DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to the creative geniuses that invented them—i.e. the wondrous conglomerate that we now know as Square-Enix. I claim no ownership over any, though the main character and several few others were brought into existence by me for purposes of the story. Thanks, and please enjoy!
He slept, and thus, he dreamed.
Created by the 4-armed Samurai
The city was silent, but it was far from bare. Every block, every urban street was packed to the brim with men and women.
And yet none of them made a sound.
Dark maidens with their hair done in braids and beads, clad in yellow cloth and who wore black leather and even blacker iron cast over their vital areas, clustered about with spears around the, humming, vibrating ballista cannons placed strategically through the metropolis.
Great men, tall and lean with long, straight pale hair and waving banners of blue and gold sat atop proud, strong horses, lances and long-barreled rifles tucked under their arms as they waited, eyes watching the north.
And beside them, dark-haired people, many with shaven heads, and wearing all assortments of strange, colorful clothing, and complete with goggles and grease-stains, their features grim as all the rest. They were mounted as well, atop their own steeds—great, iron beasts of machinery. Awesome automobiles of war, outfitted with lesser versions of the cannons spread throughout the city.
The demi-humans stood apart from the rest—brought to stand united with them now in the face of an enemy like none had ever seen before, but still remembering the scars of racial hatreds that had existed between them and humankind not yet that distant in their memories. Ranks and factions of their own waited not feet apart from those that months earlier, they would have considered their dearest enemies. Muscled and fierce, men with the heads of lions and wielding blades too heavy and terrible for any human to ever hope to lift bided their time, keen eyes locked upon the north beside others of their oft-misunderstood race—men and women with gills, horns, scales, and all other assortments of features that separated them from regular human beings.
What it was that had brought them all here—the force that had torn down past hatreds and alliances just as easily as it had torn down the walls and armies of other cities before this one—even now, none of them knew what it was, or where it had come from. But they knew that it was relentless, and completely without care or concern for the greatest weapons their combined civilizations and technologies had to offer. It brooked no peace, offered no demands, and took no prisoners. It only killed, and it did so en masse.
A familiar buzzing filled the ears of those with the greatest hearing, but it soon grew so that all gathered could hear it—and fear its coming. A shadow grew from the north, the horizon being blotted out by a great black mass with thousands of sharp spines, each one large as a skyscraper bristling upon the thing's back.
Final preparations were made in a haste that verged on desperation, for while many were possessed of hearts of steel, ready to die with honor against the beast they would face that day—others still struggled not to break and run at the mere sight of it, its figure all but unreadable, but for the great darkness it brought, the light of the day star shying behind it's awesome size.
Its echoing bellow tore through the sky worse than the searing fire it spat across the heavens. The spear of glistening flame arced across the darkening sky, raining down upon the gathered army like hunting death.
Battle-cries from hundreds of different armies and peoples rose up, and as one, the tide of warriors, and the last hope for the planet, rushed as one toward certain doom.
A 6-String Cello ProductionOf all predictions and forecasts that could have been made, the foremost would have been (and for some, was) that if it were to happen, Yuffie Kisaragi would betray them first. Traitors and spies weren't common, but it was well known that they did exist, and always, what caused them to sell out were treasures and possessions of the secular variety. Those sorts of men and women lacked the deeper, more meaningful things in life that might keep them in honest, and in turn, they were willing to betray those honest bonds of trust for coins of silver and gold. Never would any of them have guessed, however—they, who were so distrustful of the young ninja, Yuffie Kisaragi, that in fact she would not be the first to betray them, that in fact, she would be the first to die for them.
The battlefield had been scorched beyond repair.
His men had hit hard and fast, and Seymour Guado could not have been more pleased with the results. The detailed report given by the rebel turncoat had been flawless, and had he originally been of Seymour's employ, the guado warlock would have made sure the man was promoted. Unfortunately, he had come from enemy ranks, and frankly, he just could not be trusted. A fact very clear by his actions thus far.
