twice. He had a strange thought: what if they were afraid of something?

One of his Lieutenants handed him another stack of reports. Terrance dismissed the man and returned to his command tent. His wondered if it could be true; that the monsters were fleeing to the south to escape a terror.

But what could scare monsters?
Post #112287
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Posted: 28th March 2006 05:28

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"It's been abandoned for weeks," Locke announced.

They were gathered around a small cottage lit by flickering torchlight. It had been located a short walk from the trail that had led them through the mountains, a small path that had been hidden between berry bushes. Sabin had been the one to notice it, Locke and Edgar had already walked past in haste.

It was the first sign of civilization they had seen in nearly three weeks. The cottage was small; no more than a walled room with a roof and chimney. Dead leaves and rotting needles had hidden the well-worn path from their view. Spiders had been very active, stringing their silky webs all around the abandoned house.

Locke had emerged with his face covered with sticky threads. He had gone around back to make sure they did not miss anything. "There's some old firewood, chopped up, lying in a nice pile back there," he was saying as he peeled the spider webs off his face. "I'd say whoever lived here was preparing for the winter."

Edgar looked at the house. It did not look abandoned so much as forgotten. Personal affects were still visible through dusty windows, and tools were laid around the front. "I'd say the owner took a short walk and never came back," Edgar concluded.

Locke was checking the door and jiggling the handle, while Edgar bent down to examine some of the tools on the ground. There were a couple rakes, weed cutters, and a hoe. Whoever had lived here had all intentions of returning, but simply never did.

"The chances of the owner's return are slim," Cyan spoke up. "It is prudent to gather what we can."

As much as Edgar hated to admit it, Cyan was correct. They might be stealing, but they had little to eat in the past week. His last real meal had been nearly six days ago. That was back when they had just begun to climb the mountains.

Edgar looked around. Sabin stayed far away from the abandoned house. He had no interest and simply watched over the litter. Siana was even further away on the trail, distant and unresponsive to all. Terra was holding Relm's hand. There was a fake smile on her face. All around there were no disagreements with Cyan. The old knight spoke little enough in recent days and when he did, it was usually to point out a course of action.

The young king kept himself from thinking about the hopelessness that had gripped his friends. After Marcus was buried -- Edgar laughed pitifully, they had barely been able to do that much thanks to the rocky ground -- they had gone from hopeful and lighthearted to grim and mournful. Even his mood was unavailing, but he was the leader here. He could not let the pain show through; that had been done during the funeral in the mountains. As well, he had enough problems without succumbing to his own emotions. Locke had shared his concerns about Terra. Those concerns were now Edgar's problem, although he had tried to ignore them.

Locke cheered as he unlocked the door. He slipped inside and took care not to harm anything with his torch. A brief glance about and then he yelled at Edgar and Cyan to help him.

The inside of the cottage was as Edgar expected. An unmade bed was in the corner. There was a small fireplace with logs beside it, a tiny round table in the center with two chairs, and various cupboards against the walls. It was a modest home. Someone had lived much of their life here, even though he was isolated from the rest of the world. It felt cozy and comforting despite the poverty of the former owner.

"Let's get what we need and leave. I don't feel too good doing this," Edgar said as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

Locke nodded. "This is pretty low, but I'm not letting Relm starve."

Nor Terra. Edgar could see the concern edged into the treasure hunter's face. Those unspoken words carried more weight than anything Locke might have said.

They began to take what they could. The former owner had been preparing for the coming winter and had a great deal in non-perishables. There was plenty of salted meats and canned vegetables, biscuits galore and even a couple jars of creamed honey and jam.

After filling their three packs, Edgar went outside. He grabbed two more packs and threw them to Locke and Cyan. They couldn't fill all the backpacks they had, but it would be enough to last them at least two weeks.

As he waited for Locke and Cyan to finish, Edgar stood outside and stared up at the sky. The clouds seemed thinner, in his opinion. They had been very lucky to discover their bearings earlier, as no light had filtered through the following week.

He noticed a strange expression on Terra's face. Her eyes were darting about wildly, looking up at the sky at random intervals.

"Are you alright?" Edgar asked her.

Terra looked frightened. Though it was a welcome change from her usual despondent face, it was not a good sign. She let go of Relm and began to search the skies.

"Terra?" it was Sabin who was worried this time.

"Blow out the torches," Terra said. Her voice was ragged and raspy, she had not spoken much for the past few days, but the abruptness of the order confused everyone.

They watched as Terra let go of her torch. She stamped out the fire and then turned to Sabin and Locke. "The torches!" she shouted in a panic.

Her sudden frantic mood was odd, to say the least. Locke had put out his torch as quick immediately, but the others did nothing. A moment passed before Relm suddenly grabbed Siana's torch and snuffed it. Seeing the look on the girl's face, Sabin finally relented and put his out as well. It was not difficult for them to light torches with magic, so they could afford to entertain Terra's eccentrics.

As their eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, Edgar spoke up. "What's wrong Terra?" he asked.

"Quiet," she breathed, "can't you feel it?"

Edgar raised an eyebrow. He waited for a moment before realizing that Terra probably couldn't see him.

"Feel what?" Edgar asked, quietly this time.

They waited for an answer in silence but neither Relm nor Terra said anything. As Edgar's patience ran razor-thin and he was ready to demand a response, he heard something strange.

It was the sound of rustling leaves that grew ever stronger. Edgar glanced upwards into the sky, the outline of the canopy creating on a small window in which he could see the clouds above. Closer the sound came until suddenly, the window into the sky disappeared. A dark shape screamed past them, great wings that could be seen spread out widely as it flew past mere meters above them.

A powerful blast of wind followed with a great booming sound; leaves, dead or alive, blew past them in a torrent of stormy gusts. Edgar closed his eyes, it was not like he could see much with them open, and tried to keep the uncomfortable memories of the Blackjack from surfacing. His ears rung from the intense noise and the currents whipped his face without remorse.

Then all was calm, except for the weakening sound of rustling leaves. Edgar brushed at his face. There was a sticky trail left behind. He looked at his hand in displeasure; some manner of dead vegetation had gotten stuck.

"What was that?" Locke's voice quivered as he spoke. He was first to break the silence, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"I don't know," Terra answered. "I felt its presence though. It was coming at us incredibly fast. Every fiber of my body was screaming danger."

Edgar lit a small flame in his hand. "For a bit of light," he explained. "But I'm still too frightened to relight our torches," he added sheepishly.

In the weak flickering glow of firelight suspended over Edgar's palm, they all saw the terror on Terra's face. They had been scared by the shadow as well, but they did not feel what she felt. Even in the past, Terra had extraordinary senses whenever something magical was suspect. Celes had showed the same aptitude when felt an Esper's mind, and perhaps when Relm was older she could feel it as well. For now, they only had Terra. They should have trusted her more.

"I think," Terra continued in a voice that was barely a whisper. "I think that I've felt that kind of power before."

"Where?" Edgar asked.

"It was in the Sealed Cave," Terra replied after some deliberation. "When the Espers charged out of the gates and nearly killed us all, that was when I had the same feelings."

"That couldn't have been an Esper," Locke said. "I don't know what it was but something, maybe Ifrit, tells me that it wasn't anything like an Esper." He referred to the Magicite that hung around his neck. Nearly everyone had one. They had been charged with the duty of stopping the Empire's war and saving the espers.

Terra clutched at the stone that hung around her neck, the shards of her dead father: Maduin. "I don't know what it was either," she admitted. "Just that it's extremely dangerous."

They fell silent. Though what had passed by was still mysterious, it seemed undeniable that it could have ended their lives. It was a humbling thought for a band of warriors that had seen so much.

"-gon," Cyan whispered.

Edgar almost missed it in the silence, that was how quiet Cyan's voice was. He was carrying a pack on each shoulder, still staring into the sky. The flickering light above Edgar's palm barely illuminated the old man's face.

"What was that?" Sabin asked. He was farthest from the Doma knight and had missed what was whispered.

Considering how reserved Cyan was lately, it was a surprise that he repeated himself. Later, Edgar would assume it was because Cyan and Sabin were close friends -- bonded from the many battles they fought together and a shared sense of guilt at Gau's death.

"'twas a dragon," Cyan repeated quietly. "A dragon greater than the airship in length."

The awkward silence that followed that revelation could be broken by only awkwardness. It was the sound of a small stomach growling from emptiness.

"Dragon or no dragon, I'm hungry," Relm whined.

Edgar grinned in spite of himself. "Let's get out of here and find a more sheltered spot," he decided. "Then we can eat."



Sabin felt more peaceful than normal. His feet were crossed and his hands rested comfortably against his knees as he mediated. He had the second watch, although it meant little as of late. They had decided against paired watches during their march in the mountains, a few days ago. Monsters were nowhere to been seen and everyone could use the extra rest. They certainly deserved it after all they had been through.

His mind wandered as he rested. It was a good thing for him. All the unnecessary concerns and silly ideas could be given attention now, leaving him focused when the day returned.

The dragon that had passed by was quite concerning. It was large, he knew that much and Cyan had reinforced what he saw. Larger than the airship, that meant this dragon was easily bigger than the ones on the Floating Continent. That would make it the same size as Atma Weapon.

Perhaps it was one of the older monsters that they had safely ignored? It was possible. They had not covered the entire island and that place was infested with powerful creatures. It could have escaped the Floating Continent before the light beams and found refuge.

The dragons were strong and smart, a combination that made it very dangerous to fight. Michals had shared some tips dealing with their kind, the late Lieutenant had a great deal of experience with the green scaled monster's smaller cousins. Most of those suggestions had been oriented around his twin blades, though one strategy had suggested the use of archers and chocobos.

No matter, they would deal with it when it became a problem. There was no real reason to worry about it now. They had plenty of things that required attention.

He fetched some crackers from his pack before returning to soft patch of grass that was his spot.

As he chewed, his mind wandered again. Siana was growing despondent as of late. Marcus' death had affected her greatly, more so than anyone aside from Terra. As for Terra, well she had issues of her own to resolve. Sabin wondered what they would do once they returned to civilization. Perhaps they could take a long vacation in Figaro; Terra could use the rest and relaxation.

"Hey."

"You're back early" he said without looking up.

Siana sat down across from him. The ashes of their dead campfire separated them. "It's supposed to be a quick check of our surroundings," she pointed out. They had been partnered on the same watch since the crash and had a set routine. "Your loud chewing probably alerted everyone to our position," she said with a frown.

With a mouthful of crackers, Sabin grunted. "Sorry," he said after he swallowed. "I was a bit hungry and we have plenty of food again. It feels great to keep the stomach happy," he explained.

Siana rolled her eyes.

Time passed without a word exchanged. Their watches were typically silent. Sabin had little to say to the Imperial pilot, and the last time he had tried she chided him for being unprofessional. Sabin actually preferred the peaceful calm of their watches.

The sound of a single wolf, howling in what seemed like pain, reached his ears. It was far away. Probably too far for anyone else to hear it, but it was definitely a wolf.

Strange, there had been no monsters for two weeks. Was it just his imagination?

Another howl, and shortly after there were sounds that reminded him of swords. He should check out what the noise was.

"I'm going on a walk," he said. Siana nodded her approval; it was his turn to check the area anyways.

Sabin followed the sounds, his finely tuned ears telling him exactly where the wolves were. He remained careful of dead leaves and anything else that could have caused noise, the forest was still unnaturally quiet and any careless movements could give him away.

It took quite a while to forge a safe path in the darkness but as he crawled up a gentle hill, he found the source of the disturbance.

Using both the hill and a large pine nearby, he watched from the safety of the shadows.

There were a couple of them, six by his count. They were soldiers with brown leather armor and grayish-green cloaks. Sabin recognized the command bars on a couple of the exposed shoulders. These were Imperials, grunts if he remembered the rank symbols correctly. They were gathered around a large number of corpses -- the wolves he had heard earlier -- and were concentrating on the cave in front. Fortunately for Sabin, he had snuck up behind the soldiers. They did not notice him; such was their attention on the hollow.

Thump thump, Sabin could feel footsteps against his chest. Something was shaking the soft ground rhythmically. It was something big.

The soldiers did not look scared, so Sabin already knew what the footsteps were.

Two Magitek armors appeared out of the cavern, flanked by another two men. Actually, Sabin corrected himself; one was woman. The soldiers had torches, probably to light the inside of the cave, but quickly put them out. They exchanged some words with the other men. Sabin strained to listen to the quiet conversation but could pick up little. What he did hear were bits and pieces; something about 'extermination' and 'lunar'.

They were quite far away; at least three hundred meters through the thicket, Sabin judged. He could probably sneak closer and find out what the soldiers were doing here. The Imperials were relatively close to their campsite -- about a minute away if he sprinted. It was too close to be a coincidence.

His ears twitched.

Someone was behind him. They were sneaking around with some degree of experience, but they were not as good as he was. Whoever it was, they were still behind him a few dozen meters.

Sabin fought the urge to crack his knuckles. He would have to take care of this soldier; it was obvious that he had been discovered. Though the group in front of him would wonder why one of their sentries had been knocked out, it was a chance he had to take. He could not fight both Magitek armors together if an alarm was raised. Perhaps he would be lucky and they would assume the sentry tripped in the dark and fell to his death.

The thicket was filled with more rotting leaves and dead needles than he was used to. The ground was damp though, and that helped his stealthy crawl. He slipped behind a few trees, his razor sharp eyes taking in what they could of the shadowy forest. Now he knew enough of the area to sneak around the sentry and quickly knock him out.

A rock rolled slightly, Sabin could hear it clearly. The sentry had made another mistake. Now he knew exactly where the soldier was.

With a single breath, Sabin snuck behind his victim. In the shadows, he made out the glint of a polished blade. He pounced without hesitation, his right hand clasping around the mouth and his left twisting the knife arm.

Her gasp of pain was silenced by his powerful grip and he brought both of them to the forest floor with as little noise as he could. As his arm went for around the neck for a chokehold, her familiar scent stopped him.

They lay on the forest floor together. Sabin was seconds from choking her into unconsciousness, perhaps breaking her neck in the process, and only his heightened senses had stopped that accident.

"Get your hands off of me," Siana growled.

Sabin quickly loosened his grip, sitting up after she rolled off of him. He was wary that their little scuffle had alerted the soldiers. His heart was pounding from the sudden action, the adrenaline screaming for him to finish the job he started. He had almost made a big mistake.

"What are you doing so far away?"

Sabin stood up, putting a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet. He snuck back in the direction of the soldiers.

They were still there, continuing their discussion in ignorance. The argument had heated up and distracted them from the struggle nearby. All eight of the soldiers were clustered around the two Magitek armors. The female with the unlit torch was saying something loud enough to be overheard.

"No! Orders were to head back!"

One of the Magitek pilots looked down at the woman. "Unless you want to wake every monster, shut up!" the voice said with disdain.

The soldiers all quieted down after that and Sabin heard precious little. He turned his head to see Siana, laying on the ground an arm's length away and watching the soldiers as well.

"How did you find them?" she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I heard them," Sabin answered. He watched as the soldiers began to leave, heading in the opposite direction as their camp. He wondered if they should follow.

"Really. Despite the distance from the camp, you're telling me you heard them." Somehow, her whispers dripped with sarcasm.

Sabin ignored her comment. He wondered what the Imperials were doing in the middle of a forest. Perhaps they were setting up some sort of trap. The Imperials were devious and likely stumbled on to their trail. Sabin shook his head; he should have remembered to hide their tracks. He was getting sloppy.

A minute of silence later, and Sabin started second-guessing himself. It was a terrible spot to launch an ambush from, and the Imperials were lacking the materials necessary to build anything of note. Sabin glanced over at Siana.

An Imperial mind to discern Imperial intentions. "What do you think they're doing here?" Sabin asked.

Siana squinted. "Two Fourth-gens and an infantry squad. No support in sight, and they're so green they're actually arguing amongst each other. I'd say they're on monster clean-up," she replied.

Sabin blinked. "Mind explaining a bit more?"

"Monster clean-up. There's probably a bunch of beasts near a local village and they're exterminating the menace. Boring work so they usually send the ones straight out of the academy," she said.

"No, I meant the 'fourth gem' comment," Sabin clarified. He was well aware of the Empire's method of exterminating 'menaces'.

"Fourth generation," Siana corrected him. "They're the latest mass production model, Light-Patrol Class Magitek. The whole line is brand new, probably no less than half a year old."

"I've seen them before somewhere," Sabin murmured.

"No you haven't. They're an extremely recent development. Top brass was screaming about the Corps' uselessness in the jungle. That's the brainiacs answer: a smaller, light-weight model that's robust, capable of long-term deployment without resupply. They took so long to get out of the prototyping stage that the war had already ended," Siana sounded extremely bitter. "Typical brainiacs, they don't care a thing about us on the front. They just test and test from their safe little labs until their toys are absolutely perfect."

Sabin was sure he had seen the smaller Magitek Units before though. But where... Sabin thought about all the times he had faced Magitek. It was a lengthy list and he had never given serious thought to what kind of Armor opposed him in the midst of a battle.

The soldiers were now almost out of sight, the darkness swallowing them. The immediate danger had passed.

"Fourth-gens are pretty weakly armored compared to what I pilot," Siana continued. "They're meant to either give chase, like going after cavalry, or act as heavier support in rugged terrain. Their weapons are pathetic compared my ATA, and can't even be compared to the frontliner. It's just an elemental cannon tuned for speed," Siana turned her head towards him and finally noticed Sabin's distracted expression. "Not that you seem to care in the least," she pushed herself off the moist ground.

Sabin looked up at her. Suddenly everything had fallen into place. "You fought in the Doma War," he stated bluntly.

The surprise was clear on her face. It confirmed Sabin's dark suspicions. Before her lips formed words of denial, Sabin had gotten to his feet and spoke in a quiet, threatening voice. "Don't you dare lie. A lot of things make sense now. I had thought you just didn't like Cyan, but the space you gave him was out of fear, wasn't it?" His finger pointed at her accusingly. "You killed his people."

Siana straightened. The surprise had passed and her guard was back up. "I was assigned to Doma only for the first half of the war. General Christophe requested Magitek support and ISF sent our company. We were one of the best and did what we were told," she stated plainly. There was not a hint of guilt in her voice and that enraged Sabin.

"So that's it? You were just following orders? I'd tell you that doesn't excuse your actions, but you already know that." Sabin realized his hands were clenched. He didn't remember doing that. Siana had responded to the threat and was backing away slowly. "Why else would you feel so guilty around Cyan?" he lowered his fists but couldn't seem to unclench them.

"I didn't poison his people, Sabin. I was only there for half the war! Like I said, our units were useless in the woods around Doma. We were barely capable of destroying their railway infrastructure. So after that, I was recalled along with most of the other pilots," she glared back at him. "Those still alive," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't lie to me, Imperial," Sabin growled. "The truth is in your actions: you were a willful participant. I can see right through all the treachery. You must have known about the poison," his eyes glazed over. He remembered each and every single face that had boarded the Phantom Train. There had been hundreds, thousands, that had gone aboard the train. Cyan's wife and son, Elayne and Owain, had such haunted looks. It sent shivers down his spine.

"You killed them you by following that lunatic Kefka! Why else avoid Cyan if you're innocent?" Sabin found himself judging how difficult it would be to snap her neck.

"Because I was afraid of something like this," Siana shot back. "This knee-jerk reaction that I murdered thousands in cold-blood just because I was involved in the campaign. Do you have any idea how insulted I am that you would equate me that maniac Kefka? Do you even grasp how much I hate that bastard?" She closed the distance between them quickly. In her rage she had forgotten Sabin's physical advantage. "I killed my own people next to you," her finger jabbed at his chest. "I betrayed my Emperor and my country to help you kill Kefka!" she finger drove into his flesh, accenting each word. "I watched my fellow soldiers, my friends, die to help you! To help you kill Kefka! And now every one of them is dead! Everyone! Except me!"

Her jabs had become punches. With each blow, she had become more and more angry. Sabin grabbed her hand and held it firm against her struggles. Even then her other hand caught him in the cheek. He grabbed that one as well and pulled her tight against him. He watched her flail uselessly and decided to wait until she calmed down.

Siana didn't. Her foot caught him between the legs and though Sabin didn't collapse, he did let go of her in surprise. She backed away from him quickly. "And don't you ever dare suggest that I served under that bastard, you rebel scumbag," she spat. She ran off into the murky darkness.



Sabin strolled back into camp. He had initially wanted to hurry; Siana might have been planning on stealing their supplies and gear or at worse, try to kill them while they slept. But the dark forest was thick and dangerous to travel quickly and once calm, Sabin realized that he was being far too harsh.

He was surprised to find her quietly finishing her watch. Somehow the possibility never occurred to him.

Her back was facing him and Sabin took note that she had retrieved her knife. It was sheathed just above her boot. Her silence made Sabin uncomfortable.

Siana's eyes flickered to him as he approached.

"I'm sorry," Sabin said to her back. The words came out slowly. "I overreacted and said things that were both wrong and insulting."

Siana didn't give him the satisfaction accepting the apology. She didn't even turn around. It brought uncomfortable memories of his first meeting with Celes to mind. Cyan had been close to executing both Celes and Terra after he realized they had both been Imperials at some point. Sabin had stood behind his friend even while his brother defended the two girls. Edgar had been right, as usual, but Sabin loathed to admit that. There were rarities in a sea of murderous thugs, that was all Edgar had proved.

An Empire of murderers.

"Fine," Sabin made up his mind. "Don't accept it," he said. "It's not like I care," he finished the sentence mentally. He looked around the camp for another spot to take up his watch.

"Will you tell him?" Siana asked.

Sabin opened his mouth, but he didn't have an answer. Before it had been obvious, of course he would tell the others of her involvement in Doma. "Why are you still here?" he asked. Her answer would help him decide.

Siana ignored his question.

"What are you doing here?" Sabin rephrased after his patience was exhausted.

"I asked my question first," she retorted.

Sabin frowned. That arrogant little... "No," he grumbled. "No I won't tell Cyan. He has enough on his mind already. There's no need drag out bad memories, especially since you swear you had nothing to do with the poison."

Siana finally looked at him. "Thank you," she gave a nod of her head before turning away.

"Now answer my question."

She ignored him. Sabin would ask again several times that night, but Siana didn't speak again.



Finding out about the soldiers was both a good and a bad thing. On one hand, they knew they were back in civilization at last. On the other was the Empire, a problem for a group of Returners both recognizable and infamous.

Still, they had to take the chance of being caught. They had no choice; Setzer and Strago's lives depended on it.

However, they had yet to come up with a plausible cover story. They were no longer heavily armed but they were still suspicious. Four men, two women and one child, appearing out of the mountains where no one lived? It was going to raise a few eyebrows, if not attract the attention of whatever garrison the Empire had nearby.

The path they had been following had gradually changed. In the beginning, it was practically impossible to follow without dedicated trackers, now it was a well-worn dirt path. Edgar knew the type; they would soon merge with a major road. Once that happened, their hand would be forced. The chances of meeting unsavory characters on a major road were extremely high.

Locke had come up with a decent plan though. He had snuck ahead of them to watch the road. Apparently, he had been in these woods before and memories from his previous experiences were surfacing again.

Edgar recalled a few Returner sympathizers in the northernmost sections of the Empire. Most lived in small villages that were barely large enough to be included on the map.

He tried to remember the lists now, somewhat annoyed at his sudden memory loss. In the past, he had helped Banon coordinate the rebel-information network. Though that had been a long time ago, Edgar had worked for years with the Returners and even a few of the names should have stuck in his mind. After all, they had been a small and closely-knit organization then. They would have laughed at the very notion that eventually they would be the cause of a treaty between the Empire and the northern continent.

Edgar crossed his arms as he remembered those carefree days. Back then, he had acted the part of the Empire's ally while plotting their downfall. It had been an enjoyable time -- stressful perhaps -- but far better than fighting the great war against the Empire.

They waited for nearly an hour just a few miles away from the main road. Edgar passed the time by playing with Relm. His mind though, was on other things.

Locke returned with a smile on his face, although he was nearly clobbered by Sabin. Edgar's twin brother had decided to keep watch slightly farther away from the group. Considering he had been the one to find the squad of Imperial soldiers last night, it made sense that he was the most cautious. It was strange that Siana accompanied him; Sabin didn't really work well with a partner.

"I've got good news, and better news," Locke announced as he strolled into their midst.

"Start with the good news," Edgar suggested.

"The good news is that I recognize the place. We're near Nestil," Locke explained. "I've been here twice on errands."

Nestil, that village was familiar to Edgar. He recalled that it was one of the northernmost settlements that the Empire had. If he remembered the maps correctly, it meant that his calculations on their bearings hadn't been too far off.

"Which means I know someone in Nestil," Locke continued. "A former blacksmith named Garrett. He's a nice man, and more importantly, a long time sympathizer."

Edgar gave Locke a disproving look, one that was mirrored on the face of Cyan. While she might have been helping them, Siana was still decidedly Imperial. Locke was being his old naive self and from the look on his face, ignorant of his faux-pas.

"That's good news then. Nestil is large enough to have a doctor resident and we have a friend on the inside," Edgar replied. He briefly wondered what else Locke could reveal before asking the next question. "What's the really good news then?"

"The Empire is in Nestil," Locke grinned.

Edgar cast a sidelong glance at Siana. Locke had confirmed their fears, and now Edgar had to deal with another issue: What was the Imperial pilot planning? Marcus had led his men into committing treason by siding with Celes, but Marcus was dead now. Even if Siana's loyalties were with Celes and she was following her General's orders to guard the Returners, how would things change once they were back in Imperial territory?

Locke was disappointed that no one responded to his joke. "They're dealing with tons of refugees; I met at least ten of them headed in the direction of Nestil. Apparently all the nightly monsters we normally deal with have been a big problem here," he continued.

"That explains why the forest is so unnaturally quiet, or at least, it explains a bit of it," Edgar commented.

"Right, but more importantly, it means that the Empire is undermanned up here. They don't have enough soldiers to watch every single refugee. All we have to do is slip into Nestil with a big enough group and they'll never catch us. I didn't even see them doing checks, they're just using the place as a campground and headquarters while they send out small squads to deal with monsters," Locke said.

"That is pretty good news," Edgar said. "The Empire is doing something to help its people, and at the same time, is too busy to catch us. And we certainly look like refugees," he waved around.

They all looked at themselves somewhat self-consciously. Their clothes were bloodied, but there was so much dirt that the dark splotches had been covered up. They had been traveling for over a month without taking so much as a bath.

Locke cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess that's a bonus," he said as he rolled his eyes.

Relm giggled.

"Let's lose the torches and head to the village then," Siana said. She sounded impatient.

"Not having torches would make us look more pathetic," Edgar agreed. "We should hide the good weapons though; maybe keep some knives on hand. It wouldn't be good to stroll into Nestil pretending to be harmless but fully armed; they might assume we're bandits."

Sabin and Cyan both picked up the litter with Setzer and Strago on it. "Let's go then," Sabin said.

They dropped their torches and walked through the forest in the dark, like many of the refugees Locke had seen. Once they were on the main road they found the going much faster. After trudging through the mountains for so long, a dirt trail worn down by years of Chocobos was equivalent to a paved road. They made good time and met up with a family that was fleeing from the mountains as well. No one asked them questions or found them suspicious, although they had to take care to hide Terra's hair. Green hair was uncommon and they couldn't afford to stand out. They were just another group of refugees fleeing the sudden monster invasion. Seeing Setzer and Strago on a litter was nothing new, nearly all the travelers had their share of injuries.

Surrounded by innocent Imperial citizens, they entered Nestil unchallenged. The town was lit with many torches, giving the impression of vivid nightlife despite being the middle of the day. The streets were filled with people going about their business without fear or apprehension of the hoards that surrounded their village. Some had journeyed for days through dangerous lands, avoiding death by the narrowest of margins, just to reach Nestil. They were protected here by Imperial soldiers and everyone welcomed those men.

Edgar stared at the Magitek Armor they passed. It was standing to the side of the main road, its pilot watching the forests for any sign of life. Over twenty feet tall, it loomed over every single refugee that made its way past it; a symbol of overwhelming power.

"An ATA," Sabin whispered beside him.

Every refugee that passed the Magitek Armor looked up in either admiration or disgust. The pilot paid them no heed; his orders were to protect these people, not to look for criminals or rebels. He kept watch for signs of monsters and ignored the rest.

Edgar sighed. They were back in the Empire.



Visions of Peace will be continued in The Fourth Chapter - Hidden in Plain Sight
Post #112288
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Posted: 28th March 2006 18:38

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Holy Swordsman
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Member of more than ten years. Participated at the forums for the CoN's 15th birthday! User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Member of more than five years. 
Second place in the 2004 Gogo Fanfiction contest. Third place in the 2009 Quiz contest. 
Wow, I can't believe I read the whole thing.


Good stuff, though. It's a thing not many people look at when considering FFVI fic topics. Given that I already know the end result, I'm eager to see how you get there.

--------------------
If you've been mod-o-fied,
It's an illusion, and you're in-between.
Don't you be tarot-fied,
It's just alot of nothing, so what can it mean?
~Frank Zappa

Sins exist only for people who are on the Way or approaching the Way
Post #112327
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Posted: 28th March 2006 19:43

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Quote (MogMaster @ 28th March 2006 10:38)
Wow, I can't believe I read the whole thing.


Good stuff, though. It's a thing not many people look at when considering FFVI fic topics. Given that I already know the end result, I'm eager to see how you get there.

Thank you sir! I know that the length usually puts people off, so I really appreciate the comment.

Chapter 4 should be up by the end of today. That will bring me to the same number of chapters posted last year, although these all have additional scenes (2 in particular) and much different character views.

And I hope to surprise you a couple times. ;)
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Posted: 29th March 2006 06:56

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The Fourth Chapter - Hidden in Plain Sight

Nestil was a town on the northern border of the Empire. It was also the biggest town within two days march of the mountains. In the past, it had been much larger because of the many entrepreneurs living there. Metals and gems were abundant because of its location near the mines. The town had a bustling business district with dozens of competing workshops busy turning raw goods into beautiful pieces of art and treasure.

During the recent year though, Nestil shrank to a shadow of its former self. The mines had been closed by direct orders from the Emperor. Nestil's future seemed to be dead once its businessmen and youth left in droves for better opportunities in the Core. However, people were always ready and willing to adapt. Once the Doma War began, lumber and fishing replaced the former mining and refining industries. The Imperial war machine needed raw materials and Nestil had copious amounts of the stuff and a willingness to supply. The town saved itself from the fate of other mining villages and flourished again.

Now it had a population of nearly a thousand. Abandoned buildings, mostly former workshops, had all been taken up by the townspeople and refitted to house their booming lumber industry. They had yards of treated wood in stockpiles ready to be shipped to the Empire's cities. With such a great reserve of ready building materials, it had been easy to wall off the town when the monsters began to attack.

Refugees from the nearby villages had decided there was safety in numbers. Now Nestil was overcrowded, its population had grown one and a half times the number from the week before. Hastily made tents outnumbered the buildings and the center of town became a great bustling market. Many people from the south had journeyed to Nestil, braving the dangers of the forest in order to sell their goods at exorbitant prices. Food was in abundance if one had the money. Clothing and tools were easily found as well. From useless trinkets to fancy jewelry, hawkers of all types came to ply their wares. Some of the hawkers were even selling charms to ward off monsters.

With so many people, it was almost impossible for the small group of Imperial soldiers to pick out the Returners. Edgar had been quite relieved of that. Nestil had a weak garrison by the Empire's standards, but it was still numbered forty men with Magitek support. As well, these men were defending the town. Fighting would cripple them and Edgar did not wish to do that. He had no quarrel with the Empire if they were protecting thousands of lives from monsters.

Garrett was a blacksmith that had moved to Nestil during its glory days. He had a substantial mansion compared to the typical village house, though that was not uncommon in Nestil. Garrett's talents had been in high demand until cheap materials could no longer be had from the local mines. After that, he began to sympathize with the Returners.

They were fortunate to have his aid, no matter how selfish his reasons. The inns in Nestil were completely packed but Garrett had three deserted rooms. They had once belonged to a lovely friend of Garrett's, but were now barren and neglected.

Garrett had introduced them to the doctor, Kenneth. He was an honest young man who stayed in Nestil to help the villagers out of kindness and not for the money. Thanks to the monsters though, he was beyond busy. Had it not been for Garrett, it was doubtful that Kenneth would have accepted Setzer and Strago as his patients. However, Kenneth had owed Garrett for some favors in the past. Since Garrett owed Locke for more unnamed favors, everything worked out.



Their first night in Nestil was spent resting and relaxing. They gorged themselves on food provided by their gracious host. It had been a long time since they had ate a large dinner, cleansed themselves with running water and slept on real beds. Being clean and well-rested did wonders for their moods. Terra seemed almost normal again, melancholy instead of suicidal. Relm was more energetic, Sabin was grinning ear to ear and even Cyan had a smile on his face. They ate breakfast with cheer and gusto; the hurts of the past few weeks had washed away with the dirty water of their baths.

Kenneth approached them that afternoon.

The doctor was keen and invigorated despite staying up most of the night to deal with the many patients he had. Those high numbers had both been a blessing and a curse. Edgar knew that the soldiers might occasionally go to the doctor, either to address wounds or to request other services. If any of them recognized Setzer, it would have been a precarious situation. Fortunately, with so many patients, it was doubtful any of the soldiers would even notice. As for Strago, he was from Thamasa and few Imperial men could recognize the wizened sage, if they even knew he was part of the Returners.

"Your friends are better off than I expected," Kenneth was saying. They sat in Garrett's house. The blacksmith had been so successful that he had a room devoted to entertaining guests. Terra and Relm marveled at vastness of Garrett's house, but it was nothing new for Edgar. Business should be done in a room dedicated to such things. It was simply common sense for the King.

"That's good news," Edgar replied. They were all in the meeting room and sat around a large wooden desk. The table was made of polished hardwood that Edgar found delightful to touch. It reminded him of the old wooden tables in Castle Figaro's library: classy, delicate, yet warm to the touch.

"Yes, well I didn't expect much after you told me about your journey. I must say, these two are in incredible health after being on road for so long," Kenneth shook his head in wonder. "Considering you have no one trained to even deal with injuries like this, I'm amazed."

Locke was watching Terra to see if she was going to take credit for her work. Seeing no movement, he started to speak, only to be kicked in the shin by Edgar. A glare from the King reminded Locke that Kenneth, though a friend of Garrett's, could not be fully trusted. Even Garrett did not know about their magical abilities that were granted by the magicite each wore around their neck.

"Anyhow, I'm sure you want to know what's wrong with them. I'll start with the easy one. The old man-"

"Strago," Sabin offered.

"-Strago," Kenneth said, "is in a trance of sorts. I've seen something like it once or twice before when I was an apprentice in Albrook."

"A trance?" Edgar asked. That sounded like something Sabin should have been able to recognize.

"Yes," Kenneth said. "Not too many people know of things like this. Even I don't know how to put myself in such a reverie. I only know how to recognize and treat the symptoms. Simply put, Strago put himself into a very deep sleep to conserve his strength. That's why his breaths are so far apart; he's saving his power so he can last long enough to get medical attention."

Edgar should have been surprised, but found himself smiling at Strago's cleverness. Of course the old man would have known something so arcane. He was a lore master and studied books for nearly all his life. Edgar could not imagine the amount of knowledge Strago had.

"Is gramps going to be alright?" Relm asked.

It was strange for a ten-year old girl to be included in such a discussion but after all she had been through, they couldn't tell her to simply sit on the side. She sat beside Cyan, the older Knight had watched over her protectively ever since the airship crash.

Edgar still railed at Locke's stupidity. To include a child as young as Relm in a journey as dangerous as theirs was one of the greatest displays of incompetence he had ever seen.

"He will be fine. The problem is waking him up. I can feed him and prevent him from dying of thirst, but bringing him out of the trance will only be accomplished on his own," Kenneth answered.

So Terra was right, Edgar mused. Strago had been in a situation where only he could save himself.

"As for the other man," Kenneth waited.

"Setzer," Sabin offered again.

"Setzer," Kenneth nodded his thanks to Edgar's twin brother. "Well, he's the difficult one."

"I doubt he knows how to put himself into any trance but a gambling one," Locke mused.

"Well that's part of the problem," Kenneth said. "Setzer was in extremely good physical condition prior to his injury, I can tell that much just by a glance. But something has induced him into a coma; one where he's constantly dreaming."

"Dreaming?" Edgar repeated. "How do you know that?"

"His eyes," Kenneth explained. "When your eyes are constantly flickering, it's a sign of dreams. Something is affecting him from the inside." Kenneth tapped his head. "It's an internal struggle, comas always are, and I can also keep him from dying of thirst and starvation. That's not a real problem, but you should be aware of it nonetheless. The real issue is the toxin."

"He's been poisoned?" Locke asked.

Edgar noted that Terra was right again, aside from the poison. Interesting, he thought. He should mention it to her; it would be good for her confidence.

"Yes, some sort of poison has worked its way into his system. It's a pretty weird one; I've never encountered anything quite like it. I do recognize the symptoms though, and I should be able to easily devise a concoction to cleanse the toxin."

"But?" Edgar knew there was a problem. If there were no issues, Kenneth wouldn't explain something he could easily heal.

"But," Kenneth sighed, "one of the herbs necessary can't be bought here. They only grow in the desert."

"That's a big problem," Edgar said. "There are no deserts anywhere within two weeks of here, and even then, finding something growing in the desert must be ridiculously hard."

"It's not as difficult as you might think. The plant is farmed in Alfort-Brougham since it's quite useful in many mixtures. It's quite costly, but I expect that it could be found in any of the major cities."

"Like Tzen," Edgar continued Kenneth's line of thought.

The doctor nodded. "That's correct; Tzen will definitely have the herb." He pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and looked at it. "It seems I must be heading back. I have written a description and the name of the herb here," he slid a piece paper across the table. "You should be weary of fakes. I've described how to insure that you're buying the right plant, just remember that a visual check is not enough. As for the poison, it's a slow one and I can delay it quite a bit. However, you should try to get the herb within three weeks. I can't guarantee your friend's life beyond a month, even with the antidote at that point."

Edgar stood at the same time as the doctor. They shook hands.

"Thanks Kenneth, three weeks is more than enough time to get to Tzen and back. We'll have the herb for you," Edgar said.

Kenneth nodded. "Then I'll leave it in your hands. You can visit your friends anytime, but I am typically quite busy. You'll have to excuse my directness, but I really have to be leaving."

They thanked the doctor again before he left Garrett's house.

"Well," Edgar said as he sat back down. "It seems we have a problem."

Edgar glanced around. Locke was busy reading the description Kenneth had provided. Cyan had a knowing look on his face; he knew the problem as well. Sabin seemed preoccupied with other matters. Siana had a worried look on her face, she knew too. Terra was blank as usual. Relm pretended to be busy staring out the window, but Edgar had a feeling she knew too.

"Tzen is about a week's march away from Cartha, the biggest town in these parts. Now Cartha is pretty close and they probably have lots of chocobo mounts there, but we can't take any of them," Edgar explained. "That leaves us with hardly any time to spare."

"Why can't we take the chocobos?" Terra asked unexpectedly.

"Chocobos draw attention," Edgar explained. "We can't take that kind of risk, not after Garrett told us martial law has been declared in this province." He gave a glance directed at Siana, who nodded her agreement. "Traveling on foot will be the only possible choice."

"Oh," Terra replied with little substance.

"The problem only gets worse," Edgar said. "We're all pretty famous here; our faces have been on posters for a good half year or more -- especially my good looking mug."

"Troops would recognize you pretty quickly," Siana acknowledged.

"Which means only a couple of us can go to Tzen," Edgar stated. "We can't risk being caught, not with Setzer's life hanging-"

"I have a plan," Locke interrupted.

They all looked at him, frowning at the devious grin on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Edgar asked. He was annoyed at being cut off, especially by Locke.

"I have a plan to get into Tzen. It's pretty simple really," he started. "You're right; not all of us can go, because we might get caught. The other thing is that we might need a cover story if we do get questioned. So the only ones that can go can only go if it makes sense," he said with relish.

"You're rambling," Edgar pointed out. He folded his arms and prepared to tell Locke how unworkable his plan was. Edgar had done that many times during their journey since the crash. Their watches had been filled with arguments, most of which were due to Locke's incredible naiveté.

Locke's grin grew. "This won't be dangerous as long as we pick the right people and our story is plausible," he said.

At this point, Garrett walked into the room and sat down on one of the padded chairs. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm just tired and need to sit; the hawkers in the market were out harassing my customers again."

No one minded. It was not as if they would tell Garrett to leave his own house.

"It's really simple," Locke continued.

In any other case, Edgar would stop Locke from revealing their plans in front of a stranger, but he noticed that Locke trusted Garrett a great deal. He wondered why and mentally balanced the risks they were taking. Locke had definitely been too careless as of late, speaking openly in front of Imperial soldiers, not thinking his plans through, and was far too trusting in general.

"I'll go to Tzen with Terra and Relm."

Edgar snapped out of his thoughts. He glared at Locke and he was not alone. With the exception of Relm and Siana, everyone was giving Locke a dirty look. After all, Locke had just suggested putting Relm in danger. That was unforgivable by itself. To bring Terra along as well, that was just atrocious.

Locke held up his hands in defense. "Before you start killing me with those stares, let me explain."

"That would be a start," Cyan said. When angry, the Doma Knight had a glare that could have frightened a boar. This was slightly different; there was more murderous rage.

Edgar felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to walk over to Locke and slam his face through the table. Only his years of deportment training had kept the frustration from winning out.

"We can all agree that the three of us are relative unknowns in the Empire, right?"

"No," Edgar retorted immediately. He mentally reprimanded himself. He was letting his rage get the better of him. "Did you forget how much Terra stands out?" he asked in a calmer tone.

"That's the genius of my plan," Locke said. "Everyone stares at the color of Terra's hair. No one really notices what she looks like -- no offense," he added sheepishly.

Terra didn't say a word.

"If we dye her hair, I bet no one would have any idea it's Terra. They'll all be on the lookout for a green haired girl," Locke finished.

"It's true," Garrett interrupted unexpectedly. "Not to say imply anything," he gestured to Terra. "You are quite attractive, but the only thing I first noticed was the color of your hair. It's very unique."

Cyan folded his arms. "Thy plan involves Relm. Why?" Cyan didn't just ask for answer, he demanded it.

That got Siana's attention as well. Her narrowed eyes added a fifth hostile stare in Locke's direction.

"If it was just me and Terra," Locke began. "We might get pegged as a young couple fleeing from their parents and family. That kind of tale usually attracts the attention of soldiers faster than an esper."

Siana's gaze softened in understanding. "That makes sense," she admitted.

"What do you mean by that?" Edgar asked.

Siana rolled her eyes. "Children should not be playing around in hopeless relationships."

"But... you're the same age as Locke or Terra," Edgar stammered in confusion. "They're not exactly children."

"We're obviously adults," Siana sighed. "I was talking about kids. Children should be in school learning, or in the military serving the good of their fellow men," Siana said those words as if she was reading from a textbook. "If I were still on patrol, I would send any couple to the stables for a month so that they can do some actual good."

"Ridiculous!" Cyan roared.

"What is? That the Emperor would care for our future and ensure that no citizen would waste their lives?" She folded her arms.

"Gestahl cares for nothing other than himself!"

Edgar suddenly remembered something he had heard. It was from one of the scholars of Figaro. He forgot the name of the man, but the scholar was the authority on the rise of the Empire. Edgar had gone to him shortly after his father's poisoning. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer went the old saying. He had learned much that seemed useless.

Now those tales of political maneuvering, power-plays within the military, and edicts granted to gain public support rushed back to the surface. One particular edict was at the forefront of his memories.

The Morality Crusade.

Locke cast a side-long glare at Edgar. He had a smug look on his face, telling Edgar he had expected that kind of reaction.

"Cyan, now is not the time for this! We have Setzer's life to consider!" Edgar quickly took control of the situation. He could not afford to let Siana and Cyan argue. The two were already exchanging insults at such a pace that he couldn't even distinguish individual barbs.

Cyan had been close to drawing his sword, so close that Sabin had already stood up. The way he stood though, Edgar wondered if Sabin was going to stop Cyan or help him.

"Either way," Locke interrupted Edgar and Siana. "If Relm travels with us, we can be brother and sister. Since Relm is there, they would not question that kind of relation. We would be just another family seeking refuge, our parents killed by the horrible monsters."

Siana nodded in approval. "That makes sense. There were quite a few families amongst the groups of refugees. It's unlikely you would be questioned."

Her endorsement did not give credibility to Locke's plan. Instead, it only aggravated Cyan. "I will not allow this!" he declared.

"Is there another way?" Surprisingly, it was Relm that spoke up. She had a serious look on her face that was directed at Cyan. After a minute, the glower on the Knight's face melted.

"I suppose not," Cyan conceded. "That doesn't make things any easier though, dear one."

Relm gave him an inquisitive look. "Why not? We have to save Setzer, don't we?"

Do we? Edgar wondered. He relaxed into his chair and pondered, confident that the possibility of violence had subsided.

Cyan frowned. It was obvious that he couldn't think of an answer he agreed with. "It's not that simple," he said at last. The authoritative answer of generations of fathers caught off guard by their children was his only resort.

"Why not?"

Cyan was defeated by the innocent retort of generations of children more clever than their father. The Knight shifted in his seat uncomfortably and desperately tried to think of an answer.

"Why Terra? Why not Siana?" Sabin asked. He had saved his friend, though at the same time, he had partially endorsed Locke's plan.

Edgar thought it was Locke that had made such a brainless comment. When he realized it was Sabin, he leveled his most incredulous stare at his brother. Are you stupid? His expression said.

"What?" Sabin raised his hands innocently.

Because she's an Imperial soldier, you nitwit! What happens if she betrays Locke and Relm so that she can get back in the Empire's good graces, you mindless buffoon! Do you even think before you ask these idiotic questions? Edgar felt his right-eye twitch uncontrollably. "We can't take the chance that someone in the Imperial ranks might recognize her," Edgar said instead. "It would be a bigger risk."

"Yeah, Davis said you were pretty well-known since you were piloting Magitek since Tzen's fall," Locke added confidently.

Siana narrowed her eyes. "I was barely old enough to join the academy when Tzen fell," she said incredulously.

Locke blinked. "I must have heard wrong... or something," he stammered, clearly embarrassed. "Either way, what about the plan?"

Edgar sighed. He could not argue against it. It was well reasoned and minimized the dangers that could befall them. Setzer life depended on their actions. They really had no choice. Edgar glanced at Terra. "Terra," he said softly. "Do you think you can do this? It seems like the best way."

Terra looked down at the table and avoided their eyes. "I can try," she said softly.

Edgar nodded in defeat. "Alright Locke. We'll leave this in your hands. Remember to head to the market before you leave, your clothes right now don't fit the role of an older brother of a peasant family."

"We better head off as soon as we can then, I'll go start filling our packs," Locke said as he stood up. "Terra, can you help me?"

She nodded.

Edgar sighed loudly. Sabin leaned against a wall with a frown on his face, and Cyan was bottled fury. They were warriors. They had been trained for many things, but first and foremost they protected women and children. Now they stood idly on the side as Terra and Relm walked into danger. Their ineptitude was frustrating.



Edgar found Cyan behind Garrett's house. His sword was out, and he was making short work of his invisible opponents.

"Cyan," Edgar began. "I'd like to-"

"I do not wish to hear it, King Edgar," Cyan growled as he slashed downwards fiercely.

"Cyan, I don't like Locke's plan anymore than you do. But I see that it's the only way. Put aside your emotions and think this through!"

The Doma Knight had turned his attention to a large pine nearby. He kicked the trunk of the tree and sent leaves floating to the ground.

"Imperial troops would have arrested Locke and Terra, just like Siana said. We have no choice to include Relm unless you think it's safer sending Locke on his own!"

Cyan had been cutting the air with his Doma-crafted blade, deftly cutting a number of leaves in half. Once there was nothing left to slice, he gestured at Edgar with his weapon. "It is ludicrous that they must travel in this mockery of a family. Your defense of that Imperial pilot's crazed reasoning was an insult to my honor."

"Her reasoning is a result of her conditioning. Cyan, you never studied the Empire like I did. You know nothing of it aside from its military arm," Edgar pointed back at Garrett's house. "Look at our ally here. Is it because of the Empire's soldiers that he assists us? There has always been other ways to bring the Empire to its knees. As the leader of my people, I learned what I could about the Empire. I'm sure your King also did the same."

Suddenly, Cyan swung his blade in a fast, powerful stroke. He almost spun full-circle. Cyan stopped as quickly as he started, his long black hair swung out and wrapped around his neck.

Edgar hadn't even noticed the path of Cyan's sword, but the pine's tree trunk had the telltale mark of a blade traveling through it. Cyan had cut the tree in half without knocking it over.

"You will not bring my liege into this blasphemy!" Cyan ordered angrily.

Edgar shook his head. "Listen to me. When Gestahl was young, he started something called the Morality Crusade. It was an Imperial rescript that ended up gaining him the adoration of nearly every citizen of the Empire. The only ones that weren't affected by his crusade were the nobles, and they aren't worth discussing."

"What does this have to do with anything, Edgar?"

Edgar shook his head sadly. "You're seeing the result now. The edict was made to crush what Gestahl had thought immoral traits. It criminalized the taking of multiple wives, prostitution, sex out of wedlock, the usage of certain addictive herbs, speaking ill of one's elders... it also reinforced certain habits within the populace. It gave them free education for children that showed promise as scholars or were willing to serve in the military. It spearheaded the growth of their army in order to wipe out the monster menace. For all extents and purposes, it was a wonderful decree."

Cyan had calmed down. "And this is what Siana was quoting," he said.

Edgar smiled. "You noticed it too?"

"'twas was obvious she spoke from rote."

Edgar nodded. "The Imperial education system churns out soldiers that are far worse than her though. Most don't even think things through. I don't know how much Sabin told you about Marcus and Siana, but we had a real bad argument many weeks back. Even so-called Special Forces like those two have difficulty questioning their superiors."

"An admirable trait, though incredibly dangerous," it was the soldier in Cyan that spoke. "The Empire's treachery runs deep, corrupting even children. It is a vile plague that must be removed from this world. But perhaps I spoke ill of its citizens. I had not known such things."

"I knew, but forgot about it. Imperial history isn't exactly useful when fighting a war," Edgar explained. "I learned most of this when I was a child. My father had always followed the old saying: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. He wanted me to learn as much as I could about the Empire."

"A forward-thinking man, he must have known of the Empire's evils long before they had appeared," Cyan concluded. "I only met your father once, and that was in my youth. He was a great man. I recall that he ended an old blood feud between two of the most powerful nobilities within our Kingdoms."

Edgar sighed. "Yes, father was a great diplomat."

"His son has done no worse."

Edgar made eye-contact with Cyan. The Doma Knight did not look like he was lying. "I drew my people into a war we could not win," the King of Figaro said regretfully. "I failed to send help to Doma because I was afraid of breaking my so-called alliance with the Empire. My meddling saw Narshe come under attack by an Imperial Magitek division. My truce with the Empire was a farce, and I am intimately connected with the massive destruction that the Floating Continent has wreaked upon the world," his shoulders shook with shame. "I am a failure, Cyan."

Cyan was silent for a moment, waiting for Edgar to continue his rant. When no more seemed forthcoming, Cyan sheathed his sword and spoke powerfully. "King Edgar, your hubris has no bounds if you think all those events is your fault."

Edgar opened his mouth, but had nothing to say.

"You would do well to heed your own advice, King Edgar."



For Edgar, the week passed by quickly despite having little to do other than wait patiently. Since Locke, Terra and Relm had left for Tzen, the four of them ended up fighting over the guest rooms. The fight was short lived though; Cyan was quite explicit that he would have his own room and no one would deny Siana hers. That left Edgar and Sabin to continue a traditional rivalry between brothers.

Edgar ended up with the room and Sabin the couch. Sabin had his freedom, Edgar surmised. The least he could do was to give a king his bed.

During the daytime, Sabin spent his time mediating in the forests. Cyan usually stayed in his room in deliberation, occasionally leaving to practice his swordplay. He had a lot of frustration to let out. Edgar worried about the Doma Knight. Cyan was a smart man, but he often let his emotions get the better of him. Things would deteriorate quickly, especially if the Empire was involved. They couldn't afford any situations in Nestil, not until Strago and Setzer had recovered. Edgar found himself often accompanying Cyan during his practices, even sparring with the elder knight.

Edgar's arm had finally healed; Kenneth had checked it over and gave him an ointment for the itching. Garrett had forged a new spear for Edgar. He had the money and Garrett had the time. The spear created was even better than the one Edgar had lost during the airship crash, mainly because he had a hand in the creation. The weight was almost perfectly balanced and the craftsmanship better than any Figarian blacksmith's. It didn't help against Cyan though. The Doma Knight could overpower him with little effort, outwitted him instinctively, and overwhelmed him with the sheer number of blows. The distraction was a great break from other unsolved issues.

One such issue had been avoided. Siana stayed in Garrett's house without needing to be asked. That was extremely fortunate. Edgar didn't know if he had the tact required to ask such a thing without showing his distrust of the Imperial pilot.

A couple days after Locke, Terra and Relm departed, Garrett approached them in the morning and asked if they could do some shopping for him. He had been generously offering food from his cupboards and now they were empty. Siana offered to go to the market that afternoon.

