Final Fantasy IV The After Years: The Novel

Compilation & Additional Scenarios: Celes Chere

Original Characters/Story/Scenario: SquareEnix

Long ago the Blue Planet was saved by the prayers of an entire people.

Two moons became one anew, and time inexorably marched on...

The day of departure has arrived for the heir of the holy paladin.

In the skies above the airship, two moons float up listlessly, one ominously growing ever larger.

Why has this dark harbinger returned?

A new destiny has begun to unfold and yet, as always the crystals brim with silent light.

Act One: Ceodore's Tale | Awakening

It was the first day of his fifteenth summer, and Ceodore Harvey had never been more convinced that he was going to die.

His eyes glazed over as he wordlessly watched the blankets of white, fluffy clouds pass beneath the airship he was a passenger on – they were moving too fast for his eyes to keep up, so they just looked like a wind-whipped blur. Ceodore had no way of being sure, but they surely had to be at least five-thousand feet in the air. When there was a rare break in the clouds, he could see flashes of green and large pools of cerulean ocean – the same body of water that everyone he had ever met in his life compared his eyes to.

He was making himself sick, and yet he couldn't bring himself look away. If he lifted his head, he would have to face his commanding officer – or rather, the man who would become his commanding officer if he lived through the night. If he kept his eyes turned away, the other soldiers might leave him alone and not pick up through the shaking of his hands, which were currently clutching the rail of the ship and leaving behind stains of sweat, or hear in the trembling of his voice that he was in way over his head.

Why did I agree to do this again? Ceodore thought to himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to relieve some of his nausea. To the outside world, it must look like a childish act of rebellion, does it not? Mother didn't want me to join the Red Wings, so here I am, defying her wishes.

He had to remind himself of the utter importance of his true objective: That if everything went the way he was anticipating, and if he actually survived, an incredible weight would be lifted from his shoulders. I will be able to prove that I can achieve something on my own…that I don't need to ride on the coattails of my parents, the legendary heroes who saved our world so long ago…

I guess that's a rebellious act too, in itself – trying to pull myself out of the background of the illustrious Harvey family tapestry...

"Captain Biggs! The Adamant Isle is in sight!" The soldier that had been piloting their ship, whose name Ceodore couldn't even pretend to remember, was yelling back at them. Ceodore heard Biggs reply in the affirmative, and footsteps pounding in his direction.

Oh gods… Ceodore swallowed a lump of acid-tinged sickness that burned his throat on the way down and made him want to gag. The last thing he needed to do was throw up on Captain Biggs' boots…he would probably be tossed overboard right then and there, although that would also be the end of this self-induced nightmare.

But it wasn't the captain that approached him. A gentler, but still familiar voice spoke as Ceodore felt a hand fall on the navy blue leather pauldron he had draped over his shoulders.

"You don't look well, Prince Ceodore."

Ceodore lowered his head, but relaxed slightly under the man's grip. It belonged to Wedge, a Second Lieutenant in the Red Wings and also Captain Biggs' cousin. "I can tell you're nervous about this. It is your first deployment, after all. Try talking with some of the other soldiers and take your mind off matters."

Ceodore opened his eyes slowly. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do, but he could feel Captain Biggs glaring at him from the peripheral of his vision, so he figured he had better take a lap around the deck, now that he had the Captain's attention again. His legs would have cramped from nerves anyway if he did not move sooner rather than later.

Wedge smiled with kind eyes from underneath his silver helmet, although it did not bring Ceodore much comfort. "Has the Captain told you where we are going yet?" Ceodore shook his head. He had no idea what exactly it was they were doing – everything had happened so fast.

Ceodore recalled the evening before, when he had sat down to dinner with his mother and father in their private quarters. His parents were talking as animatedly per usual, since their days were always filled with something to discuss.

Ceodore's day had started off uneventful – it had been his last day of compulsory schooling for the semester, so he had spent most of his day trapped inside the stifling-hot schoolhouse in Baron Village, pretending that the lecture they were being given on the mating habits of the Antlion had any meaning to him and making small talk with his fellow students that were curious what it was a prince did over the summer.

"Did you hear the Red Wings are looking for new recruits?" Ceodore had heard a boy named Tilton ask over lunch. Ceodore's ears perked up at that – the Red Wings hadn't recruited any new soldiers for several seasons, and certainly not since he had been old enough to consider joining. Peacetime was slow in the military world – any soldier would tell you that their training regimen was as fierce and grueling as always, but it went without saying that in peacetime, there was less need to recruit soldiers because, well…less of them died or became incapacitated.

Ceodore had always cultivated a fascination with the Red Wings from afar. They were Baron's elite air force, and undoubtedly the most well-known of Baron's military might throughout the world. As a child, his father had told him many stories about his time spent in the Red Wings, and Ceodore dreamed of joining their ranks too – but as he came of the age where such training would begin, he struggled with the idea of doing exactly what his father had done as a child. He realized that everyone in the castle court had just expected that he would make the Red Wings' ranks because his father had – what if he failed due to his utterly unremarkable abilities as compared to his father? For a long time, Ceodore convinced himself that that was worse than not trying at all, and set his dream aside, drifting aimlessly into adolescence.