And besides, company policy was company policy.
So, without being able to enjoy even an hour of his new life as a traitorous dog, the man had had to watch as the huge amount of gil he had demanded for betraying his comrades was taken away from him as Seymour Guado's Guardian and bodyguard, a bear of a man with numerous scars etching his great body, filled his chest with an entire clip of bullets.
Such was the price of life.
Still, that pleasant memory had faded to the back of the guado warlock's mind now. Now, he was much more captured by the scene directly before him: The sight of one of the famed rebel leaders who opposed him and his allies so fervently… lying near certain-death at his feet. Settling himself comfortably, drinking in her pain with sadistic relish, he positioned himself so that he could see her entire form clearly, while she was forced to stare at his boots.
"Yuffie…It is, 'Yuffie', isn't it?" He asked, though in reality he knew her name full well.
Gasping for breath, weakened by the battle and her injuries to a point beyond exhaustion—kept awake only by her sense of pride at not letting this pompous enemy see her faint, Yuffie replied, "Don't waste our time Guado. I've got an appointment with the Farplane, and you've no way of making me talk."
Seymour laughed. "Silly girl," he said, "torture isn't for making you talk, it's for keeping me entertained. Now then, shall we begin?"
A FinalFantasy'sFantasy
'Dear God… Please Forgive and watch over us. Your sinful children of the Planet.'
Footsteps echoed dully through air, soft-soled metal boots taking measured, hurried steps.
'The task you have given is hard, but I will not shun your duties… please, be there for all of us.'
"Princess? It's time."
Hands folded, head bowed, and with knees shamelessly touching the ground, Royal Princess of the Kingdom of Alexandria, Garnet Til Alexandros the 17th slowly opened her eyes. "Just a moment Beatrix," She said, thankful for the darkness of the chapel. She felt as if it were hiding her fear, cloaking the uncertainty she felt for what she knew had to be done. And she had to be the one to do it. There would be no hiding behind her loyal knight and ever-vigilant servitor, the famed one-eyed General Beatrix, this time. Certainly, the other woman would be with her, but Princess Garnet was acting of her own volition this time. Those she led, would be following her, and it was to her they would look when strife arose; and the princess was painfully sure that it would, and soon, the longer she took procrastinating her departure from the safety of the church she had all but grown up in.
"Please princess, do not give Lady Beatrix trouble, she is only thinking of your best interests."
Smiling some, Garnet rose. The voice of kindly Bishop Simon comforted her. He was like the father she had never had, being as her own had died when she was only a child, guarding her and her mother, the Queen, and their country of Alexandria from war in a distant land. His body had never been successfully recovered and returned home, but all reports had been clear in the fact that he had died from injuries he suffered in battle. "You're right Simon; Beatrix, forgive me. I am just… frightened." Turning around, she was comforted further by the supportive expressions of the wizened holy man, Simon, and her beautiful one-eyed guard, Beatrix.
"Do not let doubt worry or constrain you princess. The Lady Beatrix and her knights will be with you every step of the way, and also, you have the hand of God and the church shielding you in your travels. Your mission is a just one, and it will be seen to completion."
"The good bishop is right. I will not allow any harm to come to you as long as I live, my princess, and those knights I have picked out for this mission are among the best our kingdom has to offer. Trust me, any threat your mother may—,"
"Please stop." Garnet said, interrupting what the other woman had been saying. "I know what we are to do goes against the will of my mother, the Queen. And I know it is because of her recent, bizarre actions that we are forced into the position we now take. But she is still my mother, and my Queen. I do what I must now because I have no other alternative. And if it would restore her to her old self, than I would gladly accept any punishment or sacrifice."
"Well said princess, but with us at your backside, you won't have to worry your pretty head over any of it."