Edgar approached his brother the moment Siana had been out of earshot. "Sabin, go with her to the market," he said.

Sabin glared, annoyed at Edgar's attitude. "No," he stated flatly.

"Sabin, don't be so stubborn," Edgar growled. He knew that Sabin and Siana were had a tedious relationship that could be best described as mutual dislike, but he couldn't send Cyan. While the knight had calmed down after their discussion, Cyan was still dangerous where the Empire was in question. "I need you to keep an eye on her."

"Do it yourself," Sabin retorted. "I've dealt with her for the past month, now it's your turn."

Edgar's eye twitched. He signed loudly. "Sabin, I don't need this right now."

"Well brother, I'm sick of the Imperial and I'm sick of your orders. You're being selfish and I'm not going to just back down and let you have everything your way."

"Is that what you think this is? Another one of our little sibling rivalries?" Edgar asked. "Did being in the mountains for the last ten years prevent you from growing up?"

Sabin folded his muscular arms for effect. "Give me one good reason why I, instead of you, should tolerate that woman any longer than necessary."

Edgar smiled confidently. "Because you kept her company for the last month. You know her better than me or Cyan, so you can 'protect' her better than we can."

"That is absolutely-"

"-correct," Edgar interrupted. "I don't trust Siana as much as I trusted Celes... yet. But I don't want her to know that. If I follow her around, it'll look worse than if you did."

Sabin was speechless.

"I'm glad you see it my way."



Sabin carried four heavy paper bags in one hand. Each contained enough groceries to feed a family for weeks, since Edgar had suggested they should not skimp on the costs. After all, they had owed Garrett a great deal for his help. Filling his pantry was just a small favor among the many necessary in order to fully repay him. However, Sabin was rather annoyed at his role.

"I don't see the point of buying so much," he grumbled.

Siana spun around and gave him an annoyed glare. "I didn't ask you to come. But since you wouldn't back down, then you might as well make yourself useful."

"I told you, I'm here to protect you," Sabin repeated his brother's lies. "That's going to be difficult when my hands are busy carrying enough food to feed a thousand people."

"Protect, right. Because I need babysitting from you," Siana growled sarcastically. She gestured at him rudely and turned back to the shops.

The market was packed. It was uncommon for a small town like Nestil to have its streets filled with people. However, these were not normal times. Nestil's main street had at least four-hundred wandering about. People had abandoned many of the smaller villages nearby and had fled to Nestil seeking the protection of the Empire.

The Imperials seemed to be surprised by the development. They had not the manpower to police such a large group and ended up allowing the townsfolk to create a sanctioned militia. The militiamen took on the role of watching the great crowds in the marketplace. They stayed on alert since torches were lighting the streets; it was possible for one errant drunk to burn down the entire town.

Sabin followed Siana around, looking into the stores every so often with a bit of interest. Spending years in the wilderness had given him a great deal of appreciation for the art of cooking. Preparation was the key to any good dish and that started at the marketplace. He gazed at the displays of various fresh meats chilled in buckets of ice. Some were quite fresh. Sabin was especially impressed by a huge boar that hung in one of the displays. His mouth watered at the thought of the beast slowly roasted over a campfire. That boar could satisfy ten men alone without any additional side dishes.

They wove their way through the thick crowd. It seemed like at least thirty more stores had sprung up in the last few days. Many barely qualified as stores; they were nothing more than hastily erected tents and some tables within displaying wares. Many of them had quality goods to buy though, and certainly there was no lack of interest from the immense crowd. Near a particularly popular stand, a fight had broken out between two men. They had pummeled each other for a minute and some in the crowd had even joined in before Imperial soldiers showed up and restored order. Sabin apprehensively noted that it wouldn't take much for a riot to break-out. It was indeed dangerous here, the militiamen seemed powerless to stop the fighting and that meant Imperials would be on their toes.

They passed three more fruit and vegetable stands and Siana gave him yet another bag to carry. Sabin scowled at her but she paid him no heed and returned to the stores. Siana noticed a couple more shady dealers hanging on the side of the road. She even recognized some of the things they sold; her military career had given her plenty of exposure to such concoctions. The one most of hawkers had for sale was Alcatef. A fellow pilot had been caught using the stuff before. Made from a plant that readily grew in the grasslands, it was highly addictive and very illegal in the Empire.

When she was fresh out of the academy, Siana had been put on patrols to fight the sale of Alcatef. She had never been suited for life as a foot soldier though and managed to transfer into Magitek maintenance instead. Still, the urge to arrest and throw scum like those dealers into jail was almost overwhelming. She told herself to calm down and ignore them. After all, it wasn't uncommon for people to have the stuff. It was a crime, but the Empire just didn't have the manpower to crack down on all the sellers these days. Unfortunate, Alcatef twisted people that used it.

They passed by a small charms store, one that caught Siana's interest. She told Sabin to wait while she headed inside.

"This is definitely not what Garrett asked for," he told her angrily.

"Then leave! I'm going in and I don't care what you do!" Siana snapped back.

To her surprise, Sabin turned his back. "Try not to die or something."

Siana growled a few choice curses at the rebel's back. They were words that no lady should ever know, but she had been in the Corps and that meant she was no lady. Her mother would have been shamed.

The charms shop was one of the original stores in Nestil. It was actually a building, with prepared displays and properly labeled goods. Half of the tables were empty though; Siana assumed it was because of the sudden increase in shoppers.

The store itself was crowded. There were quite a few people browsing the various aisles. Siana made her way to the trinket that caught her attention earlier, careful not to knock anything. The aisles were quite narrow and her cloak tended to take up far more room than her body did.

The trinket was a beautiful necklace. She wished Marcus was around since he would know if the silver metal was actually silver. With that thought, she felt a renewed pang of loss. She missed him. It had barely been a month, nowhere near enough time for her to get over the loss of such a close comrade. She shook her head, trying to force the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind. Instead, she admired the stone in the center of the necklace. It was a polished blue hue, not a gem, but some sort of rare rock. She didn't recognize it, but it looked perfect set amidst finely crafted metalwork.

Siana brought the necklace to the shopkeeper and asked how much it cost.

"Thirty gil," the shopkeeper replied. She pointed to the intricately carved design around the stone. "It's said that those designs come from ancient-"

"Sure," Siana cut the woman off. She paid for the item and turned around.

There was a man wearing a hooded cloak directly behind her, unusual since it was a charms store. Most men would never be caught dead inside such a store. Even more unusual was the huge bulk he took up. It was a soldier, Siana knew that instantly. What was a soldier doing here?

She thanked the storekeeper and pulled her hood up. Trying not to make eye contact with the bulky man, Siana carefully pushed her way past.

His arm grasped her shoulder.

"Pilot First-Class Siana Deardon."

Siana turned, a lump growing in her throat.

The soldier pulled off his hood, revealing an unkempt beard and messy dark hair. "You have forgotten me already?"

"Godric..." Siana stammered in complete shock.

"What are you doing here?" Godric asked her. The Magitek pilot narrowed his black eyes in suspicion.

Siana's eyes darted outside. Sabin was gone, thankfully. She looked back at Godric, almost praying that he would be gone and it was all just a product of her imagination. That didn't happen, he was still there.

She cursed under her breath. Of all the people to meet in some pathetic little backwater village like Nestil, it just had to be him. Godric was a fellow pilot in her former company. Even worse than that, Siana had worked with him in Doma; he had been lead and she one of the wings. Her pulse raced upon seeing his familiar face. She had come up with a lie or something plausible.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

"Don't throw questions back at me," Godric said. He was getting angrier. "I know the rumors about you; don't tell me that they're actually true."

Of course there would be rumors that she deserted. She had been quite well known for her piloting skills. Her disappearance after Michals had approached her for help saving General Chere from the Returners would have been known. Rumors in the Magitek Corps tended to spread like wildfire whether they were true or not. Right now, she needed something to say that was believable -- a fib to patch this over and get Godric off her back. She needed more time though. She had never expected to have to deal with anyone who knew her personally, much less a former wingman.

"I can explain," she started, her mind spinning as she tried to delay him.

His hand was gripping her shoulder ever tighter. Godric was preventing her from running.

"I suggest you start talking now," he said. His voice carried with it a dangerous threat.

Siana gritted her teeth, "get your hands off of me," she growled.

His grip loosened slightly. "Talk," he ordered.

"No. Not here," Siana answered. She gestured at around them.

The entire store had grown quiet. Nearly every single person was frozen in place; they were frightened by the Imperial soldier.

Godric glanced around. "What do you think you're doing?" he growled at the storekeeper. "Get out!" he screamed.

The woman's face went white. She scrambled from behind the counter and ran outside as soon as possible, behind the crowd of customers that knew better than to test the patience of an Imperial soldier. There was a commotion outside and some screaming. Then everyone filed out of the doorway and in walked the source of the commotion.

"Captain," the Imperial that had walked in was another pilot, Siana noted.

"Cade," Godric acknowledged. "We seem to have caught a deserter here."

"The Corps deals with its own," Cade acknowledged.

Siana didn't recognize Cade, but it was obvious that Godric had been exploring the market with one of his wingmen. She noted with disdain that Godric had been promoted to Captain at some point; that made things even more difficult. In all likelihood, he would be the commanding officer in Nestil.

The blade hidden in her boot beckoned, but even if she managed to kill both pilots, their disappearance would be instantly noticed. Siana cursed her luck.

This was, after all, her worst nightmare. There had been others, but this was as bad as it got. Ever since they had returned to Imperial territory, Siana had been trying to figure out what she would do. She didn't know if she had been branded a deserter. If she had then she was up for a court-martial and a trip to the noose. That had made going back to the Corps almost impossible, if it had even been a choice ever since General Chere had explained to them what the Emperor had been planning.

"What are you doing here?" Godric repeated his question.

She hadn't answered the question then and she didn't intend on answering it now.

"It doesn't look like she intends on talking," Cade mused. The pilot -- First Class like her -- was a tad shorter than Godric. The two were, for the most part, unthreatening. While Godric was an imposing man, he didn't have the size of a real warrior. Still, his Imperial uniform peaked out from beneath the standard soldier's cloak he wore. It was a constant reminder of the real problem at hand.

Siana knew she had to find out how much the two men knew. It could have been a chance meeting, but Siana doubted that. They had confronted her almost immediately after Sabin departed, and in a charms store no less. The thought of Godric in a charms store was laughable.

They had been following her. The question was how long they had been following.

"Godric, cut the useless chatter," Siana replied to her former wingman. She took a deep breath and regained her composure. "You want to arrest me? You might as well execute me now, since my court-martial will last as long as it takes them to sign the papers."

"You know I don't want that," Godric growled back.

"The straight-arrow is going against the rules?" Siana teased. "How unexpected of you."

"It really does look like you have a death wish," Godric sighed. "Listen, you're not the type to just abandon your post. You might bend the rules, but you don't break them. You rarely even talk back to your commanding officer!" He looked her up and down. "How long did we serve together in the ISF?"

"Not long enough for you to look the other way, I'd suppose," Siana replied.

Godric gestured to Cade. "What kind of commander would I be if I did such a thing?"

"The kind that respects his former subordinates," Siana retorted.

"Well that's rather difficult when you're accompanying a Returner!" Godric snapped.

Siana was almost relieved. It was about time that Godric took the bait and showed that he had the upper-hand. She put on her best surprised look for his sake.

"I saw the man you were with. He looked different. The hair wasn't exactly the same as I remember. But there you were in Nestil, weeks away from your proper post in Albrook, accompanying one of the most wanted men in the Empire!" Godric was irate. He was practically screaming, his hands waving in the air wildly as he spoke. "It wasn't as if you were being led around, a prisoner or something. You were walking about freely, capable of turning in the rebel at anytime."

Returner. Rebel. Both singular. Siana made sure the look of relief didn't show on her face.

"So what's going on, PFC Deardon? Did you think desertion wasn't enough of a criminal act and you decided to settle for nothing less than execute-on-sight-high-treason?"

"Captain, we should bring her in for questioning. I'm sure the Major would be interested, or we could ship her to Tzen," Cade pointed out.

"Siana, I'm waiting for answer," Godric ignored Cade. "Why are you traveling with the Figarian King?"

Siana was caught off guard for a moment, and then burst into laughter.

Godric and Cade shared a look.

"Looks like the promotion you think you're getting won't happen," Siana laughed. She pointed at Godric. "I'm not traveling with any king. The man's name is Sabin. Remember that."

"What do you think I am, a fool? I've seen the posters," Godric growled back, not at all pleased with the way he was being treated. "And you will remember your place here."

"I'm already walking-dead," Siana retorted. "And yes, you are a fool. Sabin is the King of Figaro's twin brother. I suppose you didn't realize that because it was in writing and you were busy looking at the pretty picture. Didn't your last Captain put down a letter of reprimand on your record because you kept looking at maps instead of reading the briefings?"

Godric smashed his hand against a shelf, knocking it to the ground with a crash. "You disrespectful little traitor!" he shouted, enraged. "Cade! Bind her!" he ordered. He turned back to Siana. "We're going on a little journey, Deardon. I expect you'll be a little more cooperative when you're in chains and the whip strikes," he sneered.

Cade drew his knife and walked up to Siana carefully, but she put her hands out and purposefully rolled her eyes. Cade snatched the necklace out of her hands; Siana had totally forgotten about it.

"This will make a nice gift for my girlfriend," he sneered. Siana did her best to suppress her anger as Cade slipped it into his pocket and pulled out a piece of rope.

"I'm sure when we get through interrogating you and Sabin, we'll have the locations of all the Returners. How far you've fallen, Siana," Godric said.

"Don't make me laugh," Siana replied with as much bravado as she could muster. "I'm only traveling with Sabin out of convenience. When we parted ways, it was just that. You'll never find him again. You should have followed him instead of me, although I guess he would have easily beaten both of you. You were never much of a warrior anyways."

His palm caught her by surprise, the sudden blow to her cheek knocked her back a step.

Siana could taste blood. She spat it out and turned her angriest glare on Godric.

"I don't even know anything about the Returners," she growled. "I met Sabin in the forest, he helped guide me back here so that I could get some supplies and that was it; the full extent of his involvement. I barely even get along with him. Of course since you were following me, you would have already known that we aren't exactly friends."

The look on Godric's face was priceless. Siana could tell that he had never made the connection. As Marcus had told her a long time ago, the truth, selectively told, worked better than any lie.

Godric was silent until Cade had finished the job. The three exited the charms shop, Godric leading, Siana in the middle with her hands bound by rope, and Cade bringing up the rear. The owner was standing outside and shrank away when Godric glared at her.

They walked through the market at swift pace. The crowds parted away when they saw an angry Imperial soldier storming through. Only a fool would get in an Imperial's way and there were two that actually did, too drunk to notice. Those two were roughly thrown to the ground by a furious pilot. No one else made the same mistake again.

Siana grinned to herself. Godric was predictable as usual. By bringing up his bad habits and embarrassments, it had angered him. As usual, Godric made mistakes when emotional; the chief of which was having some green straight-from-the-academy pilot tie her hands. She flexed them now, knowing it was loose enough for her to strike when the chance arose. It had been obvious to her that Cade had never had field experience as a grunt, like she did. Even her short period of time she had spent arresting Alcatef dealers had taught her a few things, such as how to properly tie a woman's hands together.

As they continued through the market, Siana noticed they were passing the shop with the roast boar. Her mental map of the area told her she was rapidly running out of time. She would have to make due with whatever surprise her suddenly untied hands would offer rather than-

Interrupting her train of thought, a sudden cheer came from the crowd ahead. There were a few additional cries, and then the unmistakable sound of fists.

It was her chance.

Godric had stormed ahead, happy for the distraction as it meant he could take out his anger on the brawlers. As he stormed forward, he didn't realize how quickly the fight was degenerating. A few errant blows, shoving between the audience, and people were suddenly beating on each other without abandon. "Stop this immediately!" he shouted with as much strength as he could. He was an Imperial soldier. He would bring order to this situation.

An elbow caught him in the face.

Behind him several dozen paces, Siana quickly spun around. The rope around her hands was now only around her left, and her right hand was bunched up in a fist. Cade had been busy watching Godric, and the surprise on his face never registered.

Sabin's fist met Cade's face with celerity. Cade was not a small man, but Sabin was easily half a head taller and dozens of pounds heavier. He had been running at full speed, urged by overwhelming need. His momentum allowed him to crush Cade's nose instantly, the Imperial pilot crashing into the ground already unconscious.

Siana's mouth dropped in surprise.

Sabin was not even breathing hard. He glared at the inert body of Cade, watching him for any possible movements.

Siana quickly recovered and grabbed Cade's knife. Without a second thought, she sheathed it in his heart.

"You-"

Siana tried to pull the knife out, but it was stuck. She cursed and instead drew the one hidden in her boot. With relish she ripped open his pocket and retrieved her necklace. She turned to Sabin, who had a look of surprise on his face. That look quickly changed to disgust.

"Come on, we need to get Godric!" she pointed into the rioting crowd.

Sabin frowned. "I will not help you murder another defenseless man," he growled.

"He already knows about you, you stubborn idiot!" Siana found herself smiling when he saw the look of embarrassment on his face. That had taken the self-righteous fool down a notch. "We need to shut him up now!"

Sabin cursed and turned back. The riot was huge now, over a dozen people were fighting and more were joining in the havoc. Those that weren't beating on each other had decided to use the chaos to loot the stands, and that drew even the shopkeepers into the fray.

And just at the fringe were a group of six Imperial soldiers. Four had iron quarterstaffs, but two had drawn their swords. They were shouting and wading into the crowd with deadly intent.

"Too late," Sabin cursed. He grabbed her shirt. "We have to go, now!"

It hit her. Sabin hadn't been coincidentally there and certainly the riot wasn't one of chance. Siana looked at Sabin in disbelief when she realized why her comment had embarrassed him so much. "You started the riot and didn't kill him while you had the chance?" she asked incredulously.

"Now is not the time!" Sabin growled.

Siana shook her head. "You idiot," she whispered.

Sabin pulled her down an alleyway and they disappeared into the crowds of Nestil.
Post #112398
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Posted: 29th March 2006 06:57

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Locke cleared his throat.

The Imperial soldier looked him over again, his brow wrinkled in suspicion. "Well I don't like the way you're looking at me, but I'm feeling gracious today," he said. He looked over his shoulder, searching for something. "My commander isn't here either, so it looks like what I say goes. I'll let you pass."

Locke gave a nod of his head. "Thanks," he said. He wondered if the soldier was actually suspicious. The Imperial had examined everyone else in the exact same manner.

They were at the entrance to the city of Tzen. Everything before them was heavily guarded: the stone walls looked formidable and brimmed with eagle-eyed archers and the gates themselves had nearly a dozen men standing at guard. They were not normal soldiers, but some sort of elite squadron. Their plate mail was uncommon for Imperials, as were the dozens of different weapons on their persons. Judging from the facial scars on most of the men, Locke doubted the weapons were for show.

Locke, Terra and Relm stood on one of the few bridges leading into the walled city. The soldier in front was dressed in more familiar brown leather armor with an equally familiar grey cloak over top. He handed Locke back his knife. They were at the head of a long line; one they had waited in for more than half a day. He had wondered why the line seemed so slow, but there was no need to wonder anymore. The guard liked to chat with nearly every single person that wanted into the city.

All citizens were required to line up for entrance into Tzen, aside from military personnel and several others with special badges. The number of badge-holders was extremely small though, as evidenced by the long line of various peoples of the Empire waiting.

Tents had encircled the great city and multiplied like rabbits with every passing day. Refugees were fleeing to Tzen in huge flocks, camping outside since they could not afford to stay within the city walls. Everyone wanted to be near the vast military might of the Empire. Certainly there was protection aplenty, even if they camped at the very edge of the city. Those tents stretched on for miles and miles and had thousands of soldiers safeguarding them. Locke had never seen anything like it.

Their journey to Tzen had been relatively smooth; they were not attacked by monsters. The roads had been packed with pilgrims though, singing praise for the Empire during the whole journey. There were at least two dozen of rich backgrounds traveling explicitly to camp outside the city walls.

It was utter insanity.

The guard looked behind Locke. "And these two are your sisters, correct? It must have been a dangerous trip if you had to protect these two."

Locke nodded. "Yes, we've been traveling for a while now. It would be nice to settle down and not have to fear the monsters any longer," he despised the words he said but nearly every refugee they had encountered had spoken of the Empire's benevolent protection. He put on his most innocent face and tried not to puke.

The guard's eyes wandered over Terra. Her green hair had been bleached and dyed to a more natural golden-yellow. They had also cut her hair so that it was no longer partway down her back. It hung, just shy of her neckline, in an unkempt but alluring fashion. The end result was quite astonishing. Terra had always been quite attractive, but as a blond she was mesmerizing. Her deep blue eyes seemed to match the new hair color perfectly. She turned heads everywhere even in the pathetic rags they bought in the Nestil market.

Locke had dyed his own hair as well, turning it a shade of yellow to match Terra's. Relm's hair was already blond, so they did not need to dye her hair. They almost looked like a family. Relm's eyes had a similar shade of blue as Terra's so the two easily looked like sisters. Locke's own brown eyes did not blend in as well, but most of the soldiers had paid attention to Terra and Relm.

"It's a shame that a child so young has to run from monsters," the guard said. He lowered to one knee, rubbing Relm's hair in the process. "Don't worry little one, the Empire will protect you now."

Locke rolled his eyes while no one was looking. "We came here so we could stop running, but there seems to be a lot of people," Locke gestured to the fields of tents. "How can the army protect so many? I mean, you can't fit everyone inside the city."

The soldier stood back up. He still looked at Relm with a grin on his face while he answered Locke's question. "The Imperial Army can protect everyone nearby, there's no need to worry about that. We have a great number of sentries on the outskirts. Not a single monster will make it in sight of the tents before we know about it, and not a single monster will make it much further than that. If they attack in great numbers, then the Magitek squadrons will quickly exterminate them."

"That does sound pretty impressive," Locke lied.

"Impressive would be the Magitek armors farther south," the soldier said with a wistful sigh. "Those great machines could burn through a thousand monsters with a single blast. However, the ones here are still quite powerful; you can sleep well as long as we still draw breath."

"That's good to hear. We should head inside then, to see if there are any accommodations," Locke said.

"Find? You won't find anything now," the soldier chuckled. "All the inns have been packed for weeks, ever since the Long Night began. Even now that the clouds have broken up slightly, I doubt it will change the availability of rooms."

Locke frowned. "Then why would so many line up?"

"To shop of course," the soldier said. He seemed annoyed at Locke's question, as if the answer should have been obvious. "The marketplace stretches for many miles and is much safer to buy goods from than those traveling salesmen that circle the tents. I would avoid those travelers; you never know what you're really buying."

"Of course, thank you for the advice," Locke said as he walked past. "Come on girls, let's go inside the city."

Terra was holding Relm's hand when the soldier took a step forward. The Imperial soldier ended up between Locke and Terra.

"If you need a place to stay," the soldier stared into Terra's blue eyes. "You're more than welcome to find me tonight," he said. "I will be at the Bull's Hearth three hours before curfew." He took her hand and kissed it in a gallant fashion. "I would be honored to show you some of the finer pleasures that Tzen has to offer."

Terra looked uncomfortable. "Thank you," she stammered, unsure of what to say.

Locke was irritated. The soldier was disregarding all the unspoken rules of flirting. Here he was, barely two feet away, and the man was approaching his sister. Even if it was just an act, this was still grounds for brotherly-protection. The soldier was abusing his power as an Imperial officer. "Come on Sarah," he said. "Let's go."

Terra walked by the soldier, the man's hungry gaze following her across the bridge.



"Stupid corrupt Imperials," Locke grumbled as they made their way through the streets of Tzen. "You're more than welcome to find me tonight," he said in a mockery of the soldier's voice.

Relm giggled. "That's a funny impression," she said.

Locke rolled his eyes. "No less funny that the guard's face, right Sarah?"

Even amongst themselves, they tried to keep from addressing each other by their real names. Aliases had been devised long before they left Nestil, although Relm had decided to change hers shortly after they reached Cartha. Even after a week, there were plenty of times when Locke was about to say their real names, only to sheepishly change it at the last moment.

Terra didn't respond to his joke, as usual.

Locke sighed. He had hoped bringing Terra on a relatively lighthearted trip would brighten her mood. But the opposite had happened; she had just gotten more depressed. In the past, she had put on a charade for Relm. Now she didn't try to look happy.

Tzen was packed, just as the guard had warned them. The streets were completely full, dozens of people on the sidewalks at all times while chocobo-drawn carts passed by on the cobblestone roads. At times, trying to walk through the crowd was like trying to swim upstream. People kept pushing them back and each time made their way past one obstacle, another took its place in the constant flow.

They walked by dozens of warehouses, all filled with machinery and undergoing modifications that would turn them into factories. Locke seemed to recognize a few of the machines, including some cranes. They passed by six more buildings, completed factories that were pumping great gouts of steam out of their smokestacks. Finally they made it to the market, a huge bustling place of commerce that put every other town to shame. It seemed like thousands were in the streets. The stores were filled with people; the promenade was bristling with vendors and hawkers of all shapes and sizes tried to pitch some of the craziest wares imaginable. Although there were a lot more peddlers in Tzen, Locke noticed a lack of the shadier merchants. Unlike the other towns they had passed by, there were no dealers here. At least the Empire had done something right in one of their major cities; Alcatef was horrible drug that was in widespread use. Locke knew a few sympathizers that were totally addicted to it. It was easier to lose oneself in a haze of fantasia than to fight for real change.

The three of them held hands, to ensure they would not get split up in the huge crowd, as they searched for a suitable herb store. Kenneth had suggested they avoided anything cheap, which meant nothing other than a storefront would be suitable. Although Locke had no qualms buying from the stands of traveling businessman, the doctor was quite insistent that nothing other than the best would be acceptable. Considering Setzer's life hung in the balance, Locke did not argue.

Locke was surprised that some of the stores still had goods for sale. It seemed with so many people in the streets, all the shops would have long since been bought out. The storekeepers must have been busy securing supplies and goods to sell. He could see why there were so many vendors though; business was booming despite the preposterous prices. Locke assumed that because the clouds had broken up somewhat, people were willing to spend their life's savings on good cheer.

There were a lot of soldiers in the market. Many were buying merchandise, probably soldiers on their break time having a little fun. Others were chasing girls, and there were certainly no shortage of pretty women willing to entertain them. Locke found his eyes following the finer variety on more than one occasion. But most of the soldiers were actually on duty. Some stood guard near the city lights, probably guarding what was still the primary source of illumination in Tzen. Others watched over the market and got involved whenever a small scuffle would occur. Locke knew that in conditions this crowded, a riot could happen at any moment. The Imperial men made sure that didn't happen.

The herb shop they found was across from a stage of performers. Some brave theater band had decided to perform in the middle of the mob. They drew a great crowd as they danced to an upbeat tune. Locke did not recognize the play but he rarely had anything to do with the performing arts. The only play he had ever seen was the one Celes participated in, back in the Opera House so many months ago.

The inside of the store was quiet. A glance around told Locke the reason, the shop was almost empty of all wares. Locke walked up to the balding storekeeper and inquired about Kenneth's herb. The old man was quite kind but of course they did not have it. The old storekeeper apologized. His store had been quite full earlier, but a great rush in the morning had sold out many of the more popular herbs. As for the rest, a couple soldiers had bought a great deal only an hour or two before. They always bought herbs in great quantities, so the storekeeper felt bad about not being sufficiently prepared. A truly successful businessman would have been able to sell for the entire day, he said. Locke bid the man good day and thanked him for his help. He turned around and explained the situation to Terra and Relm. Terra did not mind exploring Tzen for the afternoon and Relm was enjoying herself. She had been born in Thamasa, a village so small that everyone knew one another's names. A city like Tzen was just astounding to her. Just the marketplace alone had more people than she had ever seen in her ten years of life.

They walked back outside and into the great crowd.

Locke felt extremely uncomfortable near so many Imperials. Although it had been his idea and he had great trust in his own plans, it seemed like they were tempting fate. Fortunately, no one had recognized Terra. Though to Locke's dismay, quite a few of the soldiers did notice Terra though. They just noticed her in ways that he did not like. Their hungry looks were dangerous; both for Terra's safety and their attempts to keep a low profile.

They walked around town for another hour, going in circles a few times simply because the crowd forced them. Locke had grown tired from pushing his way through the mob and was about to suggest they take a rest inside one of the many restaurants. While he was looking for a proper place for them to rest though, they noticed the second herb store.

The store was devoid of people, despite the fact that the shelves was completely overflowing with plants and leaves of all colors. Locke was assaulted by the scent of concentrated herbs, a fragrance that he despised. He suppressed the unpleasant memories and decided to hurry so they could leave as quickly as possible.

Since the entire store was empty, the attractive red-haired storekeeper was more than happy to assist them. Locke gave the woman, perhaps Edgar's age, Kenneth's description of the herb.

"Ah, that. I have that in storage," she said.

As the woman headed for the backroom, Locke watched her form in admiration. After the storekeeper was out of sight, he turned back to Relm and Terra. The two girls had not noticed his source of distraction, instead looking at the myriad of herbs that were available on display.

"I've never seen anything like this," Terra was saying. She picked up a few dried leaves with puffy undersides.

"I have, grandpa used to bring this all the time. It's an aumen leaf," Relm pointed to a green sprig that Terra had been looking at.

"That's a pretty good eye you have there, little miss," the storekeeper had returned with a small box in hand. She left the box, Setzer's only hope for life, on the counter and knelt so that she was eye to eye with Relm. "Do you like herbs as well?" she asked.

Relm nodded. "Gramps used to take me on walks in the forest all the time. He would point out all sorts of things to me," she smiled widely. "I know all sorts of plants now, like this aumen leaf, and these fluffy morasses," she pointed at yet another plant on display.

The shopkeeper grinned. "That's really nice. I wish I had someone as talented as you to help me out," she said.

Relm beamed.

Locke cleared his throat. He had opened the box and checked the plant on the inside; it matched Kenneth's description exactly. "How much is this?" Locke asked. He wanted to leave Tzen as soon as possible. For some reason, this was making him edgy.

The shopkeeper stood up. "Four hundred gil," she said. "It's quite difficult to get these days, and-"

Locke opened his wallet, taking out the money without haggling. "Here, four hundred," he said.

The shopkeeper looked surprised. "My, you're in a hurry but thanks for your business." She took their money and walked back around the counter.

Locke nodded. "Thanks for your help lady," he said waved his hand in appreciation. "Let's go."

"Wait," the shopkeeper had retrieved a small pouch of roots. "What's your name?" she asked Relm.

Relm looked at Locke, who nodded his approval.

"Aria," Relm said. The name she picked was certainly an exotic one.

The shopkeeper gave Locke a quizzical glance.

"I told her not to talk to strangers too much," Locke lied.

"Ah," The red haired woman replied as she looked behind him. "I seem to have more customers. Sorry, I can't play with you any longer Aria. I wanted to see if you knew what these are," she pointed at the bag in her hand.

Locke turned around and froze.

Three extremely large men had just walked in. They were wearing cloaks, otherwise the armor they wore underneath would be plainly visible -- Imperial soldiers. The two larger ones stayed quite far behind the one in the lead.

Probably the ones that had bought out the balding shopkeeper, Locke noted. He wondered what soldiers needed so many herbs for as he turned back to Relm and Terra. Relm was staring at the pouch in the shopkeeper's hand, the two whispering names of plant roots to each other. "Come on Aria, let's not waste the nice shopkeeper's time anymore," he said.

Relm looked up at Locke. "Ok big brother," she said with a big smile on her face.

"Locke Cole."

Locke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He ignored the soldier, pretending that the man was addressing his own comrades.

"You in the brown cloak, Locke."

Locke looked back at the man, he was being addressed now. His heart was beating and he could feel a drop of sweat running down his back. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I think you have me confused," he said with his best impression of a peasant afraid of an Imperial soldier. The impression was not hard, he was already scared.

The man pulled down his hood. His hair, shaven smooth on top, seemed strangely familiar. His brown eyes were sharp, like a predator's.

"Locke Cole," he said without faltering. "Your hair is a different color, but that is expected."

Locke's arm strayed to the dagger he kept hidden by his hips. This was a dangerous situation, but his heart was only speeding up in anticipation. He had survived worse problems before. He could handle this. He had to handle this. Terra and Relm depended on him. They had no plans in place for contingency situations.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Relm screamed.

Locke's eyes darted to the shopkeeper. His body froze in shock.

The woman had pulled a knife from behind the counter. Locke felt his blood boil as he watched the shopkeeper hold Relm off the ground, the blade only inches from Relm's neck. He pulled his blade free of its concealing sheath.

"You-" Terra started. Her eyes were wide in surprise, her arm halfway out in the motion of a spell.

"Don't!" the woman threatened. "If you move again Terra, she-" the woman motioned at Relm, "-dies."

Locke felt goose bumps down his back. The woman knew Terra's name. Suddenly, he realized what had happened.

They had been tricked.

"There are only two ways out of this, Locke," the woman continued. "In the first case, this little girl's throat is slit, then you die, and then Terra dies. The second case, you will drop the dagger and the two of you will come with me peacefully."

Locke's eyes checked the door. The two men there were at ease, but they looked ready to cut him down the moment he moved. His heart pounded until he was dizzy, his world spinning as he struggled to think of a course of action.

The other man, standing only a couple feet from him, had his cloak hooked back behind his scabbard.

This was bad.

"You're running out of time," the woman warned. The knife was ever closer to Relm's neck.

This was really bad.

With all eyes concentrated on Locke, no one noticed Terra's right arm moving up and pointing at the woman.

At least, no one but the shopkeeper herself.

Before Terra even whispered the first word of a spell, the knife was a breath away from Relm's neck. Relm was terrified; her eyes were concentrated on the blade that threatened to end her life. Cold metal pressed against her smooth skin and drew a single drop of blood at the point.

"Have you ever seen a child die in front of your eyes, Terra?" the woman asked. Her voice was icy cold. Her expression was a far cry from the friendly look just moments earlier. "I assure you, you're moments from finding out. Is the cost worth it to you? Because losing this little girl means nothing to me."

Terra dropped her hand, unable to bear the thought of causing Relm's death. "No, please," she begged. "I won't do anything. Please, just let her go," her voice was filled with despair as she pleaded with the storekeeper.

"Locke?" the woman turned her attention back to him.

Locke's throat was dry. They had no options. They had walked into this trap without realizing it. By the time it had been sprung, it was already far too late. He gritted his teeth in anger; irate at the fact that the Imperials were threatening a child. Above all, he was enraged at his own stupidity; at his wanton disregard for the danger they had been in the whole day. He had underestimated the Empire and now Relm and Terra would pay for his mistake.

The handle of his dagger dug into his palms, his knuckles white from the death grip on the weapon. He could do nothing now. The moment he moved, Relm would die.

His dagger clattered on the floor.

"That's a good boy," the woman's voice mocked them with its effrontery. "I seem to be lacking manners today, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Since I know all of your names, it would be quite rude for me not to introduce myself."

The red-haired woman had a dangerous grin on her face. Locke had once found her looks to be captivating but at the moment, her gorgeous smile was nauseating.

"My name is Danielle Meras -- General Danielle Meras -- and I welcome you to the Imperial City of Tzen."



Visions of Peace will be continued in The Fifth Chapter - Imperial Affairs

This post has been edited by Elessar on 29th March 2006 06:58
Post #112399
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Posted: 6th April 2006 21:16

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Think I recall reading this when it was first posted, and recall it reaching about where it is now. Then it was good, but now it seems to be improved somewhat, though I can't quite see how it is off the top of my head.

The characters are pretty much as I'd expect of them, the same as they were in game or if there's been a change there's a reason why the change has happened.

The background you have to work on by your setting is also very diverse, and by making it a somewhat AU fic you have a good base for diversity and orginiality. The plot has gone along swimmingly IMO, and there are a few nice twists and turns. Your orignal characters are convincing and don't impose into things in too drastic a manner, and whilst the tone's a little bit darker than FF6 was (though not by much) the events feel like they'd fit right in.

And any fic that expands things to encompass more than a few dozen towns worldwide and more than one type of M-Tek armour is always on the right track IMo.

All in all, very good.

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Posted: 13th May 2006 02:24

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Thanks Del. I've been pretty queasy about releasing more because the plot starts to twist in directions that I'm not sure are all too realistic. I'm happier with things now so here we go...

And don't worry. I haven't forgotten that gunpowder has been 'rediscovered'. :)
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Posted: 13th May 2006 02:25

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The Fifth Chapter - Imperial Affairs

Danielle Meras had a plain office. It was once the study of a rich aristocrat but that had changed once martial law was declared. Before the Fall of the Island, the military presence in Tzen had been a small garrison housed within the confines of the barracks, attached to the city walls. The initial riots during the first hours of the Long Night had required a sweeping change in their attitudes though. Troops were deployed to quiet down the populace and laws made to restrict the possibilities of more chaos. Then she removed both the Governor and his provincial officers from power, they had mostly been corrupt, puppets, or both. There was no need for the delays caused by pen pushers when swift action was needed.

Her mobilization of troops from every army base within the region was met with great opposition, but those dissenters were silenced by the monster hoards that descended on their fair cities. Instead, now she was praised for her forward thinking. The few that continued with vocal outbursts condemning her actions had mostly suffered horrible deaths at the hands of monsters.

With her emergency powers increased to a point where she was the sole leader of several million Imperial citizens, her headquarters had to be housed within Tzen, the capital of the region. The only suitable position had been a private mansion of a man unwilling to assist the Empire.

That man had met with an unfortunate accident the following hour.

Danielle brushed aside the many papers that littered a beautifully crafted wooden desk. They were reports from half a dozen cities under her control; none of which she cared to read. Her aides would be the ones that would deal with such trivial matters. The papers only served one purpose for Danielle: to give the appearance that she was always occupied. Though recently she had no need to pretend, it was an old habit that was difficult to break. The numerous pages were pushed aside with little care, clearing enough room so that Danielle could rest her hands on the mahogany. Her sharp eyes studied the two guests in her presence.

Locke was still fuming, although he had calmed down a great deal when they appeared to be no immediate danger. Danielle had assured him that Relm would not be harmed as long as they behaved. She had then sent Relm away, citing her presence as a distraction to the affairs at hand.

Terra was still taking in Danielle's manner. Her previous experiences with generals of the Empire had each been quite peculiar. Celes flipped between childish and mature with the flick of a switch. Even though she often lambasted them for their lack of professional attitudes, her idea of proper clothing had been a pompous white cape with a skintight leotard beneath. On the other hand, Leo had always been incredibly serious with cold looks despite his warm personality. He had always stayed in military uniform with dozens of medals decorating his breast.

As for Kefka, he was just insane. Terra left it at that.

Danielle had requested they wait in her office while she changed into something more comfortable. Terra had not expected the modest shopkeeper's outfit to have actually been her common wear and they ended up waiting nervously in her office. The two big men with emotionless faces had stood guard watching them, making sure they did not touch anything on Danielle's desk.

The third man, the one that had seemed to be in charge until Danielle had pulled her knife, was no longer with them. Terra had thought he looked familiar and was almost sad to see him go.

When Danielle had returned, she was wearing a simple unassuming uniform. There was not a medal in sight, quite the opposite of General Leo. Terra wondered where the command bars were; she thought all soldiers had them. Leo's had been a trio of stars above all his medals. Then again, none of the guards in the entire mansion had saluted the General as she passed by. Perhaps Danielle wasn't as concerned about military attitudes as Leo had been.

"Valerio," Danielle gestured at one of the two men. "The usual, but try to hurry."

"Of course," the man on the right side of the door nodded. He unfolded his giant arms and walked out of the office.

Locke gave Danielle a look of bewilderment.

Danielle ignored him and instead leafed through a pile of untouched folders at her side. She mumbled to herself a few times, tossing a couple reports onto the mysteriously empty shelves in her office. It appeared that she had cleared out whatever collection of books the late owner had kept in his study.

"Ah," Danielle found what she was searching for. She opened the green folder and spread the materials on her desk.

Locke strained to see what she was reading, but the letters were too small and he was too far away. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck; the remaining guard seemed to be unhappy by his curiosity. Reminding himself of Relm, Locke sat tight and tried not to act suspicious.

The door to the office opened and Valerio strolled back in with a tray in one hand.

It was tea, steaming hot, and biscuits. There were three portions, each served on fine porcelain dishes.

Danielle gestured at the tray on her desk. "Do help yourselves," she said as she took her portion. "I'm afraid that I only have Jidoorian Duchess Tea, but I find it quite refreshing and tasteful. It's a hard blend of leaves to obtain these days, but even a General has to indulge herself once in a while."

Terra stared at the glistening biscuits; they were freshly made and probably removed from the oven just this hour. She was hungry, but something felt extremely wrong. She was unsure of what to do so she glanced over at Locke for advice.

Locke folded his arms with a suspicious look on his face. He was not eating or drinking.

Danielle was taking a sip of tea when she noticed Locke's attitude. She put her cup down with great care, but the fine ceramic clattered on the plate anyways.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have threatened your darling Relm, had Starson gut you while your back was turned," she pointed at Locke. "And I would have thrown my dagger into your skull while you were busy watching Locke choke in his own blood," she pointed at Terra. "Then I would have proceeded to kill the child, perhaps with my bare hands, all without having to spend more than twenty seconds of my lifetime with you three." Her words had a sing-song quality to it, despite the threat behind them.

Her eyes narrowed and her tone hardened. "Realize you are testing my patience right now. Enjoy the pleasantries that I offer before I rescind my kind gestures."

Locke and Terra stared at her in mute astonishment. As Danielle began to chew on one of the biscuits, Terra decided to take a plate. Her hands shook as she tried to balance both the cup of tea and biscuit. She set the plate on her lap and hungrily bit into the pastry.

Danielle finished her plate and leaned back into her chair, all the while sipping at her tea. She had a pleasant look on her face as she enjoyed her drink.

Locke didn't like tea, but he drank it anyways. He watched Danielle carefully. So far, her attitude seemed varied and chaotic. He vaguely remembered Marcus' warnings. She was power-hungry and a decorated war hero. Locke wished Marcus had given them better details. It would be helpful to know what to expect from this woman. Everything she had done was so far contradictory to Locke's expectations of the Empire. The last time he had been caught was in the Magitek factory, and the Empire had nearly killed them outright even with Celes on their side.

"Well then," Danielle said. She gestured to the papers in front of her. "I'd like to ask a couple questions, and I expect you to answer honestly."

Locke set his cup of tea down. "I really dou-"

"Terra will answer my questions," Danielle interrupted. "You are a conman and I trust you far less than you trust me," she glared at Locke. "Additionally, you open your mouth too often."

Locke quieted down, unsure of whether to apologize or to speak up in Terra's defense. He was responsible for this situation. He should protect Terra from the results of his incompetence.

"Now, Terra," Danielle's voice grew soft and kind like it had been when she was acting as an herb shopkeeper. "Where have you been since your little charade in Thamasa?"

Terra swallowed the lump in her throat. "Well, we went to Albrook," she answered.

Danielle was silent, patiently waiting for Terra to continue. When she didn't, Danielle sighed out loud. "Keep going and don't stop until I tell you to," she ordered.

Terra's nervously nodded. "We took an airship to the Floating Continent," she conveniently ignored Marcus' involvement. "We were going to try to stop Gestahl and Kefka from making a big mistake, but when we confronted them they had already begun abusing the Statues."

Locke studied Danielle's face. She was unsurprised by anything Terra had said and her eyes didn't even show a hint of confusion when Terra referred to the Statues. He doubted the Emperor would have kept too much secret from his generals, but something told him that she should not have known about the Statues. Strago had made it apparent that all knowledge of the Goddesses had fallen into legend.

"Kefka ended up betraying Gestahl," Terra continued. "We tried to stop Kefka and unbalanced the Statue configuration. I fell unconscious after that but we escaped the Floating Continent and well, you probably saw what happened."

Danielle nodded. Locke was surprised she took Kefka's betrayal in stride. He doubted any of the Emperor's guards had managed to escape the island. Even if they did, surviving the blasts of light was probably impossible. He doubted any pilot of the Imperial Air Force could have landed the way Setzer did, and even with the gambler's skill they had paid a horrible price that day.

"We crashed the airship in the mountains and spent the last few weeks making our way here," Terra lied. "It was a long journey, we nearly died of starvation and trying to find our bearings in the darkness was close to impossible. Being lost in the wilderness with nothing to eat or drink was terrifying," she said. There was plenty of truth in her words, but she breezed over plenty of details including Setzer and Strago's injuries and their little stopover in Nestil.

Locke showed nothing on his face but he was relieved that Terra had picked up on some of his skills. She had not lied but merely forgot important pieces of information. It was difficult for people to pick up on the difference between intentional and accidental ignorance. He used the technique often and it was fortunate that Terra was using it now.

"Strange, why would you come straight to Tzen for laryl?" Danielle asked.

Laryl was the herb they bought. The same boxed herb that was lying on Danielle's desk in front of them.

The question had caught Terra off-guard. "Well..." she trailed off, trying to buy more time as she thought of a suitable reason. Unfortunately, she did not know the uses of the herb. In fact, aside from the precious little Kenneth told them, Terra knew absolutely nothing about the item would save their poisoned comrade.

Locke did not know any of the additional uses for laryl either. He did not think to ask Kenneth. By the manner in which Danielle was judging Terra, it was obvious that she knew her herbs and was testing her honesty. If he were the one being questioned it would not be a problem. He would lie and simply feign misinformation being spread to him. But Terra was not the accomplished trickster he was, and he had foolishly forgotten to teach her the basics of going undercover. His arrogance would be the death of them.

Terra stared up at the ceiling unwillingly as she tried to think of something. She looked increasingly panicky.

"Well?" Danielle asked, fully aware that Terra was hiding something.

Terra cleared her suddenly dry throat. "Well, the herb uh-" her hands were shaking and her words were no better. It was obvious she was lying.

Despite the obvious charade before her, Danielle did not bat an eye or grow angry at their attempted fabrication. Instead she spoke in an astonishingly calm voice. "Terra, how many fingers do you have?"

Terra blinked, confused by the sudden change of questions. "Fi-five," she stuttered.

"Wrong, you have four," Danielle corrected her. "You have four fingers and one thumb. My second question: which finger is the most useful?"

Terra's eyes were darting side to side; Locke knew she was frightened and nervous. He stretched out to take her hand and calm her.

Behind him, Valerio cleared his throat in such a fashion that made Locke freeze in terror.

"Answer the question, Terra."

"The index finger," she stuttered again.

Locke knew the General was testing Terra. She was testing her composure with questions that should not have been intellectually difficult, that way she could read Terra's emotions like a book. It was obviously working.

"Very good," Danielle's voice was well-composed; tranquil but masking an underlying threat. "Now, why did you buy the dried laryl?"

Although the strange questions had thrown Terra off-guard, it had also given her time to think of a plausible story. "Locke needed it to help with an infection from the crash," she lied.

Danielle's eyes narrowed. She glanced over at Locke for a moment and then returned her scrutiny to Terra. "Baldric," she said without taking her deadly gaze off of a very nervous half-Esper.

She waited for a moment. Presumably Baldric had responded with body language, but Locke did not catch it.

"Bring me the child's index finger."

Terra's eyes went wide.

"Which one?" the guard asked.

"From the right hand," Danielle replied instantly.

"You promised not to hurt her!" Locke shouted. Unable to keep silent any longer, he was halfway out of his chair before a powerful hand held him back.

Danielle's eyes silenced him. He had never seen such a deadly threat before without any accompanying weapon gestures. The hand on his shoulder forced him back into his seat.

"I had two simple requests: you to shut up and you," her piercing gaze returned to Terra, "to answer honestly."

Behind them, they heard Baldric leave the room. The door closed with an audible click.

A little moan escaped from Terra's throat. Her eyes closed but were unable to contain a single tear that ran down her cheek.

"Poison -- Setzer's poisoned," she whispered. "Please, don't hurt her. She's just a little girl."

Danielle folded her hands, emotionless and unmoved.

Terra's heart pounded. Her blue eyes pleaded with Danielle. "Please," she begged. Her vision was hazy from tears. "It won't happen again."

"Baldric," Danielle said in a loud voice. She waited a moment before Baldric opened the door to her office. "At ease."

Baldric returned to his position.

Terra breathed a sigh of relief, tears flowing freely as she sank back into her seat. Locke felt the same, but he knew that it would only get worse from here. As long as Danielle held Relm hostage, they could do nothing.

Danielle unfolded her hands. "Where is Setzer?" she asked.

Terra sagged visibly. Her head was throbbing and her breaths still short from sudden shock.

"I asked a question Terra. Where is Setzer?" Danielle repeated harshly.

Terra did not want to answer but it was obvious Danielle would not give them any shred of mercy. If she lied again, they would hurt Relm. She couldn't take that chance. What choice did she have?

"Nestil," she whispered in defeat.

Locke averted his eyes. It was as he expected. The General would force them to betray their comrades. It was not Terra's fault; she had never been trained for anything like this. She was still trying to protect Relm. There was no one to protect her though; not from the pain of betraying one's closest friends.

Once again he had failed to protect her.

"Who else is in Nestil?" Danielle asked again. She pressed the advantage while Terra was still reeling.

"Edgar, Sabin-"

Locke buried his head into his hands. They were doomed.

"-Cyan and Siana," Terra's voice was filled with despair. Her hands lay lifeless at her sides. She blankly stared at her lap and waited for the next question.

Danielle was silent. Her eyes had not left Terra's face for the past five minutes. "Baldric," she said in a dangerous tone.

Terra's eyes went wide again. "And Strago," she added. "But he's hurt too, please, I forgot," she pleaded. "I didn't mean to! Please."

Locke knew Terra would break down at any moment. There was no resistance left in her. He wished he could do something, anything!

Danielle unfolded her hands and leaned back into her chair. She seemed to be pondering something.

At last, she spoke again. "Where are your friends staying?" she asked.

Terra stared at her feet for a long time. This question was different. The other questions, as bad as they had been, did not directly hurt her friends. To divulge the location of where they slept though, it was total and complete treachery.

"I think the right eye would suffice," Danielle said as if she were discussing entrees at a meal.

"With a blacksmith named Garrett," Terra quickly whispered in defeat.

"Ah," Danielle replied. She did not seem to commemorate her victory, as total and dominating as it was. Instead she was reserved; reflecting on the new information with the detail of a trained tactician.

Locke could see elemental beams in his mind's eye, ripping apart their friends as they slept. A vision of brimstone and fire raining down in Nestil as the Imperials ambushed and killed them all. They had lost.

It was over.

"Alright," she said as she stood. "Valerio," she made her way over to the guard. "I'm going to get supper and finish some little tasks. See to it that they do not touch my desk." She turned to Baldric. "Serve them dinner, but keep them confined here."

The two men nodded.

Danielle turned to Terra. The half-Esper was too drained to do anything more than stare at her feet. The shame of what she had done was slowly sinking in; despair and hopelessness mixed in a volatile combination. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as images of her friends dying came fresh to mind.

Death and destruction; that's all she brought.

Something deep inside her rumbled. It caught her off-guard, but Terra fought the feeling until it dissipated.

"I expect your continued co-operation when I return," Danielle said to her back.

The door shut with an audible click.

Terra broke down and cried.

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Their dinners were cold by the time Danielle got back. Neither Locke nor Terra had touched the food. Terra had been unable to even move and Locke was lost in his own thoughts of self-loathing. Little did Locke realize how well his thoughts mirrored Terra's.

Baldric and Valerio took turns as guards but there was little to observe. They were disconsolate; too dejected to even speak with one another, much less cause trouble for their captors.

Danielle took her seat again. She had brought a lovely candlestick along despite the room being lit by electrical lights. The small flame danced on her desk while she directed Baldric to dispose of the dinners.

"Well then, it appears you have wasted the food I provided. Unfortunate, considering there are people starving outside," Danielle said.

Neither of them dared reply.

Danielle sighed. She gathered the papers on her desk and slipped them back into the green folder. She examined the two and concluded that Locke was the only one capable of any response to stimulus. She slid the folder to Locke with one hand.

Locke gave Danielle a curious look before he opened the green folder.

Inside were five sheets of paper. The writing was small but legible. He read quickly. Most of the sheets were summaries of people. No, Locke corrected himself, they were summaries of him, Edgar, Sabin... all of them were detailed in the folder. Descriptions of their looks, events of the past, known relations, even a section detailing their threat to a typical Imperial squad; highly rigorous dissertations on each one of them expressed in an objective fashion. Danielle must have requested research on them quite a few days ago; this could not have been hastily assembled. Perhaps weeks in advance, Locke thought.

The last sheet was the worse though. It was not very detailed but just reading it on Imperial letterhead chilled Locke to the bones. How could she have had this? A concise summary of all their actions in Nestil had been in her lap the whole time.

Locke glanced up at Danielle. "You knew," he accused.

"And you are not yet dead," she replied with fervor. "Connect the dots."

Locke stared at the report again. There was enough detail in it for Danielle to have easily set up the trap in the herb store. That explained a bit, but it didn't make sense. There were too many unanswered questions in his mind.

He glanced back up. "Why do you want us alive?" he asked the most relevant of many concerns.

"Finally, some intelligence has shown," Danielle remarked. A single finger was tracing a design of sorts on the mahogany. "I have tolerated your presence because I require your help," she answered.

"Our help?" Locke repeated.