His saving grace had been his mother, who was very open about wanting Ceodore to never join – she didn't want to raise her only child to be an elite soldier. It was a comfortable excuse he could hide behind for not putting himself on the military track as a pre-teen like his father had been. He wasn't cowardly if he was being respectful of his mother's wishes, right?

His father, for his part, had been indifferent – he never pressured Ceodore to join, but Ceodore knew his father secretly wanted him to pursue some sort of military career – or at least start thinking about something he wanted to do with his life to someday help him with his future role as King of Baron. It was a normal expectation one would have of the doubly genetically-blessed heir to the most powerful nation in the world, after all.

But as Ceodore grew into a young man, the more everyone in his life tried to convince him that he was so special due to his heritage, the more Ceodore wanted to rebel and prove them wrong – desperately so. Suddenly, an opportunity had appeared to do just that. The trial to become a Red Wing didn't care who you were – not even a king could bully his inept son's way into an organization as elite as they (not that Ceodore's father would have ever thought to do such a thing). Finally, Ceodore could prove that he could achieve something of his own due to his strength – and not because he was some precious, untouchable legacy.

Ceodore's childhood dream had been revitalized by Tilton's offhand comment. He had immediately abandoned his lunch and ran to the castle, scrawling his name in the ledger that had been miraculously produced in the great hall and hurrying back to school before he could change his mind. His name had been the first to be written down. For the rest of the day, nothing had happened – his schoolmates had said good-bye to him for the summer, he went home, and showed up for dinner, all as was expected of him.

When his mother and father had finally paused long enough in their conversation to ask Ceodore how his day had gone, he dropped the bomb.

"I've declared my intent to try out for the Red Wings."

His mother looked as if she were about to faint – the blood had drained from her face, and if she had been holding a glass, it would have surely been shattered on the floor. His father discreetly reached under the table to rest his hand on her thigh, intending to be outwardly comforting, but Ceodore could see the excitement alit in his eyes.

Right on cue, there was a swift knock on their door. It wasn't unusual for them to get visitors at this hour – but Ceodore suddenly had the sinking feeling that this visitor was here for him, which was very unusual indeed. His mother, still astonished by Ceodore's news, couldn't bring herself to speak, but his father told the guest to come in.

Captain Biggs of the Red Wings himself appeared in the threshold, and clutched in his hand was the very declaration Ceodore had signed earlier that day.

"Prince Ceodore, is this a joke?" Biggs barked, spit flying cross the room. The man was never one to stand on ceremony – his using Ceodore's proper title was about as good as things were going to get. He had known Ceodore's parents far too long to bother flattering them by asking for forgiveness for interrupting, or anything silly like that.

"No, sir," Ceodore practically whispered. Thinking back on it, Ceodore realized he probably should have stood or made some sort of movement – but he had been glued to his chair in terror. Even under Biggs' golden helmet, he could see a vein throbbing on his temple.

Biggs crumpled the declaration into a ball, launching it at Ceodore's head. Ceodore didn't bother reaching up to catch it, letting it bounce against his platinum blonde hair, which was messily twisted into textured spikes, and fall to the floor.

"You're expecting me to waste my time on a recruit that has no military or combat experience whatsoever?" Biggs raised his eyebrows. Ceodore couldn't tell who he was talking to, so he remained silent. That apparently was the wrong response.

"Answer me, boy!"

"Er…yes…I mean, no," Ceodore blushed. "I will not waste your time, sir…I intend to prove my worth like any other candidate. I've some combat experience."

Biggs shook his head disgustedly, and turned to Ceodore's father. "Cecil…I won't treat him any differently from any of the other recruits. I can't be held responsible if I have to wash his blood from the Adamantite Grotto's walls."

Ceodore felt his interrupted dinner trying to come back up, and his mother's jaw dropped.

"I don't intend for you to treat him any differently," Cecil said calmly. "If this is what Ceodore wants, then Rosa and I will support him going through the same process as everyone else."

Rosa looked to Cecil, and started to speak, but Biggs interrupted her.

"Very well, as long as we are all clear. Ceodore, I expect you at the castle gates at noon tomorrow. Bring your own weapon. The rest of your provisions will be provided to you. If you are even a second late, I will ban you from ever attempting to join again."

"Yes, sir," Ceodore said, a little firmer this time. Biggs rolled his eyes and stomped out, slamming the door behind them and making the cutlery on the table rattle.

Cecil had then advised that Ceodore go elsewhere so that he and Rosa could talk. Ceodore slunk out of their quarters, his dinner half-eaten, and could hear the yelling start before he had even closed the door behind him. Later that night, when he had slipped back inside to go to bed, Rosa had risen from where she was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her silky hair that spilled over her shoulders like spun gold, and embraced her son tightly. She realized with a start that he was now nearly tall enough that his head nestled perfectly underneath her chin. One more growth spurt and he would surely be taller than her, like his father.

Ceodore hugged her back wordlessly, closing his eyes and fighting back the tears that had begun to form behind his lids. Rosa stroked his hair back and leaned in to kiss his forehead, whispering against her son's skin.

"I know a time comes in every man's life when he hears the first callings of destiny," Rosa said. "I'll support you no matter what you choose to do, my darling. Always remember that your life is yours to live, and no one else's."

Ceodore bit his lip, trying not to cry out – conflicted emotions were raging inside his heart.