Three heads turned at the unfamiliar voice, speaking from the entry doorway of the chapel. He was a tall man, and upon first glance, best described as the type to look up a woman's skirt if he got less than half the chance. Outfitted in dark, practical leather armor, lacking much to all of the gleam and bulk most young 'knights' went about in daily. He wore a thin strip of brown scarf upon his brow, and wore an equally thin rapier sword at his waist, with a silver pistol tucked into his belt at the other side of his hip. His hair was about mid-length, not quite to his shoulders, and dyed an odd shade of blue that matched his eyes. He was smiling, and his expression was not one that made Garnet feel comfortable.
Beatrix scowled, as she was prone to doing when confronted with an enemy, and without averting her disgusted gaze from the man she said, "I stilldo not see why their filthy mercenary presence is necessary, princess. My knights and I can provide you with the greatest protection available to an heir of the Alexandrian throne without the misbegotten aid of them and their faithless ilk!"
Chuckling, the mercenary shook his head, waving a hand in front of his face as if to stop the Lady Knight from continuing with a hilarious joke. "'Faithless ilk'? That's quite a tongue you've got on you oh 'Great General Beatrix', but from what I've seen of you and your knights, you'll be needing us much more than all that big talk."
Beatrix growled fiercely, one hand straying dangerously close to the hilt of her legendary sword, 'Save the Queen', buckled at her waist. It bit at her that much more knowing he had a point. Earlier, on the way to the chapel—a rendezvous that was meant to be completely secret—she and her column of Alexandrian Knights had run into a patrol of Alexandrian soldiers under the Queen's command. Hopelessly outnumbered, and with her force being nothing more than a small number of knights, strong and gifted, but straight out of training, and young and inexperienced in battle. They had fought a running battle through the dense forest surrounding the church, and before they could be cornered, or their destination discovered, the mercenaries at hand had appeared, and saved them from certain doom. The Lady General would almost have preferred death to watching ex-comrades in arms slain by the mercenary filth she was now forced to work with. As it was, however, in order to keep their movements secret, and beneath the notice of the Queen, she had not been able to take the best, most experienced and trained knights under her command. She could remove herself and the Queen would assume she just had other business, keeping peace in some other part of the realm, but in order not to arouse suspicion, she had only been able to pick out a minute number of the best and brightest, who had only just graduated into knighthood, but that had days earlier been naught but squires. As much as it pained her, the mercenaries hired by the princess were necessary. Without them… without the Turks, they had no chance of accomplishing their God-given mission.
"That's enough. Both of you." Garnet said. Moving forward, she embraced Simon, receiving his blessing and blessing him in return. Once they parted, she did her best to steel herself for all that was to come on the path she had now chosen for herself. It was… difficult. "Let's go." She said.
Stepping outside of the church was almost like stepping outside of a command tent and into a small military outpost or encampment. Warriors stood all around, a small patch of Beatrix's knights in one area, distinguishable by their glimmering, light armor and fine capes and clothing, all in the color of Alexandria's flag, orange and white. And otherwise were scattered the mercenary fighters of the infamous Turks. At least two dozen of them, and all looking shady and disreputable, wearing dark armor and clothing, and hardly a one with a weapon of war, but more with smaller, or ranged weapons—daggers, crossbows, pikes and tomahawks. The tools of assassins. Beatrix sneered in disgust, but otherwise kept silent.
"For a while there the men and I thought you were planning on spending the night and leaving us waiting out in the cold. That's why we decided on sending me in to get you; or at least, 'tuck you in'." The tall mercenary with the rapier at his belt said, stepping up behind Garnet from the church's entrance, having followed her and Beatrix out.
"Watch your tongue knave! You're addressing your princess!" Beatrix snapped, taking a step between Garnet and the Turk.
Eyeing the woman coolly, the swordsman smiled and offered a mock bow, derisive in its extravagance, and causing Beatrix to grow even angrier.
Seeing another unneeded argument rising, Garnet hastily spoke up. "I'm sorry captain. I thank you again for putting so many of your men at my disposal. Are they ready to move?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, and eyeing the princess with a look that bordered on amusement, he replied, "They've been ready. I'll send most of the group ahead and off on a different route to meet us at the entrance to the icy cavern in the south, while me and a few others go with you and your precious knights straight through the forest. That way we attract less attention."
