'Allo folks! I'm back. I'm sorry that I deleted "Degenerators and their effects," but it had to be done. My computer crashed, and the half-finished chapter 3 was lost completely. I forgot all of the details, but after some work with Wordsonscreen and Therederas, I've found a way to make it up to you.
(I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics or anything else affiliated with it. This is a work of fanfiction; it is free and not to be paid for. Contrary to my previous writings, Italics are shouting! Underlined is stressed words.)
Taking place seven years after the death of King Delita and Queen Ovelia, the land of Ivalice is ravaged by civil war, as the surviving nobility fight for control of the throne. The Church of Glabados is trying to gain the people's trust after the disaster that befell Mullonde, and the Templarate has become the newest form of law enforcement. With all of the fighting, criminals have grown in number, and mercenaries are more in demand than ever.
Amongst the chaos, a fallen noble seeking to bring honour to the family she failed, inadvertently brings about a new age of peace to Ivalice. Though to do so, she must overcome her own lack of confidence, her strange and murderous allies, and her hatred of what she has become; a Bandit.
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From the Ground Up
Rain is supposed to be a sign of luck, or so the preachers often told the people, but in the mountains it's a whole different scenario. Rain makes the jagged rocks slick and footing hard to gain, the road turns to mud, slowing the convoy of wagons already encumbered with tall stacks of grain and rice. Wind makes the canopies flutter and serves only to bring an unpleasant chill to those who had the task of delivering the shipment. Each raindrop is like a sharp needle against the skin and with lowering temperatures, the area would be frozen over by the morning. Visibility was cut down to forty yards, ending in a wall of water. This was not the image of a lucky day.
Thirteen men and women of different origins, race, and even reasons for being there, clutching both sword and cloak close, and taking in what little sanctuary both offered. Five chocobos, of which four were pulling carts, their feathers drenched and their talons caked with the mud from the road, caused the only sound other than the rain in the form of the occasional "Wark!" or "Kweh!". On the left was a massive cliff ascending to the heavens and limiting their manoeuvrability. On the right, dark as the night sky was a steep drop that would spell certain doom to any poor soul that lost its footing on the black, unforgiving rock of Duguera Pass. The rain endlessly came, drenching the group through their armour. The canvas on the wagons would hold out most of the rain, but the edges would be soaked by the time it was unpacked.
Amongst the group, the knight D'Altine questions her reasons for being here, as well as the reason for this shipment. There was no food crisis in the east, and there were established trade routes in the lowlands that were created to eliminate the need to cross the mountains. Also, normally the regular military or even the Glabados Templarate would escort such shipments to their destinations, not mercenaries. Were the times such that the regular military is stretched too thin to take care of the simplest of tasks? And why the decision to take the pass? This place was only ever used in times of war or disaster. It would probably be safer to try the lowlands in the case of the latter, as you can ford the waters in a flood, and a tornado or hurricane would make high altitude more dangerous.
One of the men in the front of the convoy rode atop a chocobo while the rest of the group was on foot. Being the commander, he was in charge of the shipment. Raising his hand, he signalled for the convoy to stop, putting the knight's thoughts on hold for the time being. He barked a set of orders to the group: "Servan, Ergoll, and D'altine; to the front. Holwren and Klim; guard the rear. The rest of you, guard the wagons with your lives!" Urging the chocobo forward, the commander drew his weapon and proceeded some thirty yards ahead of the group and, shouting to a rock formation ahead of him, exposed the reason for the sudden stop. "You no longer have the element of surprise! Come out and state your intention and we may yet spare your lives!"
His answer came in the form of a crossbow bolt to the throat.
Back in the convoy, the mercenary group drew their weapons and took defensive positions around the wagons. Shouting from the rear indicated that the enemy had somehow managed to flank them, though seemingly impossible given the terrain. That startling revelation caused a brief lapse in the forward guard's defence and several men in green cloaks charged from the rocks ahead of them, bearing no crest and flying no banner; bandits.
The sudden charge caught them off their guard as the man named Servan was cleaved in half by a scantily clad monster of a man with a massive axe. Ergoll rushed the man, but was shoved aside and off the cliff by a backhanded blow. D'Altine raised her shield against the man and braced herself, as she was left fighting him and an armoured man with a short sword and shield. The monstrous man wound up a swing, but a gunshot from the center of the convoy hit him in the bicep and splattered it over D'Altine's shield. The man let out a roar and charged past D'Altine towards the chemist who'd shot him.
At the back of the convoy, the rearguard Holwren and Klim, twin dragoons, held the enemy at bay. One man tried to lunge under Klim's spear and get him with his knife, but was stopped by an arrow from atop one of the wagons, where an archer crouched and knocked another arrow onto his string. Another man with a shield and sword brushed aside Holwren's spear and got a lucky swing at the dragoon's arm, shattering the bone and slashing the straps for his pauldron. Klim dealt the man a blow to the head with his shield, knocking him over the edge of the cliff and onto some rocks below with a crunch.