Danielle tapped her finger on the desk. "Yes, your help. I need it and your cooperation. The information on your various backgrounds was enough to convince me of your usefulness. Whether or not my decision is correct will be decided by your actions tonight, but those concerns right now are irrelevant."

Locke looked over at Terra. She was still numb and her eyes red from crying, but she was listening to Danielle. Whether she was listening in fear or out of curiosity, Locke did not know.

"You could have just asked," Locke grumbled.

Danielle raised an eyebrow. "Spare me the witty comments. I had hoped we would talk about this on full stomachs, but this is your fault and not my own."

"What about Relm?" Terra asked. Her voice was raspy and dry.

"Baldric, get some water for our guests," Danielle ordered. "As for Relm," she addressed Terra. "She's having quite a lot of fun in the nursery. There are many other girls her age there, mostly because many of my soldiers have children that cannot be taken care of by family. If you wish, you may visit her later."

Terra thanked Baldric as he handed her a glass of water. She drank it nervously while her eyes constantly darted to the green folder in front of Locke. "Why did you make me go through all of that if you already knew everything?" she asked after her throat was moistened.

Danielle folded her hands. "As a test, which you failed," she replied. "Unfortunate because I expected a bit more out of you. However, despite my better judgment, I still require your assistance."

"And if we say no?" Locke asked.

Danielle unfolded her hands. "I rather not threaten you again; your willing co-operation is really the best for this mission."

Locke wondered if she actually meant the words she said. So far, nothing she had done had made any sense. She had captured them in a devious trap and threatened them for information already at her disposal. Now that she was hated by both himself and Terra, she wanted their assistance given freely. Marcus had been right; she was totally insane.

"What do you want me to do?" Terra asked quietly. She resigned herself to doing whatever it took to keep Relm safe.

Danielle finally smiled again. "Well, that is a good question. I take it you speak for both of you?"

"Yeah, we'll help," Locke sighed.

"Then I'll have to explain quite a couple of things."

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"Six weeks has passed since you were last in Imperial territory," Danielle said after Baldric arrived with more biscuits and tea. "However, given your experiences in Albrook are restricted to the outskirts, I would say twice that number. After all, several months have passed since you were in Vector."

Locke shrugged. "What does this have to do with our willing cooperation?"

"You were moved when the Espers annihilated regions of Vector and killed well over twenty-thousand innocent civilians," Danielle reiterated. "Although I was not present, I understand that such deaths could not be ignored by your consciences. Subsequently you agreed to help Emperor Gestahl in approaching the ones responsible."

Terra nodded her head slowly.

"You have been in the outskirts of the Empire, away from civilization, for weeks. You have spent another week on a journey with refugees from one of the northernmost settlements we have. You have seen the fields of tents outside and likely heard many horror stories from those fleeing the south. Does it not spark your curiosity as to what has happened to cause such stunning changes to this world?"

Locke's brow wrinkled. "Well I did wonder, but I assumed the dark clouds and the beams of light pretty much caused it."

Danielle raised an eyebrow. "The Fall of the Island and this Long Night will be recorded in the annals of history. Your ability to underestimate the degree of terror is somewhat disturbing," she said.

"We have been somewhat busy with our own," Locke defended. "Why would we care for your Empire?"

"Perhaps because you caused the Long Night?"

Terra reeled at that accusation. Her hands began to shake again, never thinking that they had been the ones to personally cause such destruction. They had moved the Statues to stop Kefka, yes, but they had also disturbed the balance of magic. Their cause had been noble but the cost...

"That's beside the point though. What is important is that the destruction of the Floating Island caused a great number of difficulties in the Empire; difficulties that I was weary of the moment Emperor Gestahl raised the continent. I was not alone with such concerns; there are more generals than myself in the ranks of the army."

Locke blinked. He suddenly recalled Marcus' thoughts from the weeks before. "Civil war," he said in recollection. "You're talking about a civil war."

"Very good. I see that the traitors that aided you have given you a degree of insight into the workings of the Empire," Danielle said.

She knew about Marcus. Locke was surprised. The folder of research had only been on them. There was no information on Marcus or any of his men.

"Don't look so shocked. You continuously underestimate the Empire," Danielle replied to Locke's unspoken concerns. "You are quite correct though, we are currently in the midst of a civil war."

That explained the refugees, but not their praise of the Empire. Locke knew he had to listen carefully. Danielle had probably carefully picked everything she would say in order to manipulate and control them. She was devious and unpredictable. He had to be very careful what to trust.

"Do you recognize the name Anson Tilton?" Danielle asked them.

"No," Locke replied.

Terra also shook her head.

"Unfortunate, it would have been interesting if you knew him," Danielle sighed wistfully. "I would have expected you to have met the man in the Magitek Factory," she pointed at Locke. "Anson Tilton was one of the best researchers, second only to Cid. I believe you know Cid quite well."

Locke and Terra nodded together. They had told Terra everything that had happened in the Magitek Factor while she was comatose in Zozo.

"Anson is quite an interesting young man. He's ingenious, to a fault, and has been caught experimenting on himself in the past. Quite abnormal, would you not agree?"

No less than your actions, Locke thought.

"Cid had left his role as head of development since the debacle with former-general Celes Chere, another event that you are more than familiar with. In his stead, Anson pushed a mighty new project that you will soon be familiar with. However, with his new responsibilities and powers, Anson has had a few..." Danielle searched for the proper word, "-delusions."

Locke glanced over at Terra. She had grabbed a few biscuits, probably as hungry as he, and started chewing. However, she seemed afraid to eat too loudly, as if Danielle might lose her kind attitude and threaten Relm again.

Not entirely a fantasy, Locke thought sadly. Danielle might do something like that.

"In Palazzo's and Gestahl's absence -- along with the deaths of two senior Generals and dozens of the most high ranking men in the Empire thanks to the Esper attack -- the task of Vector's defense along with the control of the Core fell on General Hector Caleigh. He's a man of little note; one of the many brownnosers that make their way up into the ranks. I don't like him."

Locke had never heard of this General. Then again, he had never really looked into the specifics of the Empire's military. There was precious little information like that, and even then only Edgar or Banon had access to it. The Empire had not exactly made it easy for anyone to devise the state of their armed forces.

"One of the reasons I despise Caleigh is because he's a simple moron. He prides himself as a warrior amongst children -- a macho-man -- and he's a total prude," Danielle explained. Her tone remained kind, although there was definitely hate when she repeated Caleigh's name. "Somehow, Anson managed to sway Caleigh to his cause just three days after the Long Night began."

Danielle paused and took a sip of tea before continuing.

"Anson has declared himself Emperor."

"Wow," Locke said.

Danielle gave him a mocking smile. "Yes, with the apparent demise of Gestahl and his total lack of legitimate heirs, the Empire was leaderless for a few days. Now Anson has taken the title; resting it on his control of the Capital, Caleigh's control of the Core, the consent of a corrupt House of Lords, and his position as the highest ranking civilian in the Empire."

Her eyes narrowed. "Naturally, field commanders such as myself disagreed. The Emperor is our highest authority; the role should have befallen a proper general such as Leo Christophe. To say that we were displeased would be an understatement, especially after we found out the reason why the House of Lords propped Anson as their new Head of State. Apparently, they had dared to remove Emperor Gestahl from power when the Floating Continent appeared. High treason is not looked upon lightly, especially by generals like myself. Anson Tilton and his House of Lords are criminals, and allowing them to rule is unacceptable."

"So you went to war with him? Isn't the Core far bigger than the region around Tzen?" Locke asked. He knew he was out of line asking such questions but his curiosity got the better of him.

Danielle ignored him. "Unfortunately, all our senior generals are dead," Danielle replied tactfully. "Leo is gone, may his soul rest in peace. As for Kefka, he died with the Emperor. The other two you have never met, their deaths caused by the Esper strike on the capital."

That was their first confirmation that Kefka had died. If Danielle knew the fate of that insane lunatic, then...

"What about Celes?" Locke blurted out.

Danielle shrugged. "Without a proper command, she only has a title that was hastily given back. She would not be able to lead even if she still lives."

Locke felt his hopes sink. Danielle did not know if Celes was alive.

"Either way, there are no military commanders that outrank -- even informally -- the remaining generals in the army. Considering the type of person Anson is, I suggested to my fellow peers that the best course of action would be to remove him from Vector, finish off Caleigh for treason, execute the House of Lords, and then deal with the issue of an Emperor in peace."

Of course that was the best course of action. Declare war against your own and kill thousands, Locke thought sardonically.

"Both Lilienthal and Drummond agreed," Danielle continued.

"Who?" Locke asked.

Danielle sighed. "Remiel Lilienthal was formerly the governor of Alfort-Brougham. That is the province that includes the city of Albrook, the port of Eggleston and much of the southeastern territories. As for the other, you would probably recognize Drummond's first name: Maverick."

"The Maverick," Locke repeated. "He invaded Maranda and slew thousands of innocent children in the following weeks to punish them for their resistance."

Danielle nodded. "A well-deserved name, as if his parents knew he was utterly insane before he was born. Lilienthal is quite the opposite, so the fact that both agreed to my suggestion shows the justice behind it."

Locke wondered if Remiel Lilienthal would live up to the insanity that every general, except Celes, had displayed.

"Under the three of us, nearly half of the military might of the Empire was at our command. The rest lay in Caleigh's hands. Fortunately, we agreed in an exchange of letters that the Coreward contingents were ill-prepared for a real fight; whereas our armies had readying for assaults on your precious northern countries."

She was referring to Figaro, Narshe, and possibly more.

"Four divisions under my command marched south to Vector," Danielle said. "Numbers similar to that marched from the southeast and west, under Lilienthal's and Drummond's commands."

Something told Locke that he should not be privy to such knowledge. He wondered why Danielle was telling them so much.

"In a few short weeks, we had broken through nearly every single part of the Core and managed to siege Vector. Eight thousand Magitek units attacking in tandem against an equal force rallied in the streets of the Capital. They used our own citizens as shields, and we rained hell on them. Thousands upon thousands of Tek missiles tore the region to pieces; it lit up battlefield like the sun peeking through the clouds."

Danielle's voice took on a distant tone. She had been at the battle and images of the chaos were fresh in her mind.

"In barely two weeks of fighting, both in Vector and in disputed areas around the Core, there were roughly fifty thousand dead soldiers. Civilian casualties are estimated at nearly a quarter of a million throughout the Core. More on the outskirts where panicking from the dark skies have caused riots of huge proportions. I haven't even mentioned the monsters that have decided to wreck havoc on civilization just days into the Vector siege."

Terra's eyes were wide. Locke could not imagine the amount of carnage being released. It made the Esper strike look like a mere joke.

"But Vector was reduced; the Core a shadow of its former strength," Danielle sighed. "Then, moments before the final strike on Vector's strategic reserves that still numbered tens of thousands, we were betrayed by Drummond."

Danielle leaned back with a look of sadness on her face. She sighed heavily, one finger softly rubbing a dark spot on the mahogany desk. "His attacks on Lilienthal were made to look like troops from my command. Our alliance vanished in a storm of fire, the retreat bloody, and right now we're in the midst of a tedious stalemate. Currently, there are no attempts at any sort of resolution. The pigeons are ignored and real messengers killed. The monsters continue to attack our positions and the Core is chaos incarnate."

"What do you want us to do about it?" Locke asked. "We're just two people."

"As long as the Empire remains fragmented as it is right now, the civilians will be ignored. Their cries of pain will fall on deaf ears preparing for war. The monsters are more powerful than ever and we are weaker than we have ever been," she took another sip of tea.

"Lilienthal has responded amicably to requests for a cessation of hostilities. Although my forces are still arrayed defensively against both, a four-way war is currently unacceptable to anyone but perhaps Drummond."

"However, Lilienthal will not discuss any terms of a treaty unless I provide something that, until now, I could not."

Danielle glanced at Terra. "He wants to talk to you. He wants to have a conversation that is free of duress," she said with a hint of disbelief.

"How did he know Terra was-" Locke began

"How is irrelevant; why is immaterial," Danielle cut him off. "The point is that Lilienthal has asked for your presence, half-Esper, and my remaining forces are dedicated to defense against the monsters. Another string of battles -- another war -- is unacceptable. Although Tzen is safe because I held back much of my forces, the Core is in disarray. Monsters feed on the sick, injured and helpless. Those that don't die by the beasts fall to disease or hunger. My staff estimate that if we cannot resolve the current situation, within two months we'll be looking at another quarter million dead. With winter only three months away, millions more will fall to the cold or starve to death. As a soldier, I will not stand idly by while my people are dying out there!"

Her eyes were soft as she regarded Terra. Her voice was kind and warm. "You have the chance to save those thousands, all you have to do is talk to Lilienthal," she explained. "Is that so difficult?"

Terra stared blankly into her lap. The last time she had agreed to something similar, the Empire had killed off all the espers and raised the Floating Continent. This was once again being done in the name of power. She knew it was a mistake, but it was still the immediate lives of two-hundred and fifty thousand; millions once winter arrived.

Locke already knew, by the look of resignation on her face, that she had decided to do it. Once again, they would be pawns for the Empire. Yet he knew they had a degree of freedom at the moment. This was still haggling, even if it was basically at the point of a sword. Danielle needed them to help her. He could possibly bargain for their lives and more.

"Alright, we'll go willingly so that Remiel gets what he wants," Locke said. "On two conditions," he added.

Danielle waited.

"The guaranteed safety of me, Terra, Relm and our friends in Nestil, which includes you delivering this package," he tapped the box of laryl, "in secret to the doctor that is helping us. You already know his name," he gestured at the green folder.

"Acceptable," Danielle said without hesitation. "What is the second request?"

"You let Relm come with us," Locke replied.

"No," Danielle answered. "Do you think I would be so stupid as to let you run off with all the cards in your hands? I can guarantee her safety, so long as you keep your part of the bargain, and I will also agree to hand her back to you when you return from Albrook. You will not get a more agreeable deal than that."

"Alright," Terra agreed. Locke shot her a glare. He had wanted Relm away from danger. How could she consent to something like that?

Danielle visibly relaxed. "Very well then, I will introduce you to the men that will escort you to Albrook. It's a dangerous journey and you will need to be protected."

"I want to see Relm first," Terra said.

Danielle shrugged. "Of course, I promised you that much and I am a woman of honor."

Locke doubted that very much.

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The siren was completely unexpected.

Locke snapped out of his troubled thoughts when it sounded and he was not the only that had been surprised. Beside him Baldric, if he remembered correctly, was equally concerned.

Terra was still having her chat with Relm. They had spent the last hour with her. She was unharmed, to their relief, and was actually making friends. The nursery was a fine place and filled with kids; all were children of single-parent soldiers like Danielle had explained to them. It was heartening to know that Relm was enjoying herself with some new friends, even if it was forced upon her.

Locke waited for Terra to finish some last words of comfort for Relm. He looked at Baldric but decided against asking about the siren. It was doubtful that Baldric would answer.

"Be strong, ok?" Terra said to Relm.

"Don't worry Terra, I'll be fine," Relm said before the two exchanged a long hug.

The door to their room, a guest room attached to the nursery, opened. Danielle and her other guard stormed through. Her red hair was rustled and she still wore the unassuming standard Imperial uniform, though the ugly brown clothes only made her beauty stand out more. Her flawless features could probably sway any man to do as she wanted; though at the moment she looked ready to drink the blood of a thousand children.

"Valerio," she addressed the man that had stayed with Locke and Terra. Locke sighed, the two guards looked exactly the same and he had yet to tell the difference with any degree of certainty. Their emotionless faces only made it more difficult to tell them apart. "Find Starson; we'll be in the Central Square."

Valerio nodded before he left.

Danielle gestured at Terra and Locke. "I'm afraid your little meeting will have to be cut short. As you might hear, we have an emergency.

Terra stood up and urged Relm to leave the guest room they were in.

"What's happening?" Locke asked.

Danielle pointed into the air. "You will get to see firsthand the terrors from which I have protected the citizens of the Empire. This is what will befall millions of people in the Core if Lilienthal does not meet with you."

They followed her out of the mansion, an additional two squadrons waiting for her at the entrance, and made their way through the deserted city streets. It was after curfew and the soldiers were quite strict enforcing it. Not a single soul was on the roads that had been packed just hours before.

The Central Square was not really in the center of Tzen. At one point it might have been, but development at the perimeter of city had totally changed that. Still, it was principal to the city's commercial lifeline. A great statue of Gestahl was on top an equally magnificent fountain, ringed with flowers and well maintained trees. The buildings that opened into the Central Square were some of the most prestigious shops and inns available in the city. Since those places were full of the rich that had fled to Tzen, Locke wondered what the soldiers were doing here.

The square will had yet another squadron of soldiers awaiting their arrival. The sirens continued to sound as men ran around the city preparing for something. Somehow, Locke knew that whatever was en route was going to be quite a horror.

"What's coming anyways?" Locke asked. He still remembered the guard at the entrance of Tzen; there had been quite a bit of talk about sentries. There should be no reason for any monsters to make it so deep into the city.

Danielle did not reply, instead giving orders to a few more commanders. Couriers ran back and forth to alert their General of the defensive arrangements. After a few more minutes, she finally directed her attention back at them.

Terra felt a familiar tingle. Then came the rumbling within and the feeling of Maduin heating against her chest.

"Terra, Locke, please..." she pointed in the direction of the southwest." Over there," she said.

The sirens shut off abruptly and the soldiers quieted down. In the silence they stared into the dark night sky and waited.

It appeared out of the blackness with wings like a bat's, hideously large beyond imagination. Bony arms spread wide with green skin stretched across formed the wings. Its hands were purple claws and its face was a horrid evil grinning skull. It had horns like a bull and deformed hair like strands that trailed behind it.

"Holy goddess," Locke breathed. "That thing's bigger than a dragon."

Danielle nodded. "Far stronger as well," she said.

The monster hovered above Tzen by flapping its wings, the city silent beneath it, and slowly looked about. Locke felt chills run down his spine as the beast seemed to search for something.

"Fire," Danielle mumbled with her eyes closed.

Terra glanced over at Danielle. Her eyes were wide with the fright of understanding at Danielle's quietude.

The General's eyes opened. Her hand rose into the air and pointed at the beast. Liquid flame twirled about her body, its orange-yellow glow lighting up its caster in a similar aura. The fires obediently snaked up her outstretched arm.

"Burn," she whispered.

Her red hair bellowed back magnificently as the fires suddenly shot forth.

Danielle was a Magitek Knight.

Scorching magic engulfed the beast in the air. Flames danced off of the monster's hideous skin, its attempts to devour the creature futile. Yet despite the inadequacy of the attack, the thing howled in pain. It was a hideous sound, a high pitched moan that could shatter glass and burst eardrums. Locke covered his ears, trying to shut out the painful noise.

"All units, fire at will!" Danielle screamed.

Her command was unnecessary as everyone had already received their orders far in advance. With elemental beams charged at max capacity, pilots waited patiently for their General to identify the weakness of the monster above. Anything dangerous enough to trigger the sirens had to be carefully regarded, even with their overwhelming tactical advantage.

Before the flames of Danielle's spell died away, Magitek pilots had adjusted their aim and recalibrated their weapons. Their General had lit their path and though she had been unable to penetrate the powerful creature's armor-like skin, they would not back down from this challenge.

Dozens of beams, dazzling bolts of crimson light snaking around powerful gouts of magical inferno, tore their way through the air. Each twin burst had erupted from entrenched positions within the city, their combined force easily capable of vaporizing flesh and bone without making a distinction between the two. The city was illuminated by the powerful magic; there was so much weapon fire concentrated around the flying monstrosity that it was like a second sun rising in the night.

The purple-skulled monster screamed again, replying with a wave of its hideous wings. There came a great blast of wind that threatened to tear them off their feet, magical in nature as those limbs could never have caused such a storm. Locke wondered how the soldiers in the Central Square stayed on their feet -- how he stayed on his feet -- despite the powerful currents tearing apart the very roofs off buildings. But he could not tear his eyes away from the monster to notice what Terra saw and the question was soon forgotten in the fury of the gusts.

Even the powerful wind magic could not do anything against magnitude of the firepower being thrown at it. The magical storm mitigated the beams for a moment like a protective bubble surrounding the beast; a sphere of magical energy where fires burned like the corona of a star. Then the winds buckled and could not keep the energies from penetrating. The perimeter, where a shield of air had once forced magical beams to split apart and splatter like water upon rocks, broke down in seconds. Soon, the monster was screaming again in pain, its howl capable of sending shivers down the spine of all who listened.

It did not die though, not even under the combined force of that much weaponry. Forty Heavy-Siege Class Armors, the most powerful weapons in the Imperial Army, were quite capable of practically leveling a mountain. So large and unwieldy that their huge engines were nearly half the weapon's mass, these units were tailored siege engines that made a mockery of every weapon mankind had previously developed. Yet even their combined might only drew a scream of pain as the wretched beast turned away and flew higher into the air.

They pounded at the monster even while it fled, flying into the clouds until it was out of sight. A few of the Armors had overheated, the elemental beams been never been designed for such long continuous use. Yet the pilots had allowed for such damages, indeed some of the Armors had overheated with deadly consequences. They did not want to lose a monster capable of absorbing that much punishment out in the wild where the innocent peoples of the world lived. Soldiers defended civilians at the cost of their own lives if necessary. This was one of those situations.

Danielle sighed as the monster finally left. It was too far away to target even with the help of spells. She turned to Locke and Terra. The first was too shocked by the display of power, both Imperial and monster, to offer any comments. The second was too shocked by the revelations that Danielle had allowed her to see. Both were wide-eyed and did not realize Danielle's attentions until she spoke.

"Now you know the apocalyptic nature of the monsters released when the Floating Continent tore this world apart," she said. "Imagine that thing happening upon your little Relm at night."

Danielle left them, still too shocked to respond, and went back to the work of a general at war.

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Locke and Terra had spent a restless night in the mansion headquarters. They had been given a guest room that had been used for storage of the late aristocrat's useless goods.

It had been a terrible night. Locke had tried in vain to comfort Terra. She was a wreck after the interrogation and the sight of that monster. He was terribly concerned. It was clear to him that knowing that there were thousands dying in the Empire was tearing her heart apart. How many innocent children would wake up in the face of that grinning purple skull? She could not sleep at all with such visions in her mind.

Locke did not realize the depths of her anguish. He had no idea that she blamed herself for those events; that she would actually blame herself for causing the Long Night.

Despite being left unguarded for the whole night, they avoided leaving the guest room out of fear. It was impossible to tell if Danielle had assigned anyone to watch over them secretly. If she did and they tested her patience, Relm would pay the price.

It was something that hung over their heads and tempered every action.

Locke wondered if Baldric, and it was Baldric this time because he had asked the guard his name, ever showed emotions. The man had woken them up quite early, allowing them time to freshen themselves and eat breakfast along with the rest of the mansion staff, before taking them to the south citygate. His face was expressionless and he gave them orders in a low, monotonous voice.

At the gates, Baldric directed them to the local guardhouse. Since the city guards had all been disbanded from their usual police roles, the guardhouse now served as a small barracks for the many soldiers that resided in Tzen.

Waiting for them was not Danielle; Locke was thankful that he wouldn't have to deal with her unpredictable and treacherous personality. Instead it was the man who had addressed him in the herb shop. He stood under the sunlight, enjoying the warmth provided as rays of morning light broke through the heavy cloud cover. His hair, shaven flat at the top, was quite different from most soldiers. It made him stand out amongst the numerous faceless men.

"Locke Cole," the soldier gave him a nod of his head. "We met yesterday but I doubt you caught my name in our little exchange," he held out his hand.

Locke took it, but only because he had no other choice.

"My name is Farin, although you will no doubt hear me addressed as Brigadier-General Starson for the most part. You are welcome to address me by my first name. As a civilian, I don't mind; especially considering your courageous nature for willingly accepting this mission," he continued.

Locke gave the dark haired man a stare. "You did force us to agree to a number of things at sword point, I don't think 'willingly' is a proper word to describe this situation."

Farin shrugged. "You are not bound by ropes and that's all that matters to me."

They were bound though, Locke thought to himself. They were bound by the threat of violence again Relm.

Farin turned to Terra. "Miss Branford," he said respectfully. He took her hand and kissed it. Although it was similar in fashion to the nauseating manner displayed by the guard yesterday, Terra did not feel repulsed. In fact, it was somewhat flattering.

He let her hand go and his voice returned to a more business-like tone. "I am afraid that in order to make best speed to Albrook, we will have to ride chocobos. That means you will have to ride astride, my sincerest apologies," he gave a little bow.

Terra blinked.

Farin did not catch the source of her confusion though, and instead turned to Baldric. "Tell Danielle that everything is as she requested," he ordered.

Baldric nodded and left without another word.

As Farin returned his attention to Locke and Terra, his green cloak bellowed out in the sudden wind. Two mounted men rode by them with great speed, three chocobos following in their wake.

"I thought Imperials like you didn't tolerate horseplay, those two could trample someone," Locke remarked.

Farin raised an eyebrow. "I don't care what you believe I am, but this is a military compound. No civilians are here aside from present company. Chocobo traffic is not restricted to silly cobblestone streets," he answered with a hint of disdain.

The two men slowed their mounts as they circled around. They came to a halt right next to Farin.

"General," one of the men said with a nod of his head. Both men were wearing plate mail beneath dirty brown cloaks. From that simple fact Locke knew these two were far from typical soldiers. Armor like that was incredibly expensive. It took a highly skilled blacksmith to forge one that was both light and flexible. Locke noticed that Farin himself had plate mail peeking from beneath his weathered green cloak.

"You know, I expected that important men such as ourselves would be getting a vacation after all we've been through," the second man said with a teasing grin. "Tzen is a pretty nice place to relax, lots of pretty girls. Yet we get here and barely a day passes before we're sent out again."

"Reinhardt," Farin ignored their comments and gestured at Locke and Terra. "These are our charges."

Reinhardt was an older man with a great brown beard but cleanly shaven head. Locke gazed at him in open wonder; the number of weapons on his person was simply daunting. Belts of throwing knives, two swords at his hips, and even a bow and quiver were strapped to his back.

"Pleased to meet you," he said. "Especially you, fair lady," he pretended to tip his non-existent hat. Terra's lack of response was unexpected though; he was used to woman giggling at that ploy.

Farin vaulted onto his chocobo, scratching the bird's neck as he whispered to it. It appeared that Farin had his own personal mount.

The second man was as old as Reinhardt but lacked the beard. He had quite a number of scars on his face and had a similar number of weapons on strapped to his body. Locke wondered if he had seen either of these men at the gates the day before. There had been a number of elite soldiers barring entrance to Tzen.

"This one is Donnach," Reinhardt gestured. "We tend to call him Donny-boy but you don't look big enough to get away with it," he said to Locke with a chuckle.

"Neither are you but you do it all the same," Donnach grumbled.

The two men were easily as large as Farin, who already dwarfed Locke in sheer bulk. The three soldiers were around Cyan or Sabin's size by Locke's judgment, but they did not seem so big after spending all that time with Baldric and Valerio.

"These are for you," Reinhardt dismounted and handed Locke and Terra two heavy brown vests. "Your chocobos are loaded up for the trip, supplies, water, they should be found in the packs."

Terra stared at the leather armor with a frown. She didn't like the look of the Imperial gear.

"It's not lady-like but you'll need it. Do you have a weapon?" Reinhardt deftly flipped a sheathed dagger from his belt, catching it by its point and held it handle-first to Terra.

"No, I don't need it," she answered.

Reinhardt turned to Locke.

"I still have mine," Locke replied to the unspoken question. "Why the concern?"

"The Wilds are a dangerous place," Donnach responded while Reinhardt was mounting his chocobo. "Only a fool would be so confident to ride there unprepared for a fight."

"Let's ride," Farin silenced his men as he strode by on his chocobo. The large yellow bird was quite responsive to Farin's directions, he nudged gently on the reins and the beast of burden would carry him exactly as he wished. "We can make it to the Wilds by nightfall if we ride hard and then it's just a few days to Albrook."

This post has been edited by Elessar on 13th May 2006 02:27
Post #116315
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Posted: 13th May 2006 02:27

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They rode at a moderate pace, certainly not as fast as the chocobos could go. They traveled slightly slower than what Farin had hoped, mostly due to Terra's inexperience.

Terra had only ridden a chocobo once. That was when they had escaped Castle Figaro and back then they had been fleeing Magitek Armors, so it was hardly considerable as a learning experience. Fortunately, the Imperial-bred birds were very tame. These were chocobos born for war; they would not falter in the face of blistering magic nor giant Magitek armor. By comparison, carrying an inexperienced rider was a trivial task.

Locke had ridden a few times before and had no trouble controlling his mount. He was as relaxed as he could be surrounded by Imperial soldiers and tried to help Terra as much as possible.

Lunch had been sandwiches already prepared in their bags, eaten while they rode. They were following a well-known route so they passed by many a refugee. However, the numbers died down the farther they left Tzen. Once they passed a checkpoint that Donnach pointed out, small groups of riders would halt them regularly: Imperial patrols that specifically targeted chocobo riders. Just the sight of Farin though and most of the soldiers let them go quickly. It appeared that Farin was a very well-known man. Locke supposed being a Brigadier-General would do that. The Imperials were mostly in awe of Farin. Some went out of their way to pay their respects, while others thanked him profusely for something Locke didn't overhear.

At about mid-afternoon, the road became difficult to travel. They halted when the road was broken apart; dead trees were cast upon the path like barricades. Locke squinted to see farther ahead. The entire area had been ripped asunder, the grassy plains burned to ash and trees little more than hunks of dead embers. The putrid black tar was everywhere, sticking to anything that hadn't been burned away. The route led to a sudden drop, a chasm where there should not have been, and it was doubtful that they could pass. It was a frightening reminder of the beams of light that had ripped the world asunder.

Farin led them off the road. A shortcut, he said, as they rode over the grassy plains.

It had not been his intention to meet a dragon.

Farin quickly brought his chocobo to a swift stop when he saw it. He shouted a quick order. Immediately, Reinhardt and Donnach both spread out to protect Locke and Terra in the center.

It was one of the dragons from the Floating Continent. Still huge despite the far larger monster from the night before, it sent chills down Locke's spine to see the beast away from the skull-shaped rocks that had been its home. The green-scaled lizard was on its feet. Yellow eyes stalked them with murderous intent as it slowly advanced. They had been fortunate to have noticed it while riding up a hill. An ambush by the creature was dangerous and possible thanks to the lay of the land. Instead, they spotted it a couple hundred meters away. If they were to run, now was the time.

Farin whispered his mount's name, the chocobo backing up carefully in response. He kept his eyes on the dragon but spoke to them.

"Locke, Miss Branford, can you hold your own if it comes after you?"

Locke wrinkled his brow. "You're thinking of taking on that thing? We don't have any Magitek backup and it's incredibly dangerous!"

"I will not let a monster like that loose in the lands where I was born; innocent people have no chance of surviving that beast," Farin snapped back. "I'll assume you can't fight; what about you Miss Branford?"

Terra stared at the dragon with a feeling of despair. She bit her lip, trying to set aside memories of Michals and Marcus cutting down those creatures on the floating island. Doubt entered her mind as she thought about their deaths. "I'm not sure what good I can do," she replied shamefully.

Farin narrowed his eyes. He had not been expecting that answer; after all she was the famed half-Esper. Danielle had seen fit to put herself in harm's way in order to neutralize Terra. "Any magic would be helpful," he suggested.

Magic. Terra gritted her teeth. She had failed repeatedly in the past few months to help anyone with her magic.

"That type of creature is especially vulnerable to lightning. Can you strike it down with such power?"

Gau, Davis, Michals, Marcus... Terra shook her head, fighting back the tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Farin sighed. "What spells do you know?" He had assumed that she did not know any spells that were lightning-based.

"I..." Terra began.

The dragon roared and began moving towards them.

"I suggest you hurry up and hit it with what you have," Farin turned to his men. "Reinhardt, Donnach, distract it!" he ordered.

Distract it? Locke looked at Farin, wondering what lunacy he had imagined. Every single general of the Empire was absolutely insane!

"Starson you fool, you're going for all the glory today aren't you!" Reinhardt shouted loudly as he rode away. Donnach rode in the opposite direction.

Farin grinned despite himself and spurred his chocobo forward.

The dragon let loose a column of fire that twisted and snaked towards them with great speed. The three soldiers had long since dashed out of the way and Locke urged his mount into action as well. As usual he glanced back towards Terra. His eyes widened. She was still paralyzed and motionless, staring at the coming inferno with an indifferent look.

"Terra!" Locke screamed. He yanked back on the reins of his chocobo and dashed towards her, sending a kick to her chocobo's rear. The clever bird darted forward and carried Terra away safely.

Locke was not so lucky. The blast of fire caught his back and sent both he and his mount to the ground. He hit the dirt hard, a shock of pain shooting up his side as it felt like his arm was being ripped apart by the rocky ground. He screamed as the magical flames burned his back, the searing heat causing his eyes to tear in pain.

Terra blinked, her nonchalant look suddenly disappearing. Her eyes focused on Locke convulsing on the ground in torment. Confused by the flames that burned him, her eyes darted to the dragon. The green beast was staring at them, great yellow lizard eyes that made her feel like an insect. Black smoke floated out of its nostrils and yellow flames licked the inside of its mouth.

Flames... inside the mouth? Her eyes bolted back to Locke. He was covered in... flames.

Rage gripped Terra's heart, fury rippling down her back as she turned toward the dragon. Her brow was set in hatred, her lips curled in disgust. "Die," she whispered.

The dragon recoiled in pain as a sudden blast of air hit it. The violent concussion exploded outward in a shockwave, flattening everything around the monster in an instant. Blood seeped from between thick armored scales, flowing to the ground in crimson rivets.

Deadly energies swirled around Terra with a grim familiarity. The words she spoke were not her own but memories of her father. Yet she whispered the spell with intimate understanding, a trail of flame leaping from her hands and dancing about her at her command. Her magic's side-effects were far more impressive than the spell Danielle had cast. Pillars of fire twisted and snaked around Terra and the chocobo she rode. Liquid flames jumped aside, splashing the ground with ghastly consequences but never harming her. The chocobo was bred well enough to stay motionless, even though one of its natural enemies had surrounded it.

"Die!" Terra screamed as her hand directed the flames around her towards the dragon. The column of magical inferno screamed through the air faster than any chocobo, erupting on the dragon's head and engulfing it in flames.

Even as the spell began to wear off, the flames doing little more than to singe the thick scales of the dragon, arrows began to fly. Shot with deadly precision, Reinhardt and Donnach rode their chocobos fast as they encircled the dragon at distance. Arrows designed to pierce plated armor bounced off for the most part, but at least a few stuck to the dragon. They did little damage but their intentions had been achieved.

The dragon turned to the chocobos and let loose a stream of fire. The grasses burst into flames as fiery magic blasted past the chocobo riders. Reinhardt and Donnach continued launching arrows the whole time, urging their chocobos to dodge the deadly salvos that the dragon breathed in their direction. It was growing impatient but was unable to knock down the quicker soldiers. Soon, the grasses that surrounded it were burning in flames, thick black smoke obscuring the view of the monster. Yet the dragon kept using its dangerous breath, affected little by its dying surroundings.

Locke clutched his shoulder in pain as he stood. He realized he had taken the brunt of the blast, as his chocobo was standing calmly just few feet away from him.

Terra let loose another measure of fire, adding to the infernos that burned around the dragon. She ignored the heat Maduin was radiating against her chest. Liquid flame, hotter than any spell Terra had ever cast, burst on impact with the armor-like scales. The white blaze burst through the thick skin of the dragon and drew a horrifying roar of pain. Its flesh was burning like wood, muscles bubbling and popping amidst the blazing hells. With a scream of defiance, the dragon opened its mouth and Terra found herself in the path of a deadly fireball.

A single battle cry reminded Locke of what he had forgotten. Reinhardt and Donnach's bravado had not distracted just the dragon.

Farin rode his chocobo fast and hard while Terra threw up a defensive shield. He ducked beneath the gout of flame that soared past his head, where it split apart upon meeting Terra's powerful counterspell. The half-Esper gritted her teeth and cried out in frustration. The dragon was overpowering her, and she didn't understand why.

Farin drew his sword. Terra had given him the distraction he needed. His blade reflected a brilliant orange glow from the fires he rode through, and he pointed it forward.

Lightning, blindingly bright and thunderous in its roar, rippled forth from his blade. Bolts of electricity shattered into the dragon, some from Farin's blade, others seemingly ripping out of the ground. Rocks flew into the air and exploded into dust. Ashes rose into the air and seemed to vanish in waves of shimmering heat. Even the dragon's green wings were lifted upwards, blood exploding in a burst of cardinal mist as the great beast screamed.

Yet Farin was not done. As he rode by the dragon, Farin jumped off his chocobo. The mighty swordsman kicked off the side of the dragon, his momentum unharmed, and began running along it. His blade ripped into the beast's flesh, scaled armor that had weathered fire and lightning unable to resist any longer. Fresh blood flowed as lightning pounced on the sudden weakness of its prey, drawing screams of electrocuted pain. Yet none of the blinding bolts touched Farin or his mount.

The brave soldier jumped off the dragon and landed on his trusty chocobo. He rode away from the dying dragon with great speed, not looking back, and met with Reinhardt and Donnach at the perimeter.

The yellow bolts finally disappeared and the dragon collapsed onto the burning grasses. It had died long before then, but the lightning had kept its body frozen in the air.

Locke had no interest in the dragon's death. He was watching Terra. She was gasping for air, her chest heaving up and down from the effort of casting spells. Her eyes slowly lost the red glow, and the purple radiance in her hair faded away.

He had never seen that before. It was like she had tried to morph but only half succeeded.

The anger set in Terra's face had been lost, replaced by surprise and shock. She didn't remember consciously calling forth so much magical energy. She felt disgusted with herself when she realized how much destructive power she had wielded.

Then it hit her. She had finally realized why Farin's haircut seemed so familiar. The flatly shaven head had seemed wrong since he wore neither a military uniform nor adorned his side with medals of honor. Yet now it was obvious. He had not the trio of stars, but one was still enough.

Donnach fell in beside their two charges, Reinhardt following shortly after. Donnach gave a respectful nod to Terra. "That was an impressive show. I'm glad you're on our side today," he said in a reserved tone.

"A wolf in sheep's skin," Reinhardt murmured. "Why do you look so surprised?" he scratched his beard with one hand, the other still holding onto his bow.

"That lightning..." Terra started.

"I thought you killed General Christophe -- may he rest in peace -- in Thamasa. Surely you've seen his shock strike," Donnach said plainly.

Terra looked at Donnach, "I just didn't expect it, that's all," she answered. Such was her surprise that she didn't even notice his accusations.

"Starson was Christophe's former instructor, before he became famous and an incredible warrior. After that, Starson followed Christophe around," Reinhardt said proudly. "Even for his assassins, surely you have some respect for the greatest general that ever lived."

"Silence, both of you," Farin said as he rode back. "These two did not murder Leo in cold blood. I would never let such treachery go unpunished," Farin said dangerously. He looked from Terra and then to Locke. "They are too honorable to backstab an ally, unlike that bastard Palazzo."

Reinhardt and Donnach both looked surprised by that revelation. They exchanged looks with each other.

"Well, I guess we owe you an apology," Reinhardt said at last as he replaced his bow.

Terra looked down at the ground, unsure of what to say.

Farin spurred his chocobo into motion. "Let's get out of here, the Wilds are still hours away."

Visions of Peace will be continued in The Sixth Chapter - Eye of the Storm
Post #116316
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Posted: 27th May 2006 08:56

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The Sixth Chapter - Eye of the Storm

Edgar closed his eyes and relaxed. The soft grasses beneath him were comfortable despite the dirt being a bit damp. He didn't mind though. It felt great to have sunlight shining on his face.

Everything had calmed down ever since the clouds started to disperse. Initially, the rains were welcome. After three days of constant downpour though, it was somewhat depressing. Still, there was the promise of sunshine after the storm and everyone had waited anxiously. When the first rays of light broke through the clouds, there had been a great celebration in the market. The merry-making lasted for more than two days before Nestil reverted back to its tranquil and serene state. The bustling masses were still there but the threat of impeding doom had passed. The newly arrived Imperials had helped in that regard. Nearly three hundred men now policed the overcrowded city. Their enlarged presence had brought order in a short period of time, eliminating much of the crime that the local militia could not handle.

Many of the refugees had begun to entertain the notion of staying in Nestil permanently. The Empire had already started laying the foundation of a barracks for their moderately-sized garrison; it was a promise of permanent protection against future monster rampages. With the roads to the south secured, supplies were no longer fetching astronomical prices. Everything was almost back to normal.

Edgar scoffed at that thought; the world would never be normal again. He had heard the rumors and whispers of the holocaust in the south. The civil war that gripped the Empire was beyond the scale that he or Marcus ever envisioned. Even if the refugees from the Core had been embellishing greatly, it would still mean thousands dead and perhaps some couple tens of thousands starving at the moment.

He never imagined that Gestahl's death would have such devastating consequences. Perhaps if they had guessed the extent of madness that would grip the Empire's generals then they, as Returners, could have planned ahead. At least the north was safe, Edgar acknowledged. Smaller city-states like Jidoor and Nikeah could sleep soundly. A repeated Doma-esque invasion was unlikely while the Empire tore itself apart.

The war was still his concern, no matter how improbable an invasion was. He was a King and the sovereignty of his kingdom was of the utmost importance. Civil unrest in the Empire might be initially good for Figaro but the outcome would decide their fate. He would have to continue working with the Returners to see what they could do. A military conflict had to be avoided at all costs. The power of the Empire was too vast for any nation to stand against alone.

Nestil was a crystal clear message of power to any that entertained notions that the Empire had been weakened. A small, tactically unimportant town so far from civilization had deserved a soldier for every ten civilians. It didn't matter that Nestil was now a hub of trade in Northern Tzen. Imperial manpower was vast beyond Edgar's worst nightmares.

"King Edgar," Cyan's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Edgar sat up. He fixed his messy blond hair and suppressed the urge to yawn. "What is it Cyan?"

No response. Edgar looked up and noticed the concern on Cyan's face. Had the former Doma Knight known of Edgar's thoughts, he would be frowning in the same manner. After all, Cyan had seen first-hand a small measure of the Empire's military might. Unlike the excursions to Narshe and Castle Figaro, Doma had been invaded by three divisions. Not even South Figaro had seen the numbers fielded against Southern Doma.

In fact, Edgar wondered how Castle Doma had held out as long as it did. The amount of power the Heavy Magitek Armors had was frightening. Siana and Davis had lectured him at length on the elite units of the Magitek Armor Corps. Those machinations could singly mow down entire battalions in the open field.

But the concern on Cyan's face was not of future conflict. Edgar set aside his dispiriting thoughts, though his mood remained dark. "What happened?" he asked.

"A degree of worriment," was Cyan's obscure response.

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Kenneth was looking far more rested than the last time. The doctor was no more than two or three years older than Edgar, but the stress of his lifestyle had aged him considerably. His brown hair was frizzled, his beard unkempt, and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty.

"It showed up this morning on my doorstep," Kenneth explained. "I have no idea how it got here, but here it is."

A small package containing the herb Kenneth needed was now sitting on the glistening wooden table in Garrett's meeting room. There was just the three of them in the room. Garrett had left in the morning to find a friend.

The box itself was a complete mystery. A single piece of paper had been attached to it, the signature at the bottom clearly Locke's handwriting. Yet the entire situation made little sense and the note itself clarified nothing.

"Is it the right herb?" Edgar asked. If the box actually was from Locke, they could not simply discard the contents like the doctor suggested.

Kenneth shook his head. "Well," he said, "not exactly. It is laryl, but I'm not really comfortable with the situation." He was somewhat edgy, as if he wasn't sure how to explain the problem.

"What do you mean? It's not the right herb, but it is?" Edgar asked again.

Cyan was off to the side, his arms folded as he judged Kenneth's reaction.

Three days ago, they had witnessed Kenneth speaking with some officers from the local garrison. Although it was expected, Edgar wanted to keep a closer eye on the doctor. He was not a Returner like they were and unlike Garrett, there was no reason for the doctor to keep their presence a secret. Before he left, Locke had given Edgar a secret letter. He had written a short explanation of Garrett's previous encounter with the Empire. If the story was true, and Locke seemed to indicate so, then Garrett could be trusted.

Kenneth, on the other hand...

"The problem with these herbs is that they can easily be mixed with deadlier substances; especially when they have been prepared like this one has..."

"You're afraid that this might be fake, especially since the package only comes with a note saying it's from Locke," Edgar finished. "Can you do anything with the stuff?"

Kenneth shrugged. "One day, maybe two. That's how long it takes for me to make sure it's pure."

Edgar nodded. "Alright, then we'll leave it in your hands."

Kenneth stood up and took the package. He removed the letter. "Then I'll take my leave. Have a good day," Kenneth said before he left.

After the front door closed shut, Cyan stood up and retrieved the letter. It was on a yellowed parchment and had been sealed by a dot of red wax. They had already read its contents at least thrice over.

Cyan scanned it again while Edgar pondered the situation. It was too soon for Locke to make the return trip, considering the problem with chocobo-riding. Even had he stolen a mount, he would not have secretly delivered the herb without contacting them. Terra and Relm were still in his company. Locke might have been brash, but he was no fool.

He was a fool, but he wasn't irredeemably stupid, Edgar corrected himself. If the package was trustworthy then there were a few possibilities that remained, all of them bad. Edgar frowned. If it was a fake, then they had a dilemma to confront.

"What do you think," Cyan asked.

Edgar sighed. "This week has gotten worse and worse with each passing day," he said. "Even if the package was real, then Locke is in trouble of some sort. If the package is fake, then we're in trouble. Either way, someone is going to get hurt."

Cyan nodded. He had already thought about both possibilities and hoped the box was fake. It would mean that someone was spying on them in Nestil and that could be handled. If it were real... Cyan scowled. The thought of Relm being in danger boiled his blood.

Edgar stood up with a frustrated look on his face. "I hope Sabin is having an easier time than we are."

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Sabin looked behind them. It was not an action out of paranoia, he could feel whether someone was following them or not. No, it was more of an act to ease her worries. Seeing nothing behind them, he hurried to catch her fleeting form.

Siana was tired. Sweat and dirt ran in streaks as she wiped at her brow. Her hood was still on despite the blazing heat. She kicked a rock in anger, silently cursing Edgar at the same time. After the debacle in Nestil, they had settled on an amicable solution after much debate. They could not kill Godric. He was too important and would be protected by more than they could safely handle.

However, Godric knew that both Siana and Sabin were in Nestil. The man was utterly loyal and incredibly stubborn. Siana cursed Sabin again for his idiocy. Why he had failed to kill Godric when he had the chance, she didn't know. They couldn't bargain or negotiate with Godric and as long as Strago and Setzer were injured, they could not outrun him. Sabin had really screwed up.

The solution was in Godric's ignorance. He did not know of Edgar, Cyan, or their injured comrades. Their plan was simple. Sabin and Siana would leave Nestil and leave a trail that could be followed by a sufficiently devoted enough tracker. That was easy; Siana had reiterated how unrelenting Godric could be. His whole life could be summed with that one word. As the youngest son of a poor rural family, he had struggled to help make ends meet. To that end, he joined the Imperial Army when he was fourteen. It was frowned on for such young children to be in the military, but he was a quick learner and eager to please. He had a promising career after he caught the eye of a Magitek pilot who had recently lost his own son.

His hard-headed and determined attitude had allowed him to perfect his Magitek piloting skills until he had command of the most powerful weapon in the Imperial arsenal: the Heavy-Siege Armor. That same outlook had landed him in the Imperial Special Forces, and then one of the few pilots deployed in Doma; a true honor considering the scarcity of heavy artillery during that war.

Now that same relentless drive was being used against him. Edgar had detailed out their strategy. They could not leave obvious details; Godric was too smart for that. He would instantly see through their game and realize they had something to hide. Instead, they were subtle but made mistakes. When they stayed in a tavern to rest the night, they talked too much. When they asked for directions, they left favorable impressions on the refugees. Edgar had brainstormed an idea of having Siana look paranoid, not difficult considering what they were doing, and had her wearing her hood regardless of the weather or time of day. Her brilliant red hair, a fiery shade that normally caught the eyes of roving men, was hidden under unassuming cloth. Yet strands peaked out underneath the cheap wool and everyone that noticed her had remembered it.

It was a devious, brilliant idea. Edgar was a genius, Siana acknowledged that. As they made their way to Halstead under the beating midday sun, she also acknowledged that he was also the dealer of heartless and sadistic punishments. She wiped her brow again as sweat ran down one cheek. Forcing them to travel together was nothing more than thinly veiled retribution.

Siana knew that Edgar blamed her for their sudden troubles. He was a charismatic man and had hid it well, but she could still feel his condescending eye on her back. After all, he was both a noble and a rebel. How much he must have hated her: an Imperial commoner.

It's too bad your own flesh and bloody is so unrelentingly thickheaded, Siana spat on the mental image of Edgar Figaro.

"Halstead should be close now. Considering this heat, I'd say we're nearing a desert," Sabin remarked. He was carrying a large pack on his back, the same as the one on her back. His muscled form was covered by a thin sweat-drenched shirt, his cloak tossed over one shoulder carelessly.

Siana caught herself before she snapped a witty retort. She had quickly learned that silence was preferable to talking with Sabin. If they ever talked, the discussion would quickly devolve into a heated argument about the Empire. It was best if they didn't talk.

Over a decade ago, Halstead was a border town between the Empire and the two kingdoms of Tzen and Maranda. Despite the desert encroaching on the city, its enviable position made it into a prime trading center. The town grew in size until the Empire invaded Tzen. Then Marandan traders stopped going to Halstead, too many were afraid of the Empire's next move. It took years for relations to be repaired and now it was the only city in the Empire that could claim to be built on nothing more than trade.

Refugees from southern Tzen villages had fled here despite the sweltering heat. There was a very large garrison stationed in Halstead, since it had been feeding one of the supply trains of the Empire during the Marandan War. After the kingdom collapsed and the need for supplies diminished, the garrison had stayed for the strategic value of the city.

Now it was once again the forefront of war.

It was impossible to keep spies out of the city with so many refugees; the Imperial garrison commander had known this and did not even try to keep the unruly folk from entering Halstead. Instead, every building of military importance was heavily guarded and regular patrols of Magitek units made their rounds of the dusty city. Hours away from the city, Sabin had noticed quite a few sentries that were keeping watch for any possible incursions from the unfriendly Maranda-occupation troops.

They had talked to many a refugee fleeing from either small southern towns in Tzen or escaping the civil war that gripped the Core of the Empire. Siana was heartbroken upon hearing the news, and even Sabin could not ignore the plight of those caught in the monstrous holocaust. Disease, starvation, monsters and heartless soldiers ran unchecked in the Core, slaughtering thousands and leaving countless more at the doorstep of death. Most of the refugees carried little more than clothes, and some did not even have that luxury. Others were sickly and there were many traveling injured. They had escaped the dangers of the war with little more than their lives and now blindly sought protection in Halstead.

Sabin and Siana entered the city with little effort. It was amazing that Godric had not yet alerted all troops in the area of their criminal presence. They counted themselves lucky that the Empire was in such disorder; saved due to poor communication being maintained during these times of war. In peacetime, Godric would have sent a message to any city they could have escaped to. They would have been caught entering a village for supplies and held until the Magitek pilot could catch up.

Still, Sabin and Siana could not take the chance that Godric had sent word but the Imperials were too undermanned to care. They shrank away from the soldiers on duty and gave the Magitek armors wide-berth. They were leaving a trail for Godric to follow, not playing a game of chicken with the Imperial Army.

A promising tavern caught Siana's eye. It was not a run-down roadhouse like some of the places they had passed, but it was certainly not where the upper-class would venture. There were enough ill-behaved customers at the bar for a few to be picked up by Imperial soldiers and questioned, yet not enough of them to test their luck against Sabin. That was one of his few positive traits, Siana had noted a while ago. He could be quite intimidating.

Siana removed her hood and instantly attracted the attentions of some of the most revolting men ever born. They were disgusting trash. It had been years since she was on regular patrol, and even then she had rarely dealt with their kind. Piloting had spoiled her, Siana thought to herself. She gripped the dagger at her belt for reassurance and knew that she had two more in each boot if things got rough.

Siana frowned as she watched Sabin scowl and scare a few of the men back to the protective embrace of their ale. He cracked his knuckles and gestured at the few that didn't back off. She sighed. Aggression would only make the situation worse.

They found an empty table near the back of the establishment. Rickety old wood that was neither comfortable nor pleasant was still welcome. Her sore legs thanked her as she rested. Sabin ordered drinks in the meanwhile. His question about a place to stay caught the serving boy off-guard, and the kid ran off to find the owner of the bar.

A large man, not as muscular as Sabin but just as bulky, greeted them with a friendly smile and two glasses of water. He sat down despite being uninvited. "My lad tells me you're looking for a place to stay," he kept his voice low and made a deliberate gesture at the bar. None of the ruffians had heard; they were now too busy with their drinks. "That's pretty gutsy, considering the type that come here."

Mid-forties or so, he looked to be a smart man but cursed with a weight problem. But he had muscle hidden beneath that flab and could probably hold his own in a bar fight. The owner was a man that could be trusted, so long as they did not bring trouble. Siana looked for evidence of a weapon. None that she could find; that meant he was well-respected in his tavern. An interesting man, she judged.