Destiny? I'm just trying to escape from beneath yours and father's shadow…And I don't know any other way to do it…No one recognizes me as just "Ceodore"…and it's yours and father's fault! How can you say my life is mine to live when it hasn't been since the day I was born?

Wedge was still talking, interrupting Ceodore's reverie. "We are currently on our way to the Adamant Isle, a very small landmass in the middle of the ocean. It is the staging ground for your initiation trial in becoming a knight, my lord. It goes without saying, of course, how overjoyed your father Cecil is to see you finally taking on this task."

Ceodore looked away. Yes, it could have gone without saying. For the first time in his recent memory, it had been Cecil to rouse Ceodore that morning, and not Rosa, excitedly gifting Ceodore with the newly-oiled armor set he had had immediately commissioned from the armory, and Cecil's very own broadsword from when he had been a cadet, prior to training with the dark sword. The happiness in Cecil's eyes was so apparent to Ceodore that his face burned in shame as he accepted his father's gifts. His father didn't realize that Ceodore was doing this to try to distance himself from his family, not to follow in Cecil's footsteps.

One of three remaining Red Wing soldiers that had accompanied them, who had overheard their conversation, tried to cheer Ceodore up too. "Your father, King Cecil, achieved knighthood by passing this trial himself. Did you know that he actually served as captain of the Red Wings before becoming king?"

Of course I know that! Ceodore wanted to scream. It's not like I'm not reminded every single day! But instead, he just nodded thoughtfully, and walked away.

Ceodore approached a second soldier, who was leaning over the railing as they started to make their descent. He pointed to the island that was slowly emerging through the clouds, and Ceodore drew his breath and pressed in to get a better look. From this far away, it looked so tiny – nothing like the massive continent Baron stood on. Would their airship even fit? "The Adamant Isle looks peaceful enough at first glance, I'll give you that. There's a grotto there, though...a holy land, of sorts. All knight trainees will visit there once."

Biggs, who had snuck up behind Ceodore and made him nearly tumble over the railing with his booming voice, snorted. "Monsters don't play favorites. Royalty or peasants - they aren't picky about their prey. It's just as true for us Red Wings, too, I suppose. You may be the crown prince of Baron, but it means nothing here on this ship."

Ceodore looked up at Biggs, but chose to say nothing in return. In a way, he had supposed that kind of attitude was how he had wanted to be treated – but it still stung his ego a little more than he cared to admit, and he was becoming even more nervous about what he had signed himself up for. He hadn't lied when he said he had combat experience – the problem was that it had been with monsters local to Baron, which were known to be pushovers compared to some other locales of the world thanks to his father's military paring down their populations. Ceodore had never actually left his own kingdom before, so he had no experience with the outside world, so-to-speak. He reluctantly left his spot where he could better view the approaching island and slipped back over to Wedge.

Wedge nodded toward him. "How are you feeling now, my lord? Better?"

Horrible.

But Ceodore kept his true thoughts to himself, again. "...Yes."

Wedge, either naïve enough to take the progressively paling boy at his word or choosing to ignore the underlying sarcasm in Ceodore's response, shook his head. "I can certainly understand what you're going through, my lord...But considering your bloodline, there's nothing for you to be worried about."

Ceodore bit his lip. No…this shouldn't be coming up here! "…My bloodline?"

Wedge nodded, ignoring the distress in Ceodore's eyes. "Yes, my lord. You have inherited the blood of two great heroes, after all: King Cecil the paladin and Queen Rosa the white mage."

Ceodore turned away, trying to take control of his utter despair – no one on this ship seemed to care about the person in front of them – just about his incredible luck in the DNA lottery. Not that it had done him any good anyway – sure, he knew some white magic, but was hardly above average when it came to the students of the castle his mother taught that were his age. And yes, he was trained in weaponry thanks to his father, but it was a joke to think he was anywhere near close to the class of a holy knight. The only advantage he had over his father was he knew far more white magic than Cecil had at his age – Cecil had told him he couldn't even cast a spell until he was twenty. Ceodore could hear his voice quivering pathetically as he bleated his response.

"That doesn't mean anything! I am just another soldier being tested for knighthood."

Unfortunately Biggs had heard him whining, and whirled around to face Ceodore, who didn't dare look away from him, despite the knocking in his knees. "Don't kid yourself, boy! You're no soldier yet. You're nothing but a squire. The Red Wings isn't the playground it was back in King Cecil's day."

Ceodore met Biggs's gaze defiantly. It was your day too, Captain Biggs! "I know that. That's why I'm here today to..."

But Biggs didn't let him finish. He reared back his hand, and before Ceodore could even mentally brace himself for what was to come, smacked Ceodore across the face so hard that the boy was knocked to the floor. Ceodore resisted crying out, instead clenching his jaw and hitting the deck of the airship with a violent "thump". He hesitatingly reached up, his shoulder aching from the fall, already able to feel some swelling where a welt was surely forming on his cheek – but Biggs had not broken the skin.

Wedge gasped. "P-Prince Ceodore!" He reached down to help him up, but Ceodore refused his aid, pushing himself up with one hand while clutching his swelling face with the other. His long, cape-like red and white striped scarf had come undone, dangling limply from his shoulder. He tried to fight back the tears as he pictured how his mother had lovingly wrapped it around him this morning, smoothing it over his chest plate and fanning it down his back as he guiltily recalled the silent curses he had laid upon her the night before.