In the center of the convoy, the large man with the axe charged towards a pair of sisters, one of which was reloading the pistol that had shot the man. The other sister readied her flail and charged the man. The large man brought the flat side of his axe to bear upon the top of her, crushing the bones in her right shoulder and ribcage. She screamed and fell to the ground, staring up at the man was about to finish her off, but it never came. The chemist had finished reloading and had shot the man in the temple, saving her sibling.
At the front of the convoy D'Altine faced off against the man with the short sword. He had gotten a good jab at her helmet and had sealed the visor shut. "Pretty low of you to attack provisions for the villagers; have you no sense of honour?" D'Altine didn't know why she even bothered trying to appeal to the man; he was a bandit after all.
The man seemed astonished at this, and he began to shout at her over the rain. "You don't know what you're carrying? You don't know that you are blindly transporting--" The man was cut off mid-sentence by a bullet from the center of the convoy.
D'Altine turned to the origin of the gunshot and saw the woman who had saved her from the man with the axe scramble to reload. D'Altine was grateful to the woman, but she wished the shot had come a few seconds later so she could have heard what the man had to say. With the commander dead, Klim took over and called them into the center of the convoy. D'Altine shuffled towards them, but she was a little shaken from the blow to the head. She could feel a warm fluid running down the side of her face from the point of impact.
"What's everyone's status?" Klim shouted over the drawl of the rain. After the battle it was confirmed that three were dead, two were seriously injured, four had escaped serious injury, and the other four were just wagon drivers, who had hidden from view during the fight. Klim shook his head and issued a new set of orders to the group. "Ready the chocobos! We'll double time it to our destination and come back for our comrades bodies when the rain lets up!"
Later, at the drop-off point, the remnants of the mercenary band sat in a covered courtyard outside the manse of the local lord and his administration. Fine steel and glass kept the water off those below, causing the rain to create a rhythmic drumming sound. Down a sloping hill to the left of the courtyard one might see a small village if not for the rain obscuring the view.
D'Altine sat stiffly as she watched her comrades have their wounds healed by the chemist. There were charred feathers on the ground and a few empty bottles, indicating the seriousness of the injuries. She hadn't mentioned her injury as it was not important enough to distract the chemist from the more dire cases. She wondered how she ended up here ... something to do with her days in the military....
D'Altine sat in a chair in front of the campaign officer in charge of the area. The salt-stained tent sported various tears around the corners, and a gnarled desk sat between the tent's occupants. The coastal region had been subject to bandit attacks in the recent months, so they had been sent in to clean up the mess. D'Altine had performed poorly during a routine patrol where they had been attacked by a pack of wild Coerls. Due to a lack of proper communication, three of the members of her patrol had been severely injured.
The officer noted how this seemed to dishearten her. She sat hunched over, staring at the floor of the tent. The officer didn't want the already low morale of the men to be affected by her sorry state, so he decided to cheer her up. "Don't worry, it wasn't that bad."
D'Altine lifted her gaze from her lap and met the officer's eyes and mumbled, "Three men were injured because of me. I should not be allowed to lead a patrol anymore."
The officer decided that she needed to be shown that she was more capable than most of the other squad leaders he'd seen, so he decided to mention how her command was better than her brother's. "It's an improvement over what your family has offered in the past," He noted that her expression changed suddenly, but it was of no concern. "Your older brother Kurig on the other hand; now he was a disgrace! Not only did he get himself killed; but his entire unit was slaughtered after he led them into a trap! All he had to do was follow--" D'Altine screamed in anger, cutting him off. She shoved the desk out from between them, and launched herself at the man.
D'Altine began to pummel the man with her fists. "Don't insult him!" Tears were streaming down her face as she screamed at the increasingly bloodied man. "He was a good man, but he was sent to die in a pointless battle by bastards like you!"
Such commotion was not unnoticed, however. Alerted by the shouting, two guards came in from outside and, after taking in the scene before them, detained D'Altine and held her down. One of them called for a chemist.
A chemist arrived within seconds and rushed over to the bloodied commander. After checking for vital signs, he signalled to the guards that the injured man was alive.
The guards acknowledged this and hauled D'Altine off to the prisoner tent, which was already near-full with captured bandits in a barred enclosure. One of the guards told her to stay, "You'll remain in here for now, we'll deal with you when the general comes by." He kicked her in the back of the knee and closed the gate.
A week later, a military panel of officers was brought to order, in regards to a court-martial against D'Altine for the assault of a ranking officer. "D'Altine Eshuan, before I carry out your sentence, is there anything you'd like to say in your defence?" The military judge sat across the table filled with high-ranking military officials. There had been a trial, and D'Altine had pleaded guilty; sparing her life, but forcing her out of the military.
"Nothing in my defence, sir, as I have already pleaded guilty ... but there is something I'd like to say," There were whispers among the officers, in the end the judge nodded. "Thank you, sir. Then I would like to make an announcement. I, D'Altine Eshuan, do hereby give up my surname to preserve the honour of the Eshuan noble house."
Murmurs amongst the men at the table ensued, finally the judge responded with their reply. "That is acceptable. All dishonours towards the noble house Eshuan are negated, and all charges are directed solely towards the guilty party." The judge slammed down a heavy oak gavel and called the case to a close. "Please return all issued equipment and leave the camp immediately or you will be treated as a trespasser."
