"The Third Sorceress War, Act II: Terra Incognita"
Author's Note: "Terra Incognita" is the second part of the Third Sorceress War series. The preludes of the war are, in reading order: Estranged, Cold Metal, The Few Remaining Strands. The first act of war is the story "Ashes." The first part of the Third Sorceress War is "Terra Firma." Rated M because of mindless drinking, excessive swearing, a bit of nudity, self-mutilation, and at one point, torture.
Prologue
(Esthar City Night.)
Brea lit up her cigarette and inhaled deeply. The streets of Esthar City, at night, drew pale halos around their sky blues and purples and greens, and flooded the streets with a calming, pulsing luminosity. The rounded, soft, almost plastic shapes around her made her feel enclosed in some sort of tube or a preservative container – a feeling she relished.
Esthar City nights were full of serene dwellers reveling in the beauty of the soft, dim luminosity.
Brea found her way to the bar that she had developed a liking to, Crescent Drop. The entrance had a holographic sign above it, depicting a crescent moon with a singular droplet falling from the lower point. Brea entered and the bar immediately greeted her with the fresh scent of well-cleaned surfaces, the soft background music consisting mainly of synthetic chamber orchestra pieces, the relative absence of a crowd and her now-regular seat by the bar. She slid into the temperofoam stool and felt it relax and take her shape.
The barkeep, a very pleasant man by the name of Lex, smiled upon seeing her and immediately went to fix her drink: an Adel. He then placed an ashtray, gleaming in its cleanliness, on the counter.
The drink itself was two-thirds vodka to one-third mixed fruit nectar. Tasted smooth enough but still carried a hefty punch and the dull-blade taste of the vodka. Brea tapped down the excess ash of her cigarette and took her first sip. She sat quietly, chain-smoking and quickly draining the first glass, making way for the second. The ambient sounds of the Crescent Drop shrouded her in blissful isolation and she was left to her thoughts. She knew that before the night was over, she would smoke most of her newly-bought pack, until even the fourth or fifth glass tasted of nothing but ash.
It was all she could do to shake off the day, to shake off what was fast becoming her days.
There was a view screen above the bar counter, its volume low but still audible, turned to Esthar News Network.
"...amenable to the suggestion that Galbadia remove the remaining active SeeDs in the country. Whether or not this affects those currently stationed to the Dollet Dukedom as per their annual contracts remains to be seen. In related news, President Loire is currently at the Estharian Embassy in Deling City, there by and large to discuss Estharian foreign policy regarding the supplying of Estharian equipment to the Balamb Training Facility with President Heartilly. It is speculated that..."
Brea took a large sip and drifted into the idle background chatter to shut the droning news report out. She didn't need to hear it, not right now. Crescent Drop had become her little shelter in the past two weeks, a place where she could get away from the continuity of the situation, from the ongoing war.
She pressed out her cigarette and lit up another.
Two weeks. Her General was still, they presumed, alive and in the hands of the Sorceress. So far, there seemed to be no way of getting to him without sparking an intercontinental war, the prospect of which was met, as President Loire had said, with scorn in the Estharian Parliament. As he kept repeating during one of the endless discussions that never ended, his hands were tied.
Brea tried to remember how it had been before the Ocean Garden Atrocity, before Squall Leonhart had saved her from getting lost in the shuffle. It came very naturally to her to be his aide, to obey orders and support him. He never said it, but she could feel that he counted on her, that he depended on her, and that was more than enough. She was happy to help.
At least then, she could feel like she belonged somewhere in the grand scheme of things. Life as a SeeD was one of constant preparation and of the absence of roots. You could be stationed anywhere, anytime, and when you were simply idling in the Ocean Garden, there was the constant training, the constant preparation for when you'd be stationed anywhere, anytime.
The thin, silver chain of her pendant, now warm, reminded her of how life had been before SeeD. Brea didn't need to pull it out or glance onto what was hanging from it. Hyne Cross, a gift from Jake, on her 16th birthday. His absence was more pronounced at moments like these.
Two days. He had enjoyed seeing her wear it for two days before Galbadian missiles had taken Trabia Garden, and him from her. In the aftermath, she had been one of the many who had applied to transfer to Balamb Garden. Some of those would return after they had made SeeD, to contribute to the reconstruction or to act as instructors.
Brea had sworn she would never return.
But it was different now, in the sense that she didn't have anywhere to return to. It was all in flux, all floating in the void, and they were all just flailing around, trying to find some sort of balance. They all had their ways. Lieutenant General Trepe was using Lieutenant General Almasy to drill the living Hyne out of the cadets and SeeDs at her disposal. President Loire and his constant Advisors Seagill and Zabac were busying themselves trying to maintain at least the facade of diplomatic relations with the sorceress. Ellone, the president's niece... a pleasant, if burdened person by Brea's judgment, she was too busy giving Brea a reason to go to the Crescent Drop every evening.
Lieutenant General Xu was, rumor had it, drowning herself in freely-available booze and Lieutenant General Nida Adams. He had no objections, of course.
The one Brea had taken upon herself to watch over, as much as she could, was Lieutenant General Tilmitt.
The second glass ended there, and Lex brought her the third without even being prompted to do so. Lex also always asked for her to pay on the third glass, so Brea fished out the credit card from her pocket and handed it to him. Her drinking, as well as her cigarettes were on the President's credit. Lex handed her back the card and she went back to her glass.
She checked the time. 8:12. She still had at least three hours before she had to get back to the Palace.
Brea lit up the next cigarette and wondered where her General was.