"So you don't get cold tonight, dear."

Biggs waved his finger. "You've got a lot to learn, boy. Starting with how to keep that mouth of yours shut. Hopefully, that does it for you for at least a little while." Ceodore reached up to re-tie his scarf, saying nothing, but feeling the impudence burn in his eyes. At least he was in too much pain now to be scared.

The soldier who had been piloting them called back once more. "Ready to touch down on the Adamant Isle, Captain!"

Biggs turned away from Ceodore, as if nothing had happened. "Good. All hands, landing stations!"

The ship's approaching rotors made the tiny clusters of forest next to the village they were landing by stir restlessly in the wind, the leaves tossing and rustling about in their own self-contained windstorm. From where he was standing, Ceodore could see some of the villagers looking up at the disturbance, but then going back about their own business like there was nothing unusual about a foreign military airship touching down in your backyard. He was shocked to observe that what little he had learned about this region in school was true – the villagers all consisted of anthropomorphized pigs, toads and then also small people – supposedly the founder of the village had been cursed as a pig by a witch and liked it so much that he founded a sanctuary village for others who wanted to abandon the normal human lifestyle. To the east of the village, not a long walk, there was a cavern that rested near the shore.

The ship landed at last, and the pilot rolled out the ramp that would allow them to safely debark with a loud clatter.

Biggs looked over his shoulder at Ceodore. "Here's our stop, Ceodore. The Adamant Isle. You are report to the village of Mythril up ahead and await further orders. Got it?"

Ceodore nodded. "Yes, sir..."

Biggs growled. "Can't hear you! Say it like you mean it, boy!"

Ceodore stood up straighter, trying not to flinch at the pain that shot down his shoulder. "Yes, sir! Understood, sir!"

Biggs turned away, marching down the ramp and muttering. "Hmph. As sorry as ever before. Now move out!"

Ceodore watched as Wedge and the other soldiers save one followed Biggs off the ship and toward Mythril's village gates. The remaining soldier was furling the sails and gave Ceodore a small smile of pity before getting back to his work. Ceodore sighed and descended the ramp, telling himself he just had to get through these next twelve hours, and that all of this would be behind him.

Biggs and Wedge were waiting for him near the village entrance, having staked out a spot in front of the inn. Ceodore assumed the rest of the soldiers had already gone inside. When Ceodore approached Biggs, he offered him a salute, which just made Biggs roll his eyes.

"Your mission in this trial is to obtain the Knight's Emblem housed deep inside the Adamant Isle Grotto. There is one requirement, boy! You can't enter the grotto until the moon is at its fullest. You'd best get yourself ready before then, mentally and physically."

Ceodore crossed his arms over his chest. "Is there any reason why I have to wait for the full moon, sir?" He had known that the trial would be conducted at night – his father had told him that much before Ceodore departed – but that was the extent of it.

Ceodore could see Biggs' lips curl into a smirk, which looked all the more evil with his closely-trimmed ducktail beard. "Hah! So you don't know about that either? This is gonna be a long day, I'll tell you that."

Wedge cleared his throat. "The light from the moon casts its effects upon all creatures of our blue planet. No monsters can escape from its influence, and neither can you, Prince Ceodore. Black magic, white magic, even physical attacks are all affected by the phase of the moon. But remember this! The moon cycles between phases with the passage of time, my lord. You will need to adjust your battle tactics with the current phase to survive out on the field."

"What happens during a full moon?" Ceodore asked warily. Wedge smiled.

"Black magic becomes stronger, but melee attacks are half as powerful. White magic is unaffected."

Ceodore could feel his heart dropping into his stomach. "So our swords become a liability during a full moon?"

Wedge shook his head. "Not necessarily. Our attack power is halved, but that applies to the monsters as well. What's more, my lord, you are gifted with white magic from Queen Rosa...If your tactics match the current moon phase, then you will never be at a true disadvantage in battle."

What advantage could come from only being half as effective with my sword? It's not like I know any offensive white magic to make up for it! And if there is a monster in the grotto that uses black magic…I'm dead!

Biggs said nothing, watching Ceodore's face closely. Ceodore figured he must be doing better with controlling his emoting, because another slap didn't come.

"Perhaps you should tour the village a bit and then take a rest until the full moon arrives," Wedge offered gently. "It's always a good idea to get intel about new places you visit. You might learn something of use for your mission."

"Yes sir," Ceodore nodded, taking the hint. He walked away, approaching a pig that he saw tending to a garden up the main village path. The pig looked up at him, smiling. Ceodore inwardly cringed at the incisors jutting out of his mouth.

"Are you here to take the trial to become a knight?" the pig asked. Ceodore nodded.

"Yes…what is the grotto like where the trial takes place? Have you ever been?"

"Not for years and years. You know, back in the day, the grotto wasn't even on this island – it was isolated, and you could only reach it by hovercraft. Small people lived there, and would harvest for mythril ore. That's how our village got its name, you know."

"What happened?"

"Well, some say it was the influence of our second moon leaving orbit that changed the tides and the topography of the land. That would have been before you were born – our planet used to have two moons, and one of them disappeared after three heroes from Baron, one from Mist, and one from Eblan defeated a dark lord who lived there that was trying to raze our planet. Oh, of course, you must be from Baron if you are taking the trial – so you probably know that part!"