"I don't really care about them," Sabin replied in an equally hushed voice. "I know it'll be difficult to find lodging at inns, too many coming in from the Core." He had grown quite comfortable with the slang that most Imperial citizens used. Siana had worked hard to remove the Figarian accent as well. His unique pronunciation would have alerted a clever man. They had to stay in Halstead for a while, so she couldn't have let such hints slip.

The tavern owner nodded knowingly. "That's right, it's a shithole down there -- forgive my language girl," he looked over at Siana for forgiveness. "Damned monsters are wrecking everything in sight ever since that accursed island flew over us. I knew it was a bad omen the day I saw it, that's what I told my lad, and then the Death Beams, hellrains, darkness, monsters..." He let loose a string of curses that almost made Siana smile. "I have never been happier to see those black metal beasts of the Imperials, that's for sure."

"Well that's why we came here. Safety in the city," Sabin acknowledged. "So do you have any rooms available?"

The tavern owner nodded. "I've got one left, it only has one bed but I'm sure that's no problem," he winked.

Siana felt her cheeks redden with rage at the implication.

"It's locked pretty tightly too, good since you have a lady with you. But usually my lad brings his wenches to that room, so he'll be mighty angry I'm renting it out."

Sabin understood. He was looking for a reason to give them the room. This was basically bartering. "Well we're thinking about staying at least a week, so how much are you asking?"

"Two thousand."

"Wow," Siana whispered. "That's insane." The place could not have fetched more than thirty gil a night, much less three hundred.

"Only if you throw in meals and give us a hand if there's trouble," Sabin said.

"I don't want any fights in my bar," the tavern owner frowned, "but you don't seem like the type to purposely pick them, no matter how big you are." He broke into a grand smile. "Done!" His arms spread extravagantly as he stood up. "I'll be back with your keys..." he trailed off, waiting for a name.

"Dale," Sabin replied. "Dale Telford."

"Glad to meet you Dale. Call me Bill."

Siana waited until the tavern owner was out of earshot before speaking. "Why would you pay such a crazy price?" she asked quietly. "It can't be all that difficult to find another place to house us for even half that price."

Sabin sipped from his glass of water. "He's a good man, I can tell from his attitude. Honest and hardworking, he won't deceive us or sell our names for any amount of money."

She glared at him. "I could see he's a good person, despite his efforts to hide it behind all that bulk. I just meant that you could have haggled and saved us some money."

"It's just a tiny bit of money," Sabin shrugged.

Siana turned her nose up into the air. Typical snobbish attitude, she should have expected no less from the brother of a King. What did that make him? She wondered. Her knowledge of royalty was quite limited, but she supposed he was a prince, or duke, or...

"And it's not even yours, it's Edgar's," Sabin continued. "Probably better to not argue over little things like a few hundred gil. Not if we plan on staying here for a while."

... a spoiled brat who had never had to make every last gil count; never gone hungry because there wasn't enough money to afford food; never known poverty in his life.

Silence sesttled in between them. Sabin sipped at his water noisily. "This will be the best spot to stay to give Godric a chance to catch up," he mused.

"That's why I chose it," Siana snapped back. Halstead was a busy city and with the world the way it was, she knew it would have been easy to slip in and out without effort. "You should look for a good driver in the meantime, it will take a while to find one with enough courage to cross the desert and take us deeper into Maranda."

Sabin finished his water. "You better be right about going that far south," he lowered his voice but the tone was no less threatening. "The refugees haven't exactly been praising the troops in Maranda."

Siana folded her arms and gave him a disdainful glare. "Well of the two of us, my advice isn't the one that got us into this mess."

Sabin returned the glare. "Just try not murder anyone here."

Siana let the comment slide. The spoiled noble probably wouldn't let anyone else have the last word.

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They rode in silence. Everyone was on alert ever since the previous day's encounter with the dragon. The three Imperial soldiers remained in their formation, protecting Locke and Terra in the center of a triangle.

Once they had ridden past the border and into the Wilds, Farin had grown far more cautious. He regularly rode ahead of the group, scouting their surroundings and making sure of their safety.

The Wilds was a swath of land between the vast Ocean and the Kavanagh Mountain range. The area was unrelentingly hostile. The ground was rocky and dry, even the hardiest of weeds fought for their life here. Farming was out of the question and that meant no settlements. Beaches were non-existent, much of the coast consisted of a dizzyingly high cliffs. No boats could dock and that meant the region was useless to the Empire.

Monsters roamed the unpatrolled wastes and now the place was as barbaric as the Veldt. The Wilds lived up to its name.

Monsters were not the only threat. Ignoring the area did not mean complete abandonment. Spies and shadow operations worked in the countryside. Farin stated that he had a few men in the area. Locke's inquiry on what those soldiers were doing was met with a menacing stare. It was not his business, Farin replied.

Locke did not press the matter.

Donnach and Reinhardt had solemn dispositions. Their cheerful attitude faded as quickly as one would put out a candle. Eagle-eyes watched the hillsides regularly lest they be ambushed.

Locke had noticed that both men treated him with kinder words ever since they had been cleared of assassinating Leo Christophe. As for their treatment of Terra, it had always been courteous and well-mannered. But after her display of might against the dragon, that demeanor had been tempered with a dash of discretion.

Suddenly, Farin stopped his chocobo in front, his hand signaling for the group to do the same. Locke wondered what the problem was; he saw nothing ahead of them.

"Flanks," Farin ordered.

Both Donnach and Reinhardt spurred their mounts into action, dashing off in opposite directions.

"You two," Farin turned around. "Stay here, don't move, and don't act. If you're in danger, hold your position or head back," the soldier then spurred his chocobo. "Whatever you do, don't charge forward!" he yelled before his mount took him over the hill.

Unexpectedly left alone, Locke nervously glanced about. "Well this is surprising," he commented.

Terra nodded. "I don't think anything is nearby," she said. "I wonder what worries him."

Locke shrugged. This was the first time in many days that he could speak with Terra openly without being watched by Imperials. He took the chance before it slipped away. "What do you think about Farin?"

A gust of cold wind blew between them, causing Terra to tighten the brown cloak over her leather armor. Strands of her dyed blond hair tickled her face before she brushed them away. Her blue eyes gazed ahead, as if she could see Farin from her position atop a chocobo.

"He reminds me more and more of Leo," Terra said at last.

Locke nodded. "Yeah, he has those same mannerisms, although he's a lot blunter."

"We never fought at Leo's side," Terra said with a hint of regret. "I think there wouldn't be much difference."

Locke had not meant to bring the conversation to their fallen friend. Fortunately, something had been on his mind for the last day and it seemed like a good time to ask it. After all, she was far more responsive today than any other time in the past month. "Are you alright?" Seeing Terra's quizzical look, he elaborated. "You almost got yourself killed yesterday. Why did you freeze when the dragon was attacking us?"

Terra looked away. "Sorry about that," she said.

Locke rubbed his shoulder idly and brought his chocobo around to see Terra's expression. Though he had been burned by the dragon, the only real injury was to his arm. It was still hurting from when he had jumped off his chocobo in haste.

Terra looked miserable. The question had left her dejected. He felt awful for asking the question and tried to redeem himself. "Listen," Locke said, "we've been through a lot lately and it just seems-"

"I don't want to talk about this," Terra interrupted him. She gave her chocobo a tap on the side, walking out in front of him so he could not see her face.

Locke sighed. "Terra," he started. "I'm not blaming you for anything." He avoided mentioning his injury. "I just want to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"I was scared, alright?" she was lying and Locke could hear that quite clearly. "Just leave me alone."

He wanted to press the issue but his instincts told him it was a bad idea. Since those feelings had saved him countless times in the past, he took the hint and quieted down.

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The three soldiers returned before long, looking rustled but unharmed. Locke noticed that there were bloodstains hidden underneath their cloaks, and it seemed like quite a few of Donnach's weapons were missing.

"Monsters?" Locke asked.

Farin grunted. "A pack of them," he said. The three men assumed their defensive positions and continued their journey towards Albrook.

"Donny-boy decided to get too close to some minis," Reinhardt explained as they rode. "We cut most of them down but the lizards are as fast as they are small."

"Minis?" Locke asked.

"They're the little brothers of the green dragon from before, fortunately without the nasty fire breath," Reinhardt replied as he scratched his scruffy beard. "Fast little guys, they travel in big groups and wipe out packs of travelers like wolves would."

"We cut plenty of them down before," Donnach said. "Just never seen them in those numbers before." He shook his head. "I liked that axe too," he grumbled. "Never thought I'd lose it."

"You're lucky you didn't lose your chocobo," Reinhardt taunted. "Otherwise the General would tie you to Lightstride and haul you to Albrook."

"If we had armored mounts, then there would have been no problems going back for it," Donnach scowled.

"We don't, so stop whining. I wasted some of my favorite throwing daggers to save you," Reinhardt retorted.

Their argument died off as they traveled deeper into the Wilds. The path they followed twisted and turned through the grasslands, the plains themselves growing barer and barer with every passing hour. Not even the weeds grew here. After a while, they reached a deep gorge that was impassable. Farin took them east until they reached a great stone bridge, one that was falling into ruin. It was covered with the disgusting black tar that the Imperial men had called hellrain.

It was sufficient to bear their weight though, and they crossed quickly and found themselves in a withering forest. The black rain had killed what few trees could grow in the harsh ground. Thick, dark paste covered every leaf and the stench was horrible. They rode quickly and found themselves in an abandoned village.

Perhaps a month ago, it was the home to some hundred men and women. It was not a rich place to live. The roads were merely packed dirt from years of use; the houses were no more than mud cabins with thatched roofs. The food had been sparse here; there was little of value in the region. Yet the village was their home and nothing the Empire tried could force them to find so-called better lives in the city.

Farin had a solemn look on his face as he judged the village. He had been here many times, even stayed overnight once with the village elders.

"Monsters," he grumbled angrily as he dismounted into a puddle of the black tar. He whispered to his chocobo -- Locke believed its name was Lightstride by Reinhardt's comments -- and walked alone into one of the houses.

No one followed him. It was unnecessary. The house was small shack and it was doubtful anything could even harm the powerful knight. They looked around the deserted village. The black stuff had stuck everywhere, though it had long since stopped dripping and coagulated into deep puddles.

They sat in silence, the chocobos squawking ever so softly, as Farin entered house after house. He never said anything, never motioned for Donnach or Reinhardt, and never showed emotion on his face. He entered each house with the same disposition and closed the doors when he left, if the house had any doors still hanging from their hinges. A simple questioning glance to the bearded Reinhardt and Locke knew: to disturb Farin was certain death.

At last, Farin returned to the four of them and vaulted onto Lightstride. The chocobo immediately began to move and they hurried to catch him.

Locke braved the dangerous silence. His curiosity had gotten the best of him. "What happened?" he asked Farin.

Reinhardt gave Donnach a sidelong glance. This was going to be entertaining, his motions suggested.

Farin did not snap at Locke as was expected. Instead, the General spoke through gritted teeth. "Monsters, they rampaged the village and killed nearly everyone," he hissed.

Locke nodded. They knew that much from a casual glance. The town had been torn apart in a chaotic fashion, not invaded by soldiers and burnt to the ground. He wondered why Farin had taken so long to come to such a conclusion. "Do you think anyone escaped?" he asked.

Farin shook his head. "Not with much more than their lives and even if they did, where would they run? They're two days' march from the next closest garrison," he said.

"What if they ran away after the hellrain started pouring? This place is a mess and it seems obvious they never bothered trying to clean the stuff off," Reinhardt noted.

"That's a letter of reprimand on your record, Major," Farin growled.

Reinhardt gave the General a questioning look.

"There was plenty of evidence that the villagers never evacuated," Donnach spoke up. "Failing to take notice of that, you should have at least recognized the telltale signs of wolves. Looks like the last year with the Eighth Regiment spoiled you." He rode up beside Farin. "What happened to the garrison here? I saw no signs of their presence."

"Pulled out," Farin answered.

"Before the Long Night," Donnach finished.

"This would never have happened if that power-hungry Lilienthal-" Farin caught himself, suddenly remembering present company. He quieted down, a measure of anger disappearing in the process.

"What did Lilienthal do?"

It was Terra who asked, or surely Farin would have lashed out at Locke. Perhaps not physically, Reinhardt could not see the General ever hitting a civilian without purpose, but his choice of words would have certainly been creative. Yet the two soldiers were denied their commanding officer's wrath, all because of the naive blond-haired girl in their midst. Donnach shook his head, sharing Reinhardt's disappointment.

"Remiel Lilienthal was the governor of Albrook for the past decade. After the Esper attack on Vector, he took over as military commander there," Farin explained.

"Is he a bad man?" Terra asked again.

Her phrasing caused Farin to grin, the sides of his mouth curling upwards as he struggled to retain the righteous anger that had flared within him. "No," he said with much restraint. "He is not a bad man."

"What is he like then?" Locke asked. "We'll probably be meeting him anyways, and we've been told nothing about either this Remiel."

The sun was setting; its meager rays of light shining through the thick cloud cover were fading away leaving nothing but the shadows. It appeared that Farin was leading them into a forested area and they slowed their pace. Farin told Reinhardt and Donnach to travel ahead and find a place to camp before answering Locke's question.

"Lilienthal is a fool. He believes that the army should not bother with its expansions to protect those under the Empire," Farin explained. "No doubt it was his idea to recall the soldiers around here because of those idiotic beliefs."

"So there should have been a large garrison back there?" Locke still did not know the name of the ghost-town.

"That's right. It was one of the main reasons why the village was even there. I didn't find a sign of them though, so it's obvious Lilienthal told them to pack up and head back to Albrook."

"Have you met him before?" Terra caught up to Farin and rode beside him.

"Yes, Remiel Lilienthal is a powerful man for many reasons, chief of which is the House of Lilienthal itself. The Emperor and he were supposedly friends. I met him a few years back when he addressed the House of Lords," Farin replied. "Since then I have only seen him twice, though the most recent encounter is something to be proud of."

"What happened?"

Farin grinned. "I met him in battle of course, during the midst of Drummond's treachery."

"You were at Vector?"

Farin nodded. "Of course, I led many cavalry charges and felled dozens of armors," he said proudly. "I engaged Lilienthal while covering our retreat. The man had cleverly realized we were withdrawing from the battlefield and tried to capitalize on it. There is no greater honor than the knowledge that my actions saved thousands of fatigued and battle-weary soldiers from being routed by a cavalry charge."

Terra was silent, astonished at Farin's actions.

"You didn't manage to injure him, did you?" Locke thought aloud. "After all, he's still alive. And why would you escort us then? I doubt you're very popular."

The look on Farin's face was deadly serious. "The possibility of a truce will save more lives than my sword can. Though this escort is small, that is only because of the insistence of Lilienthal. If I had my way, there would be no less than two platoons of my finest, rather than relying on two of my absolute finest. To say that you two are important is an understatement."

Locke nodded absent-mindedly. He was thinking of things other than the Imperial Civil War. After all, if Farin had not managed to kill this General they were meeting, it meant that the General was incredibly strong. Farin had been able to kill the dragon with a single blow and even if he was only half as skilled as Leo had been...

"You should know this though; Lilienthal is much more dangerous than he looks. You'll do well to avoid underestimating the breadth of his knowledge," Farin warned. "He is not a man to be trifled with."

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Upon on the easternmost rim of the Kavanagh Mountains laid the unofficial borders of the Albrook Region. Known to the more learned as the Province of Alfort-Brougham, named for one of the greatest Emperors in history, it was rarely referred to as anything more than Albrook. This caused no small amount of confusion between the province and the city. To solve this problem, a young Emperor Gestahl had unsuccessfully tried to rename the region as Angevine. The backlash from popular opinion, as well as a warning from the reigning governor, had Gestahl rescinding his attempts. So the region continued its infamous confusion with a sense of dignity and pride.

Emperor Gestahl had been quite agitated by his subjects. After the Empire expanded to both the kingdoms of Tzen and Maranda, Gestahl had seen to it that both the capitals and the provinces had the same name. It was a minor display of vengefulness and certainly no one in the Empire dared to suggest the Emperor was behaving irrationally. The provinces that made up the Core cared little for the expansion. Tzen's noble house had been all executed and its citizens were no more than prisoners until the Emperor included them into the Empire many years later. Maranda's citizens were still considered war prizes and not protected by the Empire's numerous laws. Thus both Tzen and Maranda shared Albrook's confusing nomenclature without resistance.

When Farin alerted them that they were in Albrook territory, Locke could not understand how he had come to such a conclusion. Nothing had changed from their week-long ride through the Wilds; the rocky hillsides and forested canopy was the same and did not reveal any landmarks. However, despite being in enemy territory, there was no change in demeanor from any of the Imperial soldiers. They continued riding with the same casual glances to their sides that had somehow kept the monsters off their backs during the entire journey.

After another hour of steady traveling, Locke realized they were being followed. After years of working with the Returners, he had developed quite a few extraordinary skills. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck, eyes of a hunter watching his every move.

Locke rode up beside Farin, acting unconcerned. "I think we're being followed," he whispered as he idly rubbed a particularly deep scratch in his leather armor. One of the miniature dragons had gotten quite close during one of the past nights. Their group had been attacked at least once everyday and his armor only told half the story.

Farin's nodded, although Locke was unsure if it was a bob of the head due to his mount, or whether the soldier already knew. "If you're hungry, then eat while we ride. We're not stopping for you," he smoothly lied for the benefit of their pursuers.

The forests grew sparse as they left the Kavanagh Mountains. Albrook was in the midst of fertile grasslands. The breadbasket of the Empire, Albrook's farms were great in scale. The land was so rich that even with the industrialization of the Core and expansions within the continent, more farms had been unnecessary. Much of Albrook remained picturesque, with vast rolling plains of long yellow grassy stalks, Vais Gumes as it was called by the locals. The land had long since been tamed, monsters purged by roving hunters employed by the generous pocketbooks of Vector businessmen. Those same businessmen had then planted vineyards and orchids in abundance. Albrook's wines were well-renowned throughout the world.

Locke was remembering his last bottle of Alfort's Finest as they left the highlands. They rose to the top of a hill before Farin brought them to a halt.

The plains made it difficult for anything to hide, but somehow the Imperials had made it work to their advantage. Numerous yellow cloaked soldiers were waiting for them in the stalks of grasses, their arrows drawn and glinting in the sunlight, while five men barricaded the road with armored chocobos.

Farin held his hands high into the air. "I am of the Empire!" he called out.

Locke felt edgy from the affair; they were surrounded by at least two dozen men hiding in the grasses. There were also the heavy cavalry on the road, men that looked as equally menacing as Donnach and Reinhardt. Locke cast a glance at the two soldiers. They seemed at ease, their hands far from their weapons, while they watched their commander slowly ride towards the group of chocobo-mounted men.

"Yes, we could tell you were Imperial," the leader of the cavalry group replied. His face was hooded and his mouth covered by some sort of dusty cloth. Locke could not see what the man looked like.

Farin lowered his hands and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a silver medallion. "I am on official business to Albrook," he said. "I ask for safe passage and an escort, if available."

The hooded commander brought his chocobo beside Farin's and studied the medallion. "Your passage would have been acceptable three months ago. You are unwelcome here soldier."

Farin glanced back to Terra. "I am guarding civilians that General Lilienthal wishes to meet, Captain."

"Yes, I noticed the civilians already. Their presence, as well as the fact there are only three of you, is the only reason why you still breathe," the man pulled down his dirt-covered wool hood, revealing a mess of brown hair. "However, there are no orders remotely suggesting that traitors of Tzen are to be allowed within the regions of Albrook proper," the soldier retorted.

Farin nodded. "Understood, but my mission is to deliver these two to your General."

"And mine is to defend these lands from invaders. I suggest you take my generous offer and leave while you still can," the captain of the mounted men pulled on his hood again. "I admit it takes courage to enter hostile territory with the numbers here, but I have already given you far more leniency than you deserve. Leave."

Farin was immobile, the slight shaking of his head missed by all but the most attentive.

The mounted men slowly backed away after their captain rejoined the group. Their armored chocobos were slow and Farin could have probably easily kept pace with them, but instead Farin stood his ground and merely watched the commander of the group with his discerning gaze.

The commanding officer returned the glare with equal ferocity. "Shoot him if he does not leave," he called out. "Five."

Locke wondered why Reinhardt and Donnach were still motionless. Surely now was the time for action. He found his throat suddenly dry. How could he possibly protect Terra against so many arrows? How could he keep his promise?

"Four."

Terra was increasingly distressed. This was getting out of hand. She thought Danielle had already taken care of everything. Didn't this Lilienthal want to speak with her? Why would his men kill them?

"Three."

Farin idly scratched Lightstride's neck and whispered words of comfort.

The hooded commander raised his hand and made a circular motion of sorts. "Two," he added.

Locke's eyes searched the grasses around them. His last count was two dozen archers, but he swore there were less now. His hands still maintained a death grip on his knives though. He quickly planned the best way to draw the Imperials' attentions.

Locke did not notice Terra's hands tracing the motions of a spell, but Reinhardt did. The bearded soldier growled at Terra. "Stop."

Before the hooded commander spoke again, an arrow shot through the grasses and pierced Farin's shoulder.

Farin grunted and grabbed the arrow shaft. He ripped the projectile from his shoulder, the bladed arrow tearing its way out of his arm. It had slipped through the gap between two metal plates that protected his shoulder.

"That was a warning shot, the next dozen will not miss," the commander said. There was no change in his disposition, even if Farin's actions were totally unexpected. Instead, his hand came up and made a different circular motion.

"I rather not tear a path through our own," Farin said. "But you are leaving me no choice." Fresh blood ran down his arm but he paid no attention to the wound.

It was unlikely that any of the archers or mounted riders would have seen it coming. Farin's motions were smooth and gave nothing away. He would have drawn his blade and annihilated all five men before anyone could have responded. Lightstride would have carried him away from the first batch of arrows while Reinhardt and Donnach could have cut down the men where they hid.

Fortunately, no blood was split that day.

"Captain, keep your men in check!" a strong voice, old but full of vigor, commanded. Everyone but the archers turned to the new voice. Flanked by nearly twenty men on chocobos, an elder man rode on a silver-armored chocobo. He wore a traveler's cloak similar to Farin's, the green material seeming vastly out of place in the yellow fields.

Locke felt relieved. The tension slowly faded away, his knuckles still white around the handles of his blades, as the threat to Terra's life passed. He frowned though. Once again, he was impotent in the face of danger.

The hooded commander was obviously outranked by the newcomer. The original five men split apart and let the older soldier pass by.

"Colonel Norris Ferdinand," Farin greeted coldly.

The older soldier had long grey hair, though it had been tucked into his cloak while he rode. Wrinkles appeared in his face as he smiled. "Colonel Farin Starson," he replied. "Ever the stubborn soldier, don't you feel pain?"

Farin brushed at his arm. "It's a minor wound. I presume General Lilienthal sent you?" he purposely opened his cloak, taking the chance to clean the blood that ran down his arm and wetted his palm.

Norris raised an eyebrow. "Well, Brigadier-General. I'm not sure if I'm willing to honor that star."

"I couldn't care less, Ferdinand. An old tiger like you wouldn't put much stock into rank anyhow," Farin replied with disdain. "And being a former black-cloak doesn't breed respect, does it Colonel?"

Locke watched the exchange between the two men. They seemed to know each other relatively well.

"I honestly didn't believe the reports: that you would be headed here with merely two men and a pair of civilians. You were fortunate I was already in the area," Norris said. "The men around here are usually don't ask questions until their arrows are in your back." He pulled at the reins of his mount and spurred the chocobo past Starson. "Now, show some manners General."

"Those two," Farin pointed back at Terra and Locke, "are the ones that the Governor wanted to meet: Terra Branford and Locke Cole."

"You would do well to return the favor I have shown you, General Starson," Norris rebuked as he stroked his cleanly shaven chin. "And yes, I recognize the girl regardless of the hair color, and for that reason solely I am glad you aren't dead." He turned back to the hooded commander. "Captain, take your patrol elsewhere. I will escort these five."

The soldier saluted and hollered out commands. His men followed as he rode away, and the archers disappeared into the fields of yellow grasses like ghosts.

"I trust that General Lilienthal is well aware of us?" Farin asked. His tone had grown slightly more respectful.

Norris turned his attention back to Farin. "Of course. If you would order your men to follow, I do believe we can reach Albrook before nightfall."
Post #117725
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Posted: 27th May 2006 08:58

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The city of Albrook was a great metropolis, its size only dwarfed by the grand capital of Vector. From the distance, the city looked like it was invading the ocean. Its harbors alone were larger than the town of Nestil, and enormous fleets of warships could be seen miles away. Buildings and streets covered the land as far as one could see. It was home for hundreds of thousands of Imperial citizens and unlike Tzen, it had somehow avoided the great flocks of refugees. There were no fields of tents or increased military presence. In fact, Locke and Terra noticed that there was a disturbing lack of troops all together on the edges of the city. The last time they had been here, General Leo had made it clear that Albrook had more soldiers policing the streets than the city of Jidoor had people.

They rode through the streets with a great escort of chocobo riders. A few of the soldiers had been sent farther ahead, to clear the way and alert General Remiel Lilienthal. How the soldiers had kept the streets clear for Norris Ferdinand and his entourage, Locke did not know. They had been to the city before and it was busy at all hours of the day. Crowded streets that made the markets in Tzen look empty; Albrook was the second heart of the Empire. Yet the route they traveled through the city was mysteriously empty and try as he might, Locke could not see a single soldier on crowd control duty.

Locke did not see any change in the city from the last time they had been here. Though the road they traveled was clear, he could clearly hear the crowds from other streets. It seemed as if the civil war had not affected Albrook. In fact, their journey to the city had been curiously calm. No patrols had stopped them, nor were there signs of heavily fortified entrenchments or deserted villages. Locke wondered if this had been intentional. Certainly Albrook had to have been taxed by the civil war. Danielle's description of the Civil War suggested that Albrook should be in the same situation as Tzen was.

They rode along a road overseeing the shoreline. Terra found herself staring into the great southern ocean. In the distance, the sun was setting amidst a cacophony of golden light. Smooth rolling waves broke upon the harbors of Albrook, showering those working on the piers in amber glitter. Terra's eyes feasted in the gentle hue and caressing radiance, bringing a soft smile to her face.

Locke stared at Terra, her form basked in the honeyed brilliance. Her short hair fluttered teasingly in the mellow sea-breeze, her delicate features accentuated in the sunlight. He found it was suddenly difficult to breathe.

As she turned away from the scenery, Locke quickly found the reins of his chocobo intensely engrossing. When he judged it was safe, he sneaked a glance back Terra. She was staring ahead blankly, her eyes watery while her lips trembled ever so slightly. The look of regret and pain made Locke's heart heave in anguish.

"We're here," Norris said as the group of some three-dozen men came to a halt. Before them was a great mansion that was walled off from the main city. The iron gates in front were guarded by two men standing at attention. Locke could count another ten behind the walls, chatting idly near the guardhouse. The sound of dogs could be heard from within the premises.

It might have been originally designed as a mansion, but it was a castle in all but name. Stone walls rose well over six stories high, covered with vines and crowned by guard towers. Locke imagined archers positioned in those high perches letting loose volleys of arrows at invaders that had broken through the front gate. The entrance was a pair of huge wooden doors, at least three men high, that was set within a stone arch. At the very top of the arch was a statue of an angel with spread wings, resting her lance on the keystone.

While Norris spoke with the guards at the gate, Locke looked over at Farin and his two men. Heavily outnumbered and deep within enemy territory, Locke realized that he had a new degree of respect for those three soldiers. From what he could remember of Danielle's long talk, Remiel Lilienthal had only wanted to see Terra. The four of them were merely extra baggage and could have been killed at any time.

Norris returned with a friendly grin. He brushed at his grey hair while addressing the men that had escorted them from the Albrook borders. The soldiers nodded as Norris gave them their orders. He turned to Farin. "General Starson, I regret to inform you that we can't allow you inside the mansion," he said.

Farin nodded. "It's expected," he replied.

"My captain here will escort you and your men to a hotel. Your rooms are already paid for. All we ask is that you stay in them for the duration of this trip."

Farin nodded again. "Your hospitality is appreciated. I just hope that you don't upgrade our rooms to solid stone and iron bars."

Norris grinned. "Just stay in your lovely suite and I'm sure nothing will happen. After a good night's rest, we'll discuss business."

About half of Norris' men led Farin, Donnach and Reinhardt away from the mansion. They rode away quickly and Locke suddenly felt strangely vulnerable with their departure. He pursed his lips together in confusion. They had merely switched one band of Imperials for another. Nothing had changed.

The remaining men began to dismount from their chocobos and Locke followed suit. He held out his hand to help Terra, but she avoided taking it and slipped off her bird with little effort.

Norris brushed at a speck of dirt on his cloak and then magnificently gestured at the mansion. "The General is waiting," he said.

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Locke's assessment had been correct. The mansion's greeting hall could have put Castle Figaro to shame. The ceiling was twice as high than most, and the hall was decorated with great tapestries from wall to wall while the floors were covered with a thick, plush carpet. The walls were most interesting, they depicted some sort of grand battle between angels and monsters. Locke found himself staring at the scene in front of him. The angel in the center looked similar to the statue outside; her wings were spread wide while she wielded a mighty spear in defiance of the dark hoard. To her sides were two angels, their wings blackened or broken, lying on the ground in the throes of death.

"Beautiful, is she not?" Norris asked. "I always found white satin to be quite stimulating."

Locke averted his eyes when he realized Norris was referring to the angel's state of undress. He turned to Norris, who had a mischievous grin on his face that did not suit the elderly soldier.

Behind him, Terra was glaring at him.

"That's not what I was looking at," Locke grumbled.

"Yes, while I'm sure your excuse will be quite creative and what-not, I must insist again. Please remove your boots."

Locke realized that Terra had her boots off and Norris had changed into another pair of shoes. Both also had their cloaks off, Terra in the raggedy shirt and pants that they had bought in Nestil, Norris in long flowing grey robes. Somehow he had not heard Norris tell them to remove their coats and footwear.

"The General is quite insistent on keeping the carpets clean. Since you don't have a pair of shoes specifically for this household, you'll have to go barefoot," Norris leaned closer to Locke. He lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for Terra to overhear. "I find going barefoot to be quite enjoyable. It's not satin sheets, but the carpets are quite sensual between my toes."

Locke grumbled as he removed his boots. He handed his cloak to one the soldiers standing nearby who hung his travel wear along with everyone else's.

Norris led them through the mansion, five men trailing behind them in similar shoes as the Colonel wore. Locke realized that the initial room had been the most poorly furnished area in the entire estate. The halls leading to the central chamber were decorated with great curtains flying the Imperial flag, magnificent paintings of the countryside or even more tapestries of angels. Suits of armor adorned every corner, while paintings of the sea decorated the few bare spots. A pair of men opened two sets of grand doors, made of polished metal, and the scene before them would have made a king envious. Marble statues that would not have been out of place in the center of fountains flanked both sides of great marble staircase. The wide stairs lead to a platform suspended in the air, which split into two more flights of stairs leading to the far sides of the room. Locke guessed that at least a hundred men could fit on the platform comfortably, and the space that the stairs occupied was larger than every single inn that he had ever stayed in. Servants hurried about while soldiers guarded many of the doors that led out of the central room.

They followed Norris up the marble staircase, which had a band of red carpet leading down the center of it. Locke's eyes were attracted by the great chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Finely crafted gold and silver with jewels of all colors held over a hundred candles in the air above the center platform. He guessed that for the price of the chandelier, he could buy a hundred ships and still have enough money remaining to crew them.

At the top of the staircase was a grand standard with a Coat of Arms displayed more prominently than even the Imperial flags. Locke knew at once that this was the standard of the House of Lilienthal.

On the third floor of the mansion, Norris led them past numerous guards and into a large expansive office. Bookshelves covered each wall and there were countless thousands of books held within. There was a single table, large enough for thirty men to dine on, littered with enough reports and opened books that it made Danielle's desk look organized. The table was expensive; Locke recognized the type of wood. He had given up trying to tally the costs of the mansion and decided to simply note the things of exceptional value. There was no reason for him to do such a thing, but it was an old habit that he enjoyed and could not quite suppress.

Leaning back in a tall cushioned chair, dressed in a fine blue coat and white ruffled shirt, was General Remiel Lilienthal. He had a book in one hand and read from behind a single monocle. A small oil lamp cast soft flickering light across his face, despite the entire room being lit by electric lights hung from the ceiling.

"General," Norris said as he saluted.

Remiel glanced up from his novel. He removed his monocle and set it on his desk carefully. Green eyes came up to judge those that stood before him.

"Norris, are these two the ones?"

Locke stared at the General in horror. It was a child.

Well, not a child. He was a young man, perhaps no more than eighteen years of age. Long brown hair that was done in a fine ponytail hung over one shoulder, his youthful visage offset by the serious look on his face.

Locke reminded himself that Celes was in her teens as well and she was a general too. The Empire had a peculiar method of promoting soldiers and seemed to favor personal strength over experience. He wiped the look from his face and put on a smile. The man might be seven years younger, but he was one of the most powerful people on the continent.

Norris nodded. "Terra Branford and her escort and friend, Locke Cole," he gestured at the two of them.

Remiel stood and walked around his vast desk. He held out his hand to Locke. "Remiel Lilienthal," he said as the two men shook hands.

"Pleased to meet you," Locke lied.

Remiel turned to Terra. He licked his lips. "Terra?"

Terra held out her hand. "Yes..." she trailed off.

Instead of shaking it, Remiel kissed her hand. He gazed into her eyes. "I must say, you are quite stunning in person. I expected your unique green hair though. I am unfamiliar with this style, is it new?"

Remiel was still holding onto her hand. For some inexplicable reason, Terra found it uncomfortable. She pulled her hand back. Fortunately, he did not notice the forcefulness of her actions and merely clasped his hands together. "No, it's not a new style," she replied nervously.

The General straightened. "Well then, please take a seat."

Locke heard the sound of men leaving the room; probably the guards that had trailed them the entire time through the mansion. Norris stayed though, leaning up against one of the bookshelves as he tried to make himself comfortable. Locke wondered why he didn't sit down; there were plenty of tall-backed chairs.

"Comfortable?" Remiel asked.

"Yes, but you'll have to excuse our nervousness," Locke said. "We're not really sure why we're here."

Terra was studying Remiel carefully. The moment they had met Norris Ferdinand, she had known that he was another of the magic-infused knights. He had a familiar aura about him that she could sense relatively easily. Unlike Danielle, he had not been hiding his abilities. Remiel might have been hiding his though, because she could not feel a similar aura. There was something there though, she was certain.

Remiel nodded and put away the novel he had been reading before. He closed the drawer softly and leaned back into his own chair. "Well, I must say I am somewhat taken aback by your appearance here. Danielle's communiqué was succinct, though that is of little surprise."

Norris chuckled. "She's short, sweet, and doesn't bother with any extra details. I doubt we have to tell you that though, you two already met her."

Locke noticed that Terra was looking behind Remiel. She was scanning the bookshelves, as if she was searching for something.

Remiel had not noticed her distraction. "Yes, to further our miscommunication, she neglected to alert us to the time of your arrival. I sent Norris post-haste upon reports of one Colonel Farin Starson being spotted approaching our borders."

"That would be Brigadier-General Starson now, General." Norris corrected.

Terra's eyes had locked on a single hardcover that was bound by gilded red leather. The words on the spine were unreadable, not from age but the runes were alien to her. Yet she felt a strange pull. There were many such books drawing her towards them all about the room, but that one red book was the strongest. The runes themselves seemed to reach out to her. They floated off the spine of the book, hanging in the air and distorting everything behind it. Heat seemed to shimmer in waves from each letter.

Terra heard the faintest of whispers emanating from it. The voices were too quiet to be heard but they gripped her with blissful noise; tantalizing promises that filled her mind with imagery.

"Død og ødelggelse av verden," Remiel said quietly.

Terra snapped out of her trance. Her cheeks colored red when she realized that Remiel was looking at the book with her. He had read aloud the title of the volume she had been studying.

"Siste håpe for alt liv, ragnarok," Remiel finished reading the title and turned away from the book. "Does it interest you, dear one?" Remiel asked kindly. He did not seem angered by her curiosity.

"N-no," Terra stammered. She looked down at her feet in embarrassment.

Remiel glanced at Locke questioningly. Locke shrugged. He turned back to Terra. "As I was saying, I am uncomfortable with having a discussion tonight. Added to that fact is your nervousness. I doubt that Danielle was sufficiently tactful in her approach, though I am impressed that she swayed you to her cause. Her powers of persuasion must have grown since I last met with her."

Locke said nothing. Telling Remiel of their situation did not help them in anyways. If Danielle did not see fit to say something about Relm, neither would he.

"However, she did acquire your persons and I shall keep my end of the bargain. Compose thyselves, I mean you no harm and surely none shall afflict you under my watch. Norris shall keep you company for the night so that tomorrow," Remiel stopped, a smile touching his face. "Tomorrow, we shall dance."

"Dance?" Locke echoed. Locke wondered what he meant by 'dance'. The General seemed to speak a little like Cyan. It was probably a double-meaning of some sort.

"I am awfully rude today," Remiel remarked. "Yes, dance. Tomorrow is the end of the harvest season. The bounty was poor this year but there is still food aplenty and always a reason to celebrate. I host an annual ball here, within these grounds, and you should count yourselves lucky that you arrived in such a timely manner." His gaze settled on Terra. "Tomorrow night, you shall accompany me to the Messis Luna."

Terra's face was white. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Behind them, Norris chuckled.

Remiel gestured about him. "I have been immersed within my duties and forgotten to acquire an appropriate consort for tomorrow night. Yet it seems that the Gods have smiled upon me and delivered an angel into my midst. I would be a fool to squander such a beautiful gift."

Terra was torn between embarrassment and shock. She stammered nonsensically.

"This is ridiculous," Locke growled.

Remiel turned to Locke. "Feel free to explore Albrook in the meanwhile then; your invitation has just been rescinded."

"What?" Locke shot to his feet.

"Sit down lad," Remiel said as he folded his arms. "I may not have the temperament of Caleigh, but you stretch my patience."

Locke did not sit down and it took Norris' hand on his shoulder to force him back into his seat. He glared at Remiel, smoldering in rage.

"I did not request your presence, Locke Cole. The criterion I set was quite explicit. A single conversation with Miss Branford sans duress. You are neither welcome nor will you interfere with the ball tomorrow," his words became threatening at last. The kind manner he had regarded them vanished in the face of Locke's fury.

"I don't want to," Terra spoke up.

"Pardon me?" Remiel asked kindly.

"I don't want to go to this ball," Terra said. "It's cruel and unusual to twist this situation to your advantage."

Remiel acted mortified. "Surely it is not because you cannot bare the thought of being seen in public with myself. I may not turn heads during my nightly stroll, but I do have pride invested in my looks and charm."

Norris laughed behind them.

Terra glared at the General. "That's not what I mean," she said. It was true. He was quite handsome. His youthful vigor and sense of style were an attractive combination, and his manners were gentlemanly... when he was not threatening their lives. An ordinary woman would find him charming.

"Then speak your mind," Remiel said with flourish. "Insult me how you will, just avoid simply telling me I am an ugly man. I may not forgive that discourtesy."

Norris roared with laughter, nearly knocking over a shelf of books in the process.

Terra waited until the Norris regained his composure. She was still angry at Remiel. "I don't dance with strange men."

Remiel raised an eyebrow. "You are shy?" he asked.

She glared at him. "You know what I mean."

Remiel chuckled softly. "My dear, if that is the sole reason you have, then it is simply not enough to sway my mind. Please, prevail upon my conscience."

Terra blinked. Why was he doing this? She grumbled to herself as she thought of another excuse. This was beyond ridiculous, this was just madness.

"Well?" Remiel asked.

He was not giving her enough time to think. "I-" Terra's mind spun with reasons. What had Celes said, when they had convinced her to act on stage? No, even if she remembered the story correctly, those excuses would not be enough. Celes had ended up singing in front of several thousand, whatever she had said had obviously been a failure.

"I can't dance," she finally said. At least the excuse was true. She had never danced in her life.

Remiel was nodding his head in a knowing manner. "Yes. I too, share the pain of being untrained in the finer arts. My father felt such schooling was unbecoming for a strapping young lad."

Terra heaved a sigh of relief. That was lucky.

"Fear not, dear lady. I have redeemed my youth and have long since mastered the dance. As long as you follow my lead, you shall not fall," Remiel said with a grin on his face. "Any other concerns?"

Curses, Terra grumbled. Why couldn't this man take no for an answer? She couldn't think of any more excuses. "I have nothing to wear," she said knowing that it was weak defense.

Remiel sensed this as well. "Done," he pounded his desk with his hand and pounced on the opportunity. "You are unfamiliar with the city, such I shall have my best seamstresses and tailors find something to suit your dazzling beauty at my own expense." Before Terra managed to complain again, he held up his hand and stopped her. "There is no need to thank me for such kindness; it is I who is in your debt. Norris, please escort my date and her friend to their inn, I must return to my work."

Norris saluted and despite Terra's vocal opposition, dragged both her and Locke out of Remiel's office. The large wooden doors slammed shut behind them before Norris addressed the two.

"You two are both lucky, the General's in a good mood today. I've never seen anyone get away with so much."

Terra crossed her arms, an angry scowl on her face. Locke was silent, contemplating why Remiel had not simply threatened them like Danielle had.

Norris looked from one to the other, and then sighed. "I'll take you to your rooms. You will not be in the same hotel as Starson; most of them are completely full. Try to cheer up. Lilienthal has been extraordinarily patient with both of you. I've seen nobles executed for less. You didn't even have the manners to laugh at his jokes." He lowered his voice but still retained his good natured grin. "A General's jokes are always funny. Don't you ever forget that."

"He's a few eggs short of an omelet, isn't he?" Locke quipped.

Norris frowned. "And don't cross him; I would hate to kill either of you."

Visions of Peace will be continued in The Seventh Chapter - Messis Luna
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Posted: 27th May 2006 18:08

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Wavey Marle!
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Still going well and still gripping. Hoping for more shortly.

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"Only the dead have seen the end of their quotes being misattributed to Plato."
-George Santayana

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here..."
-Abraham Lincoln, prior to the discovery of Irony.
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Posted: 29th May 2006 17:06

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Quote (Del S @ 27th May 2006 10:08)
Still going well and still gripping. Hoping for more shortly.

Thanks! The seventh chapter is done, but I'm getting some expert opinion on details that may betray my ignorance of such matters. It should be posted relatively soon.

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Visions of Peace - Four Generals, One Empire, and the Returners caught in the middle.
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Posted: 10th June 2006 07:50

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The Seventh Chapter - Messis Luna

Locke and Terra were brought to a small inn located in a wealthy district. It was a pleasant place to stay. The proprietor had gone to great lengths to make the small premises feel cozy and homely. Norris gave them keys to separate rooms and bid them good night. He had left no soldiers to guard them. It was unnecessary since he assumed they were there to help Danielle Meras.

In truth, they were nothing more than prisoners so long as Danielle held Relm hostage. Even if Relm was safe, it would have been foolish to try to escape or cause trouble within the city limits. They were outnumbered by the thousands and had no reason to bring the wrath of the Empire upon them.

Terra retreated into her room and despite Locke's best efforts; she did not speak with him. She was distressed over Remiel's invitation and brooded quietly in the darkness. She had led quite the sheltered life, had she not? Terra pursed her lips as she tried to pierce the fog of memories. Her amnesia had faded away but whenever she thought of the past, it was always a tasking prospect. Like breathing underwater, it never led anywhere and she had gradually stopped trying. The past was not important and when it was, her memories usually cleared up.

Terra nodded to herself reassuringly as she recalled her quiet childhood years. The memories seemed so fresh, so clear in her mind. She had never been to anything as extravagant; she had barely even talked to nobility before meeting Edgar, much less attend some fancy party. Considering the manner in which Remiel lived, Terra knew she had ventured far out of her league. Edgar and Celes might have preferred the richer lifestyle, but she enjoyed the simple things in life.

But why her? Why did Remiel bother with such a charade? He had wanted a conversation with her, not a date. She felt deceived; Remiel had probably planned this all along. Curse his devious two-faced nature. She had known it the moment she met him.

Terra frowned. However, he could not have planned this ahead of time, she mused. There had been no way to guarantee they would arrive in time for the Messis Luna. Had they delayed just another day in the Wilds, his plans would have been ruined. In fact, Remiel had even confessed to being surprised by their visit.

The General did not seem like the type to lie offhand, Terra admitted to herself grudgingly. He was just as crazy as the rest of them though, even if he was barely as old as Celes. The flashy green coat was different but the attitude was cut from the same erratic cloth as his peers. Certainly, Remiel was going to humiliate her. All the compliments he made despite how horrible she had to have looked after six days in the wilderness riding a chocobo... it had been designed to make her feel more comfortable so that he could crush her spirit with greater impact.

Terra shook in righteous indignation when suddenly she froze. Goosebumps ran down her back when she thought about the dinner with Gestahl. She had seen Remiel back in Vector during the short-lived truce. He had been one of the few men allowed near the Emperor's table. Remiel had not stayed for the meal but she remembered those unique green eyes. The look in them had been like a hawk's. He had been judging her worth, stripping her soul bare with the intensity of his gaze. No words had been exchanged, but she remembered thinking one thing: she never wanted to see him again.

It had not been just the eyes though. He looked so young but carried himself in a wholly different manner. The way he talked, the way he dressed... even the way he smiled. It was just so wrong. She could not place her finger on it, but there was something eerie about him.

The thought of his lips on her hand sent shivers down her spine.

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Norris greeted them with a friendly smile early the next day. They had been treated to breakfast without charge; the hotel included a free meal for anyone that stayed overnight. Bacon and eggs was on the menu, the latter was so fresh that Locke would not have been surprised if there were chickens in the back with empty nests. The eggs were steaming hot and glistened from butter; they had been scrambled and garnished with a sweet-smelling sauce. The bacon was crisp and chewy at the same time, almost too salty but perfect when washed down with a cup of milk tea. There had been roots of some sort, Vais-something, Locke did not catch the name, on the side. They tasted like potatoes and he had downed them with fervor.

Afterwards, they had been served oranges. Locke had not seen a fresh orange in months. The sacrifices of heroes, he wistfully thought as he tasted the fruit. Pleasantly sweet with a touch of tartness, it was mouthwatering.

"Finished the meal?" Norris asked as he entered the dining room. His grey hair swayed from side to side, grazing the base of his neck ever so slightly as he joined Locke and Terra. Even in Albrook, most citizens gave the military wide-berth. But Norris did not look like the typical soldier and so did not scare the morning crowd. Around Locke's height, he looked like any other elder with a taste for comfortable flowing robes. His big grin only helped his friendly image. He was like a jolly old man; the grandfather at a family gathering who had too much to drink and could not stop laughing.

Terra placed her fork carefully on the brittle and expensive dishes in front of her. "Yes, I'm done," she replied. Her plate was still half-full, she had not touched the bacon.

Locke had already cleaned his plate, so he didn't bother saying anything and took the time to cleanse his hands in the lemon-scented water that was provided. In his mind, if the Empire was going to waste money on them, they should do their part in seeing the Imperial treasury just a little bit closer to bankruptcy.

"Great," Norris replied. "I'm sure you're eager to start your busy day, so let's go."

As they followed the old man outside, Locke wondered if it was mere coincidence that Norris caught them just as they were finishing their meals. In his opinion, it seemed too well timed. Locke glanced around, speculating whom amongst the friendly staff had been spying on them.

Even though it was late morning, it was still plenty cold. Mist formed as they breathed in the crisp and salty sea breeze. Frost could be seen upon parts of the sidewalks where busy feet had yet to tread. Terra was shivering slightly. Their clothes were poor protection from the biting winds and they had left their thick cloaks back in their room.

"Terra, this is Clarkson. He will escort you to Lindsay, Remiel's favorite seamstress," Norris introduced her to a man that fit the typical soldier stereotype perfectly. Large and imposing, Clarkson filled out the standard uniform of the Imperial Army with muscles honed from combat. Terra stared up at the blond haired soldier, rubbing her hands together for warmth while she gave a nod of understanding to Norris.

"As for you, Locke... you'll come with me," Norris said.

Locke narrowed his eyes. He was about to protest, but Norris cut him off before he had the chance.

"It's not exactly proper for you to follow your friend. She is being fitted for dresses and I doubt she appreciates the peep show you'll be getting," Norris gestured at Terra.

Clarkson had already started down the street, Terra trailing behind him and two more soldiers following her. They were out of earshot due to the cold winds, so Terra did not hear the comment.

Locke stared at Terra's back until she was out of sight. Then he remembered about Norris. He spun around and saw the old man far ahead in the opposite direction. Were it not for the uniqueness of his attire, Locke would have easily lost him in the relatively large morning crowd. Not even his sharp eyes could have picked out such an unassuming man amidst so many commoners.

Locke hurried to catch up, wondering what Norris had in store for him.

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Lindsay was much older than Terra expected. For some reason, she had expected that Remiel would favor a younger seamstress. Perhaps someone as young as herself was impossible, but she had not anticipated a woman that would have better fitted the role of a midwife.

The seamstress was neither haughty nor condescending despite the prosperous business she ran. She worked uptown in the wealthy district, though that was expected given Remiel's fondness for her talents. Since Lindsay was used to noblewomen and wives of the rich Imperial businessmen, she was surprised by Terra's lack of deportment and wholesome attitude.

Much of the morning quickly passed by. Lindsay and her many assistants took measurements galore, stripped Terra bare and fitted her with plain clothes marked by an assortment of numbers. Lindsay was kind to Terra, recognizing her insecurities and gently advised her on proper mannerisms while she worked her magic.

Terra spent most of the afternoon with Lindsay's assistants. They bathed her and forced her through various other trials that seemed unnecessary for a simple dress fitting. Her hair was done and trimmed by a close friend of the seamstress, and jewelry was carefully matched to her skin in a rather drawn-out session. It was late afternoon before Terra tried on her dress, weary from being treated as no more than a mannequin. Lindsay instructed her carefully. The dress itself was not her eveningwear, but was meant to help her form and stature while Lindsay's assistants finished the final adjustments on the real thing.

Finally, the day ended. Terra waited patiently while the kind seamstress brushed at the brand new gown, smoothing out some wrinkle that only her eyes could see. Terra could barely recognize herself in the mirror. It was the first time she had looked in one since the morning and she had not expected the sudden change.

Whatever had been in the bath, it had invigorated and energized her. Her eyes were wide, her eyes a shade of blue that reflected the fairness of the clear sapphire sky. Her hair was an energetic shade of yellow, bright as the sun and shimmered in the light. Her features were flawless, her skin smooth and supple, her lips a delectable rose, and her cheeks were a soft blush.

"When did I-" Terra stammered.

"You had fallen asleep," Lindsay explained softly, "when Claire painted your face. I asked her to be gentle and slight. You are not one to require the heavy paint that many other ladies of nobler birth require."

Terra stared at her dress. It was a silky fabric of a milky shade of white that flowed over her form. It caressed her like morning dew, glistening like diamonds in the warm sunlight, as it trickled down colored leaves.

"Should this be so," Terra fumbled for the word. "Low? I mean, there's not much covered..."

Lindsay stepped out from behind her, staring both at her form and gazing into the mirror to judge. "My dear, you have a beautiful figure. I know many that would never be able to carry such an elegant and simple cut. You look simply stunning," she smiled. "I have no doubt that you will be the star of the ball. No man would refuse your hand."

Terra felt her face heat. "I've just never worn anything like this," she stammered.

Lindsay brushed at Terra's bare shoulder. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment before coming to a realization marked by the grin on her face. "Yes, those clothes you wore were certainly unfitting. I shall have some of my aides prepare you some proper daily wear."

Terra shook her head. "No no," she held her hands up. "I prefer those comfortable clothes." Seeing the look on Lindsay's face, she realized that the seamstress had misunderstood her. "I mean, I travel quite often. It's difficult to wear anything so majestic," she added hastily.

"Ah," Lindsay replied. An aged finger touched her lip as she stood deep in thought. "I'm sure I can convince Claire to set something out for you then. She comes from a noble upbringing but used to travel to the capital every month, so she'll know what's best. I'll have her lay out a proper wardrobe and have it sent to your room. Claire could use the practice anyhow and this won't cost you a dime," Lindsay winked.

Seeing there was no easy way to refuse, Terra grudgingly accepted.

Lindsay strolled off to a table hidden in the corner, picking up a thin silver necklace from a pile of fine jewelry. Her assistants had been unable to decide on the proper centerpiece for Terra and had left behind a small selection. Lindsay hung the necklace about Terra's neck, marveling at how well the silver matched her skin. A single sapphire rested just below her neck.

"About the stone," Terra started. It had an unfamiliar weight to it and she didn't feel comfortable.

Lindsay smiled. "Yes, you had a lovely crystal necklace. Would you prefer that instead of this jewel?"

"You can do that?"

"Well, I expected it really," Lindsay took back the sapphire piece and waved to one of her aides. "I was going to give it to you as a present, but since you insist now..."

A thin silver necklace was draped over her neck. Hanging from the center was her father's magicite remains on. It was slightly lighter than what Terra was used to, but it felt right against her chest.