That was seven months ago, since then D'Altine joined a mercenary group and that had brought her here. Leaning back, she pulled off her helmet revealing light brown, asymmetrical hair cut off above the shoulders. She reached a hand up and felt her hair to find it damp from the rain and slightly sticky from the blood on her head. She examined her helmet in her hands; the hole was right beside the hinge for the visor, effectively sealing it shut. Apparently the blood in her hair and on her face was enough to get the chemists attention, who strolled over with a potion in hand. D'Altine tried to wave her off and make her attend to her other patients, but the chemist pointed across the courtyard behind her, indicating that they were bandaged up until they could find a priest to repair the damaged bones. D'Altine submitted and let the woman go about her work.
D'Altine watched as the wagons were guided into the cullis gate across the courtyard. Then she realized that they were going to the local lord's manor and not the village; something was wrong.
The rain had finally come to an end, and D'Altine and the other mercenaries were on their way back to The Magick City of Gariland. They were at the location where they had fought the bandits earlier, where they had lost the troupe leader. D'Altine stepped over the upper half of Servan who was embedded into the mud, frost creeping along the edges of his clothing. It took a great deal of effort not to vomit at the sight...though the sight of the commander was also unpleasant. D'Altine reached the corpse of the large man, his axe behind him, and his brain matter scattered amongst the rocks along the road. Now approaching the end of the area, D'Altine stooped over to inspect the body of a brigand with an arrow in his forehead. The sound of groaning from the cliff ledge on her left caught her attention.
Over the edge of the cliff, on a slab of stone jutting out of the rocky face, was one of the bandits, his blood slowly leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He gazed up at the figure above him...it was not reinforcements or a search party...no, it was of the group that put him in this state. The figure began to climb down to him but he waved it off, trying to get some peace in his death.
D'Altine raised her visor to get a better look at the man; his armour was crushed to the point of actually compressing his chest and legs. His helmet sat beside him, having slipped off on impact. D'Altine couldn't help herself; there was something she had to ask him. "One of your comrades tried to tell me something before he died, something about what we were shipping. If it was not grain and rice, then what was it?" She kept her voice down to a whisper, as her allies would probably just kill him there.
The man coughed up some blood, gasped for air, and answered, "Ye don' know? Aye...there was grains and rice...but not enough for a village...that shipment--" he coughed violently, splattering D'Altine's face with his blood. "Ye ignorant fool...transportin' the largest shipment of opium North of Lionel!" He coughed again, the speech too much for his crushed lungs.
D'Altine felt like she had been kicked in the gut. The smuggling of opium was one of the biggest problems since the collapse of the monarchy. To have participated in such a crime...it just felt so wrong to her. She wanted to bring honour to her family, not disgrace it even further! There was one more thing that she had to ask the man though.... "Who sent you?"
The man sighed like the dead, "I am Klider Maw...Lieutenant Commander of the Griffon Knights...of Lionel. We were sent by...Cardinal Beowulf to stop this shipment...from reaching its destination." He reached out and grasped the cloth between D'Altine's greaves and boots. "Please...grant me the right...to an honourable death." He coughed onto her boot once more, gasping for air.
After hearing that, D'Altine didn't know what to say, she was horrified. Not only had she smuggled opium for a corrupt lord, but she had helped murder men of honour. She could feel tears in the corners of her eyes as she spoke the last words the man below her would ever hear, "Anguish not...I will grant you that honour." D'Altine choked backed her tears and drew her blade, levelled it to the man's neck, and plunged it into his throat. Before D'Altine climbed up to the road, she spoke to the man, the wind, and herself, "I'm sorry."
Later, in the Magick City of Gariland, D'Altine sat at the bar to a worn-down tavern on the outskirts of town, the upper half of the building was in shambles, but down a flight of stairs, one would enter a dimly, yet beautifully lit barroom. Oak countertops and paneling stained an off-burgundy shade of red, small covered lamps lining the walls at scarce intervals, and behind the bar, two massive ale kegs managed by a one-armed, grizzled bartender. Here she drank away her sorrows...or at least she tried to, but she had difficulty lifting the glass...as if it were stuck to the counter. The one-armed bartender put a pitcher of water down in front of her, as well as an aged handkerchief. She looked up the scarred man with confusion, "I did not order this." She stated bluntly, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Tis' from that woman over there." He pointed to a woman in a priestess cloak-turned-overcoat. The woman waved her over, winking with her only eye.
D'Altine wasn't sure what was going on, but she decided to play along. She picked up the water and handkerchief and dragged her feet over to the woman. "Is there something you want?"
The woman nodded, "I couldn't help but notice tears on your face most fair. Care to share what has put you into despair?" The woman chuckled to herself. "It really is an awful sight, so please explain to me your plight."
"Well...." D'Altine hesitated, but decided to tell the woman anyway...after all, what harm could it do? So she began to tell her story, from noble origins to her current slump. What harm could it do?
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What harm indeed? Well we'll find out some other time. Anyway, this is meant to be a comedy, but that will be more apparent in later chapters.