"I know of King Cecil, Queen Rosa, and the Dragoon, Kain Highwind," Ceodore said dryly. The pig paid no mind to Ceodore's sudden ire.

"Ah, yes, well back in their day, the grotto was admittedly less complex than it is now. It was only a few years ago that part of it collapsed in on itself, revealing caverns that had been previously not explored. They think it was a monster that caused the collapse. So you lucky knights-to-be have more ground to cover than your predecessors. I think it's about four levels deep now."

"Thank you for the information," Ceodore nodded, and turned to walk away.

"Good luck!" the pig exclaimed. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

Ceodore had already had enough talking. He marched past Biggs and Wedge, going into the inn and letting the door slam behind him. In one corner, he could see the other soldiers, laughing over their mead and totally ignoring him. In another corner, two small people and a toad were playing cards, and they greeted Ceodore as he stepped inside.

"Another future knight is among us, men!" the toad exclaimed, and the small people cheered, clinking their thimble-sized glasses. Ceodore felt a flush crawl up his face. One of the small people waved excitedly to him.

"I say, a man with eyes just like yours took this very trial too!" he exclaimed. "It was a long time ago, though…well over twenty years, I'd say. But those were eyes you never forgot – very striking and haunting. I bet you're related!"

"Most likely not," Ceodore said softly, and turned away. The less people that knew who he was, the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He walked into the inn's bedchamber, which had been completely rented out to the Red Wings for the night, and took the bed in the furthest corner of the room. Hanging next to it was a faded, tarnished mirror, with a small crack running up the side. Ceodore kneeled on the bed, staring hopelessly at the reflection before him.

He saw a pale, frightened child with a crooked silver and bejeweled headband that had probably been knocked askew when Biggs laid him flat on the ship. His right cheek was aflame with redness and swelling, and upon closer inspection, he could see that his lips – the same bow shape he had inherited from his mother – had taken some of the blow too, and were slightly puffy. Sapphire studs twinkled in his ears, and his eyes – or rather, Cecil's eyes – were tinged pink from trying not to cry. His hair was hanging limply from the humid summer morning – Ceodore had not received his platinum locks from either of his parents. Cecil's hair had always been silver-white, even as a young man, and Rosa's a shining gold. Cecil was sure that Ceodore had gotten his hair from a relative on his side – but Ceodore didn't know any of his father's family. He was under the impression they were all dead or lost in some other capacity, and that his only living relative was Rosa's mother, who lived in Baron Village and thought the sun rose and set on her only grandson.

I wonder what my father saw in this mirror while awaiting his trial, Ceodore thought sadly. He was probably excited, eager to start living his dream. It would only be a few years later that he would be propelled to Captain and become the then King Baron's right-hand man. His potential was limitless – he grew up in no shadows of greater men, and was able to blaze his own trail. He had his two best friends – the most powerful white mage in Baron and the heir to the dragoon legacy – by his side through it all. He wasn't burdened with the knowledge that he was half-Lunarian when he took his trial – he thought he was as normal as anyone else.

But I…I am only my parents' son – the result of a union between a half-breed and one of the most powerful mages in the world. The path has already been laid before me, and all that's expected of me is to fill my parents' shoes and walk it. I've never had a best friend to help carry the burden, let alone two – nobody thinks a prince wants someone around him that tells him how things really are. Even in the Red Wings, where my legacy should not matter, my bloodline is already being cited as the reason I will persevere – although at least Biggs seems to think I will fail spectacularly.

I realize now that my plan was foolish – if I pass the trial, people will still think it was only because of my parents. If I fail, it will become the failure of the castle court as well – their hopes in the heir of the paladin will have been sorely misplaced. I honestly don't think there is a difference, at this point.

Ceodore dropped his head to the hard, lumpy pillow, and squeezed his eyes shut, not even attempting to shed his armor and sleep in his black leggings and tunic to get more comfortable. In his haste to fall asleep, he forgot to ask the innkeeper to rouse him for tonight's mission.

A sudden noise outside caused Ceodore to shoot up in bed, panting for breath. He had been having a nightmare – of what, he could no longer say, as it had already faded from memory – but the first thing he noticed upon waking was that the room was pitch-black, and that the light of the full moon was shining over him through the window of the bedchamber.

No! Ceodore gasped, and leapt out of bed, storming through the inn and bursting outside. A soldier had been waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Captain Biggs is waiting for you at the grotto. Please hurry."

The village streets were empty at this hour and the windows of the few homes and businesses dark – Ceodore was alone as he tore through the village gates and began to sprint across the beach toward the grotto, which had torchlight pouring out of the entrance. His feet, clad in his sabatons, sank in the sand as he ran, slowing him down considerably. Without thinking, Ceodore swiftly reached down, kicking the armored plates off his boots, and gained a slight burst of speed.

When he finally made it to the grotto, he was about to collapse from being so out of breath. Still, he kept himself standing as Biggs raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Late even to your own mission? Man, what a worthless squire they stuck me with. We're about to begin our journey into the Adamant Isle Grotto. Not to repeat myself, but your orders are to obtain the Knight's Emblem. If you want to cut and run like the spoiled prince you are, now's the time."