"There, that's perfect," Lindsay said as she paraded Terra in front of a full-length mirror. She fingered the shards of Maduin. "What a unique piece of crystal, I've never seen anything similar. It's no wonder you're so attached to it."

Terra had never thought of about magicite in that manner. In fact, she had tried to think about it as little as possible. It was gruesome to know that espers were reduced to such remains.

"You'll be the envy of every woman at the ball."

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Locke was sitting on one of the many piers of Albrook when Norris found him again. His pants were drenched as waves broke upon the harbor. He had a faraway look in his eyes. It was nearing sundown and Locke had spent most of his time in deep thought and recollection.

He had chased Norris down earlier in the morning and demanded an answer to why the old man had been constantly making witty remarks at his expense. Norris had ignored him and instead went about on errands. He walked around Albrook, talking to various guards and soldiers while Locke followed in a poor mood. It was nearly lunch when he could not stand the way he was being treated and gave Norris a piece of his mind.

Locke once thought that Norris' friendly grin was painted on; that the man was just never angry and could probably smile as he spilled blood on the battlefield. It seemed to fit the old man's carefree style. He could probably tell a comical story while medics stitched up his insides.

Instead, Norris gave him a taste of his wrath. Locke had cared little for the biting words that Norris said. The punishment, to be left isolated on the docks for the remainder of the day, was almost a reward. But Norris had said a few things that had touched something deep within him. The stirring of memories was unwelcome and unwanted. That had been the true punishment: words that left Locke questioning himself.

His feet hung off the wooden ledge and his back was against a damp pillar. The frigate before him was slowly making its way out to sea, its sails spread wide to catch the strong breeze. There was still much activity at the port, even though it was nearing winter. The ocean did not freeze over and there was business to be had and a war to be fought. This boat would be last to set sail before the sun sank below the horizon, but others would cast-off under the crescent moon.

"Your attentions are selfish and childish. You hardly treat her like a person. I saw the way you look at her, like she was something you lost. Even had I not been ordered to keep you away from her, I would have gladly done so of my own accord. It'd be best for both of you."

Locke licked his dry lips as he remembered the more scathing remarks. They had been pretty hateful and filled with curse words, but none struck a cord quite like that comment. He had gotten used to being insulted over the years as a Returner. The Empire's soldiers weren't exactly known for their eloquence, and working undercover meant lots of tussles with those rowdy men.

"-something you lost-" Locke repeated in a soft whisper. The cold winter breeze carried his words off into the endless expanse of the glistening ocean. He closed his eyes. The glare... yes, it was the glare that forced such a reaction. It was not as if he had been thinking of those three words for an entire day. Certainly no Imperial could...

Rachel.

Memories of his failure resurfaced uncomfortably. It had been a long time since he genuinely thought of her. The memories of that day were still crystal clear; his negligence by bringing her along for that one trip. He had been young and foolish; too overconfident from his previous successes. The pitfall trap had been hidden deviously... and he did not see it until it was too late.

She had suffered for his mistakes.

His fist tightened. And of course, the Empire had ended her suffering. For the Glory of the Empire, he thought as a twisted smile touched his lips.

Locke opened his eyes again, gazing into the sunset far off to the distant west. It was the same golden light; no longer warm because of the sudden coldfront but still equally comforting. His smile softened as he thought of the honeyed glow that had basked her.

Terra...

He had spent years within an impersonal shell, detached and impassive. Working with the Returners, he had ignored his own problems and focused on theirs. It had been easy to lose himself in his work. When basic survival was something hard fought and gained, there was little time for self-assessment. It had helped him forget what laid in Kohlingen. He wasn't sure what he might have done without Banon and his band of revolutionaries.

Then Terra had entered his life. She had lain there, wounded and in great pain, alone in the Narshe caverns after falling some distance; fragile and defenseless as the Empire bore down mercilessly upon her. Locke had done his best to save her from those heartless soldiers. Banon's orders be damned, he would have guarded her regardless of what the Returners wanted. He put his life on the line to protect her naiveté and innocence from the horrors of the unkind world.

The shock of realization hit Locke like a bolt of lightning.

"Locke."

Locke did not even hear the voice. His hands were trembling as he realized what he couldn't do; what he had failed to do. His teeth clattered, but he was not cold. He brought his feet close to his chest as he shook in anguish.

"Locke, these two men will take you back to your hotel. You will be guarded for your own safety until the night is over," Norris said to the thief's back. Seeing no reaction, the old soldier gave his men a nod and turned away.

Locke looked up into the darkening sky, unaware that Norris had already left. The clouds swirled together in a mix of purples and reds, twisting and knotting together in anguish as they devoured one another.

"You're safe with me," Locke whispered into the southern winds. He stood up and took a deep breath of the cold sea-breeze. "I gave you my word."

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Just after dusk, one of the soldiers had alerted the two women that Remiel had sent a proper escort to retrieve his consort for the night. Like a doting grandmother, Lindsay had kept Terra company while they waited. She had no other customers that day or other affairs to attend to. Remiel had wanted her undivided attention and paid enough to guarantee that. Yet Terra was certain that Lindsay would have stayed by her side, regardless of money.

Lindsay had done her best to sooth Terra's worries while she went about closing her store. She had given Terra a scarf and one her aides had gone about looking for a proper coat. The issue of what kind of fur to be worn was argued amongst Lindsay's many assistants, and they came to an agreeable solution scant seconds before a soldier declared that the carriage had arrived.

The escort waited outside in the empty street. It consisted of a single carriage drawn by two chocobos, and four mounted men as guards. The driver was a soldier in ceremonial uniform and there were two more similarly dressed men standing guard beside the door of the carriage.

No one had expected Remiel to be present.

Lindsay and Remiel shared a friendly hug, the former blushing a furious shade of crimson when Remiel commented on her hair. The two conversed while Terra was fitted into the fur coat by Lindsay's aides.

The General himself was dressed in an extravagant red coat. He wore a fluffy white shirt beneath and his brown hair was slicked back by some sort of strange glistening substance. His pants were a similar shade of carmine, and his side was adorned by a gold hilted blade that was thin and dexterous. Remiel Lilienthal could have passed as a dashing prince with his boyish grin and merry disposition.

Terra might not have been able to name much of the clothing that Remiel had adorned, but time spent with the Returners ensured her weapons knowledge. The sword at his side was a rapier. It was a gentleman's blade, not in common use as it was far too flimsy for combat on the battlefield. Edgar had shown her the rapier once; it was light and relied on speed rather than brute force, suitable for a woman like her. Terra had never taken to any blade.

"My angel," Remiel said as his eyes feasted on the sight before him.

Remembering one of Lindsay's many lessons in proper lady-like deportment, Terra embarrassingly held out a gloved hand. Without further commentary, Remiel swept her away and led her outside into the biting cold. She entered the carriage -- awkwardly refusing the help of one of the guards -- and Remiel thanked Lindsay one last time before closing the door.

The carriage began to move slowly down the street, its wheels bouncing along the cobblestone road and causing them to bobble in their seats. Terra found the silence to be uncomfortable. "I'm surprised you came," she tried to start a conversation.

Remiel raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I mean, you're the host," Terra added. "Lindsay seemed certain that you would be busy at your manor, to prepare for the party or whatever else you have to do." She wasn't exactly sure what a host had to do. Remiel had plenty of servants, so she doubted he had to prepare food or set out dinning arrangements. She felt foolish, trying to talk about a subject she knew little of, and folded her arms protectively beneath her breasts.

The smile that touched his lips made her a bit more relaxed. "You're very correct. I have hosted the ball many a time. Since I pressed on you such extraordinary demands, I felt it was necessary to demonstrate my gratitude for your kindness." Remiel brushed at his brown hair and stared outside at the passing buildings, taking little note of her self-conscious feelings. "In addition, Norris is more than capable of entertaining the early birds. Certainly they enjoy his attentions. He is both deft and cunning amongst the nobles."

While he spoke, Terra stared at the weird golden belt he wore. There was a sash at the side, decorated by the petals of some purple flower, and filled with something that was pleasant smelling. It filled the carriage with a delightful scent, like tulips in the rain, without being overwhelming. Terra averted her eyes when his gaze returned to her. She rubbed her hands idly; it was freezing even in the carriage.

"It shall be a cold night. The winter has advanced unanticipated," Remiel noted her discomfort. "I shall hasten the driver."

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Locke grumbled to himself as he stepped over the prone bodies of his two guards. The two men had been more vigilant than he had given them credit for. It took well over an hour before either had made any mistakes. Their diligence and attentiveness faded with each passing minute and Locke pounced on his chance the moment it presented itself; they did not have the great need that gripped Locke.

If his timekeeping skills had not failed him, the dance should have started a little less than half an hour ago. Locke surmised that he had plenty of time. The Messis Luna should last at least another two or three hours. He dragged the two guards down an empty hall in the hotel and into the cleaning closet. With luck, neither would wake before the night ended. With even more luck, neither would even remember what had happened.

Locke stepped out onto the chilly night streets, cursing the weather as he did so. Now that the sun had set, the biting cold winds were doubly freezing. He should have taken the uniforms that his guards had and worn that. It might have been warmer.

Too late for that now, he did not want to risk being seen going in and out of the hotel. There was no telling if Norris had anyone in the lobby watching him. Instead, he would keep to the backstreets and stay far away from any soldiers. It was likely that there would also be military in common wear watching the crowds; that had been how Norris had kept their route clear the day before. It was fortunate that he followed Norris around during the early part of the day; he had realized there were many soldiers that did not openly advertise their affiliation. Without uniforms, the men blended into the city life with relative ease and were the watchful eyes of the Empire's army. He would have to tread carefully tonight if he was to avoid being discovered.

Pulling his hood up, he slipped into the dark alleys of Albrook and made his way to the Messis Luna.

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Terra had never known there were so many noblemen and aristocrats in her life.

Remiel's mansion, as great as it was, was completely filled with gentlemen and ladies from the highest ranks of the Empire. Many of the men had extravagant and meaningless titles when they introduced themselves. Few were of the military, and Terra came to the realization that Remiel's power did not stem purely from his military rank.

From what Terra gathered from the conversations between Remiel and his various guests, addressing him as a General was improper tonight. She stayed by Remiel's side as he acted in his capacity as the Governor of Alfort-Brougham, greatest of all civilian governments and second only to the Emperor. Though many were of noble houses, some of the men were commoners; cunning and ingenious businessmen. They had foreseen Gestahl's expansionistic inclination and had profited from it greatly. These men were now rich and powerful, wielding control of nearly every aspect of the Empire's economy. From farming to weapon-smithing, each was greeted with respect and kind words from Remiel Lilienthal. They were important and highly valued guests.

In return, these men showered the General with gifts. Business was conducted in casual conversations, to Terra's disbelief. No less than a minute had passed when she was first introduced to some rich lord before the man was already promising Remiel the resources at his disposal. Terra was astonished.

It seemed that Remiel had filled his capacity as governor quite well. Most of the men spoke of bureaucratic situations that Terra understood little of, but Remiel deftly handled. He was a suave young man; a friendly gesture and choice words usually tipped the conversation to his side had there been a decision to be debated, or a deal made between the Empire and its upper-class citizens. Few of the richer men, old or young, seemed to fear Remiel's military command. They talked to him like a good old friend, a valuable ally, and patted him on the back or made jokes at his expense. Remiel took things in stride, laughing at suggestions for a duel and deftly refusing the hand of many a nobleman's daughter.

Women loved him. Most of the ladies seemed to glow when they were spoken to, or turn shades of crimson when Remiel turned his handsome smile in their direction. Nearly all the women at the Messis Luna were attached in some fashion, so it seemed inappropriate that Remiel would flirt with them; even more so since Terra was at his side. However, by some manner of charisma he managed to do so without drawing any angry glares.

They were speaking with yet another guest. This one was a rounded man by the name of William Mildmay. He was the third William in the House of Mildmay. He also had some title: a Lord of yellow stalks of something or other, Terra did not remember. She had been introduced to dozens of such men and had promptly forgotten each title as it would was announced. It was rare that she was spoken to, so she was not tested on her memory. There had been a couple that lavished compliments on her dress, and one nobleman's wife had been thoroughly entranced by the crystal gem that hung around her neck.

That was not to say that Terra ignored all that was said. Most of it was harmless pleasantries, but she was sure to note anything that might have sounded important. One such topic was about the House of Lords. She had heard that phrase before, from the lips of Danielle Meras. It seemed there were many men from that House here in Albrook, and they all owed Remiel a grand favor.

William had a wife as well, and she was as rotund as her husband. Still, Remiel had showered upon her compliments and she blushed deeper and deeper until Terra thought she looked like an apple.

"Governor Lilienthal, I guarantee that nothing less than five shiploads delivered before the first snowfall!" William was saying as he ate a small piece of ham.

Yet another strange thing that Terra had noticed only once before back in Vector, extravagant dinners seemed to have dozens of trays of one-bite foods. Cheese of all shades of yellow, ham, beef, fruits like pears or apples, everything was available in portions that satisfied nobody. Terra was chewing on some pear and pork mix. It was delicious, despite her initial reaction at hearing such a strange dish. Remiel had suggested she try it though, and it would have been frowned upon had she refused.

"William my good friend," Remiel replied. "Five shiploads are more bountiful than I had ever expected, even from your magnificent and grandiose fields. Surely you outstrip even Rawson, who has promised only four and delivered two."

William chuckled, a loud noise that reminded Terra of a pig. "Rawson is a fraud, one so poor that even in his own hogwash he cannot better me. Not only shall I guarantee five loads, but if you have need for it, there shall be another three loads before the solstice to put Rawson to shame."

"The faith of the Lilienthal family has always lain with the lords of Mildmay," Remiel said. "That faith has been reinforced this day. It has been a pleasure to speak with you."

William shook Remiel's hand before he turned back to the crowds, calling out the name of an old friend as he took more of the single-serving ham chunks.

Immediately, another man took William's place. "Governor! It's a pleasure to see you looking so well and with so fine a lady-friend," the elder man -- Terra assumed he was a nobleman by the way he was dressed -- bowed deeply in her direction.

"Lord Mansfield," Remiel bowed as well. It was the first time Terra had seen him respond in such a fashion. "I am pleased to see you well, I had feared the worst. This is Terra," he introduced her.

Terra found herself blushing furiously as the nobleman kissed her outstretched arm. It was such a nice gesture.

Lord Mansfield straightened. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his expensive looking cape and turned to Remiel. "I must say, I am pleased by what happened at Actarin. It is by the grace of God that we smite the New Order."

"Were you not a Mansfield, the former Speaker and most importantly, my good friend, I would never allow such talk," Remiel's voice had taken on a different tone, one that Terra recognized from the night before. It was quieter and baser, but filled with authority. "Actarin was just the first of many blows that the traitors will suffer."

"The House is pleased with how things are being handled, Remiel. You are a rising star," Mansfield spoke to Remiel as an equal, Terra noted. "We all expect a short campaign in the winter."

"Lord Mansfield, the House of Lords shall not be disappointed. Your faith was misplaced, but now it is back where it rightfully belongs," Remiel gestured back at the crowds. "Please, enjoy the rest of the ball without thinking such depressing thoughts."

Mansfield merely nodded in reply and vanished back into the crowd.

Remiel gently led Terra towards one of the emptier areas. There was a door guarded by a soldier in ceremonial dress nearby, which probably explained its lack of use despite the overcrowding. The ballroom itself was near the back of his mansion, but the guests were so numerous that they filled all of the central room and many of the halls leading towards the front doors. Even the landing on the marble staircase was packed with various nobles of all shapes and sizes, chatting amongst themselves and enjoying the benefits of their luxurious lives.

It took a while for them to make their way to the guarded door. Remiel met two more men, nobles this time, and spoke to them for a short while before politely excusing himself. As Terra followed Remiel away from the two nobles and their ladies, she felt eyes of disdain on her back. She had felt those same stares all night and it made her nervous and self-conscious.

The guard opened the door for Remiel without question and they entered a small study that was devoid of people. Terra was relieved by the break; it took a lot of effort to act prim and proper in front of so many nobles. They were all discerning and discriminating, snobs to the very core and ready to pounce on any that they deemed as riffraff. More than once she had been afraid that a lord would publicly denounce her, calling her a fraud and a commoner unfit to be at such a gathering.

Terra sighed in relief as she sat down in one of Remiel's plush chairs. She had done so carefully though. Her dress felt almost fragile to her; one tug and it might tear apart. But her diligence was rewarded; the satin cushions were luxurious on her bare back and gently supported her sore neck. She closed her eyes and rested.

Remiel took a sip of water from a convenient glass and adjusted his hair slightly in the mirror hung upon the wall. He turned his attention to her. "You are absolutely stunning this night," he commented.

Terra brushed at her knee, the dress was draped around her crossed legs and flowed in such a manner to her bare thigh. "Considering what I've seen tonight, I think you could have easily found a more willing and fitting date," she said quietly.

Remiel looked at her quizzically. When she averted her eyes, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, he set his glass down with deliberate care and lowered himself to one knee. He took her gloved hands and stared deeply into her eyes, holding her gaze for a long time.

Terra found it difficult to breathe as he held her in this way. Her heart pounded as those emerald globes drew her in and consumed her world. When at last he stood back up, she took a deep breath and shook her head in disarray.

"Terra, it is truth that perhaps a more accommodating and certainly more enthusiastic consort could have been found. But more fitting? I am skeptical of that fact," Remiel said.

Terra had regained her senses. "I just feel like everyone is looking down on me. It's really tiring."

Remiel raised an eyebrow again. He judged her for a moment before breaking into a great grin. "Terra," he said. "Your self-denial is unbecoming. Not a single man introduced has been anything but entranced by your beauty. So captivated they have been, none chastised my flirtatious nature like in the past," he laughed slightly. "Why, you not recognize the looks of envy upon the faces of their wives? Were you any more attractive, surely I would have a riot upon my hands."

Terra blinked, confused.

Remiel sank to one knee again and held her hand. "Your angelic and beauteous form shall be discussed between nobles for months to come. I predict no less than twenty unhappy wives because of this day."

Despite her previous feelings towards Remiel, she giggled at his words. She felt calmer and a bit less timid.

Remiel glanced down a gold pocketwatch that hung from his belt. "Fortune is on my side, for the dance is about to begin. Come." Remiel held out his hand.

Terra took his hand and followed him back into the ballroom.

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Locke hated dogs.

He didn't know when it happened. When he was a child, he used to love dogs. They were cute, and the way they waggled their tails looking for attention was adorable. They were also totally loyal and lived up to the nickname: man's best friend. They had soft fluffy fur and were a bundle of joy to play with. There had been many nights when he had fallen asleep beside one, too tired from playing games to stay awake any longer.

Locke thought of his past and dreamt of better times as he hung precariously off the walls of Remiel's mansion. Below, guard dogs had followed his scent but caught nothing. They circled around aimlessly, confused by diverging scents of salted meat.

The guard dogs could have been dealt with easily had he been willing to kill them. But Locke had been afraid that doing so would attract attention and instead picked up some specially salted treats, perfect for distracting guard dogs. The plan had worked and the dogs ran around in circles until annoyed guards came across their charges chewing away happily. Locke had no doubt the diversion would be successful. He had done the same thing many times before, such as in South Figaro when he and Celes had been chased by Imperial trackers.

With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up and grabbed a hold of the green snakelike vine. He tested its strength; the weeds that grew on the walls could not be fully trusted, before he swung over and managed to catch onto the ledge of a window. Bits of aged stone fell to the ground as his fingers dug into the windowsill, gripping it tightly lest he fall all the way to the ground. Though the fall itself would not be dangerous, the renewed danger of the guard dogs certainly was.

His muscled arms flexed as he pulled himself up. Balanced hazardously on the windowsill, Locke Cole -- famed treasure hunter -- took a quick glance inside through the glazed glass. He might have been in trouble had someone been looking out at that very moment, but fate was on his side and no one was there. The hallway that led past the window was completely deserted, save for the two motionless suits of armor at the ends of the hall. They gave the impression they were guarding the house against intrusion.

With a silent chuckle at the irony, Locke tried to open the panes, but realized that they were shut by a lock. No matter, he went about the familiar task. His hands were a blur while his mind wandered. He was well-versed in the art of lock-picking. It was a rare day when a lock required substantial effort on his part.

The window opened with a click, and Locke slipped indoors with a grin on his face. Warm air was his reward; it had gotten incredibly cold waiting outside for a noble to ambush. He closed the window carefully, locking it from the inside again, before he walked down the hall.

Locke brushed at a sprig of the vine that had caught itself on the elaborate coat he wore; the green stuff fell to the ground and lodged itself in the carpet. He tugged at the fancy collar, loosening it slightly. The shirt was itchy and a bit small, the coat a colorful disaster, but they would have to do. It had been difficult enough to lure a nobleman into the secluded alley, much less pick and choose the clothes he would steal. He left the poor man lying in a chocobo stable so that he would not freeze to death before he made his way to the mansion.

Locke was thankful that Norris had taken them around the mansion the previous day. Even though it had just been a single path towards Remiel's study on the third floor, it had been enough. He knew the general layout of the house and made his way towards the central staircase. Hopefully, the guard at the doors would not ask any questions and he could blend into the crowd without trouble.

Luck was definitely on his side, the guard at the door did not bat an eye as he stepped out onto the grand marble staircase and down to the mezzanine. The lights had been dimmed and there was a great crowd clustered about the edges of the platform. Locke had to squeeze through many of the larger guests, apologizing the whole time as he inadvertently elbowed a few in softer places. Despite the large number of people though, it was astonishingly quiet.

A murmur of adoration rippled through the crowd; the various "ah's" echoing in waves. Locke wondered made his way to the side of the platform and looked out into the expansive ballroom.

The focus of the dance, a ballroom twice the size of the front hall and hundreds of times better decorated, could be easily seen from his position on the marble staircase. He was not the only one looking in that direction. Every guest had clustered about trying to attain a better view. Most had not been able to squeeze through like Locke had; their girth had prevented such acrobatic maneuvers.

Locke's breath caught in his throat.

In the very center, where a small clearing amidst many beautiful women and finely dressed men had formed, was where all attention converged.

"Terra," he whispered.

Her dress, a soft pearly white that seemed to flow in a soft breeze, swayed as she danced with Remiel Lilienthal. A smile was on her face, her lips a rosy shade, her skin flawless, as she followed Remiel's lead. Every single eye in the audience was upon the two. The music seemed to flow from their movements, for certainly they were not restricted by something so earthly like a band. They encircled one another, their movements fluid and graceful, and mesmerized the crowd of hundreds.

Locke could not tear his eyes away from Terra. She was magnificent, a vision of beauty from his dreams, as she gracefully spun and swayed. Her shape in that dress made him sweat, and the look of delight in her eyes lifted the darkness from his heart and replaced it with joy.

His eagle eyes took note of the positions of soldiers, men in ceremonial uniforms but still bearing real steel. They blended into the crowd well but not well enough. A few were on the balconies and one was even near him. He saw the outline beneath their sleeves and knew what they were there for. Locke continued to scan through the crowd and picked out two more men. His experience told him that these two did not belong, no matter how well they fit in. At once Locke understood what must be done.

She did not see him in the great crowd when the dance ended. The thunder of applause overwhelmed the mansion in its magnitude, drawing a blush from a surprised Terra. Her eyes swept the various peoples of the Empire, the cream of the crop, and her smile widened in their love for her. They cheered for her, a half-Esper that had been all but openly hated during the Vector truce, and blew kisses at her feet. The more daring approached her, and there were many of them, and showered upon her the finest of compliments.

Unnoticed by all, where once a young blond-dyed rebel watched with his conviction in his heart, there was only a single green sprig lying on the luscious carpet floor.
Post #119452
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Posted: 10th June 2006 07:51

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The dance had quieted down, many of the older guests having left as the night grew old. Still, there was a great crowd still roaming the grand halls of Remiel's mansion. Though the most important already had their audience, those looking for advancement in the Empire still sought the Governor's good graces. However, Remiel had excused himself for the night to the disappointment of many. He thanked them in his usual charming manner and left Norris to deal with the fussier of the remaining noblemen.

Terra followed Remiel away from the ball, the smile on her face gradually fading away as she remembered what she was really doing in Albrook. It had been a fun night and she had blissfully forgotten many of the tasks ahead of her. She had enjoyed the crowd's kindness. It had been so nice when they adored and complimented her. They had showered her with their love and it was a wonderful feeling to be in the center of such delightful attention. So many had clamored for her to stay, saddened by her unshakable attachment to Remiel Lilienthal. Terra had simply smiled back warmly and thanked them for everything.

But her mood darkened the more she thought of the future. Terra began to feel guilty enjoying the ball, remembering the horrors that Relm, Setzer, and Strago all faced. Even worse, she had been delighted beside Remiel, an Imperial general no less. Memories of the Empire's wrongs flooded back, leaving her thoroughly guilt-ridden and regretful.

She tightened the silky scarf about her neck, frowning as she followed Remiel through more guarded doors. Terra realized something was wrong when the guards were no longer in ceremonial uniforms. The tasteless uninspiring brown leather returned in force, worn by vulgar guards that towered over her. They leered at her flesh, and Terra felt more self-conscious than ever in her flimsy dress.

"Where are we going?" she asked worriedly.

Remiel did not respond, instead unlocking a heavy wooden door with a key that hung around his neck. He turned back to her, gesturing down the darkened stairs.

Terra's heart pounded, images of the dungeons beneath Remiel's grandiose manor suddenly overwhelming her. The cold stone walls, damp moss-covered floors and rusted iron bars that kept the most twisted of criminals locked away. She took a step back in fear. "Wh-what are you doing?" she gasped.

Remiel had lost the good-natured disposition that she had grown to love during the evening. He pointed to the basement again. "After you," he said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone.

Terra tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. She eyed the darkened stone stairs with an ever growing feeling of dread.

"You have nothing to fear, this is a conversation where we will be free from interruption. Nothing more, child," his words had a slight edge to them and Terra did not notice the dangerous look on his youthful face. She took a deep breath and descended down the stairs, carefully holding her dress as she did so.

Torches lit with a puff of smoke as she approached them, the flickering light bringing back unpleasant memories of the airship crash and those horrible nights in the wilderness. They descended two flights down the spiraling stairs before arriving at the bottom.

Remiel stepped out in front of her, opening yet another locked door with a different key about his neck. The steel door swing open with a hideous screech.

There was no dungeon to Terra's relief. It was a lab, or so Terra gathered as she entered behind Remiel. She did not recognize much of the equipment upon the tables, nor did she recognize blackened machinery that stretched into the ceiling and had wires running along the walls like vines. Pipes, some clear, others old and rusting, were connected haphazardly from one machine to the next. Strange colored fluid, certainly not water, ran through the translucent pipes and left a trail of grotesque waste.

Unlike the stairs though, it was well-lit by strong electrical lights that left everything in a yellow hew. For some inexplicable reason, that made Terra feel better.

Terra followed Remiel through the lab. She made sure to avoid touching anything, much of the stuff arrayed on the tables seemed incredibly fragile. Considering Remiel's worsening temperament, she wanted as little trouble as possible.

At the very end of the lab, as far away from the stairs as they could get, Remiel stopped suddenly. He cleared a table with a single sweep of his hand, equipment clattering to the ground and glass beakers shattering, before he sat down on the old table. He shook glass shards off his long sleeves and loosened the collar on his ruffled white shirt, undoing a few of the buttons in the process.

Terra hardly noticed. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling uncontrollably, as she stared at what was hanging on the wall above her. A little moan escaped her throat as she backed away.

Remiel stood up on the table, the wood bending slightly under his weight, as he retrieved the tiara from the wall. Still silent, he jumped down and strode towards her menacingly. No words were required to reveal his intent; it was obvious what he planned.

Terra fell backwards, pain shooting up her back as she landed on the cold stone floor. Her dress was wrapped about her legs as she panicked, trying to get away from that horrible, terrifying crown.

Rusty colored metal bent into a crude circle. The ugly ring had small barbs protruding at regular intervals around the edge, pointed inward so that the wearer would press those implants against their head. Those barbs were just sharp enough to press painfully into the skin, but did not draw blood. Not that it mattered. The horrors inflicted by the machination outstripped anything physical pain could give. Terra shook uncontrollably, her chest heaving in labored gasps as she stared at the object of her darkest nightmares.

The slave crown.

"Please," Terra sobbed as she tried to get away. Now her flimsy dress did not seem so fragile as it twisted around her ankles and bound her legs together. One hand propped her off the floor, else her bare back would have lain against the frigid ground. Her free hand pointed at Remiel, shaking involuntarily as she tried to think of a spell to defend herself.

A ball of fire, weak and sickly, launched forth at Remiel. It had been the only spell she could think of in the hysteria that gripped her, and as she watched Remiel sidestep aside, she knew it had not been enough.

Before she could say another word, Remiel closed the distance between them and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide as she tried to scream, her cries muffled by the forcefulness of his grip. Her hands grabbed his, clawing at them in a mindless frenzy as she tried to get away.

The crown was mere inches away from her eyes, the glistening spikes promising her the return of the cold embrace she dreaded most. Tears ran down her cheeks as she continued to struggle, her screams of terror unheard and ignored. Remiel was stronger than she was and the crown was ever closer, beckoning with its horrible cry.

Obey.

The touch of metal on her skin shocked her to the very core, drawing upon hidden strength that refused to ever be subjected to that horrible fate again. Revulsion welled up within, and a horrendous force deep within surfaced in the face of this specter of the past. In her hysteria, she had ignored the tremors of awakening. Now her control slipped; logic and sanity had no place in the face of this ordeal. Instead she felt herself taken by the monstrous fury that had overwhelmed her in the past; except this time, she gave up willingly.

Better death.

The red sheen called forth covered everything, her vision totally enveloped by the glowing aura. In the space between time, where a moment was infinitesimal and her will the uncontested dictator, the world could be bent and the elements subjected to her every whim.

The madness within, a raging storm that had always threatened to surface, consumed her. She had the power; the power to annihilate everything. The power to end all life. They were mere insects in her holy majesty; her flawless perfection in the midst of twisted aberrations. They were merely a quirk of reality. Abnormalities unfit to live, much less impress their arrogance upon her.

The crystal upon her chest heated and glowed a deep red. It would have burned a lesser woman, but she simply ignored the pain. Yet the warmth brought with it a moment of clarity, and her target changed to what was truly a threat.

The crown shattered into a thousand pieces and before a single shard reached the ground, it was incinerated into nothing more than ash. It had required no more effort than a single thought. Her power was nigh limitless and it was time to teach these infidels what true power was.

No! She shook her head as she barely kept the spellform from erupting and consuming thousands upon thousands of lives. The heat upon her chest was beginning to hurt her, and the pain let her focus again.

Then the heat disappeared. She blinked. Cold metal was upon her chest.

For the first time, she noticed the point of a thin blade held to the base of her neck. Her eyes ran up the length of the flexible metal and the hand that wielded it until at last she stared into threatening green eyes. It had been so quick that she didn't see it coming. Metal smoothly thrust against her chest, aimed at what had seemed to be most dangerous: the glowing red magicite remains of Maduin.

"Revert, or die," Remiel Lilienthal whispered.

The power came unrestrained and flooded her veins, her vision, and her mind.

Remiel had withdrawn himself, the distance between them exactly the length of the rapier at her throat. Though there was a glimmer of uncertainty upon his face, his eyes showed the unshakable belief within him. Within him, there was no fear.

This... thing had dared presume his earthly weapon was a match for the divine power at her fingertips? Her mastery of the seraphic energies that swirled within, white-hot fire that filled her with righteousness, would tear the infidel apart as he so richly deserved!

"That was a big mistake," she sneered in a voice that was not hers.

The thin blade shattered as the crown had before. Such was small sample of her might. Might that would now be directed at the infidel that had dared oppose her. Her power was limitless and she would teach him that lesson. In her mind's eye she could see the city of man, Albrook, and how it covered the once-beautiful countryside. It filled her with disgust. The fungus that had grown out of control would be cleansed.

First, she would right this insolent fool. How dare he threaten her! She envisioned his punishment: Flesh bubbling in the flames of her righteous anger, screams of torment for the crimes he had inflicted upon her. She could see the blood boiling within his lungs as he struggled for breath, red mist exploding out of his mouth as he died. The life slowly draining out of those green eyes she hated so much while she stood over him. He was at her mercy.

No. That punishment was not enough.

The spells came to her instinctively, power untapped in millennia but reawakened immediately. For his insolence, she would destroy all that he cared for. First those he cared for, then the cities he loved. She would cleanse the world of his filth.

Suddenly she howled in pain. Her chest grew hot, hotter than the infernos she commanded. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and couldn't focus. She tried to fight the fire but it was overwhelming. Her last thought was to ignite the city with her spells, but even that failed as she collapsed to the ground.

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Remiel Lilienthal, General of the Empire, smoothly pulled up his left sleeve. He pointed with a small crossbow bound to his arm; the loaded poisoned bolt was enough to kill a man thrice over. He fired without a second thought.

His right sleeve had fallen down, but failed to conceal the other crossbow bound near his wrist. It was unloaded of course, unloaded into the chest of the half-Esper. He had learned of the poison used by the researchers in Vector years ago, and always kept his own supply just in case. The crossbows he had strapped on at the end of the night, when the Esper was too busy responding to her bewitched crowd.

The sheath of his rapier fell to the ground, useless. He drew a knife from his boot and carefully closed the distance between he and the Esper. He had taken no chances this night. Two bolts so close to the heart would be enough to knock out a dragon.

Remiel looked down. The Esper's skin had gradually faded from its white glow and her long purple hair reverted back to its revolting green shade. That was unexpected. Then he frowned. Here he was, towering over the dead body of the Esper like in so many of his dreams, yet he still felt no sense of achievement this night. It irritated him that even though justice had been served, he found no solace. He looked up in the direction of the heavens. "Do you deny me even this?" he screamed to the Goddesses, cursing their name and sending a kick to the side of the Esper.

He wasn't surprised when she opened her eyes and coughed. It brought a smile to his face when he saw her struggle to breath, grasping at her chest where the bolts had been. That brought the frown back. Where had the bolts gone?

The Esper then pulled herself up. He saw a look of pain and despair on her face. Then she brought her legs close and huddled in a ball on the icy stone floor. With her arms wrapped around her bare legs and her face buried against her knees, Terra cried.

Remiel Lilienthal took a step back, surprised, and felt something he had never expected to feel.

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"It never worked."

Terra wiped her eyes and looked up at Remiel. He had his red coat off, his white shirt partially undone and his legs crossed as he sat on a table. He was looking down on her but his expression was unreadable. Terra sniffled, trying to regain some measure of composure. She had not known how long she had cried but given Remiel's demeanor, it had been quite a while.

"It never worked you know. All our attempts at duplicating the artifact met with miserable failure," Remiel said offhandedly. He gestured to the wall that he had removed the slave crown from. "We tried for years to copy the technology and we never came close." He laughed dejectedly. "The destiny of the Empire was magic, and yet we couldn't even figure out how to recreate this simple spell."

Terra rubbed her eyes again.

Remiel gazed up at the wall. "You just destroyed the prototype. It was the closest thing we had to a working model. After a couple dozen tests, the thing was deemed useless and the entire project scrapped."

He raised an eyebrow. "That had been five years ago," he added.

His demeanor had changed in some fashion. His words no longer carried the characteristic enthusiasm or the hint of sophistication that had become expected from him. In fact, his speech had changed completely.

Green eyes locked on her. "Terribly unfortunate... that it never worked."

Terra got to her feet slowly. Her calmer mood had allowed her to easily untangle herself from the dress. She straightened the straps before she self-consciously covered her chest. Terra drew a deep breath before turning to Remiel. "Why did you show me that thing?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from crying.

Remiel sneered. "Because you wore it, little child. Our fates were intertwined the moment I stole that artifact for the Emperor, so many years ago. That alone is more than enough for you to see what the Empire had done with your enslaver." He folded his arms, giving her a self-satisfied grin.

Terra narrowed her eyes, shivers rippling down her back. She might have heard wrong, but she swore her ears were not at fault. "You stole it?" she echoed.

Remiel grinned menacingly. "That's right. I stole it for the glory of the Empire in the first and only real successful raid into the Esperworld," he spat as he spoke that last word. "I tore a path through the stupid espers and turned their sacred temples upside-down. At the head of a two-hundred man company, I gutted and slaughtered the few defenders of their holiest of buildings. A waste of time it had been, we couldn't find anything that was remotely magical in nature other than a few pathetic trinkets. Religious artifacts of some asinine kind, totally useless to us. The scientists that we had along were beyond angry, considering how many we lost in order to secure those temples. Then, fate in its ugliest form led me into the embrace of a pitfall trap, one that nearly broke my back. Isolated from my men, I made my way in dark through ancient tunnels long forgotten by their creators and caretakers until I came upon a hidden room. The door that I opened led back into one of the main chambers, and after I called for my friends, I turned my attention to the prize in the midst of everlasting candles. A certain tiara-like crown that had been hidden unlike anything else."

He brushed at a strand of brown hair before continuing. "The Emperor gave us free reign to take back all the ancient magical items that the Espers had stolen from our world after the Great War. Hundreds of artifacts had been liberated in that great raid. Though it was costly, all agreed that the price was worth paying. After all, who would have thought that the Espers would have something so hideous in their grasp?" he chuckled softly.

"You..." Terra pointed at Remiel. Something was not right here.

Remiel ran a hand down his brown hair, flipping it over his shoulder as it had gotten in the way. He stared daggers into Terra. "Yes, I am the reason why the Empire attached that lovely little crown over your head."

The rumbling within returned, but she suppressed it easily with her feelings of horror. "You couldn't have been in the Esperworld," Terra whispered. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, warning her of danger. "You're as old as I am, and I was still a baby when the Empire broke through the Sealed Gate," she pointed at Remiel. "You're lying," she said with increasing confidence. "That was over a decade past, there's absolute no way you could have been there."

Remiel raised an eyebrow. "My dear Esper," he said mockingly. "We attacked the Esperworld exactly sixteen years ago. You were barely two years old back then; the most prized of all prizes. A child sired by a human and an esper in matrimonial blasphemy." He stood up and approached her menacingly, dagger in hand.

Terra took a step back, but found that she could not. His iron gaze held her to the ground without the aid of magic.

"I am thirty-five years of age," Remiel said. "Sixteen of which have been robbed from me." His mouth twisted into a sneer of pure hatred. "Robbed by magic that defended that fucking slave crown."

The deadly expression on his face left Terra unable to breathe.

The dagger danced along his shirt, so fast that it was difficult to see anything but the thin cut that appeared down his chest. Remiel grabbed at the cut and ripped his shirt aside, his smooth muscled chest revealed beneath the fluffy white fabric.

Terra's eyes widened upon seeing the scars. Red, brown and blue, they twisted their way over his breast. It ran through his nipple, down his side and disappeared into the trousers he wore with no sign of stopping. The hideous disfigurement captured her gaze, horrendous as it encroached upon his perfect bronze skin and leeched the energy from it until all was dead, mere cracked grey leather where life once was. Nearly half his chest was grey, dried skin only broken by the terrifying scars.

"My god..." Terra whispered. An aura emitted from that terrible wound overwhelmed her. It was a stench of pure unbridled repugnance. It drew tears from her dry eyes and a gasp of pain from her hoarse throat.

"Magic," Remiel sneered again. "The disgusting truth of its monstrous nature." He pulled the shirt back over his scars, Terra gasping for air as the aura was suddenly lifted away.

"It will kill me," he said as he turned away with a look of contempt on his face. "It takes its time, keeping me youthful; robbing from me of my maturity." He strolled to the front, where he clenched his fist and immediately smashed the delicate lab equipment. Glass exploded into thousands of fragments, tearing apart his fist and drawing fresh blood that ran in rivets down his hands.

"Remiel..." Terra whispered.

Remiel Lilienthal turned around to face her. His youthful visage was a mask of hatred. "Irony at its finest! Visiting upon me eternal youth at an age too young for me to enjoy, while slowly raping my body until I die from the poisonous spells." He raised his arms into the air, fists shaking at something only he could see. "I condemn it all! Magic and its profane and sacrilegious esper-kind!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes locked on her, his hands slowly returning to his sides. He had a vicious look on his face, both raging anger and perverted lust.

Terra held her hands close to her chest out of fear. She looked at Remiel in despair, no longer able to see the kind young man that had been her date; the gentleman that had swept her off her feet and her partner in her first dance. His face was twisted in hate, and she was incapable of seeing the kind doting smile that he had given her before they had danced before the crowd of hundreds.

"Magic is like a cancer, a plague upon this world. In the past it crushed civilization, tearing a hole within the world and taking from us the Dieties that guided our lives. The War of the Magi," Remiel's eyes were wild. "Espers tearing the lands asunder guided by only their hatred for humanity. The horrors they wielded spilt our blood and tainted the oceans crimson. Our only chance had been to visit upon us the greatest of crimes; the malignant curse set upon mankind when magic was bled into our bodies and used as weapons. It ended in darkness, the corruption and infection stopped only by the grand scale of atrocities committed. Untold numbers of innocent lives taken by magic, millions of millions killed for no gain. An apocalypse that wiped the world clean and left us to die wallowing in the sea of faceless corpses."

Remiel lowered his arms. "Quoted from the diary of a Mage Warrior who survived the war," he said with a sneer.

"Gestahl, in his arrogance and boundless stupidity, saw fit to revive the ancient menace. Bring the disease back into existence and base our great Empire about it. Had I the knowledge, the foresight, I would have ended his life years ago." His tone softened and he had a look of regret on his face. "But I didn't. I was not learned enough and so the blame lies upon me as well. For allowing the ancient menace to return and threaten all life, I will be punished. The destroyer of lives, awakened under my watch is an unforgivable crime."

"It does more than kill," Terra whispered weakly in defense of her kind. But even she did not believe the words she spoke. She was haunted by the feelings that had not faded away... the tantalizing promise of boundless power.

"Yes," Remiel's eyes grew distant. "It certainly does more than kill. It subjugates and enslaves humanity to its will." He spread his arms around. "Look around you. The Empire, humanity's greatest minds working together to create the grandest machinations. Technology under science, researched by years of effort and based on pure and natural principles. All undermined by the mysticism of magical artifacts stolen from the Esperworld," his voice grew hateful again. "The most brilliant of minds coerced into reading ancient books like pathetic priests. Forced into looking for ridiculous prayers to infuse magic into our machines. Lowering us to nothing more than barbarians staring into the skies and asking for divine guidance."

"Look at the Magitek! Those towering weapons that were first born from the combined efforts of years of research. Now they are barely worked on, barely acknowledged as flawed and in need of repairs and upgrades. Instead, our researchers are busy extracting magic from espers and infusing it into our own people!" he screamed in anguish. "Our own children! Used as test subjects so we may inject them with the pestilence, the disease of immeasurable evil!" He slammed his fists down again and again until his hands were swollen and bruised, screaming curses all the while. The table nearly crumbled under the repeated blows, cracks appearing down the center where Remiel's fury was directed. Terra flinched with each blow, certain that he would strike her given the chance.

At last, Remiel calmed down. He regained his composure quickly and pushed aside the mess of brown hair that covered his eyes. "Even though Gestahl knew what magic had done to me, he didn't care. He knew what it turned Palazzo into, but he still didn't care. He tried again and again for he had you, proof that it was possible. And each time he created monstrosity after monstrosity, until he finally deemed it a success."

His calm disposition vanished again, his eyes widening as he thought back into the past. "Then he infused himself and it took from him the last of his humanity. It gave him power, dark and corrupted, and devoured his soul as its price." He sneered. "Fitting, that it would betray him in the end. That it would kill him in its most unmitigated form, before the very Dieties that govern magic itself. That is all magic is, after all. The dealer of death. My hatred of it knows no bounds, and you-" he pointed at Terra. "You are the personification of the cancer upon mankind."

"Why?" Terra whispered. "Why did you make me go through all this, if you hate me so much?"

Remiel turned to her, his eyes not hateful but still contemptuous. He leered at her, the strength of which made her feel naked in front of him. "I wish to see my enemies at their best, so that I am secure in righteousness of my cause. Nothing is more humiliating and disgraceful than taking the life of an innocent. I would never forgive anyone for doing such a thing."

He gestured at her. "I do not lie. You are gorgeous and the centerpiece of my annual ball. I have a sharp eye and discerned that beneath the dirty skin and shy demeanor was a woman of angelic proportions, capable of causing grown men to forsake their vows for but a single night with her." He turned away. "Yet at the same time when I see you in your glory -- the height of your existence -- I see exactly the monster you are. I know the best and the worst of you, both the apex and the abyss."

Terra's hand wandered up to her neck and clutched at Maduin. However, the magicite was gone, shattered by Remiel. The familiar weight was gone. She had nothing to draw courage from.

Remiel walked away, picking up a glass filled with a strange glowing red liquid. He swirled the stuff within the beaker for a moment before his face twisted in anger and he smashed it to the ground.

Terra shrank back when Remiel turned his attention back to her.

"Magic kills everything it touches. It's a cancer, a plague, a disease that cannot be cured. It will doom all that it encounters for it is nothing more than the taker of life. Death and destruction in a carnal mix of unbridled evil," his eyes were distant, as if he were quoting texts from which he spent so much of his life studying. But Terra found little solace knowing that he was only repeating from memory. Her own words were returning to haunt her.

"My fate is already etched in stone, and so has yours," Remiel pointed at her. "You will poison everything you touch, everything you care for and everything you love. You are the messenger of death, the bane of the innocent and curse of humanity."

Terra sank to her knees as she shook in fear. "I'm not-" she whispered to herself.

"Those close to you have already been marked. Their fate will be horror beyond imagination. Even those that have depended on you but for a moment, like Meras and Starson, they too will find themselves upon the doorstep of death with you as the gatekeeper," he prophesied. "Ragnarok indeed," Remiel swept his hand in finality, leaving her to drown in the grief of her own self-loathing.

Terra stared at his shrinking back. The fancy red coat was like blood upon his lean and muscled frame. She shook, overwhelmed by the hatred that gripped her. Wretched thoughts, distressing and depressive, broke through the locked doors in her mind. She hated her ancestry, her magic, her very life. She could still feel the power that rumbled deep inside of her. It had been so seductive. She had given into its siren song and nearly killed hundreds of thousands of innocent lives.

Terra closed her eyes in shame. She had almost become the horror she dreaded so much. She had been willing to kill so many with the wave of a hand. Her birthright, her very nature could not be atoned for. Everything she had done had been a failure. When she had tried to help Narshe by speaking to the Esper, she had nearly killed her friends and flew off in frenzy. When she had tried to convince the Espers to help the Returners, they had struck Vector in force and killed tens of thousands. Her trip to Thamasa... she trembled uncontrollably, tears flowing down her cheeks while clenched fists shook with pain. Her trip to Thamasa had gotten all Leo, Yura and all Espers killed. And her trip to the Floating Continent unleashed the apocalypse and caused this: the Imperial Civil War.

She was a monster.

Terra opened her eyes and stared into the heartless green gaze of Remiel Lilienthal.

"Kill me," she whispered. She surprised them both with the strength and power of her words.

There was no forgiveness on his youthful visage. Remiel Lilienthal did not respond to the strength of her conviction. Instead he turned away from her and seemed lost in thought.

Terra wondered how long they stood there. The air was thick with tension and she wondered how long she could last before her strength faltered. Then Remiel turned back to her. There was no forgiveness in his eyes, but neither was there the murderous rage that existed before.

"No, Terra Branford. Against my better judgment, I will let you live," he said.

Terra wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"You are a grave danger to humanity," Remiel continued. "I have looked in your eyes and I have seen the destructive joy that danced within your true form. To say that you would have enjoyed killing me would be an understatement."

The horror of that truth hit her like cold water. She trembled with the realization of how her powers could change her.

"But I have already killed you today," Remiel said with a touch of disappointment. "There is nothing down that path, for either of us." His predatory gaze softened. "And I admit I was wrong, I had never expected to see you..." he paused, searching for words that escaped him.

"I never expected remorse," Remiel Lilienthal sighed deeply. "I had convinced myself that you were a monster and ignored the facts that I had seen all day. I ignored my own devices and judged you irredeemably guilty. By doing so I have betrayed my own ethics and as such, I am no better. I'm sorry, Terra Branford. I was wrong."

Terra didn't know why his apology meant so much to her, but it did.

"I have dreamed of this night for years. I have gone through the possible events a thousand times; a fantasy that could never be realized. And yet here it has, but it unraveled like nothing I had ever expected," Remiel stated. He took a deep breath and gestured. "Thank you, you may leave."

Terra blinked. "Leave?" she echoed in disbelief.

Remiel nodded. "You may return to Danielle Meras with confidence that our alliance shall be without further delay. As such, I have no right to hold you any longer." Remiel gestured at the stairs far behind him. In the chaos of the slave crown ordeal, they had switched positions and he was between her and freedom.

He was holding something back, Terra could see it. "But?" she asked.

For the first time that night, Remiel smiled. It had such warmth to it that Terra instantly knew: the charming smile that she had seen all night had been fake. "I want give you a chance; a chance to redeem yourself. It's something magic had never given me, but I feel that you should have it." He waited until she gave him a nod to continue. "I want you to go the front. You will go to the Core of the Empire, in the midst of Civil War. I want you to use your magic to save those innocents, and in doing so, atone for all the death and destruction of your past."

Terra was struck speechless. She thought about his words for a while. "I don't know if I can save... anyone."

"I don't doubt for a moment that your magic is strong enough to defend those in need," Remiel replied smoothly. "Mine is a selfish request, and one that I will not force upon you. However, if you succeed..." he trailed off.

Terra watched Remiel's facial expressions conflict with each other. His lips twisted from a warm smile to an angry sneer and back again. She wondered what Remiel was thinking that could cause him to act this way.

"If you succeed," General Remiel Lilienthal proclaimed with a flourish. "Then I will ensure that the Empire shall never make war again

Visions of Peace will be continued in The Eighth Chapter - A Bargain Struck
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The Eighth Chapter - A Bargain Struck

Farin glanced over at the growing pile of folders. "Perhaps I should reconsider letting you recognize my rank."

Norris scratched at his cleanly-shaven chin, as if he had still had his beard. "Well, considering what we're trying to accomplish here, it would be best if we went through every facet at least once. At least this way, we don't waste our superiors' time. Not to mention the fact that delaying this by a single revision could take weeks. You know how the nobles get..."

"Your patience for this bureaucratic nightmare is saintly," Farin grumbled to himself, opening the folder and flipping through the parchment with disgust. Though he had been through his share of paperwork -- no one in the upper ranks was immune to that responsibility -- he hated it with a passion. It was drivel that should have been dealt with by aides who were unfortunately absent. If he was back in Tzen, he could assign it to any number of staff sergeants. Here, he had the two fools that were his friends.

It was not as if Reinhardt or Donnach could help him here. They were not talented on this battlefield.

"I entertain nobles. If you think this is long-winded, you should try listening to a Speaker of the House," Norris rebuffed.

Their existence in Albrook was still a secret. The escort they had entering the city had been insignificant compared to the entourages that had accompanied most of the noblemen at the Messis Luna. The annual celebration had given them what they desperately needed: a distraction. While a treaty between these two factions would have been unlikely, it did not mean that they were safe from prying eyes. Anson Tilton certainly had spies within Albrook and Tzen; he had been well connected throughout his career. Maverick Drummond might have had some loyal men in the area as well; the General's popularity within the armed forces had been one of the many factors that led to his appointment during the Marandan War.

Most of these informants would have been in place long before the storm clouds had been visible upon the horizon. Power struggles within the military had been commonplace, though few amongst the elite could have expected the events of the past two years. After Kefka had betrayed Celes, every general realized that Emperor Gestahl would not interfere despite their long service and respected positions. The generals schemed behind their Emperor's back and the possibility of a coup d'etat became very real. Those events would have signified the Emperor's downfall had he not raced them to the grave with his obsession of magic.

If either faction heard that there was the possibility of an alliance between Meras and Lilienthal, the war would quickly become a two-sided affair. That was the worse possible situation since it would prolong and even strength the current stalemate. Thus, two men who rarely stood in the spotlight were writing a piece of paper that would change the course of history. Farin Starson and Norris Ferdinand were known to be warriors, not strategists. Their disappearance could be easily rationalized, unlike Major-General Karen Alysworth -- Imperial Second Army commander-in-chief and Remiel Lilienthal's right hand -- or the equally ranked Layton Yarrow of Danielle Meras' Imperial Third Army.

Farin and Norris sat in a moderately comfortable banquet hall somewhere in the outskirts of Albrook. It was out of the way and served their purposes well. Rumors of a soldier with hair shaven flat would be given little attention, given the events at the annual ball.

Countless voices had told Farin of a certain star at the Messis Luna: an angel clothed in white who had danced alongside Governor Lilienthal and blessed the Empire with her charm and grace. It was the talk of the town thanks to the work of two stealthy photographers. The Messis Luna was always an invite-only celebration. In addition to that, it was a highly sought privilege that was only given to those of noble birth or wealthy background. That made sneaking into the Messis Luna a highly lucrative proposition. Newspapers loved gossip and despite the lack of pictures -- the two photographers had allegedly been ambushed and their cameras broken by twenty soldiers -- the story was still printed.

Farin chuckled to himself. It was obvious that the two photographers had been placed there by Lilienthal. The Governor was well versed in swaying public opinion to his side, using subtle techniques like those publications civilians loved so much. What was curious was why the photographers had been attacked, but Farin supposed that there was some manner of psychology that he was missing.