"Hmph! Now all we have to hope for is that your men don't squeal to the Queen's knights about our plan the first chance they get once they're captured. Small chance of that." Beatrix stated, locking her one-eyed glare on the red-haired mercenary captain.
Shrugging, the blue-haired man replied, "My men are better trained than to allow themselves to be caught. Unlike the almighty Alexandrian knights, we know when it's better to run and sacrifice your pride than to die fighting a fool's battle. And even if any of us are captured, you can rest assured that they won't talk—they don't know anything after all, you've kept your plan bluntly secret from us. Just know our loyalty is in the coin you gave us, not you, and not your cause, whatever it may be. Now then, we've dawdled here long enough; let's move out, shall we?"
Choking her fear down, Garnet did her best to nod and speak with certainty. Again she reminded herself, 'They're all looking to me. I must be strong!' "Of course. Beatrix? Let us go,"
"Your majesty?"
Pale green eyes opened quickly, their communion with the darkness present whenever they were closed coming to an abrupt end. "Chaos. What is it?"
"It is as you dreamt. Your daughter has betrayed you, and fled from the castle. Some of my contacts in the city claim to have seen her leaving the capital not two hours past."
"Garnet…" The Queen whispered, rising from her throne and moving to the open window of her tower. The moon was full, and its moon, the Red Star was a quarter full. A bad omen according to the practices of divination. 'What is in your mind my daughter…?'
"My Queen?"
"What is it Chaos?"
"Your orders?"
His tone was dead as always, and coldly respectful, but she could sense the impatience in his words. She inwardly sighed—he was right, she already had a head start on them now—her treacherous daughter Garnet. "You say she has already left the city. Is she alone?"
"No. General Beatrix accompanies her. Along with the most-skilled of the 107th Contingent."
"The 107th? They're little more than children! What does Beatrix hope to accomplish with them?" The Queen mused aloud.
Chaos shrugged, even though the Queen was facing away from him. "The General probably hoped to attract less of your attention by taking those from your army that would be least missed. As it is, her own skills are more than formidable, and she could protect the princess from mostly any threat on her own. Those few she took from the 107th are most likely only to make the princess feel better… and if used wisely, to act as a shield if she and the princess come under any true danger."
The Queen was silent as she thought on the matter. 'So you have betrayed me as well, Beatrix? My First Knight… I thought I knew you well, that you were not the sort of person to use others for your own benefit. Especially innocents like those youths from the 107th. Have you finally come to understand that the only way to move forward in this world is upon the sacrificial backs of others?' Turning to face her spy and lieutenant, Chaos, the Queen fixed him with her gaze. His own piercing red eyes returned her look and he straightened some in his crouching position, letting her know that she had his full attention. "Beatrix was my first, but she is not necessarily my best. In any case, we have the 'Eyes of God' on our side, while they are floundering in the dark. Do you know their location?"
"Several survivors from an obliterated patrol came in moments ago. It appears your daughter has stooped to hiring mercenaries to aid her. They were found a small ways from Flowereis Chapel, near the borders of Evil Forest. I am sure it is not coincidental."
Chuckling some, the Queen shook her head. "Coincidental? No… Garnet you simple fool. Using such an easily surrounded position as a landmark simply because the place comforts you? It is mistakes like that that will lose you this war." Looking to her lieutenant once again, she swept a lock of softly curled brown hair from in front of her pristine, gorgeous face and steeled her features, giving orders that she knew would cause the loss of more than one life that night. "Send Gafgarion and his 'Dragon in Fear Knights' after them. They should be able to track their movements through Evil Forest well."
"And with the Lord Gafgarion's 'Unholy Aura', the monsters and beasts of the wood will be less inclined to assault his troop as they will the forces of the princess."