Ceodore clenched his jaw, gasping for breath and resisting the urge to fire back a retort that would just get him dashed across the piles of rubble that surrounded him. Biggs laughed and pretended to flick a tear away from his eye. "Oh, did that hurt, boy? Well, quit pouting and go get your provisions from these chests!" He pointed on the raised platform behind him, which contained not only the tunnel that would take him deeper into the grotto, but four small chests that Ceodore had seen carried onto the ship earlier.

Ceodore wordlessly pushed past him, extracting one potion, one phoenix down, one ether, and one tightly-rolled up sleeping bag from each chest. He felt the blood drain from his face as he eyed the sleeping bag – this mission would surely not be keeping him here overnight, right?

One of the soldiers who was standing before him smiled. "I can already see you becoming a valiant soldier like your father, Prince Ceodore!"

Ceodore tried to smile back, tucking his meager provisions in the sleeping bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

Wedge, who had been standing next to Biggs, gestured toward the tunnel entrance. "Prince Ceodore! May you have the best luck in battle! We'll escort you down." Ceodore straightened his spine, trying to give the impression that an escort was wholly unnecessary, even though his senses had flooded with an overwhelming relief.

Biggs smirked. "Finally found some resolve in you, huh, boy? Get on with it, then!"

Ceodore began to descend the slippery stairs that had been hastily carved in the tunnel, very grateful now that he was just treading with his combat boots. Had he been wearing his foot armor, he would have probably fallen down the stairs by now and broken his neck.

When he reached the first level of the cavern, he found himself surrounded by rust-colored sandstone and white-streaked calcium deposits that ran up and down the rocky walls. Various mining tools were strewn about, abandoned for the night. Countless niches were dug into the walls, some of them massive, and others just getting started. Ceodore could already spot another tunnel several feet away, and from it came the sound of dripping water.

The cavern did not smell as stale as he had been anticipating – there was a hint of salt from the ocean he was probably now under, and a sweet earthy scent that reminded him a little bit of Baron after a rainy day. He was shocked at how comforted that had made him suddenly feel. There was no natural light anywhere to be seen, but the cavern walls were lit with rows of torches that had been mounted.

Biggs and Wedge came down the stairs behind him, and Ceodore took that as a clue to keep moving toward the next tunnel. As he crossed the rock-strewn cavern floor, there came a wicked giggle, and a trio of Goblins appeared from behind a turned-over trolley, brandishing rusted hunting knives. They were ugly little humanoid creatures that were about three feet tall each, with wart-ridden skin and nasty, dirt covered claw-like fingernails. Ceodore gasped and stopped in place, reaching for his sword.

Biggs barked out a laugh, withdrawing his gleaming long sword. "Hee hee! Here we go, Ceodore! This is the only lesson you're getting from us. You can sit this one out." Ceodore hesitated, but left his sword in his scabbard and turned toward Biggs and Wedge, while keeping a wary eye on the rapidly-approaching monsters.

Wedge, who had also withdrawn his weapon, took his position next to Biggs. "I'll tell you about a combat technique the Red Wings use called Band moves. A Band is a type of powerful multi-person technique. You cannot perform a Band with someone unless you have some kind of bond with that person. Banding is a technique that has its roots in magic – mages used to call it Twincasting."

Ceodore widened his eyes. "A bond?"

Wedge nodded. "Yes, my lord. Allow myself and Captain Biggs to demonstrate. First, you must choose who you want to Band with. Your partner, or partners, must all be in sync and of the same mindset for this to work – hence the need for a deep bond. You must all also have the sufficient magical stamina as well – it's the same as a mage not having enough energy to cast a powerful spell – it won't execute if even one person is too weak. For this demonstration, Captain Biggs is my partner, and we will execute a band we've christened the Vibra Edge. Are you ready? Watch!"

Wedge and Biggs stood back-to-back, both of their swords raised in their hands. A fearsome blue aura began to envelope them, and they suddenly dashed forward, their blades making the shape of an "X" as they plowed through the trio of Goblins with perfect harmony. When Ceodore blinked, the Goblins had all collapsed to the ground, bursting into cloud of glittering gray dust, and Biggs and Wedge had already returned to his side.

Biggs sheathed his sword. "What, boy? Was it too fast for you to see?"

Ceodore blinked and shook his head. He had managed to see enough.

Biggs nodded toward the now-clear tunnel to the next chamber. "Okay, Ceodore, it's all yours from here." Ceodore turned his stare toward the tunnel, and felt the shaking come back to his hands with a vengeance.

Wedge patted Ceodore's back. "Don't worry, Prince Ceodore. Remember, you have the blood of King Cecil and..."

Ceodore clenched his fists, feeling like a burst of hot air was about to explode from his chest. How many times did he need to be told that he alone was not good enough, that it was only his family that made him worth any value? "That has NOTHING to do with it!"

His voice echoed across the chamber, and Ceodore froze, realizing he had just raised his voice to an officer of the Red Wings. He was terrified to look at either of their faces, and glued his eyes to the floor. Wedge's jaw dropped.

"Prince Ceodore!?"

But Biggs merely laughed, giving Ceodore a slap on his back that was so hard, he nearly stumbled to his knees. "Looks like you're got at least half a backbone in you. Get back here alive, or forget about making the Red Wings."