Reinhardt and Donnach had served as Farin's eyes and ears while in Albrook. Farin was afraid of being recognized, so the two men spent their days and nights at the local taverns. They were more than motivated to complete the task at hand. After listening to dozens of drunks, it was their esteemed opinion that the beauty at the ball was likely the half-Esper. They could not explain the change in hair though. All descriptions of the angel had described wondrous shoulder-length blond hair.

The day after the Messis Luna, Terra had long green hair.

Indeed, it was most surprising. Farin had never seen her in Vector during the short-lived truce with the northern continent -- there had been an issue with a certain group of rogue Magitek pilots and she had departed by the time he returned -- and so he was astonished by the color of her hair. Reports and pictures could not convey the exotic nature. It had taken a life's worth of experience to prevent him from openly gawking in amazement.

"You should be aware that those folders," Norris pointed at another pile, "are in direct response to some of General Meras' more..." Norris searched for the right word. After a while, he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, the more absurd proposals," he stated plainly.

Farin glanced up from his thoughts. He stopped pretending to read and took a quick glance at the folders. His frown deepened with each passing paragraph until he was completely disgusted. "Without full disclosure of our entrenchments," Farin growled, "it would be folly to try to coordinate any useful stratagems between our two forces," he glared at Norris, trying to discern the truth from his annoying jolliness. "It would be amazingly stupid to do anything else," he said in a similarly blunt tone.

Though they discussed politics, the two men were also soldiers. They were not diplomats and they had been quite direct in dealing with each other throughout the day. There would be no grudges kept though. Considering the history between the two soldiers, it would take much more than mere words to anger either.

"It's politics really. Until our superiors get together and work out the details, we're not giving you classified military positions. Surely you understand that much," Norris replied.

"I understand, but it means wasting precious weeks of possible action," Farin replied. "With proper coordination, we could very well take Vector within the month. But it would take at least two if we do otherwise, and that's only if all our forces are mustered. Last time, you held back a great deal of your strength."

"That can't be helped. But considering your forces were also held back in reserve -- not to mention the events at the last battle -- I think you should drop this point," Norris' tone grew dark. "We're being more than reasonable, Brigadier."

Farin sighed. "This will delay the liberation of Vector until the deep winter, perhaps until winter solstice," Farin's glare darkened. He knew the true reason behind this refusal to coordinate. Though the events during the Siege of Vector had been a bloodbath, Remiel Lilienthal was not concerned of a repeat of that tragedy. No, it was the man's nerve. The coward was being overly cautious and was sentencing some half-million to frozen death because of his weak will. "That's unacceptable, if not downright idiotic," Farin voiced the last of his thoughts.

Norris shrugged. "It's just a little snow. What's wrong Farin, scared?"

Behind them, Reinhardt chuckled. While that would have normally irritated him, Farin let it slide. After all, Norris' bravado was nothing more than a charade. The older field officer's own body language betrayed him.

Farin let the detail slide and instead flipped through more folders. He scanned them briefly. Danielle would have her aides do a more thorough search. For now, his job was to search for anything unreasonable, not discuss the fancy terms used in the dissertations.

His eyes settled on a couple clauses that he was not happy about. Although Danielle would not have cared, he did. They were civilians. It was improper for such requests to be made, even if the two were acquiescent.

Still, Lilienthal had been insistent. It was not his place to argue such trivial matters, as morally wrong as they were. After all, the lives of all in the Core were dependent on the treaty they were creating. In comparison, two civilians were a small price to pay for the salvation of thousands.

Duty demanded that he protect his people. If this meant accepting Lilienthal's cowardice and his eccentricities towards two young civilians, then Farin would do so. There were millions of lives at stake.

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Edgar was busying himself within a secluded room of Kenneth's house. The doctor had so many patients that he had moved Strago and Setzer into the safety of his own home. Kenneth was sure that neither man would require any immediate medical assistance, and his office was close by if the need arose. Feeding the two comatose men had been all that was required of Kenneth and that job was now given to Edgar.

The King of Figaro flipped past another page, reading the book of medical terms with feigned interest. He was getting very restless and agitated. With each passing day, the fate of Relm and Terra became more and more uncertain. The thought of Locke now angered Edgar almost as much as the thought of the Empire. He had been a fool to let Locke connive them into such a dangerous and foolish plan.

It did not help that neither Strago nor Setzer seemed any closer to reviving. Though Kenneth promised they would wake soon after the delivery of the laryl, his predication had passed over a week ago. Edgar was less than pleased.

He carelessly tossed the medical dictionary onto the pile of books where all the finished literature laid. He had either bored of the material or finished it from cover to cover. Descriptions of medical instruments, procedures for field surgery, preparation and use of medicinal herbs, there was even a book on substituting for a midwife. Edgar had tried to forget the problems they faced by losing himself in Kenneth's world. That had not worked very well, but at least in the privacy of the library, no one noticed his troubled mood.

Cyan seemed no better. He was probably locked in his room within Garrett's house, meditating or whatever else he could do in complete silence by himself. The old knight was incredibly withdrawn and only moved when it was necessary to purchase more food from the market -- and only then because they owed Garrett so much for his troubles.

The sound of metal pans dropping to the floor made Edgar's heart jump. He shot to his feet and ran downstairs. Edgar jumped over the banister, the grin on his face widening when he saw who it was. He landed noisily to see Strago peeling off bandages around his arm.

"Well, Edgar," the old mage's scratched at the long white beard that had developed during his coma and twirled his thick mustache around a finger. "It appears that I have been a burden for quite sometime now."

Edgar grinned. "I'll get you some food and a knife to shave off that mess. You have no idea how glad I am to see you again Strago."

Strago scratched at his beard while his dark eyes lit up at the mention of food. "Considering the length of this beard, I am surprised you had not simply given up on me. But yes, I would love something to eat, lad."

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The old mage refused to eat until he was clean-shaven and his signature white mustache trimmed in a civilized manner. His hair was still frazzled and in disarray, but he didn't seem to mind as he ate leftover stew from the previous day. His eyes kept darting to the next room though, where through a partially open door laid the comatose form of Setzer.

Bidden by Strago's wish to learn all that had happened during his long sleep, Edgar began to recount everything that had happened since they had crashed in the forests north of the Tzen Mountain range. Strago grimaced at hearing about the darkness that shrouded their journey, and the incredible odds they faced in order to make their way to Nestil. He bowed his head when Edgar recounted the passing of Michals, Davis, Gau and finally Marcus. By the time Edgar was speaking of their journey through the mountains, Strago had stopped eating out of respect and was listening attentively.

When Edgar ended the story on their arrival in Nestil, the two men sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. It had been a while since Edgar had thought about their fallen comrades. Repeating the story with little emotion was a tough task, even though it was expected from a man of his position. A leader could not show weakness. His late father had taught him that.

At last, Strago spoke. "I am truly sorry we were such a burden my friend," he said calmly. "We owe them a great deal -- myself especially -- and when there is time we must prepare proper memorials for them." He pushed the bowl of cold soup aside and sighed. "For now we should pray that they are at peace while we continue the fight for their hopes and dreams."

Edgar squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "It is one thing to fight, but another to sit here patiently doing nothing. Others risk their lives everyday; the Imperial Civil War shows no signs of coming to a peaceful end. I've heard horrible things, like the fall of the government and nobility... chaos and anarchy grip millions of lives and I sit here reading medical literature!"

Strago raised an eyebrow. "You are a king. Patience is a trait that you must have, and to watch impartially while your men die upon the battlefield is a hardship you must endure."

"The burden of command," Edgar mumbled. He shook his head as if it would erase the rumors of the violent rise of a new order in the south.

"Now tell me Edgar, what of the Statues?" Strago asked. His dark eyes were focused as he asked the question most pressing on his mind.

"What about them?" Edgar was caught off-guard. He hadn't thought about them for a while.

"They were moved," Strago pointed out. "That would be the only explanation for the emanations from the Floating Continent. The Statues cannot ever be shifted from their positions without incredibly careful deductions. Merely pushing them a step to either side could cause untold amounts of destruction, and leaving them in such a pattern would be incredibly dangerous. I explained this to you at length before we landed on the island," the lore-master folded his arms and quizzically looked at Edgar. "Surely you have sent Celes and Terra to fix the arrangement?"

Edgar had forgotten Strago was never told of their activities on the Floating Continent. Once they had boarded the Blackjack, they had been busy escaping the Imperial Air Force. There had been no time to explain everything that had happened. Unwilling to begin the recounting of yet another tale, Edgar shook his head. "We don't actually know what happened to Celes," he answered.

Strago's eyes went wide. "You don't know?" he asked incredulously. "What in the name of the Goddesses does that mean? She is incredibly important to the stability of the statues, something you have given little thought of!" Strago leaned over the table, pressing his finger hard against the young king's chest. "You children should have your priorities straight. Have all that I taught gone to waste?"

Edgar brushed Strago aside and waited until the old man had returned to his seat. "Listen Strago, I admit that we had forgotten about the Statues-"

Strago winced. "You forgot? How do you forget the foundation of magic and the essence of deities? Three Goddesses in stone and you forget about them? Do you forget to breathe as well?" he admonished.

"We forgot about them because there had been other issues at hand," Edgar raised his voice so that Strago would quiet down. "The two of you needed medical attention and we're still hiding from the Empire. The Statues were just forgotten with the immediate dangers about us."

"Immediate danger, yes yes!" the lore-master stood up and waved his hands wildly. "You're right, we're in grave peril! Like hanging off a precipice, each passing day the balance of magic becomes more and more unstable! Soon the Phantom Train is going to make a stop, and all the souls of the world will board his cars if we do not restore the positions of the Statues!"

Edgar narrowed his eyes. "Enough with the dramatics Strago. Nothing has happened since the blasts of magic from the island. My magic is still working fine and Carbunkl hasn't warmed up in the months past."

Strago sighed as he paced about the room. "You don't understand. The Statues are quite complicated and it doesn't help that there have never been any books on the subject matter. Only the Espers knew what the Goddesses had done to themselves, and they hid the Statues away to ensure nothing would ever happen to them. If the arrangement is broken, then who knows what could happen!"

"Well, do you know what would happen?"

Strago blinked. A blank expression was on his face, followed by confusion. "Well, all sorts of trouble..." his pacing had slowed down substantially.

"What kind of signs? Wouldn't we feel emanations like how the magicite pulsed during the Floating Continent's breakdown?" Edgar asked.

"I suppose. But we don't really know why the magicite pulsed like that," Strago mumbled.

"And how much time do we actually have?"

"Not much," Strago answered.

"How much?" Edgar repeated.

Strago stroked his mustache as he thought of an answer. "I'm not sure," he said slowly.

"And how can we fix the Statues?"

Strago stopped pacing. "Well, I don't think we can do anything. I mean, I think we would have to trust the instincts of Terra and have Celes help her. But that's only because Terra is half-Esper and I believe she would know what to do when the time is right."

"So really we don't know anything, and you want us to go on a crazed quest to deal with a problem with unknown consequences that we don't even know how to fix," Edgar finished.

Strago watched Edgar, his wizened face showing lines of strain as he thought over what the king had just said. "Quite perceptive, lad," Strago sat back down with flourish. "Very well, at least tell me where Celes is. Even if I can't answer your questions with certainty, I have perceived her significance during these troubled times and worry for her safety."

"Well," Edgar began. He wondered how he was going to tell Strago that Celes and Shadow had stayed on the island.

Strago watched Edgar fidget for a while and grew suspicious. "You're hiding something else from me, aren't you?" he asked.

Edgar cleared his throat. No matter what he said, Strago would figure out the truth sooner or later. There was no reason to fabricate any lies. "Celes never left the island. She stayed behind with Shadow to take care of Kefka. We have no idea what happened to her."

Strago's mouth hung open in shock. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if he had a headache.

"That's not all. In order to save your life and Setzer's, we had to get an herb from Tzen. We couldn't all go because the Empire would catch us, so only Locke, Terra-" Edgar paused and judged the look on Strago's face. The old man had snapped to attention when he heard Terra's name and did not look pleased.

Edgar had no choice; he could not hide it from the lore-master for much longer.

"-and Relm went." Edgar said quietly.

The look on the old man's face became menacing.

Edgar averted his eyes. "The herb was delivered by messenger. We haven't heard from the three of them for weeks now."

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Cyan was entering Kenneth's house by the backdoor, a pack containing medical supplies from the doctor on his shoulders, when he heard the crash of chairs and the ensuing sounds of a struggle. The Doma Knight dropped the bag on the floor immediately, drew the hidden knife at his belt and rushed inside. His eyes darted from side to side as he made his way through the house swiftly.

The scene in the kitchen was startling. Strago -- who should have still been comatose -- was on top of Edgar. A broken table was beneath their sprawled bodies upon the tiled floor. Strago's hands were at the king's throat, and there seemed to be some sort of weird orange liquid dripping from their faces.

Strago was screaming something at the top of his lungs, his anger in total control of the typically reserved lore-master. Cyan sheathed his knife. There was no immediate danger, even if it did look like Strago was going to tear Edgar apart with his bare hands. What was Strago yelling?

"-you pathetic excuse of a man! To take my granddaughter-"

Suddenly, Cyan knew what had happened. He grasped all that occurred with crystal clarity and immediately went to Edgar's aid. With two hands firmly grasping Strago's shoulders, he pulled the old man off Edgar with ease.

"Get your hands off of me you fool!" Strago screamed. "The idiot-"

"Calm down Strago Magus!" Cyan hollered.

"I'll disintegrate you for your-"

The old man's feet were hanging off the ground, kicking uselessly while his eyes directed murderous fury at Edgar's sprawled form on the ground. He fought Cyan's grip in his rage, and in response the knight spun around and shoved him against the wall with tremendous force.

"Silence!" Cyan commanded. His dark eyes threatened to punish any further transgression on Strago's part.

The wind was knocked out of Strago for a moment and there was silence. His struggle to catch his breath seemed to help his mood. It calmed him down and the anger drained from his eyes. Yet the two men still glared at one another.

"Let go of me," Strago struggled to keep his anger in check as he continued gasping for air. "You have no idea of what I am capable of. I will strike you down with magic so horrifying you will rue the day you were born." His eyes seemed to glow and the air about him crackled with deadly energy.

Cyan quickly measured how quick it would be to knock the old man unconscious. Perhaps that would be the least bloody solution.

"You have no idea how much she means to me," Strago voice was breaking up between every strained breath. "I trusted you people..."

Cyan's gaze softened upon hearing those words. A pang of loss began to well up from within.

Strago tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. "The horror of losing her, I can't stand it. You simply don't know-"

"No," Cyan interrupted. "I do know."

Strago's eyes darted at Cyan's face, the old Doma Knight's face showing the pain that he had suffered through. His voice had been soft and his tone had been one of complete understanding. Within the knight's sad eyes, Strago could see the horrors that the Empire had inflicted upon him. The scars of war were painless compared to the loss he had suffered: the deaths of his countrymen, his liege, and his family from cruel, slow and indifferent poison. He had suffered through endless terror as he realized everyone at the castle had drunk the deadly water. Poisoned until just the smallest push would tip them over the edge, and when that last push was finally delivered, it choked them in their own blood until they died a gruesome, prolonged death.

Cyan watched his family die before his eyes. He had found Owain lying in a pool of blood upon his bed, his son's hopes and dreams forever lost. He had held Elayne while she coughed up her innards. He had watched the life seep from her weary eyes, knowing that only death could relieve her of the horrific pain she suffered.

"I'm sorry," Strago whispered. He collapsed to the floor once Cyan let him go. "I was heartless, my friend," he apologized in a hollow voice.

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They sat together in awkward silence. Edgar knew the situation had to be resolved at some point, but they had too much to deal with and little time to lie down and heal their emotional hurts. The older men were lost in their own thoughts of despair and grief, each thinking of their loved ones instead of the troubles at hand.

Edgar was familiar with Cyan's troubles. The Knight had once spoken of his last days within Castle Doma, in an attempt to sway Edgar and the Elder of Narshe to fully commit their forces against the Empire. The Knight rarely ever spoke of his past, but that had been an exception. It had been important for the Northern Continent to fully ally themselves against the threat of the Empire. Cyan's haunted eyes had done more than simply convince Edgar; it had deepened his hatred of the Empire when he had never thought it was possible.

Cyan had kept his feelings to himself. Edgar had once thought that the old knight, with far more years of experience handling the death of comrades upon the battlefield, could handle the ghosts that haunted him. However, that had been naive. What could possibly prepare a man for his wife and child to die in his arms? Cyan might have channeled great effort into the fight against the Empire. He might have been a bastion of strength, emotionally unwavering during the heat of battle, and a silent pillar that they could always depend on. But they had ignored his pain -- his needs -- and used him selfishly for their own gain. Edgar hung his head in shame.

As for Strago, the old man had to steel himself for the worst that could happen. It had been weeks since they had last seen Relm. It was very possible that she had died saving the life of her grandfather. Edgar could see Strago visibly shaking as he fought the demons within.

When at last someone spoke, it was the voice of Cyan. The knight had come to some sort of mental conclusion, and his words carried more strength than ever before.

"When Setzer wakes, we shall make way to Cartha. There, we shalt rest until he is fully healed and finally journey to Tzen," Cyan declared.

A moment later, Strago nodded his agreement. "That is the only way without forsaking Setzer," he concluded quietly. "The gambler did not abandon everyone on the Floating Continent, and we will not leave him alone in the midst of the Empire."

Edgar understood what Strago meant. He also knew that the grandfather must have been dying on the inside. He could have suggested leaving for Tzen alone, so that he could find Relm as soon as he could. Those few precious days could be the difference between Relm's life and death. Instead, he had chosen the honorable route. It was left unspoken that they might have sealed Relm's fate with their decision.

They tried to rationalize their choice. Setzer had earned their trust. They could not simply abandon him when he was on the cusp of death. They could not go as individuals either; it was too dangerous for them to split up. It had been that kind of thinking that had thrust this dilemma upon them in the first place. Finally, Relm could still be safe with Locke and Terra. They did not know what had actually happened in Tzen. As nerve-racking as it was, her fate was unknown and perhaps she was fine.

There was also the matter of the Statues. In an emotional rage, that issue had been forgotten by Strago. But Edgar did not forget. His mind was clear and his decisions still logical. Edgar trusted the lore-master's original assessment of the situation. Before the grandfather learned of his granddaughter's situation, he had been gravely worried about the Statues and what had happened to them after the Floating Continent crashed into the ocean.

It was a matter they could not afford to ignore for much longer.

Still, the fate of Relm, Terra and Locke was the most pressing issue on their minds. No matter what they said and thought, what they felt in their hearts could not be denied. They had sent Relm into a den of wolves and left her there.

"Alright, I will begin preparations to see if we can find secure lodging in Cartha and Tzen," Edgar said. "We will have to move swiftly once Setzer wakes and we are no longer in need of Kenneth's help."

"Very well," Cyan said as he stood. "I will help thy task this evening, but for now I wish to be alone."

Edgar nodded. "Of course Cyan."

As Cyan left their sight, Strago called out once more. "Cyan, I'm sorry again for what happened earlier."

Cyan's shoulders sagged visibly. The old knight turned around so that they could see his dark eyes. "I understand, Strago. I also understand the sacrifice you may have made this day."

Strago felt the weight of his decision bear down upon his shoulders. He stared at the floors blankly, forcefully holding back tears of frustration.

Edgar watched as Cyan left the house, knowing that the knight would be felling many a tree that day. He could only hope that the feeling of utmost impotence, the inability to protect a child when she needed them most, would pass. If it did not, Edgar did not know what Cyan might do.

The King of Figaro turned to Strago. His mind thought about the threats the elder mage had made in the grip of anger.

Edgar did not know what Strago might do either and of the two possibilities, that was the one that scared him the most.

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Terra wondered where Locke was.

It was unlike him to be busy so often. Normally he would be pestering her. He was a constant burden and showered her with unwelcome attention. Since the week after the Messis Luna though, Locke had not sought her company. It was strange and something that was nagging her.

Terra strolled through the streets of Albrook with only one soldier watching over her. Norris had told her that it was for her protection, not to insure her cooperation. After the ordeal in Remiel's basement laboratory though, she took everything said with a grain of salt.

Norris was, as always, cheerful. Terra had not caught even a hint that Norris had known what transpired that night. It seemed that Remiel had managed to keep his beliefs secret, even from a Magitek Knight who served with him on a daily basis. Understandable, considering Norris was a wizard of great power. Terra would have been amazed at Remiel's ability to hide such venom, but she already knew he was an actor and manipulator of unparalleled skill.

Terra had not seen Remiel since the Messis Luna. The next day, in a sealed letter delivered by one of Norris' men, Remiel had eloquently told her to stay away from him. He would refuse her audience until she returned from the Core, and only then if she had redeemed herself in his eyes.

She would redeem herself. She had not felt such purpose, such conviction for a long time. While she had lain upon that cold stone floor, subject to such hatred and anger that she had never known existed, she had discovered much about herself. In a way, she was thankful to have met Remiel Lilienthal.

Terra wanted to help the people of the Empire. She could heal their minor wounds and protect them as the Civil War raged on. It was well within her capacity. She would not have to tap the nigh-limitless reserves of magical power within.

She would never do that again. It was unnecessary and too dangerous.

Maduin, her father, had been shattered. The crystallized remains of the Esper had been completely destroyed in her confrontation with Remiel Lilienthal. She had been unable to identify enough of the magicite to fill a thimble. Without her father's protection, the power within her would overwhelm and do terrible things. She still felt guilty at what she almost did when exposed to such seraphic energies. It had been so easy... with a single thought, Albrook would have been cleansed.

Terra Branford would never again surrender to such seduction. She vowed that she would never again yield to the siren's song.

"This is the place," Clarkson noted.

Terra stopped on the chilly street corner. The weather had continued its cold streak and not even the strength of the midday sun could warm the streets of Albrook. Usually quite busy, the city had become much quieter as the cold settled in.

She pulled her crimson scarf tighter, thankful for Lindsay's insistence upon selecting her wardrobe. The scarf was made of some fine silk she did not recognize, but it was incredibly soft and soothing to the touch. Her jacket was made of wolf's fur, light but easily capable of stopping those biting seaborne winds. It had a hood that covered everything but her face; her ears were delightfully warm. Lindsay and Claire had included numerous pairs of pants and shirts, more than Terra could ever afford. Her pack would be quite heavy when they left for the front lines.

Still, it was nice being warm for once. The clothes they had bought in Nestil were completely unsuited for the winter weather. Terra had spent too many nights rubbing her hands for warmth and shivering the whole time. A heavier pack was a small price to pay for comfort.

A thin silver necklace peeked from beneath the layers of silky fabrics and furs. The kind seamstress had given her the chain as a present. Now an emerald stone hung where Maduin had once been. The weight would serve as a reminder of what her father could no longer do. It was also her way of honoring his memory.

Terra looked around the corner impatiently. Clarkson was standing aside nonchalantly, watching nothing in particular but still noting everything that went on in the street. It was not particularly busy. A few children were playing ball down the sidewalk, their older brothers watching them with a careful eye, while a couple other men in fancy overcoats were just leaving a restaurant. Two soldiers were farther down the street, headed in their direction, and an old man was huddled in the opposite corner puffing rings of smoke from a pipe.

Where was he?

With a gloved hand, she pulled out a small pocket-watch that was attached to her waist by something Lindsay had called a chatelaine. It was a gold chain, much thinner than her necklace, which was adorned by a small purple ribbon. She looked at the time: half-past four.

Terra frowned. He was late.

She leaned against aged-stone walls, wondering what had gripped Locke's attention all of a sudden. It was not as if they had anything to do in Albrook, and certainly he had no friends or family here. The last time they were here, he had not disappeared at all. He had just moped around the inn where Celes and Leo had been staying.

"Hey."

Startled, Terra jumped slightly. One of the two soldiers walking by had stopped before them. He was looking at her, rather...

Wait, that grin was-

"Locke?" she asked incredulously.

No wonder he had surprised her. He was wearing heavy brown leather armor with an Imperial grey cloak draped over top. Like most of the Albrook soldiers, he had on a black fur hat with earflaps. His face was cleanly shaven and there was a cheerful grin on his face. Terra thought he looked sharper than ever before, it was almost as if there was a twinkle in his eye.

Behind Terra, the soldier watching over her shifted his weight. The man had seen Locke well before he was in earshot of Terra, but had recognized the face instantly. Otherwise, he would have confronted the two men before they got so close. His job had been to protect Terra, not to just guard her.

"How do I look?" Locke spread his arms wide and showed off his widened frame. "The stuff weighs a ton, even more than what Farin gave us, but it's not too bad after the first couple hours."

On his back was a composite shortbow, its shape vaguely visible beneath his cloak. A couple throwing knives were strapped to his chest. Terra couldn't see a quiver. "What are you doing?" she asked. His sudden change was surprising, to say the least. Perhaps that had been what he was doing for the past couple days, training with a bow.

Locke gestured to his partner, the second soldier that had accompanied him and had been ignored until that very moment.

"Donnach!" Terra exclaimed.

"Good afternoon Miss Branford," Donnach adjusted the hat that covered his shaven head. His eyes wandered down her form. "That's some mighty nice finery. Did you just buy them here? Although then again, no one would wear such nice clothing if they were going to trek into the Wilds with chocobos..." Donnach trailed off as he examined her face. Something seemed to be on his mind.

"Yes," Terra gestured at her coat. "A kind lady wanted to help me prepare for the cold, I couldn't really say no."

Donnach grinned. "Very noble of her and noble-looking of you, though perhaps you might want to rethink some of it," he gestured at her crimson scarf. "Something like that would stand out amongst the boys on the front. But I'm sure Locke here will be more than capable of protecting you now that he's had my help." Donnach gave Locke a powerful slap on the back.

Locke didn't seem to notice the blow, unusual considering the strength Donnach put into it. "I've been training with Donnach," he explained. "I had decided that I could do better with an arrow than I can with my knives. Now that we're going into the thick of things, I'm glad I thought ahead."

Terra eyed Locke, unsure of what to make of the situation. "Well, I'm going to have trouble getting used to you in that armor. You look so..." she trailed off, not wanting to say the word Imperial in front of Donnach. She did not want to insult the men they had traveled to Albrook with. They were people like Leo, good men that had similar values as they had. They were not at all like Kefka.

Locke understood her hidden meaning though, and there was a moment of sadness and regret on his face. However, it was soon replaced by a cheerful disposition. He took her arm and suggested they return to their hotel. Farin had sent them an invitation for dinner and they should prepare.
Post #121215
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Posted: 24th June 2006 05:59

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Farin was finishing his second ale by the time Donnach, Locke and Terra arrived. Reinhardt was working on a plate of fried potatoes and watching the dancer on the stage. She was singing some old folk's tale, one that did not pique Farin's interest. He had heard the story a thousand times and it was no more interesting in melody than it was from the throat of an old man.

They were at one of the many restaurants in Albrook. It was not in the upper-district but was still a respectable establishment. Farin had been here once before. It had been back in the days when Leo had been a mere Captain. Those were happier times. Still, the place was full and there was enough of the well-to-do that Terra's fine clothing did not stand out terribly.

Farin ordered a round of drinks and greeted his guests. Donnach knocked Reinhardt out of his voyeuristic trance with a good smack to the head, stealing some of his food in the process. He turned his attention to the two civilians.

Locke and Terra had changed a great deal in the short time Farin had known them. When he had first seen the two, all he could remember were the tales that those two had assassinated Leo Christophe in Thamasa. He had never believed two mere Returners could have caught Leo unaware, and seeing how weak the two actually were had reassured him that it they were lies. It was similar to what had happened with Chere, only this time Palazzo had outright killed his competitor and spread propaganda about the Empire. And just as the situation after General Chere had been branded a traitor, Danielle had whispered to him the truth of what had happened in Thamasa. The thought of Palazzo boiled Farin's blood. The treacherous scum had gotten what was coming, but Farin wished it had been the justice of a blade.

Donnach had told him how good Locke was with a bow. With an eagle's eye and plenty of natural talent, the boy was further blessed with an archer's patience and would go far even if only a bit of Donnach's skills had rubbed off. He was also looking a lot more energetic. Had this been the man that he had first ambushed inside an herb store in Tzen, Farin might have struck first and dealt with injuries later. Farin was impressed with Locke Cole.

As for Terra, she was looking far stronger. Perhaps it was the clothing -- her stance was straighter and her bearing regal -- but there was something more that Farin had not seen before. Perhaps it was the look of determination and purpose.

As they ordered their meals, Farin briefly wondered what could have brought about the sudden change. Terra had seemed quite sad and withdrawn when he had first met her. After one single night as Remiel Lilienthal's date, she had changed into... this. No, it could not have been the dance that brought about such an evolution.

They ate happily, making small talk about cheerful matters. Farin set aside his careful analysis of the two Returners. He would tell Danielle, but Farin no longer judged either as an enemy. What they were going to do for the Empire was noble and just. They were of strong character and Farin would not let even Danielle's direct orders taint the night. There were things in life that could never be compromised.

Reinhardt and Donnach were acting in a reserved manner considering the amount of ale they had downed. Locke took part in their merry-making, though he avoided the alcohol. Terra had dyed her hair golden-blond again, though it was much longer than their journey through the Wilds. She was out of place; her demeanor and dress were a class above everyone else. Still, she had fun and somehow did not attract attention.

Farin was tired from a day's worth of reading and debating, sometimes those activities were just as strenuous as actually fighting on the battlefield. He did not speak what was really on his mind until they were nearly finished their meal. By that time, there was a band on stage with a group of dancers. The restaurant was now filled and the place was noisy and busy. It hid their conversation perfectly, as no one could overhear them. Still, Farin kept his voice reasonably low.

"About your journey to the front lines," Farin began. He held up a hand, seeing that Terra was about to defend herself. "I know... I'm not going to try to convince you otherwise. After our little chat two days past, I have reason to believe that you are made of sterner stuff than I ever imagined. I respect what you're trying to do, after all you have a powerful gift and to use it in such a manner is both brave and heroic."

Reinhardt and Donnach had both quieted down, seeing that the conversation had taken a serious turn.

"I have to warn you though; the Core is a complete catastrophe. It'll be a great ordeal to do what must be done," Farin continued. He looked at Terra with a sense of sadness. She was very young, close to the age his daughter would have been. "I hope you're prepared to see the worse, because I doubt eyes like yours have ever seen the horrors of this battlefield."

"I guess this is your way of saying you're concerned?" Terra asked with a hint of a smile.

Farin relaxed and nodded. "I have no command over you. My orders ended when I delivered you to Albrook. Although I would like to help you on the task ahead, I have a great many priorities and I cannot delay much more. What you're doing is a soldier's work, and you are no soldier."

"I'll be fine Farin," Terra replied. "I'm touched that you would be so concerned."

"Don't worry about them," Donnach said. "I taught this boy some of the tricks of the trade. He's a good shot now, and he'll protect her if he knows what's good for him." He had his hand around Locke, shaking him by the shoulder.

Locke scowled, and that turned to surprise when Donnach wrapped an arm around him.

"It looks like Donny-boy is done for the night," Reinhardt remarked. He swiped his friend's ale and grinned. "All the better."

Farin ignored his men and loosened the straps at his side. He removed a dagger from his belt, plain except for a small embroidered star on the leather sheath. The handle was decorated with a small yellow gemstone. "My best dagger," he said with great pride. "Handed to me from my grandfather, for my father skipped the call of a warrior. But it has been in our family for generations, my grandfather's father and his father before him." His brown eyes locked on Terra's green ones. "Take it. It will protect you when all else fails."

"I couldn't," Terra stared at the dagger. "It's a family heirloom."

Farin nodded. "That it is, and that is the reason why I want you to have it. You are still a child in my eyes, and the warrior in me refuses to allow a child on the battlefield. You will ride into danger while I ride to Tzen in safety. That is unacceptable. While I cannot be by your side and protect you, I will sleep better knowing you have that at your side."

Terra picked up the dagger and examined it.

"As well, not only shall it protect you but it will aide in helping end this war," Farin continued. "Saving lives is all that is important now, and I will do my best to see that this war ends," he referred vaguely to the treaty that was created during the past days.

Terra nodded. "Alright Farin, I'll take it. Thank you," she said as she held the dagger close to her chest.

Farin shook his head. "I thank you, for saving the lives of my countrymen and the innocents that I cannot personally save. But remember, you have a life to go back to someday. Don't throw it all away for nothing."

Terra swallowed away the lump in her throat.

The rest of the night passed by, marked only by further merry-making between Reinhardt, Donnach and a reluctant Locke. Terra enjoyed herself as well, and Farin paid the final bill. They stayed at the restaurant for a long while, Farin telling an enchanted Terra of Leo's past and their adventures together. After the stories of valor, Terra had explained to Farin how much she had wanted to learn from General Leo.

Though Terra was squeamish, Farin had her recount the General's last moments. In return, Farin answered all of Terra's questions about Leo. The two men had been extremely good friends and had only grown closer with each near-death experience on the battlefield. Considering the tales had been of their carefree youth, there was no shortage of narrow escapes and incredible deeds born of foolish decisions. But within those tales was the spirit of a man devoted to the ideals of the Empire, of protecting the weak, defending the innocent and making the world a safer place. They were the stories of a man who dedicated his life to acquiring the strength, both physical and mental, necessary to fight for justice and peace.

As the night wound down and the band stopped playing, Donnach and Reinhardt sobered up and it was decided that they would return to their respective hotels. Terra and Locke said their goodbyes to Farin, it would be the last time they could see him in Albrook before he returned to Tzen. He had told them a little of his plans. Farin wanted to stop the civil war as soon as they could. Too many lives were at stake for him to delay returning to Tzen and having Danielle sign the treaty. He was adamant and passionate about the alliance. Both factions combined would have the force to strike Vector quickly, possibly before the first snowfall, and instill a government that would clean up the Core and provide supplies for the thousands.

He was quite insistent that they strike before winter and he would not tolerate any further delays. He recounted the lack of food and proper shelter that the towns around Vector suffered from. Even the great cities of Sellenger and Mansfield were ill-prepared for the coming season. A cold winter storm would kill too many. He could not allow it.

Listening to Farin talk gave Terra hope for the future. She was still unsure of what she would be doing once they arrived at the front, but at least someone like Farin was working hard to end the civil war. She had seen the Esper strike on Vector and the aftermath of magic. It had been enough to make her sick, just recalling those memories.

And the more Farin talked, the more he reminded Terra of General Leo. Leo had been much the same way when he spoke of a treaty with the Espers and his desire for peace. They were both similar men, putting their lives on the line to protect the men and women of the Empire. Terra wished Farin was going to the front with them. In the short time she had known him, he had become a dear friend.

They bid each other good-bye on the chilly night streets of Albrook. The next day, Farin, Donnach and Reinhardt would make their journey back to Tzen. They would carry documents of the gravest importance: the specifics of an alliance to end the war.

Reinhardt had managed to find a gift for Terra. It was a small tin canteen filled with something that burned her nose when she smelt it. "Something to keep you warm in the winter months," Reinhardt said with a wink. "Donny provided the liquor," he added after his friend elbowed him in the ribs.

She gave both soldiers a quick hug.

Locke had tried to avoid the partings. Only to Donnach did he extend his hand, and the two men shook as a sign of mutual respect. However, Farin led him away by the arm and they conversed quietly. Terra could not hear what was said, but assumed they were words of advice.

When he turned to her, Terra gave Farin a heartfelt hug and whispered goodbye into his ear. Then she watched the three men leave. The knot in her stomach grew as they vanished into the dark city streets beyond the limits of her vision.

"Is something wrong, Terra?" Locke asked.

"Well," Terra hesitated. Her hand fell to her side, touching the knife that Farin had given her. It was reassuring, but not enough to ease the feelings of anxiety. "No, I guess not," she replied.

"What is it?" Locke put a hand on her shoulder, concerned.

Terra looked down at the ground. "A bad feeling," she said vaguely.

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Sabin opened his eyes. His mediation was disturbed once again, but today would be different.

It had been over a week since they snuck into Halstead and met the kind tavern owner they called Bill. Although they certainly stayed in the desert town far longer than expected, their strategy had worked better than they could hope. For the past couple days, they had heard that the Imperial Garrison in Halstead had been undergoing a flurry of activity. Patrols were rare and the garrison command compound had constant Magitek preparation. Even halfway across the city, people could hear the sound of heavy machinery rumbling. Sabin attributed this to their presence and had planned an early escape.

Siana had, to his annoyance, proved him wrong.

Using her intimate knowledge of the Empire's army and their reporting mechanisms, she had managed to steal a stack of weekly reports. It had been a dangerous task, one that Sabin would have stopped if he had known. But she had tricked him, telling him that she was merely off to buy some groceries and instead returned with an armload of papers.

Sabin had trusted her for a moment and been rewarded with a reminder of Imperial deceit. He was reminded of how Cyan had seen Celes' actions as selfish and ultimately treacherous. Sabin decided he would keep a closer eye on Siana.

The papers were useful though. What they had read was disturbing: Halstead at the forefront of war. It was besieged in nearly every direction. From the reports, it was apparent that troops from the Marandan occupation had been harassing refugees from southeast; the direction of Vector and the rest of the Imperial Core. The garrison commander had apparently a conscience but little intelligence, for he had sent a large portion of his command to secure those routes.

Those soldiers now laid dead in a chasm somewhere.

With a great deal of his forces dead and the embarrassment of both his failure to save the refugees and his upcoming failure to protect Halstead, the commander had ended up pleading for help. While he was awaiting relief, he began extreme measures to improve the integrity of his remaining Magitek Armors and took over what little industry there was in Halstead. A few days later, salvation arrived in the form of Captain Godric Waldgrave, his Magitek Company and supporting infantry.

That was yesterday. It was fortunate that they met Heller the same day, or else escape would have been twice as dangerous. Heller was one of the few chocobo drivers that did not instantly seem like trouble. He was an older man that was ferrying supplies back and forth from Halstead to some of the starving villages in the outskirts of the Core. He had been doing it for the money. The times were hard and the roads were treacherous to travel. Bill had heard some rumors that Heller had been delivering goods without fearing the Marandan forces. If they wanted to go to Maranda, then such a fearless driver and his team of chocobos might be the best bet, Bill had reckoned.

Bill was right, but Heller was a hassle to convince. He had been weary of Sabin's request for passage to Maranda. No one went to Maranda, no matter how much had changed in the two years since the Kingdom had fallen and an Imperial province created in its place. It was utter foolishness in the current state of the Empire. Everyone knew about the fields of dead on the Plains of Callaghan and Incledon. Sabin's excuses had fallen upon deaf ears. Nothing could convince Heller that heading headfirst into danger was a good idea.

Nothing except fistfuls of gil, that is.

Heller could have been a good man at one point, Sabin thought. The man seemed kind and willing to help them, it was just that the fear of death was a difficult thing to overcome. Greed was the only emotion Sabin could appeal to. There was no sense of responsibility with men like him. They came and went at the drop of a dime, following the scent of money and only tempered by the speed of their chocobo teams. The Empire brought out the worst in people.

Heller had demanded a hefty rate though, once he realized Sabin was both rich and desperate. Even though it was not his money, Sabin had been less than willing to pay the amount requested. He could have bought twice as many chocobos for the amount and still have enough to hire another driver to take them back to Tzen.

After further questioning though, Sabin had discovered what made Heller such a fearless man.

A medallion, given by the Emperor himself, assured him of unlimited travel within the Empire free of nuisances like the army. It was a rare award that everyone recognized when they saw it, but made rarer since only nobles had such treasures. Sabin expected to hear the story of how a lowly chocobo driver managed to obtain such prestige.

But now was not the time to think of such silly matters. The sound of doors being broken by force was ever closer.

Sabin stood up and glanced about their room one last time. His heart ached at leaving the little place. It felt like his cabin, cozy and secure, far back in the outskirts of South Figaro. He would miss this place more though. His lips curled up in a smile as he remembered how surprised she had been when he slept on the hard wooden floor and given her the bed. Imperials, they were simply unused to kindness. He looked down at the spot where he had fallen asleep, remembering how he had woken up in the middle of the night to find her on the floor as well, unwilling to accept his gift. What a stubborn gi-

A brute nearly the size of Sabin smashed the door with his foot, breaking it in two. He entered with much bravado, not noticing Sabin's form against the walls until it was far too late.

Sabin's fist lifted the man off the ground and through the doorframe. Screams of surprise were heard as the men outside watched their comrade explode through the walls of the tavern. Without a second thought, Sabin charged into the hallway and launched himself at the surprised men.

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Siana quickly slipped into the tavern by the backdoor. She ran up the stairs and hopped over the prone body of what looked to be a soldier. The man was unconscious, his nose broken and fresh blood seeping down his puffy cheeks. Her knife made sure the man would never get up again.

She drew a second knife from the hidden sheath in her boot, just in case. Siana quietly snuck up the remaining flight of steps and turned the corner.

The breath was ripped from her lungs as a powerful hand grabbed her by the collar. She was pulled into a room and straight into the arms of the most menacing blond-haired warrior within a week's march.

Sabin, obviously.

She cursed herself for how easily he had gained the advantage. She was getting sloppy.

"You're late. I thought we said half an hour to six," Sabin accused her. "Did you do something to the Imperial garrison again?"

Siana averted her eyes. "Listen, we better hurry up and find Heller. He said he would be waiting in the stables."

Sabin glared at her. "What did you do at their base?" he asked.

"I delayed them and bought us some time," she replied as she checked the hallway, looking for more soldiers. Her eyes paused as she took a good look at the men that Sabin had knocked-out. They did not look like typical plainclothes patrols, she thought. She had guessed wrong, they were probably mercenaries hired by the garrison and had decided, in grave folly, that the five of them were more than enough to take care of their underhanded business.

Siana briefly debated whether killing them to ensure their silence was worth a week of antagonizing moral superiority from the rebel. It was an easy decision. She sheathed her clean knives within hidden pockets and led the way out.

They slipped out the backdoor of the tavern. Sabin had alerted Bill of what would happen that day and that Imperial soldiers would eventually come barging into his tavern. Bill had been kind and honest. He had wanted to help hide them for much longer and said that it would be impossible for Imperials to find them while he was on the job. But Sabin had not wanted to hide. He had wanted Godric to follow them and they had succeeded beyond expectations. Now it was time to leave Halstead before it become too difficult to attempt to escape. Sabin suggested that Bill help them and clear his name at the same time by alerting the Imperials of their location.

Bill had initially refused, but after Sabin told him that it was the only way to avoid bloodshed, the tavern-owner had grudgingly accepted. He had closed his bar and the rest of his establishment for the day, sent the usual rowdy crowds home and only left the inn open. Then he went to Captain Godric Waldgrave with news that a red-haired woman and a muscular blond haired man with a funny accent had shown up at his bar asking for a place to stay. Being an Imperial citizen, they seemed strange and the army would probably appreciate knowing about those two. They might have been spies or worse, Bill told Godric.

Godric had only the last hour to prepare, and Siana predicted Godric would not move prematurely. He would gather more than enough force and storm the inn on his own time. The men that had attacked Sabin had not been sent by Godric, that was for sure.

He had not known about the backdoor entrance, though the Imperial pilot had tried to encircle the tavern subtly to make sure Sabin and Siana did not escape. With both the backdoor and the large crowds, they had slipped through Godric's grasp with ease.

The stable was on the far side of town and it was a long walk. Hidden beneath hooded cloaks, they walked through the darkening streets of Halstead at a hurried but calm pace. They did not want to attract attention at the moment. Though it had been their plan in the past, there was too much at stake to continue pressing their luck. Their trail would end in Halstead.

Heller was waiting for them exactly as he said he would. His team of chocobos, four strong-looking birds that were cleaned of the desert dust, awaited them patiently while their driver was busy adjusting the ropes to the carriage. Sabin and Siana caught him by surprise as he was concentrated on his work. The mustached man gave them a wide-grin, these two had made him fabulously wealthy after all, and pointed at the open door in his carriage.

"Take a seat, both of you. We'll be riding across the desert and leaving everyone else in a trail of dust before the sun fully sets," the dark haired man said with a grin.

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"What exactly did you do, Siana?" Sabin asked suspiciously. Their carriage shook as it began to leave the stables. They were comfortably seated in a small compartment, the windows darkened against prying eyes and walls reinforced to prevent sound from escaping. Only the wealthy traveled this way, and Sabin had not known Heller owned such a vehicle. When he had approached the driver, the man had just finished hauling a huge load of raw metals for the Imperials. He did not expect such luxury and privacy. Sabin felt better though, the soldiers would never catch them if they couldn't see them.

"I slipped into their base and dealt with the biggest threat," Siana replied. She looked outside, watching citizens of the Empire part in order to make way for the accelerating chocobo-drawn carriage. From the window, the people on the street did seem a bit like ants. It was no wonder the wealthy always looked down on everyone else, if this was the way they saw people.

No wonder her mother was always speaking ill of her choice to serve in the military. This was how she saw the people Siana had protected for many years, as nothing more than wretched beggars with no future.

"You took care of their Magitek? How did you manage that?" Sabin found the idea intriguing, that Siana could single-handedly stop an Imperial pursuit.

Siana looked up at him. "We're in the desert," she rolled her eyes as if he had just asked an incredibly stupid question.

"And that means what? I've seen those ATA's of yours in Figaro Desert. They didn't break down from heat or anything else," Sabin hadn't actually seen Magitek in the desert, but Edgar had told him of the escape from Kefka's attack on the castle. It was the same thing in his mind.

"They'll have the same problem in the long run," Siana replied without missing a beat. She continued staring outside and watched as they passed the citizens of Halstead.

"Which is?" Sabin was getting annoyed at her evasiveness.

"Sand filters," she replied. "It's not routine to check the filters, even though it's a quick thing to fix, because they normally clean out the dirt when the Magitek Armors are dismounted. Pilots don't have time to let maintenance crews do thorough checks before they jump into battle. I'll bet a year's pay that Godric won't think twice before jumping into his Armor."

"What exactly do these sand filters do?" Sabin asked. "And don't tell me they filter sand, I can guess that much."

Siana sighed. "Magitek gets slowed down by the desert sands. The tiny grains get into the gears and cause havoc with the mechanics," Siana brushed back her red hair, done up in a ponytail at the moment. "That's why Magitek is rarely used in extended desert combat. It slows the machine down and often causes failure at the worst possible time. It's the same thing with crossing rivers, although that's a bit different because of the depth or speed of the waters."

Sabin rubbed his chin. "It seems like Godric would be the type to check such little things," he said. "He's obsessed with Magitek Armor, isn't he?"

"He's stubborn and devoted, but he wouldn't bother with such minor details," Siana replied. "He might notice the difference if he was piloting his frontliner... though probably not early enough for it to make a difference. But we don't even have to worry about that. He won't give chase in anything but a fourth-gen."

"Let's hope you're right," Sabin mumbled to himself.

That caught her attention, Siana turned from watching the outside world pass by serenely and glared at him. "I doubt we could survive if we get caught by a squadron of Armors. You're lucky I risked my life to do something like that," she snapped.

"That's where Heller comes in," Sabin refuted immediately.

Siana rolled her eyes. "He's just a chocobo driver. What's he going to do against Armors intent on blasting the carriage apart? Wave a medallion from five hundred paces away as beams of fire rain down on us?"

Sabin shrugged. "I would think they want us alive," he said.

Siana laughed darkly. "I'm not so certain of that."

Sabin had nothing to say in response. She was right. It was the Empire that was chasing them.

The carriage left Halstead without much issue, only stopping once to speak with the guards at the edge of the city. It had seemed like their pricey ruse had worked, none of the guards questioned Heller and his miraculous medallion.

They were headed to the conquered province of Maranda. The plan was to find a small secluded area by Pierpoint and hide for the duration of winter. Edgar had contacts in that city and they could eventually reach his brother once it was safe. For now, it was too risky to stay in Tzen where Godric could catch them. The Core of the Empire was also not an option, too much warfare, while Albrook was simply too far away.

Sabin wondered what Maranda would be like. Few journeyed between Maranda and the rest of the Empire. Rumors told of a great Magitek battle on the Plains of Incledon, and now soldiers patrolled those areas with such dedication that no one could pass. They would not be journeying in that direction, for the Plains of Incledon sloped south towards the lands where the Kingdom of Maranda had once been. That area was still in ruins from the recent war and was heavily militarized. The occupation had apparently rebuilt the crown city of Maranda and its sister city on the coast, Sutton, thanks to the skills of a generous Governor. But no matter what the Empire did, rumors were rift of the bloodthirsty conquistador named Maverick Drummond. Sabin saw no reason to believe the Empire had instilled anything else but a ruthless dictator.

He suddenly recalled the heat of the fireplace inside the Elder's house, back in Narshe. The chill of winter flooded into the room, taking with it the comfortable warmth. Locke had just entered the doorway with a blond-haired teenage girl in tow.

"This's General Celes! She torched Maranda! She's an Imperial spy! Now, stand aside!" Cyan shouted dangerously as he charged past Gau with his sword drawn.

No, Sabin remembered Celes' silence. The Imperial occupation had not been kind at all. And she had been the best of the Empire. She had recognized the evil that the Empire represented and had the integrity -- the morality -- to fight it. Celes Chere, the woman who torched Maranda, was the best the Empire had.

His eyes drifted over to the red-haired ex-pilot.

The best the Empire had.

Visions of Peace will be continued in The Ninth Chapter - Presage
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Posted: 26th June 2006 14:24

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Wavey Marle!
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Posted: 22nd July 2006 23:28

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The Ninth Chapter - Presage

Rian was a heavily fortified city that acted as the forefront of war for Lilienthal's faction. It secured supply lines and its position in the mountains made it influential over the entire province. Several thousand soldiers worked tirelessly for the past three months and had grown quite skilled at their job of guarding the new border. Well before the sun had set beyond the Strachan mountains, the commanders of Rian knew about them. After all, they were a contingent of nearly two-thousand men on chocobos riding to the front. It had been impossible to miss. Even sentries that had been asleep in their positions would have been woken by the trembling ground as the heavy cavalry, carrying their own weight in plated armor, thundered past.

Locke and Terra rode with Colonel Norris Ferdinand and his personal guard, a group of fifty men that reminded Locke of Donnach and Reinhardt. They were not typical Imperial soldiers, and their attitudes and belongings showed as much. Terra could feel no less than five Magitek Knights amongst the group. These fifty men were disciplined, battle-hardened veterans that had fought many battles against the monsters that still roamed both land and sea, brought civilization to the barbaric tribes in the fringes of the southern continent, and now fought a pretender to the Imperial throne. They had an aura about them that was frightening to behold.

Rian was not their destination. The city would be the initial target of any incursion into Lilienthal's holdings and though it was heavily fortified, it was not where central command would be. Norris spoke shortly with the garrison commander and returned with instructions to find the main force, along with the color codes of flags so that they could locate the command tents quickly.

As they set off from Rian, Locke came to an interesting realization. He had noticed it earlier, but attributed the problem due to the nature of Wilds. Farin had explained to them those areas had been hardly contested, and so it made sense that the lands had not shown the same battle scarring that the southern areas of Tzen showed. But even as they neared the front lines, the lands of Albrook were still pristine and untouched. The Vais Gumes reflected the soft moonlight, a soft yellow glow that swayed in symphony with the cold winter winds. Those grassy stalks still stood tall and proud, telling Locke that there had never been a battle here, only the movement of many a soldier through well-trodden paths.

He wondered why there was such a difference. When they had traveled with Farin, the lands were broken and charred. The scars of war had been everywhere and refugees were all about. Towns were rampaged and sacked, most deserted as the villagers left for the safer cities in the north. Yet in Albrook, the horrors of war had not affected the people that lived there.

That question was answered when they arrived at the front.

A bit after nightfall, they reached the entrenched lines that marked the edge of safe territory and the beginning of a neutral zone. Yet despite the great numbers that made up the central concentration of Lilienthal's military might, they did not see the camp until they were well within the range of archers.

Norris seemed to be oblivious to the dozens of soldiers they passed, their bows ready and arrows nocked, and spurred his chocobo nonchalantly. They followed his lead without question, fifty elite soldiers and two out-of-place civilians, as he rode down a path that curved softly towards the center of the encampment. Behind them, Locke noted that the remaining two-thousand riders had stayed at the fringes of the camp.

Men parted aside so that Norris could ride through, most dropping what they had been doing and rushing out of the way without fail. They passed dozens upon dozens on the road alone, so many that Locke quickly lost count. Thousands were working to secure their lands from the attacking hoards of the Core. They were the reason why Albrook was so well protected.

At last, they came to a halt before five figures.

"Norris you old fool," the figure in the lead growled as Norris galloped to a stop. Locke and Terra followed suit, coming to a halt just behind Norris and two other soldiers.

Norris dismounted carefully, but no one else was following. Locke gave Terra a sidelong glance and she shook her head in silent agreement. It didn't seem right for them to follow Norris.

"Moving with that kind of force without a proper scouting curtain is the apex of idiocy," the woman continued to growl. She was taller than Norris was, but in the sparse moonlight, it was difficult to make out any features. The entire camp was cloaked in darkness. They had seen hardly any fires burning, despite the chilly weather.

"I'm happy to see you too Karen," Norris pulled off his hood and took a deep breath of the crisp night air. "Your sentries were almost impossible to avoid," he said with a teasing tone.

Locke wondered what Norris meant by that.

