Disclaimer: FFIV is the property of Square Enix. I only write for the amusement of the populace.

A/N 30/12/13: Rewrote/add-in some details to streamline the story.

A/N: Something of a sequel to Cat and Boy. Submitted for Spring fic-a-thon hosted by mythweaver1 under 'war' prompt.

First Scroll - found on the ninth floor, ninth window from the center stairwell, beneath a stone tile

I first tasted my own blood at nine years of age.

The fist had connected solidly against the left half of my face. I saw it coming, but unfortunately they had me surrounded.

I was runty for a nine-year-old, the four beating on me one-sidedly were ten or more, and too gangly to have been anything more than furtive bullies.

I struggled to return fist for fist, but really, it was all I could do to stand and not give them the satisfaction of seeing me faint. I would have become a proven 'pampered prince' if I did. Their leader watched his lackeys rained blows on me from the shadows under the hallway's arch, on the lookout for adults.

But divine intervention came from above. The small courtyard echoed the banging of an unwieldy door and several people carrying something large. The bullies fled with the speed of trainee ninjas. I looked up and recognized the guards I stumbled on during one of my attempts to scale the tower with one hand tied to my feet. My Father's idea.

The birthday banner they unfurled for me was garishly childish, but I accepted it. What was most important right then was their undisguised kindness toward me. It saved me from killing the ones who have hurt my pride in slow, tortuous ways.

This is the trouble of being a royal child of a small nation: you never see your equal. Only your betters, your own parents, or your subjects. I was too hung up on my own greatness perhaps. That was why the beatings hurt more than it should. I didn't go and see the medics or castle healer. I bandaged my own wounds and nursed revenge.

From that day on, there was a silent war of attrition between me and the bully group. Tora, the leader, and his cronies took every single chance they had to trip me during spars, sabotage during mock missions, miss throws, etc. etc. And in every single exercise the corp instructor gave, I gave back just as good as I got.

As the years go by, the war between Tora and I grew no less childish, but at least no more severe. Until Father caught a complaint of nasty smells wafting from the fifth floor hallway and several children reeking of yesterday's garbage stinking up the public baths. And an attendant gossiping of Prince Edge's good nature, always helping in the kitchen, not minding the lowliest task, throwing away leftovers without anyone asking him to.

Bullies were something of a character building exercise to my Father. I only realized this after he scolded me for getting revenge. So, in the end I opted to avoid the trouble all together. I built a character, just as he wanted. "Edge, the friendless and aloof", became "Edge, the Prince".

Not to say that the two of them were different people. Perhaps it is more accurate to say I grew up a little, and like any adult, I wear different masks to suit the situation.

I watched the airships sailed into the distant north as I ran with the rear guard. The foremost ship flew the flags of Baron and the Redwings. Outside politics were a large part of my lessons, especially the external threat of larger armies and better researched warfare armaments. What could ninjas, ultimately just foot soldiers, do against cannons? Nothing. What did they stand to gain? Nothing that I could think of. We had no Crystals, no resources to loot, no treasures worth anything to those of the outside world. Why then? Information? On what?

Resentment and anger and confusion. The more I thought, the more the anger superseded everything else. I seethed beneath my "Prince" face, my mask.

There were far too few of us. The cave itself was overrun with monsters, and the vanguard have almost all been wiped out because of sheer exhaustion. It was only when the rear guard, and I, joined up that we were able to clear out enough space and held down the key entrances. This was Eblan now. Spaces in hollowed rock.

The refugees were staggering in and finding somewhere dry enough to sleep away the shock, watched over by myself and the rest of the corps not yet passed out from the constant monsters assaults. The beasts were whipped into a frenzy by something infinitely more terrifying than our mediocre weapons. Their eyes, when I looked onto their fresh corpses, were of living things running for their lives.

In the temporary infirmary the wounded laid groaning and tossing. I did what I could, gave some small comfort by a few words and my presence. So much pain and not a sight or sound of Father or Mother. I could only dread.

"Your Highness," a voice barely above a whisper.

I leaned down closer to the wounded ninja, and with a jolt I recognized Tora. Even after all these years we still behaved stiffly to each other, the past hung too thick between our words to be completely ignored.

Not now. I felt his forehead. He was burning, even as his face grew even paler from blood loss. He bore lacerations all over his body, wrapped haphazardly with bandages more red than white. Tora's eyes roved, unseeing, "Where..."

"I'm here."

"I...was..." he licked his cracked lips, coughed. I reached and unstoppered my water bag, helped him to drink the precious liquid. He sighed in thanks, "I... was there when the fiend came for Their Majesties-"

My heart slowed, "Who? How?"

"He...called himself a fiend of fire, Highness. He c-caught us by surprised just as Their Majesties were about to escape. W-we were no match for him. Please, let us, let me atone-"

I shook my head, forgetting that he could not see, and said "No. I know you did your best. Rest now and save your strength for recovery."

Though my voice was calm, my heart was raging. Fiend of Fire. What monstrosity could overcome all of their personal guards and took them away, without me even noticing a trail?

Seneschal came up behind me, "Your Young Highness, I have heard reports of this 'fiend' from those who survived the first of the airship assaults. He came down with the bombardment, unharmed by fire and heat. Flames cloaked his being and it was him alone that took out the entire north wings." He stroked his long beard shakily, and I'm reminded again of how old he really was, "He called himself Rubicante."

I stood. Probably alarmed by my expression, Seneschal tried to blocked my way, "Young Highness, I can only guess how you must feel, but please think of us, of Eblan! We have already lost our home and monarchs, we can not lose our prince as well!"

I pushed him to the side, none too gently. The last words I said to the rest of the people in the sooty cavern were full of the fire of revenge. In the fitful light of torches, the last of the once proud Eblanese stared back me with empty eyes. What was revenge to them? They were hurt beyond any mortal means of healing or consolation. I found myself wishing again for white magics. If only we had not been so stubborn, so ancient in our ways! An island country with no allies, no armies, air forces, or navies, we were too vulnerable. And we paid the price of pride with annihilation.

The wrath of the speech left me as I look into their faces. I could only promise to come back after I had done away with the fiend.

A weakened hand snagged my cloak. Tora's fevered eyes finally found mine as I looked down, "...Be safe,"

I nodded, took the hand firmly, "Rest. Stay alive. We have a lot left to talk about, you and I."

"Of course, Your Highness." his hand fell away and the rest of the people, my people, came forward to say farewell. Although they didn't say so in as many words, they were probably surrendering to a fate with no leader except an old man almost at death's door himself.

The old man, Seneschal, still trailed me even as I quitted the infirmary and neared the exit of the network of caves we were temporarily calling home, "But-but where are you going? We have no ideas of where they were take-"

"The Tower. That was where the first wave of the monsters came from. I am certain that is where I will find him, and probably the master of those Baronian airships." I put an arm out, barred him from following any further. "Please. Let me do this."

Seneschal lowered his beseeching hands then, "Young Highness..." A deep breath, "Very well. But know that I will follow with what remains of our ninjas as soon as we have settled the last of the refugees. Please take care until then."

I thought to protest, but nodded instead. My traitorous heart whispered that they were only coming to collect my corpse.

"Very well. The scouts know where the passage connects to the Tower. Follow as you can." I took the old man's frail shoulders, "Thank you. I will be back."

A scattered and weak cheer sounded from the watch as the shadows of the cave swallowed me.