Ceodore looked over his shoulder at Biggs, and thought he saw the tiniest hint of a smile. He straightened himself once more, and nodded. "Yes, sir!" With that, he ran toward the tunnel, and was absorbed into the darkness. Biggs and Wedge looked at each other.

"I'm sure you can do it, Prince Ceodore," Wedge said softly in the direction of the tunnel in which the prince had disappeared. "I was just trying to be encouraging…"

"I think you managed to light a fire under his sorry arse," Biggs said. "I'm starting to figure out what makes our little prince tick. At first, I didn't think he wanted to really be here…but now I think I understand what is going on."

"What do you mean?" Wedge asked. But Biggs didn't reply.

Ceodore had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but he was sure it had to have been hours. It felt like every few steps, he was attacked by monsters in the cave that were angry he had disrupted their slumber – more packs of Goblins that he had to pick off one at a time, disgusting purple Larva that would drop from the ceiling and crawl on the back of his neck and attempt to sap his energy by plunging their suckers into his skin, and horrid creatures called Sword Rats, which were overgrown cave rats that developed painful spikes that they would shoot at Ceodore without warning, and then scamper away. Ceodore made several stops to dislodge the spikes out of his armor, praying that none of them were tipped with poison. He didn't know a spell that cured poison yet – and he had no provisions that would help him.

The deeper he got in the cavern, the more the scenery changed. The path remained mercifully straightforward, and torches were still lit for him, but he had gone from cozy passageways still filled with miners' tools and evidence that non-monster life occupied the cavern for at least part of the day, to wide, open chambers filled with drifting fog that rolled up from pits that Ceodore was not sure actually bottomed out anywhere. He cringed every time he had to cross a trestle bridge, wondering just how sturdy it really was and finding it very unsettling that he was not able to see what laid at the bottom should he be knocked over.

Utterly exhausted from all of his battles and having to be on constant alert, Ceodore finally made it to a safe room to rest. It was just a small chamber, but he could sit with his back to the wall and keep an eye on the only entrance in case any monsters decided to pay him a visit. Unfurling his sleeping bag, he popped the cork out of his one potion and took a long, thirsty swig, draining it in mere seconds. He then placed the empty glass bottle in the dead center of the entryway so that he would hear it clatter if a monster came barreling in. Settling against the back wall of the chamber, Ceodore slid down to a sitting position and kept his two remaining cure items by his side. Using the sleeping bag as a blanket, he burrowed deeper into his scarf, realizing it still smelled like his mother's perfume, and let himself nod off to sleep.

"Mother!"

A five-year old Ceodore was running up the stairs to his family's tower in the castle, bawling his eyes out. Before he could even reach the threshold to their quarters, Rosa had opened the door and kneeled down, opening her arms to catch him.

"What's wrong, dearest?"

Ceodore threw himself into her arms and buried his head in her chest, wailing.

"Mother, I don't like going to school in the village! Can't I stay here in the castle with you?"

Rosa smiled bemusedly and stroked back his hair, kissing away his tears.

"Now, why would you want to do that, Ceodore? You were excited about meeting other children, remember? Getting to play with other kids your age?"

"The other kids are mean!" Ceodore sniffled. "They said I'm a snot because I'm a prince! And…they made fun of my name! They said it was just a stupid, made-up name. I don't have another name, so what am I supposed to do?"

Rosa sighed and sat back, cradling her son in her lap. She thought back to when she had been Ceodore's age and had first met Cecil – Kain had been picking a fight with him that sounded all too similar to what Ceodore was going through now. Yes, she knew that children could be terribly cruel, and the reasons for it weren't always simple.

"Ceodore…stop crying and listen to me for a minute."

Ceodore frowned and looked up into his mother's eyes.

"First of all, my love…you should be proud that you are a prince. It is not something every person in the world gets to be, and it comes with a lot of responsibilities and opportunities to make our world a better place. It is also something you can never change about yourself, nor should it be something that you ever let change you. You will always be Ceodore first, and a prince second – all right? Your true friends will understand that."

Ceodore nodded, although he didn't quite comprehend what it was she was saying. But it sounded as if that maybe he wasn't a snot after all, since his mother hadn't said so.

"As for your name…" Rosa hugged him close. "…Your name is very special – because you were named after two people your father loved very much, but never got to meet. He named you for his mother, Cecilia, and his older brother, Theodor. When he looks at you, he's filled with not only love for you, but he's reminded of the two people who helped him become the man he is today. Every name is made up when it is first created, Ceodore. And it just so happens that yours has a special meaning to our family."

"But…" Ceodore wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "How can you love someone you've never met?"

"Your heart works in mysterious ways," Rosa smiled. "I loved you before you were even born, and so did your father. You'll understand better when you are older and love someone too."

"Well, I love you and Father now," Ceodore grinned, and Rosa squealed, hugging him tighter.

"That's the sweet boy I know!" Rosa kissed his forehead. "Oh, the gods really blessed us the day you came into our lives, Ceodore. I hope you always remember that."

"Mmmm…"

Ceodore slowly opened his eyes, thinking he heard footfalls. But his empty potion bottle was still in place, and there were no shadows flickering in the tunnel before him. He let out a yawn, reaching up high to stretch his tired arms, and was relieved to find that his shoulder no longer ached from his fall on the airship. The potion must have done the trick.