"Yes. Go now, we have been given a chance but I refuse to underestimate our opponents now."
Chaos did not move. "My Queen…" He said, as if waiting for something.
"Chaos! Did you not hear me?"
"My Queen," The man said again, lowering his face, so that only his head of sharp black hair was visible to her. "What are your 'specific' orders concerning the princess?"
The Queen's composure faded some, her naturally white skin paling some. But it was only for a moment; before she had once again assumed her guise as the 'Iron Queen' she was so well known as. "I have not yet reached the point where I would have my own daughter slain. And at this time, I still have need of her… power. Have her, and Beatrix brought back to me alive. Capture as well any of the 107th that surrender, but butcher the mercenaries. I would not have their presence tainting my lands when they would dare take coin to fight against their Queen."
"Capturing the Lady Beatrix might be more trouble than it is worth, my Queen…"
"You heard my order Chaos. Gafgarion is creative. It should be easy for him to reason things out with her. Either she comes peaceably with the princess, or no mercy will be shown to either of them."
"But did you not order for the princess to be unharmed?"
"You're getting slow Chaos. We know that, but Beatrix does not. Now go, time is of the essence, and Evil Forest is a worse place at night."
"My Queen." Chaos faded from the bleak candlelight of the Queen's Tower as if he were a shadow himself, and the Queen, moving to her window once again to stare down at her country, was silent. She regarded the green, rolling hills to the east, and the great golden farmland of the west. The south and all its beautiful towering forests, and all the magnificent stonework and structure of the northerly capital, and the townships beyond. This was her country—her Alexandria. She would not see it lost, not even at the cost of her precious daughter's life.
"I thought we had an accord between us woman. Promised your soul for power, to me. A woman with no soul has likewise no need to spare the life of a treacherous General. Especially one as powerful as your General Beatrix. Her own mind about too many things she has, and her will is not one to bend, not even to a queen. Trouble you in the future she will, this I have told. Why do you still hold onto your weak precepts of mercy and compassion?"
Her green eyes lit like fire, and the Queen whirled around, radiance and magical might radiating from her glorious figure like a shining blazon star. "Watch your tongue with me Garland! I am not one of your spiritless, mindless whelps or dolls!"
The figure Garland, massive in frame and height, dressed all in deep black armor, with a black cape and dried out, crisp skin the color of white sand laughed gleefully at her rage, shying back some from her power, locks of thick, boundless white hair trailing from behind his head, his red eyes very similar to Chaos'. "No, not a whelp nor doll. Not mindless, and not spiritless—merely soulless. Indispensable is the princess's power if victory you truly seek. Cast off these weak human garments; relinquish love, compassion, and memory. Serve only the strength you have traded yourself for. Alexandria is strong, but no stronger than the other nations of the planet. The Prince Marquis of neighboring Ivalice will rain death upon your precious knights, the 'Honor of Alexandria', with his flying ships and gunpowder weaponry. Only with my aid, the power of the princess, and utter ruthlessness can you topple him from his avian throne. Now submit! And allow your heart to fall and become one with darkness…"
The Queen's upper lip trembled, sweat beading upon her brow like rain forming in the clouds. Her power had all but vanished at his words. It was not that he had overpowered her, but his words had shaken her, reminded her that in truth, she was his puppet, and she still wanted nothing more than to be used by him, as long as he kept giving her power. She could feel the dark gift he had brought her this time as well, and it spooked her to silence. The last gift had been the 'Eyes of God', that had allowed her to dream and foretell of her daughter's betrayal. What power she would be given now, she could scarcely bear to guess at. So she let herself fall, her consciousness sinking into the black, heartless darkness he offered, his towering frame approaching once again from the shadows he had retreated to, each step like a giant gong or bell, ringing in desperate silence… The last thoughts she had before her sight failed her, and her communion with the darkness began once again, was of her and Beatrix, naught but young girls in her memory, playing together and running up and down those rolling Alexandrian hills. Her hills… but then there was only Garland and his darkness.