The woman, Karen, crossed her arms. "You've brought trouble, Ferdinand," she said.

Norris turned around and directed his gaze at Terra and Locke. His wizened face was full of vigor but creased with lines as he thought deeply. "Perhaps you have a point, Alysworth, but I have also brought a great deal of help for your men," he replied with his back still turned. In a louder voice, he addressed his men. "Sanderson, Gibbons," he ordered. After waiting for the two men to snap to attention, he continued. "Take your men back to Carr," he turned around to Karen. "Who will coordinate?" he asked.

Karen gestured at one of the figures behind her. "Captain Tarrish and his aides will be in charge of that," she replied.

Norris resumed his orders, his men spurring their chocobos into action after three of the figures behind Karen had been assigned. It was not until after the soldiers had left that Norris addressed Locke and Terra. "You two should dismount and come with us. Karen?"

"My tent is this way, follow me."

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Karen's tent was lit by nothing more than a single small candle, but it was somehow comfortably warm. Her aide departed while Norris directed Locke and Terra to take the two seats in front of Karen's desk.

Karen lit three more small candles before sitting down herself. In the light, they could see that she had shoulder-length brown hair. It was probably that length due to the months of war rather than a personal decision. Her energetic black eyes studied both Locke and Terra with an uncomfortable penetrating gaze, but beneath were ugly dark circles and wrinkles unbefitting of her age.

"Major-General Karen Alysworth," Norris gestured. Terra noted the two stars prominent on Karen's leather armor. She was an older woman, elder than Farin though still youthful in comparison to Norris. While an aura of authority radiated from the woman, it was not due to any spellform. Terra could sense no magic in her. Karen Alysworth was a born leader, one both knowledgeable and battle-hardened.

"Second only to General Lilienthal, she is our field commander and in charge of all our military operations." Norris stayed standing, his long grey hair swaying from side to side as he grinned mischievously.

Terra pulled off her wolf-fur hood, her blond-dyed hair falling out as she did so. Locke pulled off his hood as well, thankful to have it off. The thin Imperial cloaks were deceivingly warm.

Karen studied Terra and Locke, her gaze bouncing between the two. "Familiar, but not familiar enough for me to remember their faces off-hand."

"Terra Branford and Locke Cole," Norris introduced them with dramatic hand motions.

Locke was unsure whether he should speak. It was an awkward situation and he could see that Terra felt the same.

Karen's brow wrinkled. "The Esper?" she asked after some thought. "Yes of course," she answered her own question. "I've seen you before, at Emperor Gestahl's side. You had green hair back then, and you looked a bit younger. As for the Returner," Karen turned her gaze to Locke. "You caused one of my subordinates no small amount of grief with your antics in Sellenger a couple years past. It's nice to finally meet you."

Locke blinked blankly. He had done quite a bit for the Returners, but he could not seem to remember a trip to Sellenger. Even if he could remember, he did not think he was even remotely well known enough for a Major-General to take note of his name.

"Confused? Normally I would never take notice of such trivial matters, but in that case I had. We had some trouble keeping tabs on you-"

He remembered what he had done in Sellenger now! But how could someone so highly ranked in the army have known what he had done?

"-at the time, and though all signs pointed to incompetence I always suspected something else." Karen turned to the old mage. "Norris, do explain yourself. I have not been notified of such interesting guests arriving under my command."

Norris grinned. "We've been given direct orders from General Lilienthal," his hands reached inside his robes and took out a sealed brown envelope. "Your orders are here in formal writing." He slid the envelope across Karen's makeshift desk. "I took the liberty of delivering it myself. I thought it might be a good time to drop by and see how you were doing."

Karen did not reach out for the envelope though, her arms remained crossed beneath her breasts and her eyes glaring at Norris with displeasure.

Norris sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry for scanning you without your permission," he grumbled.

Locke raised an eyebrow. He felt out of place, as if he was intruding on a much more private conversation than he should be privy to. Terra seemed to feel the same way. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Karen shrugged but it was obvious that some manner of tension had faded away. "Explain the orders," she replied.

Locke suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Norris had placed himself between Locke and Terra. His tone and expression became serious. "We've been ordered to engage the Western enemy until relieved, or we take Maley's Point and the Grand Peaks."

As Locke shifted in his seat again, Norris finally took note of the uncomfortable situation. "You two don't have to worry. You've been cleared for everything that I'll be discussing tonight," he said.

It did not relieve either Returner, but Karen looked surprised. The expression was fleeting though, and Locke was left unsure whether it was a trick of the light. "Well, that would be two surprising developments," the senior Imperial officer offered with a calm disposition. "The first would be two civilians -- historically aiding our enemies if not taking arms up against us directly -- being privy to a discussion between two senior field officers. The next being the sudden change in our defensive plans. It is the beginning of winter, though it comes early this year, and I would advise our General against any serious engagements at this time."

Norris removed his hands from Locke and Terra's shoulders. "These two will accompany me into Caleigh's territory and take care of the so-called New Order. There are some threats that must be dealt with, and the General has ordered me to eliminate them. Your orders are rather simple, and you should be able to achieve them without much resistance. I am correct with my assumption, right?"

Karen leaned back in her chair and unfolded her arms, but she did not look anymore relaxed. "Caleigh is a man with spirit. He does not falter nor will he balk at sacrifice, especially when the roads to Vector are being contested. General Lilienthal is asking too much, the winter will be harsh and our enemy has had much time to fortify their positions."

"That's not exactly what I expected to hear from you, Karen," Norris noted. "It doesn't reflect my opinion, or the more important opinion of our General."

Major-General Karen Alysworth blinked away deep wrinkles underneath her eyes. She took a sip from a canteen on her desk before addressing Norris. "You're telling me that a political fogey and his pet black-hat have views differing from my own, and that I should bend to the will of the incompetent?"

The tension in the air thickened and Locke shifted in his seat again. Karen was staring daggers at Norris. There was such malice behind that gaze that Locke felt extremely uneasy, even though he was not the target.

"Karen," Norris growled. "That's not what I meant."

"Then next time, think before you speak. The lives of my men mean more than any of Lilienthal's wants," Karen folded her arms. "You can tell him I said that if you so desire."

"Duly noted, and had I any political ambitions I might even take you up on that offer," Norris replied off-hand. He sighed deeply. "You'll never get that third star if you keep speaking your mind like this, Karen."

"Just tell me why he wants Maley's Point," Karen ignored Norris' remarks. "The only reason why we no longer hold the Grand Peaks is because the General retreated much farther back than necessary. Attacking now would require the bulk of our forces and places us in an aggressive position that does nothing but provoke Caleigh and his armies. We can't force a decisive result, I wouldn't think we'd be even capable of putting a Tek Missile into the walls of Vector, had we any of those left," Karen pointed at a detailed map of the region between Vector and Albrook. "While Caleigh may have overextended here," her finger pointed to a pattern of red pins near the westernmost Strachan Mountains. They formed a haphazard grid that seemed to serve no purpose, but just above it was a solid wall of crimson dots. "The Brougham Line is more than capable of holding us back for months... perhaps even indefinitely," her voice lowered with the last word.

Locke watched curiously as Norris' eyes shifted from Karen to Terra, and then back again. What was going on here?

"Karen, you should know that attacking the Grand Peaks was not General Lilienthal's idea. It was a concession that we agreed to."

This time, Karen's surprised expression was clear on her face. "You leave this army for a month and you come back with a treaty?" she said incredulously. "How?"

Norris gestured at Terra. "Miss Branford here has managed to change Lilienthal's mind. I personally discussed the terms with Brigadier Starson."

Karen turned to the half-Esper. "You convinced the General to make peace with Danielle?"

Terra shrugged. "It didn't exactly happen that way," she answered slowly. Terra was unsure of how to explain the situation. It was rather incredulous that in order for an alliance to be considered, Remiel had requested an audience with her. Even that description was stretching the truth... but she could not tell the Imperial soldiers that Remiel had intended to kill her because of his contempt for magic.

"Danielle," Norris echoed the name distastefully and unwittingly saved Terra from saying too much. "Karen, what did I just say about your odds for a third star?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "Enough of the games, old man. I grow tired of them."

"Sure," Norris gave his friendliest grin. "So will I be riding back to relay your observations and advice to our General? Or will you strike Maley's Point and keep our end of the bargain, so that General Meras and her armies will ride south into the Gap of Reddenhurst?"

The Major-General sighed. She gazed over the maps again. "Even without the reserves, I can easily mobilize about fifty-thousand men," she said with a bit of thought. "That should be more than enough to advance into the Core," she grumbled. Her eyes scanned the maps of the Kavanagh Mountains pinned up against the sides her personal tent. "With General Meras taking the Gap, that would divert reinforcements from Mansfield..."

"How long will it take you?" Norris interrupted Karen's train of thought.

"Four days," Karen said crisply and without hesitation. Plans were already forming within her mind. "Five without your two-thousand chocobos. Three with the Knights of Odin."

Norris gestured extravagantly towards the entrance of the camp. "Carr and all his men are at your comma-"

"Norris," Karen interrupted. "The Tenth Division guards Maley's Point," she said quietly.

Colonel Norris Ferdinand breathed in sharply. The old soldier's eyes drifted down to the ground. Terra and Locke exchanged a look of concern; they had never seen him act like this.

"I'm sorry, but I thought you should know," Karen said with as much compassion as a pragmatic general could.

"Terry is a good man," Norris replied. "It is... unfortunate that he is so stubborn." He took a deep breath and then met Karen's gaze without emotion. "I require only ten of my finest to accompany me into Fanshaw. I will need supplies and all the information on the city and the Strachan Mountains that your scouts have collected."

Karen whistled. "Very well, Colonel. I must ask, must you go that deep into the New Order?"

Norris nodded. "We depart tomorrow. When next we meet, I'll expect it to be at Maley's Point."

Karen returned the nod. "Of course. Be careful, old man."

Colonel Norris Ferdinand saluted, his fist audibly thumping against his chest. He left without another word.

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They followed Norris around the camp, the old mage leading them as though he had the map of the area burned into his head. While they followed, Locke walked beside him. His curiosity had won over his sense of caution. "Norris," he started. "Mind if I ask something?"

"Go ahead," Norris said as he looked up at one of the tents. It was flying a triangular red flag.

"I was just wondering why you included us in that conversation. We weren't really required there, and didn't we hear far more than we should?" Locke asked.

Norris kept looking at the flags flying on top of the tents. "I shouldn't have said no for an aide," he grumbled under his breath. Turning to Locke, he perked up and gave him a slap on the back. "Stop worrying so much," he said. "The information will do you no good even if you get it to Caleigh himself, he's completely outmatched. The New Order has little chance against General Alysworth and her strategic genius. Her tactical abilities also outstrip anything that Caleigh has in his ranks. Even if you betray us, you'll them offer nothing."

Locke frowned. "I didn't mean it like that," he asserted.

Norris seemed to find what he was looking for and started towards his new target. Locke followed, Terra behind him looking around the army camp with interest.

"I meant it just seemed weird to listen to you give orders and have no idea what you were talking about," Locke said. He left unsaid how strange Norris and Karen acted together and skirted away from Norris' friend on the other side of the war.

Norris shrugged. "What, you've never heard of the Knights of Odin?"

Locke shook his head. "No, nor this New Order. What is it?"

Norris stopped in his tracks, surprising Locke. The old man spun around on one foot, stamping the other down when he faced Locke. "That's strange. You don't know what the New Order is? What about you Terra?"

Terra glanced up, caught by surprise. She had not been following the conversation and gave Norris a blank look.

"I guess not," Norris answered his own question. "Well, the New Order is the abomination that Anson Tilton has set up in the capital and the Core. He claimed that he was the Emperor or something and expected us to follow Hector Caleigh's steps, as if we were all as gullible as that man. Tilton has attempted to reform the laws of the land and has passed ludicrous decrees, such as the banning of a soldier's right to lay claim to his enemy's belongings, and even tried to abolish the noble houses," Norris said. He spread his hands out. "The man's stupidity is great, as the noble houses are both wealthy and influential. Without their support, basic needs like grain began to run short in the Core," Norris shook his head sadly. "Tilton has to be removed from power as soon as possible, and with him, the foolish New Order he has built."

Locke had never heard anything like this. Danielle had told them quite a bit about the events in the Core, but she had not even mentioned the New Order. He vaguely recalled the name of Anson Tilton though, and Hector Caleigh's name seemed familiar as well.

"I'm surprised that you would help General Meras yet be in the dark as to what has happened in the recent weeks," Norris said. "There's no reason for you to not know the terrifying rule that Tilton has submerged the Core into."

Locke noticed the look on Terra's face. She was surprised that Norris did not know Danielle was threatening them into cooperating, using Relm's life as a bargaining chip in her ploys. Locke was not surprised though. He had remembered the Remiel did not know about their deal with Danielle. If Norris' superior did not know, Norris would not either.

"You never mentioned it," Locke pointed out. "Neither did Remiel."

Norris laughed. "It's rare for stubborn men like us to give Tilton enough respect to actually address his rule as the New Order," he stated. "Certainly Lilienthal does not recognize Tilton's authority any further than as an insurgent within the capital. As for myself, I follow the General..." Norris trailed off. "You will understand soon enough when we journey through the southern sections of the Core. The trip to Fanshaw will not be easy and you will see much that results from Tilton's rule. It shall be quite treacherous when we enter the more populated regions, being very few against many thousands. You two will do exactly as I say, or else we will all be dead."

"What is Fanshaw?" Terra asked, interested now that Norris was speaking of their future.

"Fanshaw is a major city south of the Capital. Unlike the other major cities, we can reach it through the Strachan Mountains and so we bypass the great defensive line that Caleigh has set against our forces."

"What would we be doing there?" Locke asked.

Norris grinned. "I will tell you when the time is right. There is no need for you to worry needlessly so soon."

"That doesn't sound promising," Locke grumbled.

"We will be probably helping a rebellion, getting supplies to people in need there," Terra whispered to Locke.

Locke gave her a questioning glance. "How do you know that?" he whispered back.

"You two can stop your childish buzzing behind my back," Norris grinned and pointed triumphantly. There was the glow of firelight coming from the direction he gestured; it was their campsite. "Tomorrow will be an early start. If we sit here and chat about all that you don't know, then the war will be over and you'll still be talking. Let's go get some sleep."

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Sabin took a deep breath of the night air. It had been three days since they left Halstead, crossing the desert north of the Callaghan Plains and within about two days of Pierpoint. Luck was on their side. The Magitek squadrons at Halstead never did give chase. Either they never recognized Heller's departure -- in which case the medallion was worth its weight in gold -- or Siana's sabotage had worked perfectly as planned. Either way, they had escaped without any trouble and were now happily at the edge of the Province of Maranda.

Maranda, a victim of Imperial expansionistic tendencies two years past. It was the latest province to be added to the Empire. The northern tip of the land seemed unaffected by the change of leadership though, serene and untouched by the ravages of war.

Sabin stood on atop a hill in the midst of a field of green stalks and white flowers, mountains in the distance basked in the warm glow of the setting sun. It brought a pang of nostalgia to his heart, his gaze drifting north where his home was. He had not seen Figaro for far too long, or the Kolt Mountains he had called home for the last decade. With the Emperor dead and the Imperials busy killing each other, he wondered why he was halfway around the world in a land he held no love for.

His ear twitched as Siana made her way up the grassy slope. Her red hair was pulled back and glistened with moisture; it was freshly washed in the nearby stream. She was wearing clean clothing as well, picked up in Halstead and more suited for the colder weather. Sabin was reminded that he had not bathed since leaving Bill's.

The two measured each other with cold eyes, Returner and Imperial clashing yet again. In the past days, Sabin had not even attempted to make small talk with the ex-pilot and Siana had gotten the hint. She reflected his indifference and then some.

"Heller and I finished setting up camp," Siana said with an air of professionalism. "I take it that you have finished scouting the area?"

Heartless and callous, the woman might be, but she recognized skill regardless of personal opinion. Siana had deferred to his advice on more than one occasion when choosing campsites. At least she had one redeeming quality. Sabin had always felt himself more attuned to the wilds than others and a decade spent under the tutelage of Duncan -- his martial arts master -- in the Kolt Mountains had made him an expert ranger.

"Fresh water and some blueberries, a late-season blossom but still fresh. We're rather well hidden and there almost no chance anyone from the road will see us as long as we don't make a fire. It'll do for the night," Sabin concluded with an equally professional tone.

Siana swiftly nodded and started back down the hill.

"Wait," Sabin held up a hand. The red-haired Imperial turned back towards him, her face failing to hide her displeasure. He had broken their unspoken agreement not to speak with each other unless it was absolutely necessary.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering if you had finished reading through the briefs on this province."

That caught her off-guard. "How did you know about that?" Siana asked with surprise all over her face.

Sabin straightened. "Even if I didn't notice the way you held back detail about your trip to sabotage Magitek Armor, I saw the papers lying in your pack. You can fool me once with your ease of lifting Imperial documentation, but not twice."

Siana frowned. "Well I didn't think you would be interested in the material," she defended.

"I've never been to Maranda, or lived under the yoke of the Empire," Sabin sat down in the grasses. "While depending on each other's expertise has worked so far, I would like to know more about the place we're about to call home for the winter months."

"What's there to know about? It's a province of the Empire and military presence in Pierpoint is non-existent. The reports confirmed what I told you: that this area of the continent is a perfect place to hide until Godric gives up," Siana answered confidently.

"No troops at all? Not even conscripts?" Sabin pursed his lips together. He remembered clearly that there had been Imperial soldiers from Maranda under General Leo's command. There was also the injured fellow in Mobliz, the one he and Cyan had tried to help.

"The Imperial Army never conscripted anyone," Siana snapped quickly.

"I saw soldiers from Maranda participate in the Doma War," Sabin pointed out in a calm tone. He wanted to avoid an intense argument if it was possible.

"They joined willingly, just like anyone else in the army. There's no more difference between a soldier from Maranda and a pilot from Albrook," Siana pointed at herself.

"I find that rather hard to believe, considering how the Empire just conquered the Kingdom," Sabin grumbled.

"Maybe if you were a little less ignorant, you would know how the people there have turned around in the years that have passed. A popular Governor rules there now, he's rebuilt Maranda and Sutton with money out of his own pocket. Now the province has two of the most beautiful cities in the world."

"Out of his own pocket?" Sabin echoed, not at all convinced of the alleged benign dictator that the Emperor had propped up.

"That's not all he did. He had most of his officers in the army stay in the province. They built new roads and railroad tracks, giant farms, businesses, factories... everything. Trade flourished and put many of the Marandans to work. We brought civilization to a backwater Kingdom. Everyone's better off now," Siana proudly explained the work of her peers.

"I suppose he even boasts that he made the trains run on time?" Sabin quipped.

Siana rolled her eyes. "At least we have trains, unlike some desert... places."

Sabin bit off a nasty retort, instead choosing to keep quiet his distaste for the Empire. His patience for the Imperial exhausted for the evening, he made a waving motion. "Forget it, as long as there are no soldiers near Pierpoint, that's all I care about." He shook his head, wondering how he could tolerate the woman for the entire winter.

"Fewer than I expected," Siana responded. "We should be fine as long as you don't attract attention."

We would be fine as long as you don't murder anyone else, Sabin thought darkly. "Thanks," he said with a forced smile.

Siana turned her back and left without a response.

They would definitely need separate cabins.

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Four cloaked men walked into the town. No one paid attention to them, despite the fact that one was limping along with most of his weight being supported by his friend. After all, though the Empire had restored order, such injuries were still quite a common sight. Many a refugee had come from the south with similar hurts. Some had gone even farther into the north in order to get away from the chaos that gripped the Core.

Edgar had talked to a couple travelers on the road. He had not been able to ask too much or else he would seem out of place. However, he had heard whispers of war between the Empire's generals, infighting amidst different factions, and the monsters that rampaged unchecked. As well, apparently there were great shortages of supplies in the Core. Hundreds of thousands were starving and the cause was, if Edgar took all that he heard at face value, due to the pestilence of magic.

The venom and hatred of magic scared Edgar. Every refugee cursed the ancient power and found it responsible for nearly all the wrongs in the world. Edgar didn't blame them for their reaction. The Floating Continent had unleashed so much death and destruction during its fall that anyone who thought otherwise must have been insane. Still, Edgar had wished that the citizens of the Empire would blame the men responsible for the revival of magic: Gestahl, Kefka, and the rest of the Empire's top generals. If the people of the Empire blamed their leaders, reform was possible. Instead, the hatred had been focused on something else and those in power continued to go unpunished.

Edgar had plenty of time for introspection while he had waited in Nestil. He had come to the depressing conclusion that the civil war was, in a sense, caused by their actions. The Empire's citizens being subjugated in such a fashion was partially their fault. Killing Gestahl and Kefka on the Floating Continent had not been without consequence. They had been so intent on stopping Gestahl and his attempts to resurrect archaic magic that they did not plan for the aftermath. They did not analyze what a headless Empire would do, how its generals would react and whether the government could maintain peace and order. The Empire was twice as large as the entire Northern Continent; its last census had placed their population beyond fifty-million men, women and children. To think the Returners could simply destroy the Imperial government and return the world to peace had been stupidity idealized.

They had made the same mistake when they asked Terra to speak to the Espers beyond the Sealed Gate. They had not given thought to what the Espers would do. Creatures of magic that had numerous friends subjected to years of torture and eventual death, and the Returners had thought the Espers would help fight the Empire to a long-lasting peace. Pure, untainted stupidity.

The Espers had charged out of their realm and attacked Vector in a horrifying display of vengeance, leading to fifty-thousand innocent lives dead and hundreds of thousands suffering because of their actions. Indiscriminate death visited by powers unimaginable, and Edgar had not even seen it coming. His father would have been shamed at his lack of foresight.

Edgar's mind kept wandering to the sight of a young child, perhaps five years of age, resting by the river with her parents. She had the courage to ask them where they were going. The innocence in her brown eyes had been overwhelming.

"We're headed south," Edgar had replied with a forced smile. "Our friend is hurt really badly and we need to find him a good doctor. They can save him in the south."

Without pause, the little girl had instantly responded. "You shouldn't go that way, it's cold and there's nothing to eat." Her eyes then lit up. "You can come with me! Mommy is going to take us to Auntie's place and we'll be safe there. You can come too! No more darkness, no more monsters, and no more magic!"

A child of the Empire's Core had told him that. It had shaken him to the very core to hear such words.

That was the least of their worries though.

Cartha was a small town, bigger than Nestil but certainly no metropolis, which bordered the forests surrounding the Tzen mountain range. In order to cross into the city limits, it was necessary to walk across many bridges as much of the city was built on top of a river.

Imperial soldiers were everywhere in Cartha. The garrison was nearly thrice the size of the one in Nestil. It was fortunate that the times were so chaotic, or else they would have been caught quite quickly. Their faces were hidden within hooded shadows so that they did not attract attention, but it was still highly suspicious and Edgar wondered how they would enter the capital of Tzen. Cartha and Nestil were small, hardly worth mentioning when one spoke of the Empire. However, Tzen was the capital of a province and one of the largest cities within the Empire. It would be heavily defended and in times of civil war, soldiers were probably even more alert than ever. After all, anyone could have been an enemy. They could be spying or planning sabotage. Even those within the ranks must have been eying one another, wondering where the loyalties of their friends laid.

The inn Garrett had suggested was exactly as Edgar wanted. It was low-class, without a bar, and the innkeeper asked no questions. They got their rooms without any strange looks and laid Setzer to rest as soon as they could.

Setzer had woken only two days ago, but they did not want to stay in Nestil any longer than necessary. Kenneth pronounced that Setzer was healthy, but his body had been weakened from the ordeal and would take many days to recover. Still, he had managed to walk with a limp and Cyan had helped Setzer make the journey.

Edgar eyed Strago. The old man had his eyes closed and his arms crossed, resting in chair deformed from years of abuse. The lore-master's worry could be seen in the creases on his face. Edgar knew that Strago wanted nothing more than to continue their journey to Tzen, but not with Setzer's current condition.

Two days, he promised. Two days before the gambler would be rested and moving by himself.

Edgar hoped Strago would not do anything foolish in those two days. A smile touched his face when he thought that. It was not an image of Strago, but rather of his brother. Foolishness was his business, such as the time he had jumped into the rapids in order to chase their enemy.

"I hope Sabin is having an easier time than we are," he said to himself.

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Sabin's eyes snapped open. His focused mediation was broken when he felt the chocobo carriage grind to a sudden halt. He could hear Heller outside talking with someone. He took a peek through the curtains of their carriage and looked for the cause of the disturbance.

"What is it?" Siana asked. She had already looked out her side of the window but saw nothing.

"Men, and women... they look like beggars," Sabin remarked in confusion. Sabin took a quick sip of water from his canteen, deciding what to do about the strange crowd. "I'll go out."

Siana had already opened her door and strolled out into the frigid air.

Winter was upon them and the fields north of the Plains of Incledon were rocky and dry. They were to reach Pierpoint that day. The interruption and their proximity to civilization must have been related.

Sabin stepped outside and saw the roadblock finally. His eyes opened wide in shock. It was comprised of people, five shriveled women whose skin hung from the bones had strung themselves across the narrow road. Three men and another woman, equally thin, had swarmed the carriage as soon as it had stopped. They were chattering continuously but Sabin couldn't make out any sentences.

Even though they had escaped their pursuers and were safe in such a desolate region, Sabin felt goosebumps rise. He did not feel this type of anxiety when they were running from Godric. Something was desperately wrong here. The men and women were clothed in rags... no, the rags simply hung from their boney bodies. Several were missing arms and legs. Their eyes were wide and filled with fear, their hair a mess and the constant senseless blather that came from their mouths told Sabin more than anything they could have said.

These people had been tortured. Not just tortured, but also subjected to horrifying violence for probably months now.

"Please, we have nothing to give you," Heller growled as one of the men had climbed onto the carriage. The man was missing an eye, all his teeth, and crawled and scratched at Heller's driving seat. "And say something normal! I don't speak crazy."

Sabin let one of the other men grab his arm. He had both eyes at least, but the right ear was missing and there were stitches all throughout his chest. Rashes were present all over his skin, ugly red blotches that turned the stomach.

"Coming, coming," the man rasped. "God, darkness, faith and fallen. Cometh Empire... one way, one way."

Sabin softly pulled away the insane man's hand.

"By the Emperor, what has happened to these people?" Siana whispered. She had drawn a knife, but her eyes were wide at the sight of the women on the road. They were mutilated worse than the men were and Sabin felt bile rising in his throat. He knew what this was.

"The Empire," Sabin said. "These people have been tortured or... worse," he trailed off, unable to take his eyes off one of the girls at the lead of the roadblock. Half her face had been scarred, her right eye gone and her mouth twisted towards her broken nose. She was looking at him, trying to say something but she had no tongue. "Disgusting," he whispered. Revulsion at what the Empire renewed, he spun to Heller. "We need to get these people some help," Sabin said.

"No one... human would do this," Siana knelt down and tried to help one of the girls up. "It has to be monsters," she whispered.

"Wishful thinking," Sabin growled. "Even monsters treat their victims better."

"Then mercenaries, or those drug-addicted scum," Siana explained as she stood up. Her eyes were filled with sadness, tears of empathy only moments away. "They did this."

"Don't be a fool. Only Imperial soldiers-"

"The Empire did not do this!" Siana shouted. She spun around and glared at him with more wrath than Sabin thought her capable of. She finally had enough of his talk, his preaching on the horrors of the Empire. She hated how he spoke about her peers and his words sounded very much like he was blaming her for what had happened to these people.

She slapped him across the face without realizing it. It surprised her, but she didn't feel sorry for it. In fact, it felt good. "Soldiers do not do this!" she screamed. "We protect people, fight monsters, bring law and order! We don't mutilate them, cut out their eyes, tear their breasts off and toss them into the wild you fucking idiot!"

'We'. Sabin suddenly found the sight of Siana revolting. Her hair was the color of spilt blood, and the anger on her face the same rage as those soldiers that had senselessly slaughtered so many of Doma.

Sabin took a deep breath. He tried to calm himself as Duncan had taught him.

But surrounded by these men and women, so brutally tortured into twisted aberrations of the human form, Sabin couldn't keep the hatred within. The violence of the war in Doma returned to his memories, how he and Shadow had stumbled on village after village of the dead. He remembered the stories Cyan had recounted of the horrors of the Imperial Army.

His hands shook from anger. This deluded, immoral Imperial killer had the audacity to lecture him?

"Listen here you murdering bitch," Sabin growled. He caught her hand again before she slapped him from the insult.

They had so been intent on each other that neither noticed where the carriage had stopped. They did not notice how it had coincidentally halted at the base of two hills that blocked their view both east and west. They missed the rocky ridge that was right behind Sabin, positioned such that someone could sneak up behind him without Siana seeing.

"Don't you touch me!" Siana tried to pull away from his powerful grip.

"Shut up you-" Sabin cut himself off as he heard it. His anger had blinded him until now, when the rustling of the grasses, the soft squawks of the chocobos, the gentle breeze whistling by... all these elements told him that someone was inexplicably behind him.

Even before he turned around, he knew the man was there. Sabin's hand caught his assailant's outstretched arm by the cuff, an iron mace dangerously close to Sabin's face.

"Who are you?" Sabin asked. His anger had turned from Siana to this new threat.

His assailant was wearing green and brown speckled clothing; it was camouflage of some sort. Unfortunately, their surroundings were rocky and he stood out like a beacon of light. The man was heavily armed, knives strapped to his chest, an axe on his back and two swords at his sides.

Some manner of mercenary? A skillful one, if he could handle all those weapons, Sabin thought.

The man growled and broke Sabin's grip. He went for his sword.

Sabin's fist connected with the man's face, breaking the nose and splitting the lips with a spray of blood. His assailant landed on the ground, but not before Sabin sent another blow into his chest and knocked him unconscious.

It was then that Sabin realized the man made no sounds when he moved, not even when he fell to the ground.

Magic.

"Sabin!" Siana warned him.

Sabin turned away from the fallen attacker and noted another man, similarly dressed, lying at Siana's feet with his throat slit. That had not been what Siana was referring to.

They surrounded them with arrows nocked, swords and shields ready, spears leveled at them. Twenty-two men by his count, each looking as dangerous as the one Sabin just dealt with. Two rings of men had surrounded them and made it impossible for them to escape without a great deal of bloodshed. Each man was moving without noise, though they trampled the grasses and kicked aside pebbles with their amateur motions. These men were either unused to the spell that affected them, or rarely encountered someone of Sabin's skill.

"Take them alive, I'm impressed with these savages. They might be worth more than rodents."

Their commander was in the back, too far away to strike. Sabin had already judged every man that was near him, and the commander was the least of his worries. The first ring of warriors was dangerous enough to kill him. He cracked the knuckles of his clenched fists. Master Duncan, how would you handle such odds?

His late master did not answer. Instead, steel charged forth at Sabin.

"Siana, get to the carriage!" Sabin shouted as he spun. His arms and legs were his weapons and unlike the slow sloth-like movements of pole-arms, he was blazing fast. The men that came close had either their weapons broken, or their faces bloodied. Swords were a problem, but Sabin dodged and slipped around their blades with grace. He did not waste any breath, any movement, and struck only when necessary.

The archers did nothing because they were afraid of hitting their own. The pikemen and swordsmen could only approach Sabin two or three at a time, lest they get in one another's way. Though they outnumbered him, they still fell one by one. Unfortunately, Sabin did not have the time to ensure they stayed down when they fell. When he struck one, another would take his place. But the ring of men grew thinner and thinner as Sabin fought his way through the trap he had walked into.

As Sabin nailed another man in the side with a quick jab, there came a loud piercing command.

"Stop!"

Sabin did not listen, but the warriors around him certainly did. Two more fell to the ground before they were out of Sabin's reach and their shields in defensive positions. He had knocked out at least six of them, eight when he added the latest two, and hurt many of the others in the first ring. There were still too many though, and they were holding back for some reason.

Sabin spared a glance behind him. Siana had her back to the carriage, her knives out but she knew better than to get involved. Two of the mutilated men had crouched near the carriage, but the rest were still on the road. None had tried to run. In fact, they were all on the ground. Their arms were wrapped around their legs, head against the chest and they rocked back and forth like babies. Sabin looked up and saw that Heller was slouched over in the driver seat, an arrow embedded in his back. He swore angrily.

The commander was a man dressed in grey. He had a sash made of white silk upon his left hip and a fine mustache graced his face. He walked through the ring of men, coming to a stop about ten meters away from Sabin. "You are an interesting man, skilled and perceptive. The Guild shall grow strong with your assistance," the man said.

He had no weapons. Sabin carefully stowed away reference to this Guild and instead concentrated on this strange overconfident man. He wondered what the chances were that he could use their commander as a hostage. Probably very good, all the camouflaged men had obeyed their commander's orders without question.

The man in grey nodded at Sabin. "What is your name, savage?"

Sabin spared a quick glance behind him. Siana was eyeing their Heller's chocobo team. Good, Sabin thought. If she could cut loose the chocobos, they could escape this ambush.

"I will not be ignored, savage," the man in grey strolled up through the rings of men. "I offer you a chance at Enlightenment; to join the Guild and serve the ranks as loyal Peers of the Patrician. It is a great honor, one that is not extended to just any savage."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sabin replied. He hoped to give Siana the time she needed.

"That is natural," the man in grey replied with a knowing look. "The pain you suffer daily must be unbearable, but do not fear. After the Enlightenment, you will find penance," he spread his arms around and looked at the men around him. "Is it not true, my loyal subjects?"

"Yes Peer Cardwell," the soldiers all replied as one.

The man in grey, Cardwell, turned to Sabin. "You will accompany us to-"

Sabin's hand flashed out. He had seen his opportunity to strike and without any further deliberation, he took the chance. A bolt of white energy appeared from Sabin's hand. His mind was clear as Duncan as taught him, his feelings calm and collected.

The Aurabolt shot through Caldwell and the two men in front of him, then into the warriors behind. The blast of white energy ripped the men apart, their screams barely heard before their bodies disappeared in the blazing heat of focused spirit energy.

Without thinking, Sabin charged forward before anyone else moved. His fists downed the two closest men with a pummel of blows. He turned around to check on Siana.

Yet Caldwell was somehow in front of him, screaming as his eyes blazed in a heat of anger. "Impressive, savage!" he shouted as a fireball shot from his outstretched arms.

Sabin dived aside, surprised by the Magitek Knight's fury. He rolled to a crouch but before he could face Caldwell, a sudden blow knocked the air out of him. A second blow came, his feet leaving the ground as he flew backwards through the sky. He landed face-first. The cold rocky ground was unkind to his landing, but he ignored the pain and quickly got to his feet.

His head exploded in pain as yet another invisible blow came. Sabin realized, too late, that Caldwell was somehow using fists of air to attack him. He could catch glimpses of the air pockets, thickened to the point that they distorted the images behind them, before they rained upon him. His attempts at blocking did nothing though, the occasional blow was luckily blocked but they were too fast, too many for him to defend.

When the blows at last stopped, Sabin realized he was on his knees and blood was dripping off his face. His throat was filled with some sort of warm liquid and breathing was a struggle. He looked up to see the black mustache above his face, a grin on Caldwell's face, while in his hand was a familiar iron mace.

"The Patrician will enjoy speaking with you."

The mace came down, greeting him with agony and torment before the darkness took him.
Post #125429
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Posted: 22nd July 2006 23:30

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Edgar woke with a shock, sweat dripping down his face as he suppressed the urge to scream loudly. He struggled to catch his breath, wondering what had suddenly scared him so.

He was unsure of whether it was a nightmare. There was nothing memorable, no images, no sights nor sounds, but just the feeling of imminent danger.

The young king wiped his face upon his bed-sheets and breathed out slowly. He was calmer, but the chills were still fresh within his mind. He turned his head to the window and was surprised. Light was streaming through the blinds already. He assumed it was nearing noon by the brightness.

He had not slept for such a long time in years.

Edgar dressed quickly and walked out into the hallway. Cyan was waiting for him there, sitting in a chair calmly and reading some novel that he had picked up in the market. He had been quite insistent on heading to the market the day they entered Cartha, despite their need to stay hidden. When he returned, they found out that he had bought something to read and occupy his mind as to keep his thoughts from wandering.

"Strago is within Setzer's room," Cyan answered Edgar's unspoken question. An undertone of anger was present, impossible to tell had Edgar not known Cyan as well as he did. "Thou wish to learn of Setzer's condition, I presume."

Edgar nodded.

"He is well, but thou shalt not be pleased."

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Thou shalt see."

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"No."

Edgar could feel his anger rising to uncontrollable levels. He took a deep breath and once again tried to assess the situation with a clear mind. It would be the third time he tried in the past quarter-hour.

Setzer Gabbiani stared outside with unblinking eyes. He had a faraway look on his face, his once strong features were ragged and hazard from weeks of starvation and then fighting the poison within his body. He was thinner than before and had lost much weight. Unlike Strago, Setzer had not spelled himself in order to survive the brutal crash. He had lived because of luck -- he had not been thrown clear of the airship crash despite being on deck -- and the strength of his spirit and body.

The gambler had seemed to have lost all that now. His luck had ended, his body was weak. Nevertheless, one thing remained: his spirit beamed with almost palpable excitement.

"Setzer, I understand your reluctance, considering your current state. But to abandon our friends is unthinkable," Edgar tried to reason with the man.

Strago had left the inn in a storm of anger, his rage barely contained as he threatened to tear Setzer's limbs asunder before Cyan had physically broken the two apart. Now Cyan was outside looking for Strago while Edgar was trying to control his own anger and temper his words with reason.

Setzer turned back to Edgar. His gaunt face was offset by the vibrant smile on his face. "Edgar," he said slowly... almost savoring the taste of the word. "It's not that I am reluctant. Being broken within an inch of your life gives you quite a bit of time to think. I have already explained my reasoning to Cyan and Strago."

"Then explain it to me," Edgar snapped. He was irritated at the man's refusal despite all that they had done for him. They had stayed behind and ensured his health, yet when they told him of their plan to enter Tzen, the man balked like a coward.

Setzer took a deep breath. He spread his thin arms and looked up at the roof. "The Emperor is dead," he declared.

"What does that have to do with anything?" The smile on Setzer's face was beyond aggravating. Edgar had long since run out of patience and only years of habit kept him composed.

Long grey hair fell across the gambler's face when he regarded Edgar again. The black undress coat that had been Setzer's hallmark of captaincy had long since been lost -- destroyed during the airship crash months back -- but he had found a puffy white tunic somewhere. Setzer gestured towards the window. "It means we're free," he said simply.

"Free?" Edgar echoed.

"Freedom," Setzer strolled over to the window and opened it, letting in a breeze of fresh but cold air.

"We accomplished a great deal by defeating the Empire," Edgar said with folded arms. "Not another soul will feel the Imperial heel crush their dreams, but there is still much to be done... and even if you don't agree with what we're trying to accomplish, certainly you would stand with us to save Terra and Relm!" His passionate appeal was heard, but not the way Edgar had intended.

"Dreams," Setzer whispered outside. He turned his head slightly and let the wind blow softly against his face. "Do you know how long I've waited for this day? To know in my heart that the Emperor is finally dead?"

Edgar frowned.

"It's a gambler's world now," Setzer continued. "A peaceful place filled with wondrous possibilities. No more is the threat of being restricted from chasing what you really want." His smile grew brighter when yet another cool breeze swept into the room. His eyes looked up into the sky. "I'm going follow my desires at last."

"You selfish little prick," Edgar growled. Any civility he claimed to have was lost.

"Not at all," Setzer responded calmly without turning his gaze from the clear azure skies. "You don't need me to save Relm. The three of you will do fine, your skills better suited for the task at hand. I would be just another body."

"You're a coward. We save your life and you won't even save a little girl's," Edgar scowled. "I almost regret pulling you from the burning hulk of your airship."

The topic of his vessel touched a nerve, as Setzer spun back around. "How dare you! The Blackjack was everything to me," he shouted. "I gave you the most important thing that I have, a memento of something you could never claim to have felt." A scrawny finger pointed at Edgar. "No matter how high and mighty you feel from the watching over my comatose body, I don't owe you anything!"

"No, not to me," Edgar's hand pounded against his own chest. "To the people you call friends, Setzer! You owe it to them, and you owe it to that little girl that protected your precious airship while flying around the Floating Continent. How could you live with yourself if you left her to die by the hand of the Empire?"

Setzer looked up. His eyes glared at Edgar as his lips curled into a scowl. "You left Celes to die as well, you hypocritical bastard!"

Edgar took a step back.

Before his coma and the poison, Setzer had been a man of great stature. Though the toxins had sapped his strength, he still bore the same frightening aura of an airship captain. That was rare enough, as only the Empire could field such advanced technological machinations. Even their Air Force had not made it public knowledge that they had airships. Sky armors were often seen in the Empire's cities, but actual vessels were thought to have been nothing more than dreams.

But on top of his rare command, Setzer actually owned his own airship. Somehow, he had both the intelligence and the influence to achieve what was still thought to be impossible. The Blackjack was well known throughout the world. It was a traveling casino that many wished to gamble aboard, not for the gaming, but for the prestige. Setzer Gabbiani was like a folk tale. Stories of his airship would travel from town to town and delight the ears of young children. People paid great entrance fees just to step aboard his vessel. Few had ever achieved that prestige though.

They had been lucky to catch Setzer trying to steal the heart of Maria, the star of the Jidoorian Opera House. Even luckier to have fate on their side, as Celes remarkably resembled Maria. They had laid a trap for the gambler and secured his loyalty for a short while. Then his eyes had been set on Celes and she played his gambling habit with a one-sided coin.

That had somehow been enough to maintain the charismatic man's loyalty. But Edgar had never trusted Setzer, and neither did Cyan. Yet after the captain saved them despite putting himself in mortal danger, it could hardly be argued that he wished them harm. Not even the threat of the Empire had given Setzer pause. The commanding airship captain had sided with them and none would tell him otherwise.

"We didn't let her die," Edgar defended himself. "She nearly killed Cyan in order to chase Kefka on her own! If we went after her, then everyone on the island would have died!"

Setzer's glare only intensified. "You left her to die, King Edgar, so that you could selfishly live!"

Edgar felt his face burn at his own words being turned back. "How dare you suggest that I am responsible for her death. I did everything I cou-"

"No you haven't!" Setzer interrupted with a shout. "You have done nothing! You have barely given a single bit of thought to Celes, instead focusing on your own problems. Why haven't you tried to go back to the Floating Continent? Why haven't you tried to save her if she's trapped?"

Edgar opened his mouth, but no words came out. He could explain the timing, the near-constant danger and the responsibilities that kept piling up. Yet at the end of the day, he knew that Setzer had a point. Celes was low-priority in his mind. She had been a good friend and trusted ally, but it was difficult to rationalize searching for her when Relm was in danger.

"I see you're speechless," Setzer growled. "I'll have you know that while you might have left her to die, I do not intend to. I'll find Celes and bring her back."

"We need you to find Relm," Edgar was at such a loss that he could do little more than repeat himself.

"The three of you will suffice. I'm going to do what I want to do, King Edgar," there was a great deal of contempt in his voice. "I'm not one of the peasants that you command around. I'm a free man. I suppose someone of your standing just doesn't understand that."

Edgar was ready to retort almost immediately, but an old memory made him pause. It was a long time ago, he could remember little more than the heat of the sun and the solemn air. His own words echoed through the sands of time. "What'll happen to this realm if we both leave? And what would Dad say?"

"So understand that I intend to save Celes. I think it's a compelling compromise," Setzer finished his reasoning. "Once she's safe, we'll come back and help fight the good fight. I promise you that." He held out his gaunt hand, waiting for Edgar's reaction.

It was more than reasonable, but for some reason Edgar couldn't fight the anger in his heart. He could see little more than Relm's eyes closed, lying on her side with an Imperial sword stuck through her. He could see her lifeblood flowing out of the fatal wound, her little hands bunched up into fists in a futile attempt at resistance. Her mouth was motionless, but he could hear the words formed from her last breath. She whispered for them to stop. She whispered for help. She whispered for protection.

She whispered for him.

Edgar looked up at the gambler, the thoughtless man who presumed to lecture him. A vagrant whose life was without any semblance of responsibility. Edgar's vision shook with rage. Words escaped him. Gestures were inadequate. His fist broke through the windowpanes in a single swift blow.

King Edgar Roni Figaro stormed away from Setzer.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cyan was outside their door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His expression was dark and his lips motionless. He had heard everything, and the look in his eyes showed only the surface of the rage beneath. Edgar did not bother exchanging words with the old Knight and stormed outside.

Strago had been waiting for them in the streets of Cartha. He sat on the side of the road and watched blankly as chocobo-drawn carts passed by. Men and women passed by without a glance at the old man who stared despondently into nothingness. When he realized Cyan and Edgar had arrived, he saw the looks on their faces: a mixture of hatred and sadness. The wise old man instantly understood that the coward had won.

They left Cartha in a dark mood. The Empire did not stop them at the bridges; a fortunate coincidence for those soldiers that had been on duty. It was unknown how many the three men would cut down in their disillusioned state, but it was doubtful that the Cartha garrison had anywhere near those numbers ready for battle.

Behind them, a frail, wizened shadow of a man watched them leave the city.

"I swear the next time we meet, we will call each other friend without reserve," he whispered sadly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Norris motioned for Clarkson. The soldier hurried to catch up to their leading officer and exchanged hushed words.

Their journey into the Strachan Mountains had been uneventful and calm. Still, Locke didn't like being back in the highlands. The memories of the Tzen Mountains were still fresh in his mind, but he had to admit it was vastly different this time. Norris knew where they were headed and they were surrounded by highly skilled men of the Empire. Locke recognized Clarkson and Sherwood, they had met in Albrook. Both had singly escorted Terra around the city. Given the fact that they had been chosen for this mission with Norris, no doubt they were highly capable and had been more than enough to keep Terra safe.

The sun was high in the sky. Though it provided little warmth, it did provide light. Light was something they had very little of during their struggle after the airship crash. Locke was thankful for every bit of sunshine and whispered a prayer that it would never be as dark as their trip through the Tzen Mountains.

Winter was fast approaching. Small flakes of snow had fallen, but they had melted on the ground. Still, it was getting cold and they were wrapped in much thicker clothes provided at the camp Karen commanded. Their grey cloaks had also been whitewashed to blend in with the coming snowfall. Terra was lucky to have a wolf skin mantle that was perfectly suited for the journey they would undertake. Her scarf had been replaced by a more fitting white one lifted from Imperial supplies.

They still did not know much about their secret mission. In fact, Norris kept them in the dark of what they had planned once they reached the city of Fanshaw.

Locke gave Norris a questioning glance, wondering what Norris had said to Clarkson.

Norris shrugged, obviously not planning to tell Locke of the orders he gave. The men that Norris had brought with him were extremely loyal to the old man. They seemed to be good friends despite the rank difference and even attempted to befriend Locke and Terra. Most of the soldiers that they had met, with the exception of Farin and his two men, had been quite unfriendly towards the two Returners. It must have been Norris' naturally outgoing disposition; it was infectious.

"How much longer through these mountains?" Locke asked. It had been their fourth day of travel, and Locke was wondering when they would actually enter the Core of the Empire.

Norris shrugged again. "A couple days," he said. "It depends on how the storms treat us. The clouds are moving quicker than they normally do. They will not break upon the peaks of Strachan and instead will become great storms deep into the mountain range. We might get trapped for some days," he replied.

"That doesn't sound good if we're on a tight schedule. There is a war going on, after all," Locke pointed out.

"We have no choice but to bear the burden," Norris stated. "The faster the route we take, the greater the chance that all of us die. The completed mission that is slightly delayed is still a better option that one that is not completed at all."

"Ah," was Locke's uninspired response. With his attempt at small talk beaten, he resigned himself back to staring at the barren landscape.

"Actually Locke, it's my turn to ask you a question," Norris said unexpectedly. When he saw Locke's surprise, his smile only widened. "I have questions too, I just don't ask them whenever they come to mind, but store them for the future."

Locke chuckled. "Alright, ask away."

"I was wondering about what Karen said back at the camp. She spoke of Sellenger and you seemed pretty confused until suddenly your eyes lit up like a campfire devouring dead grass. Now, what deed so great could catch her eye?"

Locke looked around and noticed that, by luck or Norris' deviousness, they were at the front of the group by quite some distance. Their conversation would be unheard by the soldiers -- as well as Terra -- if he simply lowered his voice. Though he did not actually want to tell Norris such a story, he almost felt as if he owed the old man at least a small part of the tale. Norris had been more than accommodating to his curiosity. It was the least he could do.

"Well, it involves Sellenger," Locke began.

"I could guess that much," Norris replied smartly.

Locke nodded to mask his slight annoyance. "It was about four years ago."

"That recent?" Norris whistled.

"Yes, well I was in Sellenger because I heard that the place was well-known for its fine arts. In particular, its jewelry stores were supposedly some of the best in the world. I found passage across the ocean and decided to take a vacation while seeing if the rumors were true. The Empire wasn't unfriendly to the northern continent then."

Norris nodded while he stroked his clean-shaven chin.

"Well, the rumors proved to be true and I picked up the finest stone I had ever seen," Locke recounted. "I didn't steal them," he said when he saw the look on Norris' face.

"You're pretty young," Norris said. "Considering it had been four years ago, I doubted you could afford such a thing. Sorry," Norris apologized.

"Well," Locke continued, "I got in trouble with the authorities anyways. They didn't like the fact that I had brought my friend along the trip."

Norris raised an eyebrow. "You bought an engagement ring?"

Locke narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say that," he said defensively.

Norris scoffed. "Well, it's obvious. The Emperor was an activist and always pushed for a great deal of change for the betterment of the Empire. If you got in trouble for bringing along a friend, then it must have been because you two were a young couple. The jewelry angle just tells me that I'm right, and you ended up getting stung by the ancient edict."

Locke looked away. "That doesn't matter. Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Norris shrugged. "If you're that uncomfortable with it, then I don't want to. I can guess the rest."

"That's pretty conceited of you," Locke growled. His mood was ugly now.

Norris grinned. "Karen was also a lowly Colonel four years ago. I recommended her promotion, so I know her history well. She was assigned to the Sellenger garrison as an instructor at the academy there. No doubt she noticed you when you caused a commotion with your little girlfriend. The Emperor's edict was quite old by that time and the problems with youth had mostly disappeared by then." Norris paused, turning around just as Clarkson had entered earshot.

Clarkson whispered something in Norris' ear and then ran back to the men behind them. In the distance, Locke could see Sherwood and Anthony talking to Terra and trying to make her laugh.

Norris continued when Clarkson was out of earshot. "After all, the children of the Empire put their efforts into the good of the lands instead of running away from their parents in doomed relationships. The Moral Crusade was genius and the children that grew up under such orders support it wholeheartedly, though I suppose an old man like me sees it as nothing but politics. Still, you would have stood out in her mind for that reason alone, as well as depending on what you ended up doing. Seeing that the punishment is a month with the army cleaning slop or something equally obscene, I have no doubt you escaped her soldiers and caused no small amount of trouble."

Locke glared at Norris.

"How accurate is my retelling?" Norris asked with the grin still on his face.

Locke shrugged. "Not at all," he said nonchalantly.

Norris laughed. "I'll ask Karen about it when we get back."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edgar felt self-conscious. They strolled about in the streets of Tzen without any real disguises, but Strago had guaranteed them that his spell was without fault.

Magic or no magic, they were surrounded by Imperial troops. If were they caught, there was no possibility of escape. Soldiers were on every street, patrolling or running errands. The constant danger helped them forget Setzer's treachery.

The entire city had been militarized to an extent that Edgar barely recognized the place. He had been to Tzen once or twice on diplomatic visits, back when Figaro was still an ally of the Empire. The city had been quite a remarkable sight. It was nothing like the antiquated designs of Albrook or the cold industrialization of Vector, but rather a balance of beauty and functionality.

None of that was apparent any longer. The walls had been heavily fortified and artillery emplacements easily visible from miles away. The refugee problem that Edgar had heard about in Nestil and Cartha was no longer an issue. The fields of tents were tightly grouped together, and the roads cleared of citizens in order to make way for the troops arriving and departing the city. The masses within the capital had calmed down. Either that or they were afraid of all the soldiers.

There was a great deal of military activity. Edgar did not know the reason, but he doubted it would be good news for them. The whining of Magitek Armor engines could be heard everywhere and when they finally saw one, both Edgar and Cyan stopped in the middle of the street.

He had seen plenty of Magitek Armors in his lifetime, though never in such numbers. From the ambient noise, Tzen must have had one on every street. Pairs of machinations strolled down the cobblestones as often as patrolling soldiers. But it was not their increased presence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Edgar stared openly at the enclosure on top of the Magitek Armor, its pilot firmly defended behind a translucent shield that covered the entirety of the cockpit. It shone strangely, in such a fashion that Edgar knew that it was not glass but some sort of infernal material born from the labs of Vector.

Cyan stared up at the aging Armor -- it was painted a dull metallic color that was both peeling and rusting -- and the connotations of such a device sank in rapidly. The Doma Knight turned to the King of Figaro. "An unholy development," he whispered.

They looked further down the street and saw one of the brand new factories in Tzen. It was surrounded by Imperial soldiers and from its maw came two more Armors with the clear enclosure. A quick scan of the street and it was clear that not a single Magitek Armor was less than a decade old. The constant hum of heavy machinery emanating from the huge factories told the story to those willing to listen long enough: Tzen had not only been industrialized like Vector, but the Imperial War Machine had grown stronger in the midst of civil war.

