"The Third Sorceress War, Act I: Terra Firma"

Author's Note: This is the eventuality of a series of fics, and the first installment of a three-part series outlining the Third Sorceress War. The reading order of this war's preludes are, from first on: Estranged, Cold Metal, The Few Remaining Strands and Ashes. Further, I have taken and will continue to take certain liberties with the world of FFVIII, mainly because certain things we haven't seen in the game must be in place for the quasi-realistic world to exist. Oh, and, as usual (I don't think I said it) but I don't own anything, except maybe Brea. Rated M, because there is sex in this story. Because, why not?

Prologue

(Wall of Mouths.)

1

In the background, the finished Balamb Training Facility for SeeD stands in all its glory. The SeeD symbol hangs from its highest point, proud and defiant. The facility itself is empty, and all the SeeDs-in-training and cadets have been called away.

The camera pans to President Heartilly. She lifts her veil with a graceful move, and approaches to the microphone. She seems to be struggling to stand, and on her side, wearing his ceremonial uniform, is Field Marshal Kinneas, there to offer his support. In the background of the podium, Cid and Edea Kramer, President Loire and his advisors, Mr. Seagill and Zabac, Duke James Dollet, and the representatives of the Galbadian city-states (Kole Forester for the State of Timber, Ian Locke for Cupola, Winona Kelvin for Nanchuket Island, Dolores Maude for Winhill, and finally, Vergis Virgo for the Hanfrey City on the Humphrey Archipelago) are sitting, all wearing black, and all watching her. Also present are Brea Willings, in her SeeD uniform, and Trabia Garden headmaster, Jenit Sol.

President Heartilly clears her throat gently before speaking.

"Three weeks ago, all contact with Ocean Garden, the glorious establishment dedicated to the training of the combat elite, SeeD, was suddenly cut. Attempts to reach them have all failed. The joint search parties sent from both Galbadia and Esthar have turned up nothing. Just three days ago, one of Galbadia Garden's communications officers recovered a message fragment lost in the radio traffic. It was a distress call from Ocean Garden, asking for help, saying that they were sinking. Unfortunately, the message was lost in the shuffle and never made it to the right place on time."

Reaction shots of the public. A mother is crying into her handkerchief. A father's doing his best not to come unraveled. A baby sister, twiddling her thumbs, unable to fully understand, is looking around, confused.

"I offer my condolences to those who lost their family and loved ones, and do remind you that the Galbadian Government, as well as the Dollet Dukedom have standing, open invitations to all the cadets and SeeDs stranded nearby – we will provide you with shelter until such time comes that you wish to move on, or to be assigned to one of the standing Gardens."

Reaction shots from the crowd reveal a whole array of unreadable faces whispering to one another – a wall of mouths spewing pieces of their disastrous premonitions and projections.

"I now yield the platform to Level A SeeD, Brea Willings, here to represent the fallen Ocean Garden."

The President retreats, and so does her Knight/Field Marshal. Brea, looking almost too shy for a public speech, slowly steps up. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I count myself to be among the lucky ones. I was on a mission in Esthar when the Garden fell silent. I was lucky to be taken in by President Loire and his Garden Relief effort. But then again, I was lucky to have been in Ocean Garden at all. I am a Trabian, and in the first home that I lost, I learned that SeeD wasn't just a name. SeeD was an ideal, a standard to which any cadet, of any Garden, should aspire to. It wasn't just the Garden that vanished, the Garden that left this world, but it was that ideal that became nothing. But all is not lost. The Garden's legacy is in me, and in every SeeD left in this world."

Brea swallows hard. She then sighs.

"At this point, I would like to yield the platform President Laguna Loire of Esthar."

The camera zooms in on President Loire's face. It's a mask, giving nothing away, but his green eyes are tired. His hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, with a few stray strands marking the right side of his face.

"It is a great tragedy," Loire says, "Words can't express the loss this world has suffered. As a veteran of the First Sorceress War, I know all too well the need for SeeD. But, and General Leonhart would agree with me if he were here, this should be a time of recovery, not mourning. SeeD still exists in this world, and it is here that I announce the plan for a new establishment to train SeeD, a project that is built on hope that one day, we may be able to overcome the effects of this unfortunate tragedy. Ladies and gentleman, Esthar hereby officially announces that it will begin, as soon as possible, the construction of Esthar Garden."

Camera quickly moves to the wall of mouths, and the hushed conspiracies have now become murmurs and shouts. The crowd, all dressed in black and some in the latest fashions available to Balamb, react fiercely.

"But until that time, Balamb Training Facility will serve as the primary station of returning SeeD – and on the off chance that the arriving population is larger than the capacity of the Training Facility, Esthar will be constructing additional, temporary barracks and will provide whatever is necessary. You can count on us."

The camera briefly zooms in on President Heartilly, who is either furious, or unbelievably grateful. Next to her, Field Marshal Kinneas' disgust is less thinly veiled.

2

The hovercraft was filled with the background whoosh of movement through air, and the inside of it smelled of faux-leather and cigarettes. Laguna was on his third one, and despite the noble efforts of the air conditioning, the smoke was steadily accumulating. Brea, sitting across from Laguna and next to Kiros, was absent-mindedly sipping on a tiny bottle of Estharian whiskey.

"You can count on us?" Kiros said, "Seriously, Laguna?"

"Couldn't resist." Laguna smiled, "Just couldn't."

"..."

"I'll have to agree with that," Kiros said, "Not the best way to stick it to the sorceress."

"I thought it was a good shot, sir." Brea said.

"Brea, for Hyne's sake, don't call me that." Laguna said, "I'm not that old ya know... or that high in rank."

Ward chuckled.

"Actually, you are both." Kiros said, "You are the President, which means you are also Commander-in-Chief."

"You're not the CiC, and she still calls you sir." Laguna said.

"But I am old." Kiros replied, earning a smile from Ward.

"Always something..." Laguna said.

A moment of silence ensued.

"Si..." Brea stopped herself, "Mister President, do you think they bought it?"

"Not one word of it." Laguna said, "Not even for a second."