"What a weird dream…" Ceodore muttered to himself as he started gathering his supplies. "I wonder why I thought about an old memory like that tonight…"

He glanced back at where he slept one last time to make sure he hadn't left anything, and proceeded to make his way back through the tunnels. It was only a few moments later that he encountered a dead-end in the rock wall, with a small, person-sized hole crudely dug out a few feet to his left.

Ceodore shrugged and got on his hands and knees, forcing his way through and grimacing as his hands crushed clusters of slimy Larva as he progressed. Whenever he ran over a particularly juicy one, he would hear a loud popping noise and feel the juice seep through his gloves, which made him gag. Finally reaching another open chamber, Ceodore climbed to his full height and wiped his gloves off on his armor, taking a look around.

He found himself standing before a dug out, raised platform flanked by some stone steps and surrounded by several tall stone columns, each containing a lit torch. In the center of the platform, a lone chest sat – and Ceodore was almost positive that his prize was inside.

"The Knight's Emblem!" He breathed, and ran up to the chest, eagerly loosening the clasps. He didn't notice the cold shadow that had draped over his form until it was too late – and a massive creature slammed into him, sending him flying back down the stairs.

"Ahhhh!" Ceodore cried, rolling over in the dust and rocks and coughing violently. "What the…?"

"Grrrrrrrrrrr!"

A shadow slithered between the stone columns, and raised itself before the chest, revealing a massive yellow and pink Sandworm that was as tall as several fully-grown men, and was several yards thick of quivering muscle. Antennae with beady, black eyes poked out of the top of its head, and a massive mouth hole surrounded with a circumference of spiky teeth oozed drool that splashed all over the chest.

"Hmmph!" Ceodore snorted, pulling himself up and drawing his broadsword. "A sneak attack – very cowardly!" He dashed forward, raising his blade high in the air and sending it crashing down on the Sandworm's tail, which was lined with pink spikes and looked like it would hurt big time if the worm got around to swinging it at Ceodore. The Sandworm writhed in pain and gnashed its teeth, a whistling sound tearing above Ceodore's head as it sucked in air through its mouth hole. Ceodore hacked at the tail again, finally getting a clean cut, and watching as it wriggled on its own, detached from its body, for several seconds before disintegrating into a pile of dust.

Ceodore turned to strike his next target – wondering if he could possibly pinpoint where the beast's heart cavity might be – when the Sandworm began to violently twist in blinding circles, exhaling all of the air it had sucked in. The result was a vicious whirlwind that gathered all of the dust and debris in the immediate area, blinding Ceodore as it took a life of its own and crashed over him. Ceodore closed his eyes and screamed out, trying to protect his head as slabs of stone and broken rocks beat him mercilessly from all angles. When the whirlwind died and released Ceodore, he collapsed on the stairs, bloodied and covered in filth.

"Ugh…" Ceodore moaned, trying to call upon the strength needed for a Cure spell – but he didn't even have the power to finish the incantation before a wave of nausea threatened to take him out.

"Ceodore! Are you hurt!?"

There came pounding footsteps, and two people flanked him on either side. Ceodore could barely make them out as Wedge and Biggs – if he wasn't imagining them, that is.

Ceodore shook his head slowly, trying to lift himself from the ground. "Stay back...please!"

Biggs gawked at Ceodore, who was in no form to be making any kind of demands. Wedge slowly lifted his hands away from Ceodore, and the prince pulled himself first up to his knees, and then staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. Trails of blood were dripping down from his forehead and hair, and a black eye had formed from where he had been struck in the face by some debris.

Ceodore looked back at Biggs and Wedge. "This is...this is my battle to fight!"

Wedge threw up his arms in protest. "You don't have to push yourself so hard! Let us help!"

Ceodore shook his head, reaching again for his sword. His heart was racing so fast, he thought it was about to burst. "My father...and my mother...have nothing to do with this...I...I...I'll get through this...by myself!"

Ceodore closed his eyes, lifting his sword in the air. He didn't comprehend what his body was doing – he had lost control. He felt a warm, comforting wind wrap around him, like the tender embrace he had experienced in his dream. As the warmth traveled through his body, he could feel his strength not only returning – but multiplying, one-hundred fold. His wounds closing and his bruises healing, Ceodore's eyes snapped open, a clear blue shining with dazzling light.

Biggs and Wedge were watching, stunned, at the transformation happening before them. It had been as if a hole had opened in the ceiling of the cavern, bathing Ceodore in the full moon's light – he was shining that brightly. His platinum hair had turned a soft, light blue hue, and as he lunged forward, gliding through the air effortlessly, the gleam of his blade nearly blinded them as Ceodore thrust it into the Sandworm's abdomen, striking the critical mark.

The Sandworm let out a pathetic bellow that gradually softened into an echo as it began to shrink into itself, fluids pouring out of the hole Ceodore had opened with his blade once he withdrew. Just as its antennae begin to droop, the remainder of the monster's carcass exploded into dust. Ceodore delicately bent down, releasing the clasp of the chest and grasping hold of the Knight's Emblem. He turned to face Wedge and Biggs, holding it up triumphantly…

…And then promptly collapsed to the ground, the light formerly surrounding him dissipating into stardust.