Cyan looked worried and with good reason. The biggest weakness of the Magitek Armor had been the vulnerability of its pilot. Edgar's engineering talents might have dulled in the past years, but there was no doubt in his mind that the translucent covering could withstand the strongest arrowhead.

Moreover, to have the resources to upgrade even decade-old Armors with such technology... in the midst of civil war...

To say that Cyan had extensive experience with dispatching Magitek Armors was an understatement. Details on the Doma War had been sparse in Figaro, but in order for Doma Castle to survive the month after Imperial troops landed on the southern beaches, Imperial Armor had to have been rendered ineffective. Cyan was an authority on the subject matter, and the sweat running down his neck chilled Edgar to the bones.

"Where does this Lowell live again?" Strago asked. He had not noticed the state of the Imperial war machine, or perhaps more truthfully, he didn't care. "We must hurry!" His granddaughter's fate was the only thing on the mage's mind. The old man could be quite stubborn, although this time it was with good reason.

"Just around the corner," Edgar answered. He tried to ignore his observations about the Imperial military, but found that he couldn't. The upgrading of the entire fleet of Armors as well as the mustering of so many men, it had to mean something big had happened.

Or was going to happen...

Edgar shook his head. No matter, their concern was not the fate of the Empire. It was their friends that were important, not the remnants of Gestahl's legacy. Hopefully they could find Relm, Terra and Locke without any serious trouble, and then easily charter a boat to Figaro. Let the Empire tear itself apart in civil war and then deal with the stragglers.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lowell was a Returner sympathizer, one of the many in Tzen, but the only one that Edgar could remember off-hand. The Kingdom of Tzen had been conquered by the Empire a dozen years past, and scars of war could not heal in such a short time. Gestahl had executed the entire royal house of Tzen after their surrender, and then employed an unpopular governor to handle affairs of the conquered lands. Taxes paid by the former citizens of Tzen had been astronomical and there had been famine and drought in the early years under Imperial rule. It had been revenge for the grievous losses that the Tzen Knights had inflicted on Imperial troops during the war.

Edgar's father had helped hide some of the Tzen nobility, the few that had not caught the eye of the Emperor because of their low standing or alleged death in battle. When Edgar had taken the throne, the secret documents detailing the existence of such refugees in the Kingdom of Figaro had become part of the burden he held. Edgar spoke at length with those former noblemen, many with families again, and had learned much of the war and the tactics the Empire employed.

In particular, he had heard of the Siege of the Gap. Between Tzen and the Imperial Core was the Gap of Reddenhurst, a small plateau that was surrounded by mountains and easily held by fortresses upon overlooking ridges. It was the only way north, unless one wished to journey around those mountain ranges.

The Gap of Reddenhurst had been where the Empire was defeated time after time. Archers could rain arrows upon those trying to breach the Gap and prevent any attempts to bypass the fortresses. The paths up to the stronghold had been treacherous and narrow, so that the outnumbered men of Tzen could ignore the difference in manpower. Each step the Empire took had been paved with the blood of ten men before it. Gestahl remembered this and the citizens of Tzen paid dearly. They suffered in the years after being conquered, suffered in a way that left lasting grudges for those who survived.

Still, time had passed and children then had grown up as Imperial men and women. Tzen was now part of the Empire, the name of the city and region was the only reminder of the past. What resistance there had once been was gone, killed or forgotten. Many have given up the idea of openly fighting the Empire, most were too old or lacked the will, but were still too stubborn to accept its rule. They helped the Returners instead, and Edgar was thankful for that.

Lowell was old. His long white hair reached partway down his back, unwashed and uncombed. In the past, he had been a librarian within Castle Tzen. Because of his station, he had known a few of the Tzen Royal House, and the tears he shed when they were executed still stained the floors of his dwelling.

The two-story home was cozy and filled with the smell of old books; Lowell did little but read in his last years of his life. To survive during the first years of the Empire's rule, he had sold his services as a learned man to tutor the children of the Emperor's governor and his cabinet. He had continued to teach the Imperial aristocracy while he helped the Returners in secrecy. With the recent changes to the ruling government, he had no job and spent his days deep within the books he loved, a cup of tea in one hand and the other propping up his thick glasses.

The former-librarian had been surprised to meet Edgar. "Never did I expect to be entertaining royalty again," he chuckled softly to himself while he searched for tealeaves.

Edgar thanked Lowell and introduced Cyan and Strago. "We're looking for a couple friends, and would appreciate a place to rest while we make our rounds. There will be no trouble, I assure you, we're trying to be quiet secretive," Edgar said.

"My home is yours," Lowell nodded as he took out a jar of honey. "I heard about the Emperor's death," the retired librarian took off his glasses and began to clean them with his shirt. "It's a sad fate... his passing that is."

Edgar was silent, instead wondering how exactly Strago's spell worked. Lowell had recognized his face instantly, yet Strago had promised them that his spell was without flaw.

Lowell put on his glasses. "I'm glad I lived until this day," he had a gleam in his eye. "I have no doubt your people were deeply involved, Edgar," there was a great deal of respect put into Edgar's name. Though his title had not been spoken explicitly, there was no doubt Lowell had meant it with all his heart. "I thank you for such a gift."

Edgar shook his head. "It's alright. You helped us enough in the past and our work just happened to be part of your dream."

They were herded into a dining room next to the kitchen. Lowell had been quite well off; he did teach nobility and was paid well for it. They all sat down while their host prepared tea.

"It appears that you have quite a bit of free time on your hands now," Edgar tried to make small talk.

Lowell sifted through tealeaves. "Yes. The neighbors have all found work in the factories, so they rarely come by now to entertain an old man. As for my teaching... during the Long Night there was a coup," he sounded quite sad.

"I'm sorry Lowell, for the children you taught," Edgar extended his apologizes quickly.

"No," Lowell shook his head. He turned back to them with a steaming teapot in hand. "They were spoiled brats with equally spoiled parents. I do not miss them."

"Then what's wrong?" Edgar asked after thanking Lowell for the tea.

"That I saw it coming," Lowell said as he poured himself a cup. "For years, I watched as the governor and his aides had less and less power; how the military seemed to be involved with everything. I watched as the aristocrats vanished in alleged monster attacks and how everyone just accepted it. The General here was subtle in her movements and people didn't ask the right questions to stop it from happening."

"A power-struggle," Edgar nodded in understanding. "You could say I am used to these politics," he smiled ironically. "The military coup must have been planned well ahead of time, perhaps for a year or more."

Lowell shook his head sadly. "People don't change. My once beautiful Tzen barely survives the wretched dark magic only to be plunged into war. I barely recognize the streets now. Monuments are ripped down. Factories spring up at every corner, even the roads themselves paved with melted stone. Once again, I am helpless as always... just another tired old man," he sighed.

Edgar felt a pang of guilt. He deftly maneuvered the topic to something else. They conversed for only a little while longer before Lowell retreated into his study. His study was nearly half of the house though, with many bookshelves that lined the walls to form narrow aisles. Books were stacked in a haphazard fashion, though the librarian probably had a method of ordering such piles. He read on the ground, hunched over some bounded text with a small candle for light.

When Edgar was reasonably sure they would be unheard by the old man, he turned to Strago and Cyan. "We'll start our search of the city with the herb shops," he said quietly. "They had to have been in at least one of them, although we'll be lucky if the shopkeeper remembers them. It's unfortunate that the marketplace is so busy and the streets so full."

"I have a couple ideas myself, so we should divide up the market and then go our separate ways," Strago said. He had remained patient only out of respect for Lowell. "Time is of the essence, we have wasted enough of it today."

Edgar did not like the look on Strago's face. The worry was evident in the wrinkles on his face, and Edgar was about to speak up when Cyan interrupted him.

"Strago is correct," Cyan argued crisply. "We must search post-haste for Relm."

Edgar could see that both men were thinking with their hearts rather than their brains. This was not going to end well.

Strago began to head for the door when Edgar suddenly remembered his question.

"Wait, Strago," Edgar held up a hand. "How does this spell work to hide our faces? It didn't seem to work on Lowell."

"The specifics are unnecessary for you to know," Strago waved Edgar off, clearly agitated by the delay. "I will begin the search now."

"Strago, if we don't know how vulnerable the spell is, then we could end up getting caught ourselves," Edgar warned.

Strago sighed. "It's just something to hide us from our enemies. It does nothing to those that are our friends," he said as he stood. "I have no time to explain everything, but it will be fine as long as I recast it when the sun rises." He turned away, heading for the door.

Edgar and Cyan did not stop the desperate grandfather. They exchanged a look of worry.

"I'll take the north, you have the south," Edgar said. Strago had already forgotten about dividing the marketplace, despite it being his own idea. "Let's hope Strago doesn't do anything stupid."

Cyan tied his cloak shut quickly, also eager to begin the search. "Our time grows short. The Empire is on the move."

"Yeah, I know." Edgar sighed. "I wish I knew why."

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"Miles, take Anthony and scout ahead along that path," Norris Ferdinand pointed down the slope. They could see that the old dirt road they traveled, flanked by old pines and the darkness of the forest, twisted and turned all the way down the mountainside until it was lost in the valley ahead.

Both men saluted and quickly slipped into the trees.

"Bad feelings again?" Terra asked. It was not the first time that Norris ordered his men ahead. Every so often, the Colonel would suddenly give orders and the soldiers would vanish into the dense woods. Sometime later, despite the fact that they had never slowed down on their dirt path, those same soldiers would appear waiting patiently in front of them. Nothing had ever happened though.

"Always trust your feelings," Norris explained as he stared into the sky and frowned. "I learned that lesson the hard way years ago. I don't think I would have lived this long if I didn't, the ISF wasn't exactly kind to the careless."

"ISF?" Terra perked up at the mentioning of that term. "You were in the Special Forces?"

"You didn't think an old man like me would be swinging a sword on the front lines, now did you?" Norris grinned.

Terra frowned. She did not pick up Norris' teasing tone. "Did you know-?"

"Ah, so that's what this is about: General Chere," Norris interrupted. His eyes scanned the mountainside as he talked.

"Well..." Terra hadn't meant to ask about Celes.

"The answer is no. At least, not personally," Norris continued. They marched through one of the tight turns that was the signature of a switchback. "Her position as head of the ISF only lasted for a short while, though we were split up afterwards as a result," Norris grumbled. "Not very smart of the top brass, but that's water beneath the bridge." He waved a finger in the air, his focus elsewhere even while he rambled. "She defected and ended up fighting with you, I do believe. I'd say you probably know more about her than I would."

"I wasn't actually asking about her," Terra pointed out.

"No? Then why did you let me talk for so long?" Norris quipped with his attention focused on the thick mountain forest. His pace had slowed and the two of them were now trailing behind the main group of Imperial soldiers.

"You interrupted," Terra grumbled.

"Did I?"

Terra sighed. She gave up on her question and sped up. The dirt path twisted a full one-hundred and eighty degrees as they climbed down the mountain at a quick pace. Despite the frigid temperature, Terra could feel the sweat on her back. She hurried to catch up with the rest of the pack.

"You know, you really should ask that question," Norris had given up on whatever caught his attention earlier. His grin had yet to fade. "Let this opportunity slide, and it might never come up again."

He was teasing her, Terra thought. "I was just wondering if you knew Marcus."

"You'll have to be a bit more detailed than that," Norris raised an eyebrow. "I'm old. I've known at least a dozen men with that name in my lifetime."

Terra's brow furrowed. She couldn't remember Marcus' family name.

"Sandford," Locke offered. He had been keeping a protective eye on Terra and overheard their conversation.

Norris missed a step.

"What's wrong?" Terra asked. She had found it moderately disturbing that Locke had been listening, but seeing Norris trip was different altogether.

Norris laughed, quickly recovering from his near-fall. "I'm sorry, it's just surprising how small the world is sometimes," he said between chuckles.

"You knew him?" Locke slowed down so that he could walk beside Norris.

"Colonel Marcus Sandford was one of my best students," Norris Ferdinand reflected proudly. "He was a good swordsman, intelligent, quick wit to boot but most importantly, he had the charisma to lead. He was my second for over a year and that's when I noticed his skills; he got promoted through the ranks quickly. When General Chere was found to be a traitor, he both impressed and saddened me. You see, his unshakable loyalty had become a weakness. It caused him to be demoted all the way to Captain..."

"He was demoted?" Locke echoed. Something was nagging at him.

"House Sandford is a stubborn breed," Norris sighed.

"House Sandford?" Terra said in disbelief. "He was a nobleman?"

"That's righ-" Norris spun around and faced uphill. "Clarkson!" he screamed to his men in front.

Terra and Locke had both spent plenty of time on the battlefield. Instinctively, the two knew they were all in danger. Locke had grabbed Terra by the shoulder and pulled her protectively behind him. His other hand freed the shortbow on his back. He was sharp now, focused on his task as he grabbed the first arrow from his quiver.

Then they felt it.

It charged down the mountainside, crashing through the trees and ignoring the dirt path they were taking. It was like thunder charging down the cliff. Locke could see that it was injured, one horn was broken off and its purple skin had scars running along the length of the beast. A leg was broken, but it didn't matter as it wasn't running but falling down the mountain in a single-minded blood rage, intent on killing the humans that it considered prey.

A behemoth.

Locke would later wonder how the monster had survived the fall from the Floating Continent, how it had gotten as far south as the Strachan Mountains and how it had survived so many months in the wilderness without any food sources that could possibly be big enough to sustain it. He would wonder why it had been living in the mountains at such an altitude, and why it had decided that they were prey to be attacked. Finally, he would rack his brains trying to understand how an injured beast would decide to roll down the mountain in order to get to them.

At the moment, Locke simply pulled the bowstring tight and launched an arrow into the monster's eye.

Norris pointed with one hand and cast a spell of sorts. Locke didn't know what he saw the effect. The absolute lack of flames, ice, lightning, or even anything else to suggest that the behemoth had been hurt was not as surprising as the speed of which the monster traveled, no, fell towards them.

Trees, boulders, rocks, bushes and the multi-ton monster smashed through the dirt path. Norris jumped in one direction, Locke and Terra the other. They dived into the thicket and barely survived as the avalanche passed by. Smoke and dust was the trail it left, and Locke coughed when he tried to breathe. A rolling log had taken out the trees immediately around him and Terra laid no less than an arms-length away from a huge boulder that had been stopped by two barely still-standing pines.

"Terra! Are you alright?" he shouted.

Terra grunted in pain. Diving on the ground with her heavy pack had done more damage than the monster had. She pushed herself off the ground and looked in the direction of Locke's shouting.

"Behind you!" she shouted.

Locke swore at lady luck as a purple limb exploded through a tree trunk beside him. He dived to the forest floor but wasn't fast enough. The behemoth caught the top of his legs and Locke was airborne for a moment. He screamed in pain as his flight was broken by first the needles, and then the thick wooden trunk of a great pine. He crumpled at the base of the tree.

The behemoth looked at Locke, prone on the ground, and began to stalk closer.

Terra pointed at the monster and fire lanced outwards from her fingertips. It exploded against the behemoth's resilient skin and faded away. The purple-skinned monster turned away from Locke and glared at Terra.

Terra froze in horror as the behemoth charged towards her. She pointed at it again, her arm shaking, as she summoned another spell. This time, white-hot fire stretched forth from her hand and snaked around her body. Power from her immeasurable reserves bowed to her command and with a thought, the column of flame smashed into the behemoth's face and drew a horrifying scream of pain.

But the monster did not slow down.

It bore down upon her, moments away, and Terra could feel the rumbling inside her resurface. It siren's song was singing its seductive melody. Scarlet flames swirled about her, hungry for blood and screaming at its master to be let loose upon the world. Gripped with fear, she fought the feeling -- the limitless power! -- and the wall of flame dispersed futilely against the behemoth's armor-like skin. Her mouth was open in mute horror as she realized her time was up, the monster was upon her.

Terra's hair bellowed back as dust and pebbles showered her. She fell to the ground from the sudden impact. An invisible explosion had caught the behemoth in the side and sent it sprawling through a dozen trees. Arrows followed the behemoth's path and white-cloaked soldiers swarmed past Terra with bows drawn and ready. But the monster was too big, too heavy, and it broke through the last tree and continued its fall down the mountainside. They could hear its roar ended only with a horrendous thud that shook the land.

"Are you injured?" the closest archer, a blond-haired man that Terra recognized as Sherwood, looked her over.

A second man with dark hair, Anthony gave a thumbs-up signal. "She's fine sir!" he shouted louder than was prudent.

Sherwood gave his friend a pat on the back and then continued forward to where the behemoth fell.

Norris Ferdinand, his cloak ripped along the right arm, his face smeared with dirt, and his white hair disheveled, strode through the protective curtain of soldiers with a serious look on his face. "Anthony, Locke will need your first-aid skills. You three, with him," he ordered. As the soldiers dashed over to the injured Returner, Norris gave Terra a dangerous glare now that they were alone. "What were you doing there?" he had lowered his voice but his tone was deadly.

"I froze," Terra muttered.

"Not that," Norris growled. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her off the ground. "You held back!"

Terra's eyes opened in surprise. How did he-

"You don't know how lucky you are that your friend survived," Norris whispered in a deadly voice. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but if you think for a moment that underneath this grinning face is anything remotely stupid, you are sorely mistaken. I saw exactly what you did back, and it disgusts me!"

Terra tried to gasp for air, Norris was choking her.

"If you ever do that again," Norris continued. He had pulled her so close to his face that he was breathing on her. "If ever so much as hurt any of my men through your inaction, you will not live to see the next sunrise. Do you understand me?" His eyes bore down upon her with the more ferocity that the behemoth had.

Terra couldn't breathe; her words were nothing more than futile gasps. She nodded her head desperately, and fell to the ground with little ceremony.

"Miles! Help the girl up! We need to get out of here now!" Colonel Norris Ferdinand gave her one last threatening look and turned away.

Visions of Peace will be continued in The Tenth Chapter - Seriatim
Post #125430
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Posted: 24th July 2006 12:31

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Wavey Marle!
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Joined: 21/1/2003

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Member of more than ten years. Third place in CoN European Cup fantasy game for 2011-2012. Member of more than five years. Second place in CoN European Cup, 2008. 
Winner of the 2004 Gogo Fanfiction contest. Major involvement in the Final Fantasy IV section of CoN. Contributed to the Chrono Trigger section of CoN. 
An intresting chapter. Norris is a tough bugger by the sound of it, and it's still as great as it's been before, and getting better.

Dig the name of those mountains for some reason...

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"Only the dead have seen the end of their quotes being misattributed to Plato."
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"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here..."
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Posted: 24th July 2006 13:29

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Cetra
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Second place in CoN Fantasy Football, 2008. 
I loved the fight scene at the end with the behemoth. You're very good with details and character dialouge.

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Posted: 16th September 2006 01:51

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Thanks Del and Hamedo! Really appreciate the comments, and I always love to hear what's cool, what works, and what needs to die a horrible, horrible death.
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Posted: 16th September 2006 01:53

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Author Notes: My apologizes for the long delay. I'm quite a few chapters behind my intended pace, so you will see Chapters 11-13 within the next four weeks! Thank you for your patience -- those still reading -- and without further ado...

The Tenth Chapter - Seriatim

It was a pretty clever idea, Edgar thought in retrospect. He adjusted the straps on his brown helmet carefully, making sure he looked exactly like a common soldier, before stepping out of the restaurant washrooms.

For the last few days, their search was fruitless. Strago had exhausted his ideas and started wandering the streets of Tzen in despair. He had grown more and more despondent as each hour passed. It was difficult to keep their hopes up. Even if their friends were alive, finding them would be almost impossible in the chaos of the civil war. Edgar sighed when he thought about that possibility. He imagined Relm, Terra and Locke being killed by stray arrows amidst a great battle, never to be heard from again. They would just be another few nameless bodies amongst thousands.

Cyan had discussed that possibility with Edgar at length. He suggested that if they could not find the trio, that they would cross the ocean and contact Banon and the rest of the Returners. The rebel information network in the Empire might be able to find their three comrades. It was simply too dangerous to stay in Tzen for an extended period, magic or no magic.

Edgar was relieved that the same problem would not affect Sabin. His brother was extremely resourceful. Sabin would get to Pierpoint and stay hidden until the end of winter. Then with minimal effort, Edgar could find his brother and bring him back to Figaro.

But now those plans were no longer necessary. Edgar could not believe his luck. He was talking to some patrons at the local tavern when he had seen an Imperial soldier on the street holding Relm's hand! In disbelief, he quickly followed the man -- no easy task considering the crowds and great numbers of similarly dressed soldiers on the street -- to a mansion in the wealthier section of town.

That had been an hour ago. Now Edgar walked up the steps and stopped in front of the guards. They glanced at him but were not suspicious. The brown leather uniform that he had stolen was a perfect fit and a fantastic disguise. Edgar had been more worried about knocking out a soldier without alerting the entire city, and had given little thought to how he would fill out the uniform. He simply waited for someone his height and dumb enough to be alone in a secluded area. It was obviously his lucky day.

Edgar crisply saluted the men standing guard outside the mansion. He had seen many others do the same, and mimicked their exact actions.

It worked. The two men saluted back and returned to their relaxed expressions.

The mansion was tacky. The entrance was decorated with outrageously expensive items: armored statues, large chandeliers and incredibly ugly paintings hung on the wall. It was probably the house of some highly-ranked aristocrat in Tzen with neither a sense of taste nor a wife to make up for his deficiencies.

Edgar walked around the mansion wondering how he would find Relm. Other similarly dressed soldiers walked with a purpose, and Edgar did not want to stand out by looking confused while he searched. He walked around the halls quickly and without pause. Whenever he met the end of a hall, he simply turned back around and pretended it was part of his job.

It seemed to work. Most of the soldiers didn't even acknowledge his presence. Men guarding the more important rooms watched as he strolled by, but that was out of boredom rather than suspicion.

Edgar was glad he did not alert Cyan or Strago. Cyan had too much integrity to keep Strago in the dark, and the lore-master would have done something foolish once he found out Relm was in Imperial hands. With this plan, Strago would never have to become involved. His emotions would be the end of all of them and so it logical to rescue Relm alone, Edgar reassured himself as he took the stairs to the second floor.

The timing of his infiltration could not have been better either. He heard that the military in Tzen was gathering for a major operation. The Civil War was still going strong and Tzen was going to throw its reserves into the fray. That meant that most of the soldiers stationed within the city were now were out in the fields. The fewer soldiers he had to fool, the better.

As he passed two more guards -- both half-asleep leaning against the pine walls -- he heard the sound of children's laughter.

Edgar stopped in front of the doors. It was a children's playroom, he guessed. This was probably the place.

The guards snapped to attention. The blond woman on his left straightened as she gave Edgar a quizzical look. "Yes, Sergeant?" she asked.

Well, Edgar thought, if he was playing the part of a soldier then he had better do it skillfully. No hesitation, he would just run circles around these guards.

"I'm here on orders from the Captain," Edgar lied.

The blond narrowed her green eyes. They were quite lovely, Edgar thought. In fact, she was probably quite attractive if she was not wearing the ugly brown armor. Curse the Imperials. Not only did they coerce women into the army, but they attired them in fashion so horrid it was criminal.

"What orders?" she asked.

Edgar rolled his eyes, making sure the blond guard noticed it. "The ones from the Captain. He's given me no time at all; you know how strict they are. I don't want any trouble right now," he continued to lie. "I'm already late and this little joke of yours isn't helping."

She was thoroughly confused now. "What in the Emperor's name are you talking about?"

Edgar glared at her, and then softened his gaze deliberately. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't tell me, they didn't give you the orders? That's completely like the officers. They never do anything correct," Edgar sighed loudly. He turned around and punched the wall for effect. "Listen," Edgar said as he turned back to the woman. "If I don't finish my job, we're going to both get the attention of the Captain, and I really think we don't need that."

The woman gazed over at her partner, who shrugged.

"He's got a point, remember when Harrin forgot to deliver the orders for that greasy Lieutenant's son?" her partner asked. "Harrin yelled at us for it, the idiot. As if it was our fault, the man's clumsy and forgetful."

"Yeah, and he docked a week's worth of pay," the woman grumbled. "With things as busy as they are now, our orders probably got lost on some overworked kid's desk. Alright," she said as she regarded Edgar. "Just don't scare any of the children. And hide those knives! I shouldn't have to tell you that, Sergeant."

Edgar looked down at his armor and noticed the wickedly curved blades that hung visibly from his belt. "Sorry about that," he said as he pulled the knives free and replaced them in their sheaths.

"Yeah, sure," the woman rolled her emerald eyes. "Just hurry up."

Edgar entered guarded room and was surprised at the number of children within. There were at least three dozen by his quick count, all playing with the various books and board games lying on the floor. The older children were reading quietly while the younger ones ran around or built towers of wooden blocks. A couple of the kids were wrestling over an old Imperial cloak, torn and ripped apart, but still a treasure for the young minds.

None of the kids looked up from their games; it seemed like a soldier was nothing for them to be concerned about. Edgar walked in and looked around.

"Edgar!"

Edgar turned around. A great grin appeared on his face as Relm threw her little arms around his waist.

"Hey," Edgar bent down on one leg and ruffled her blond hair. "I swear you're prettier than the last time I saw you," he said. "And I think taller, too."

Relm beamed, her blue eyes almost sparkling as she tightened her grip. "I missed you, lover boy," she gave him a wink but had kept her voice low.

Edgar frowned. Smart kid, she knew he had snuck into the mansion. But he was going to have to stop her from using that nickname. "We're leaving now, but you'll have to call me something more modest," he whispered.

Relm pressed her lips together in mock-frustration. "Fine," she relented.

"Call me..." Edgar tried to think of an alias. "Call me Gerad, and only if you have to," he said quietly. "Remember to act like I was just another soldier, ok?"

Relm bobbed her head. "Alright Gerad," she said enthusiastically. She looked like she was going to enjoy this game.

"Good girl," Edgar whispered before he stood back up. Now was the truly difficult task: convincing the guards at the door that this was his actual errand.

He walked back outside, where the blond haired guard was waiting for him. "Her?" she asked suspiciously.

Her partner looked confused as well. "Didn't she just get delivered to the playroom?" he asked.

Edgar was about to explain with his crafty lie when the woman spoke up.

"Yeah, but that's the real important kid," she noted. "A couple weeks ago, Brigadier Starson personally delivered her. Remember that?"

Her partner nodded. "That was a real scare," he said under his breath.

"Definitely," the blond guard turned back at Edgar. "No wonder you're so worried. Your C.O. is probably under direct orders from the General himself. If you were late, I'd bet the General would fry you for failing him."

Edgar scratched his head. "Yeah," he said, trying his best to act self-conscious.

"General Starson is a scary one, you hear the rumor how he personally executed the Captain of the Eighty-Sixth?" the woman shook her head sadly, her locks of blond hair swaying from side to side as she did so.

"Yeah," her partner added. "He seems to really enjoy using that sword, but the Eighty-Sixth had it coming. They tried to backstab all of us."

"It's still probably best not to get on his bad side," the woman pointed out.

Edgar nodded. "Well, I need to go. I'll probably be late already," he gestured down the hall.

"Yeah," the woman said. "Good luck, you'll need it."

Edgar chuckled. "Thanks," he said as he walked away.

Well that was unexpectedly easy, Edgar thought to himself as he led Relm down the flight of stairs. With the disguise spell that Strago had cast, he was pretty good at espionage. If only Strago had told them of this spell earlier, it might have made everything easier.

As he was within sight of the front doors, moments from leaving the mansion, he heard a loud commanding voice shout in his direction.

"Sergeant!"

Edgar cursed. He had been so close from having to deal with anyone else. It was time to lie, except now he could use some of the names the blond had told him. Starson, Edgar believed the General's name was. At least it was easier to make up a believable story now.

He let go of Relm's hand and turned around. It was another woman that had called his rank, though it was not the blond-haired girl from before. The red-haired soldier that was approaching was an officer of some sort. That was obvious by the uniform, although Edgar could not see any command bars. He was fortunate, that meant it was probably just some staff-sergeant or unimportant pen-pusher.

"I'm sorry ma'am," Edgar said. "I'm in a hurry as-"

"What are you doing with that girl, Sergeant?" the woman interrupted him.

Edgar felt Relm poking him in the side. He patted her aside, hoping that she would not say anything at the moment. His mind formulated a good excuse and he sighed loudly for effect. "My orders ma'am, are to deliver her to the Captain. It's an errand for General Starson and I'm rather late already."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I didn't hear about any such orders."

Relm was squeezing his hand uncomfortably now. Edgar sighed again, louder this time and not just for effect. "That's always happening with orders these days, it's been so busy. Notifications just don't get sent around on time anymore."

The woman stroked her chin. "Yes, I suppose so."

"I really must be off... no reason to give the General a reason to use that sword," Edgar lied. "It's probably best to not get on his bad side."

She nodded and mumbled something under her breath, staring up at the ceiling in thought. Edgar let his eyes roam for a moment. It was strange how many beautiful women were in the Imperial army. Edgar remembered Vector had been much the same way, though the waitresses were definitely cut from a finer cloth. This one was older than the norm; maybe his age...

Edgar snapped out of his thoughts when he realized the woman was looking at him in a quizzical manner.

"Yes? Sorry, I must have missed your question," Edgar stammered in an embarrassed tone.

She shook her head. "No question," she said. Her finger was pointed at him, and there was a pleasant smile on her face.

"What is it?" Edgar asked.

"I just expected you a bit earlier, King Edgar."

Edgar blinked twice, surprised. "Excuse me?" he said while his heart began to race. His arm lowered to the sheathed knives at his belt.

The woman folded her arms. Her blue eyes gazed up and down his front. "You look pretty good in the brown leather, which is quite a feat."

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for-" Edgar paused when he felt an arm on his shoulder. He turned around to face one of the largest men he had ever seen in his life. The stone-faced man must have nearly been half a head taller than he.

"Is there trouble here?" the man asked.

"None at all, Valerio," the woman replied. She held out her arm in a friendly gesture. "This is King Edgar. He's finally decided to pay us a visit."

Edgar turned back to the woman.

"You should really listen to Relm. After all, she recognized me when you did not," the woman continued in a gentle teasing tone.

Edgar finally looked down at Relm, whose face was white as she hid behind his leg. "You didn't listen to me!" she glared at him. Edgar turned back into those penetrating blue eyes. His heart sank as he finally solved the puzzle in front of him.

"You wouldn't happen to be the General, would you?" he asked sheepishly, despite already knowing the answer.

The woman shrugged. "That would be a good deduction, though a little slow."

Edgar sighed. "Danielle Meras?"

"Pleased to meet you, Edgar Roni Figaro," Danielle replied. "I was on my way for lunch, care to join me?"

"I rather not, I am quite busy," Edgar grumbled.

Danielle put her hand on his. He was taller than she but at the moment, it certainly did not seem that way.

"I insist," she said in a mocking seductive tone.

"I really don't have the time," Edgar replied soothingly.

"I don't deal with rejection well. The last man who refused my invitation found himself hanging from the city gates," Danielle continued in a pleasant voice.

"The Sylvan Dale's a nice place, I ate there last time I was in Tzen," Edgar replied without hesitation. "They had delectable shrimp and I still haven't tried the oysters."

"That's fantastic. I love seafood."

---

Edgar watched as the second man, who looked almost like Valerio's twin, listen to Danielle's hushed orders without any emotion. He left without ever uttering a word.

They were in the Sylvan Dale, a high-class restaurant on the northern edge of town. The proprietor had not recognized Edgar or Danielle, the latter thoroughly confusing Edgar. Admittedly, Danielle did not travel with a large entourage nor did she have any of the easily visible command stars that a general was privy to. The only escort she had was Valerio, though the man seemed more than capable of handling any threat. Still, one would expect that people would recognize the Imperial General that controlled their city.

"You weren't actually headed for lunch, were you?" Edgar asked.

Danielle leaned back in her comfortable chair. They were alone in a private room that was reserved exclusively for noblemen or high-ranking aristocrats, separated by a table that could have seated well over twenty men. Valerio was immediately outside the door, probably well within earshot, and all of Edgar's weapons had been taken from him. Danielle looked like she could easily defend herself against an unarmed man, though not against his magic. But Edgar doubted he could escape even if he did manage to knock her out and deal with the giant statue of a man outside.

She also had Relm as added security, who had been taken back to the playroom within the mansion. Edgar shook his head. He was knee-deep in trouble this time.

"I was headed for lunch, but I don't usually bother with such pleasantries," Danielle replied. She brushed at a strand of her fiery red hair. "With supply situation the way it is, I would not be setting a proper example for those that follow me. How could I dine in such extravagance when ration stamps are being handed out and everyone is being asked to tighten their belts, including the military despite our strict control over all goods? Were I not entertaining royalty such as you, King Edgar, a plain sandwich would have been sufficient."

She said those words, 'King Edgar', in a peculiar manner; almost in a breathless tone with an inflection on his title. Edgar wondered if it was either her way of mocking him, or if she was testing him.

"I suppose you would rather find out the fate of your friends though," she continued. Her finger traced circles onto the beautiful oak table. "That is probably the only reason you would enter this city."

Edgar folded his arms. "You're the one that delivered the laryl," he said. Everything was beginning to fall into place.

"Arranged for the delivery, yes," Danielle acknowledged. "You're both concise and quick. I must admit that the information I had on you did not show how clever you really are. You managed to fool my guards and almost escaped with Relm, all raising the slightest alarm." Her blue eyes were intently focused on him. "It's really a shame that you didn't manage to discern my identity earlier, or else you would have pulled off a miracle."

Edgar stared back at Danielle. "Where is Terra and Locke?" he asked.

"Rude and ill-mannered. I expected more," Danielle cautioned. Her warm smile vanished with the blink of an eye.

Edgar shrugged. He leaned back into his chair. There was really nothing else he could do, he thought. It would be best if he entertained her kinder side; it seemed she was quick to anger. "Alright," he answered. "I'm sorry about that, General Meras."

"Danielle will be fine," she replied tartly as she sipped from her teacup.

Edgar remembered Marcus told him that Danielle was power-hungry. That would explain most of her actions but didn't describe her personality. Edgar found himself comparing her to Celes, albeit with more of an edge. He took a sip from the teacup in front of him and watched carefully. The motions she made with her hands as she talked, the idle tracing of patterns with her fingers, the quick snappy insults, and the inflection and demeanor; Celes shared the same idiosyncrasies. In fact, the long red hair was-

"You're quite calm, considering your situation," Danielle remarked.

Edgar swirled the tea with the small spoon provided. "You don't intend to have me executed," Edgar said. "Since Relm is also alive, it appears that our crimes against the Empire are not a priority for you."

"It would be a waste to kill you, especially when you can do so much for me," Danielle acknowledged.

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "You want something from me?"

"Of course. You are the solution to a problem you don't even know exists. Such is the downside of living in the backwaters of the Empire," Danielle replied.

Edgar finished his tea and grimaced; it had been bitter at the bottom. He unfolded his arms. "Perhaps we could work out an amicable deal," he said as he sought a way out of the trouble he had caused.

"I already have a deal in mind," Danielle smiled confidently. "I'm sure you'll find it more than accommodating."

With the tap of her finger -- the fine ceramic teacup ringing loudly -- the door opened and Valerio walked in with a large roll of canvas underneath his arm. He unfurled the map, laid it carefully in front of them, and then left.

It was a map of the world, and a fine one at that! With detail to match the size of the canvas, Edgar enviously noted precision in distances and scale amongst the Imperial continent. Yet the wonder did not end there, for many of the mountain passes in his lands were marked, even the ones that were secret and only known to a select few. A few routes through the Kolt and Lete Mountains were completely new to him, including one mountain path that led directly to Narshe.

"As you know well, Tzen is central to the Empire's coastal defense. Our military ports are vast compared to those of your kingdom, and our capable Navy more than a match for your nation."

Edgar narrowed his eyes. The center of the map, where all major shipping lanes from Tzen to South Figaro crossed, was tarnished by unbecoming black paint. "What's with this region?" he asked. He stood up and pointed at the dark spot.

"The Floating Continent's remains," Danielle answered quietly.

Edgar pressed his lips together. So that had been where it landed. He had been wondering for a while. Had it landed on ground, it would have caused great havoc. Since it had landed in the ocean though...

"Many of our ships were wrecked by the great waves that the Floating Island caused upon its crash. Even now, the area is a complete disaster. Great storms and terrible winds make that region completely impossible to sail through, and that's without mentioning the pieces of the continent that are spread about and float haphazardly like mines. Maps become outdated before they're drawn. Many of our ships were lost trying to find passage."

"You attacked Figaro?" Edgar asked, astonished.

"No. A peace treaty was my aim," Danielle answered quickly. When she noticed Edgar's surprised expression, she smirked. "We are in the midst of civil war, King Edgar. Fighting your kingdom would be irresponsible to those under my command."

"Irresponsible? The Empire has been expanding its borders for two dozen years now, and you tell me that suddenly common-sense will prevail over the expansionism that your entire military structure is geared towards?" Edgar frowned. "You'll have to excuse my directness, but I don't believe you."

"I have had very little to do with Emperor Gestahl's recent war with your precious Northern Continent," Danielle replied. Her hands smoothed out the expansive map as she smiled unnervingly. "In fact, I did little more than sit here in this very province and shuffle papers from one pile to the next."

"But you had so much more to do with this very region only a decade ago," Edgar retorted. Marcus' words were clear in his memory and they matched what he learned from all the refugees from Tzen. Danielle Meras would have been incredibly young at that time -- perhaps no more than twenty years old -- but age had never been a major factor in the Imperial Armed Forces. Celes alone proved that the Imperials could recognize talent and promote accordingly, almost with reckless abandon to maturity and experience.

"A learned man," Danielle raised an eyebrow. "One with unexpectedly detailed knowledge of Imperial History, considering your education could only have come from your Kingdom's scholars." Her hands traced out a route from the capital of Tzen to Vector, fingers deftly dancing through the mountains as she followed trail after trail. "Though," she added after introspection, "I suppose it's rather difficult to keep quiet my rather well-known achievements."

Edgar folded his arms, victorious. "And here you are, trying to convince me that you've changed."

Danielle turned her clear blue eyes on him, wiping the smile off his face with her glare. "King Edgar, you must understand that while I may entertain the status of a conqueror, I am anything but. My actions during that war were one borne of desire to save my friends, not for power or wealth. I took command of a disorganized army reeling from the loss of its command and merely ended the war. I didn't start one then and I don't intend to start now. I am speaking the truth when I tell you that I sent ambassadors to the north for the explicit purpose of peace." Her hands stopped suddenly, fingers hovering over the Imperial Capital.

Edgar didn't trust her, but he decided to let the topic drop. Instead, he looked down at the finely detailed map. The region that was painted black -- presumably because it was treacherous to sail through -- was extremely large. To go around would take weeks compared to the usual six day journey. "At least three weeks," he mumbled to himself.

"Yes, to sail around the remnants of that continent is a three-week journey. It was quite a voyage, but a few of my ambassadors finally made contact with your countrymen two weeks ago," Danielle replied.

"How would you know that? They couldn't have returned yet," Edgar asked the obvious.

"The messenger birds brought the news," Danielle said.

Edgar glanced up. The Empire's reliance on carrier pigeons was well-known to him, and the scholars in Figaro were still trying to come up with a suitable counter to interrupt such an important means of communication. Still, she was not telling him the entire truth... or was waiting for him to make the connection. He sat back down and stared at the huge coastline near South Figaro. "Your people were killed," he surmised.

Danielle nodded. "I doubt it was your orders though."

"And why do you doubt that?" Edgar asked. "I might have left standing orders for any Imperial vessels to be attacked on sight. You did invade and occupy South Figaro," Edgar responded angrily. "You smashed all the ships of trade for the past year, even those from Nikeah! The Imperial Navy has been at a state of war with the entire world and has killed thousands of innocent civilian sailors."

She chuckled softly. "Well then King Edgar, I guess I judged you wrongly. An eye for an eye is your royal philosophy?"

That gave Edgar pause. She was suggesting that his navy had done the same. That was not right. He had never allowed any of the Admirals to engage in unrestricted naval warfare.

"I didn't think so," Danielle gestured at the mapped ocean. "All trading vessels that normally leave for Figaro have not returned," Danielle said. "The men I sent were also killed, though they were flying the Imperial flag." She raised a finger and pointed at his country. "Of course, there is also the matter of the letters carried by the pigeons, sent by my spies."

Edgar studied the engravings on his teacup while he debated the situation. His navy was not particularly strong, and if the Empire had lost a great many ships because of the Floating Continent's crash, then his forces would have suffered similarly. If...

No. He wouldn't dare.

"The letters were quite short and hurried. Apparently there has been a new royal edict: Every vessel was to be engaged on sight without exception. It was signed-"

"Duke Daggart Winthron," Edgar whispered in dread.

Danielle laughed pleasantly. "So this was expected," she said as she visibly relaxed. Danielle paused, allowing Edgar to pour himself another cup of tea, and reached over the side of her chair. From a folder she drew a fine piece of parchment, carelessly tossed in front of Edgar.

An official Figarian Rescript, with an all-too familiar crest but oddly foreign signature.

"'The exalted and honorable King Daggart' would be the inscription," Danielle pointed out the words Edgar had been studying.

"I almost regret pardoning him now," he remarked quietly.

The red-haired General smiled slyly and leaned back into her seat. She leaned on an arm while idly stirring tea with the other. "Who is this upstart that has supplanted your rule?"

Edgar sighed. "Daggart Winthron was once a close friend of my father," he explained. There was no need to hide such history from Danielle. No blackmailing or insidious undermining could occur now that Daggart had already revealed his true colors. "He was an influential noblemen and a stalwart supporter of the family. When I was new to the throne, we found Daggart a participant of an assassination plot."

Danielle clicked her tongue loudly. "Such a peaceful kingdom," she commented.

"I didn't believe it at the time. Instead of an execution, I pardoned Daggart for his crime and kept him close. He had been a good advisor for many years -- deftly keeping the nobility in line by playing their power games against one another instead of the throne -- and I never expected this..." Edgar trailed off as his mind continued the train of thought. For Daggart to take the throne, it was almost unthinkable. While he was a skillful orator, this was far different. It could not have been accomplished without bloodshed.

"I would like you to remove Daggart from power," Danielle demanded softly, but with no less authority. "I will provide an escort and you will recover your kingship in return."

Edgar looked up, a short-lived smile appearing on his face. Of course she would want him back in power; he would be more than willing to sign another peace treaty. After all, he had been a great proponent of the original treaty they had signed with Gestahl. Although the Emperor had betrayed them a few weeks later, it did not sully Edgar's hopes for peace.

Yet if Danielle desired a treaty, then Figaro was of some danger to the Imperials. Daggart must have been building up the navy. Although they could not defeat the Empire's armies, their navy was not as vast. In addition, the Floating Continent's crash had ruined the Empire's current fleet. If he considered only newly constructed vessels from a faction of the Empire, then Figaro had the industrial might to meet or even exceed the enemy.

Maintaining naval superiority would prevent another incursion by the Imperial Army, although that would be difficult. They would have to defend the entire coast, or else the Empire would merely find a distant beachhead. Once on land, they were invincible.

They could not fight a war against the Empire for all of eternity. He could save millions of lives with this treaty. The cost was even less than then one Terra bore when she searched out the Espers in Thamasa.

And look how well that ended up.

Edgar pointed at Danielle and ignored his cynical side. "What of Relm?"

"She stays with me, of course," the red-haired General flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "She serves as insurance that you will do your part."

"A peace treaty forged from the swordpoint leveled at a child," Edgar murmured. "That is certainly a recipe for trust between leaders and nations."

That caught Danielle by surprise, but it did not bode well for him. Instead of anger, she laughed. "Really, I knew you were idealistic but this is just ridiculous. How could you have maintained control over a Kingdom for as long as you have?"

Edgar maintained a calm countenance. After all, this was a diplomatic communiqué, even if the Imperial General didn't adhere to any of the unspoken rules. "I don't really see what that-"

"You are a King without a country. At this moment, your resources are non-existent. You have no army, no allies, not even transportation to cross the ocean!" Danielle gestured at the map. "And yet here you are with the gall to discuss terms to what should be seen as a gift!"

Edgar straightened, his regal stature towering over the Imperial General. "Perhaps you are overestimating the degree of help you can offer," he pointed out vaguely.

"And perhaps you are letting your pride get in the way of your Kingdom's survival. Really, King Edgar, the resources at your disposal are insufficient to even transport you across the ocean. The ships I'm offering alone -- considering that every vessel on this side of the ocean has been conscripted for the war -- should be more than enough incentive."

That had been unexpected. Edgar should have realized that the Empire would forcibly control all sea-worthy vessels during the Civil War.

"You're correct, General," Edgar began with as much kindness as he could muster. "This alliance is more than expected and a treaty between our two nations is everything I ever dreamed of," he paused for dramatic effect. "But let's be honest, Relm is a minor matter. If you're unwilling to share even that much," Edgar slammed his fist against the table. "I would rather let Daggart bleed you dry!"

Danielle leaned back and closed her eyes. She seemed to be thinking about his requests. One finger idly tapped the side of her chair while she thought; the rhythmic thumping was the only audible sound in the awkward silence.

"Very well," Danielle decided. "I will make a few concessions, but not regarding Relm. She stays here. I will not allow a child to be exposed to the dangers you will face, King Edgar. There is nowhere in the world safer than Tzen."

Before Edgar could respond, she interrupted him. "I will not change my mind about this. I have guaranteed her safety. You can accept this condition, or you may leave."

Edgar fumed secretly, enraged that he could do nothing. He began to genuinely consider leaving.

"However, as you said, we should trust each other. So I will offer you all the information I have on Terra and Locke's current situation."

That got the estranged King of Figaro's attention.

"As far as I know, your friends are safe. They are accompanying General Lilienthal in Alfort-Brougham."

"Albrook?" Edgar asked. He recognized the House of Lilienthal almost immediately. The head of the House was the Governor of Albrook, though he hadn't known that the same man was also a general in the army. That was not the problem though. "Why are they so far away?"

Danielle chuckled. "I sent them there as diplomats and they succeeded beyond my expectations," she explained.

At that moment, the door opened and in came waitresses of all shapes and sizes. They brought in a feast, many times more than what the two of them could have eaten. There was platter after platter of skillfully prepared shrimp, crab, lobster and fish from all four seas of the world. Aromas of spices and exotic fruits wafted into the room, and behind came crystal goblets filled with sparkling white wine.

The waitresses carefully rolled up the map. Danielle waved aside the girls carrying wine. While Edgar had not expected to be drinking, he would have been quite content with the proper vintage.

While they ate, Danielle explained how she had caught Locke, Terra and Relm. Edgar listened carefully as she recanted how Locke and Terra had been swayed to her cause. He was surprised at how easily Locke and Terra had agreed to help Danielle. It appeared to be an unequal deal, as Danielle only had to deliver the laryl.

Edgar doubted the General told him everything. He guessed many of the unspoken parts. No doubt Danielle had threatened Relm's life. It would explain why Relm was still in Tzen instead of being with Terra and Locke in Albrook. It would also explain why Locke would help an Imperial General and had yet to escape. While his underestimation of the Empire's capabilities had gotten everyone into trouble, he was quite... skilled. After years of working with the Returner, Edgar knew that vanishing from under the Empire's watchful eye was no challenge for Locke Cole.

The food grew cold and Edgar bored of the remaining shrimp. He took a sip of honeyed tea while Danielle attempted to gain his trust by recounting the war. Edgar had already deduced most of the details, but he specifically noted the names of her enemies. Danielle skimmed over the details of military action, but Edgar was satisfied merely with knowing the state of the Core. Everything she said matched the stories of the refugees. The only thing that surprised him were the detailed descriptions of formidable monsters, he had heard precious little from those fleeing the Civil War.

Danielle had deployed a generous portion of her military to hunt down the monster threat, even with her borders beleaguered. He scrutinized her as she spoke, weighing her mannerisms and tonality against the experience of years in the noble court. Danielle was born for war. An incredible leader who brilliance had defeated the Kingdom of Tzen, her strategic skills had not faded in a mere decade. Her patterns of speech were laden with double meaning, prudently judging each word before it was spoken. While she was no match for a linguistic master from Figaro, her experience in the Imperial political arena was apparent in everything she said.

Edgar considered his choices. Helping the Imperial and attaining a peace treaty while regaining the homeland of his father, it was almost too attractive. When considered against the other option, being executed along with Relm for crimes against the Empire...

Edgar frowned. Had Danielle threatened him? His mind spun as he tried to recall everything said. Not once had she threatened Relm's life, and to him was a thinly veiled reference. Certainly not what was expected, and it cast a different light on the Imperial General.

Danielle Meras was looking for allies, powerful ones that had proven themselves capable of overcoming indomitable odds. She was looking not just to rebuild, but to strengthen the Empire. Her loyalties did not lie with Gestahl nor Kefka, but with her country and its peoples. She was as devoted as General Leo, but was utterly ruthless in her approach.

He was sitting before someone that could, one day, lead the Empire.

The thought of that chilled Edgar to the bones.

"Why have you not contested the throne? Considering the degree of influence you wield, I would presume that your troops would have declared you the leader of the Empire; a de-facto Imperator of sorts," Edgar said between sips of tea.

"Your noble education would lead you to believe that civil wars are only fought for power, wouldn't they?" Danielle bantered without answering his question.

Yet Edgar could see what she was leading him towards. It was a dance of words to discern the sagacity of the other. "You have not given me a reason for three generals to conspire and then openly declare war on their own people. I suppose it is a bit harsh to assume that you are nothing more than a power-monger, but my dealings with the Empire have hardly led me to believe otherwise."

Danielle chuckled softly, but Edgar could tell it was forced and merely a show of politeness. For what reason, he could not imagine. There was something else hidden beneath rhetoric and carefully devised mannerisms.

"I do not intend on assuming the throne. This war revolved around the actions of a corrupt House of Lords, one that removed Emperor Gestahl from power and then put their puppet on the throne. It was merely bad luck that the Emperor died, or else he would be leading this war. A pretender to the throne cannot be ignored, King Edgar."

This time, there was no infliction or subtlety in her meaning.

"My men have no loyalty to Anson Tilton, he is a scientist and inventor, but no leader. It is not his place to command, nor the place of the House of Lords to remove our Lord and Emperor. This is a common sentiment throughout the Empire."

"Apparently not the Core," Edgar replied.

Danielle gaze hardened instantly. "You would do well to remember your place," she snapped without any change in the tone of her voice.

The look on Edgar's face was impassive. Not even a hint of a smile could be seen on his lips.

"Tilton betrayed the House of Lords and began what he called the Equality Crusade."

Edgar raised an eyebrow. It sounded quite similar to the Morality Crusade of Gestahl. Interesting, he thought. He quickly committed the name of Anson Tilton to memory.

"His men pillaged the nobility and his reforms left the Imperial treasury empty. People starve because of his shortsightedness, such as when he took grain supplies and used it to gain favor with the army instead. He made huge demands of Albrook and when they weren't met, he raided them. Now that it is winter, millions starve due to Tilton's actions. Even if our initial refusal of his ascension was hasty, there is no doubt in my heart, nor in the hundreds of thousands who follow me, that Tilton's reign must be ended. It is simply the right thing to do. That is why we're here today, King Edgar: to discuss the right thing."

Danielle's blue eyes judged him coldly. She slowly chewed on a morsel of spiced crab, deliberately taking her time as she sucked the flavor out of the meat. It was readily apparent by her expression that she would no longer discuss the civil war. She wanted an answer.

Edgar sighed. He really had no choice. The longer Daggart remained in power, the more difficult it would be to remove him from the throne. The sooner he returned to Figaro, the sooner he could gather those loyalists still alive to fight the errant Duke. His father would have done the same. Danielle was empowering him to save the lives of his countrymen both in the short-term and the long term. It was a deal that he could not ignore.

What harm could there be in accepting the Empire's assistance?

He knew the answer to that, and his mood soured even more. This woman had used his friends as tools of her own, threatening the life of a child in order to get her way. Now she was tempting him with everything he had ever wanted. He wanted to believe that she was benevolent, but...

But he needed her help.

"Fine," Edgar said at last, ignoring the voice of reason. "I'll help you."

Danielle gave him a small smile with her lips pressed tightly together. Edgar wondered if she was forcing the smile, or if she was trying to keep her joy from showing.

"You have chosen well, and I look forward to the day I will properly address you as King Edgar," she said with a wave of her hand. "I suggest you retire to your friends and explain to them the situation, I doubt they will see the bigger picture as easily as you have."

Edgar narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Your friends," Danielle repeated. "Cyan the Relentless and the sage from Thamasa."

Edgar was not sure which was more surprising, what she had called Cyan or how much she knew of their activities.

"Although the sage might agree with your reasoning, the Relentless will probably live up to his name," Danielle continued. "He'll probably take quite a while to convince, even if you tell him of the lives you have saved with your decision today," she leaned back and finished her tea before continuing. "I'll send my men to retrieve you this evening," she said after deliberation. "Only a few soldiers though, I don't think it would be proper to scare the old librarian by showing up at his door with a full squadron."

Edgar felt a bead of sweat run down his back.

Danielle smiled pleasantly. "I'll see you this evening, King Edgar."

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