Chapter 1 – Unanimous Judgment
I.
~ Damn the soldiers ~
Fred Berken wasn't usually the sort to liaise with government officials. The only figure in uniform he occasionally encountered was that young lass at Diana's, a clothing shop in Timber where he sometimes bought his wife Marge those pretty scarves she was so fond of. But ever since his arrival in Deling City, he had seen little else but uniformed people shouting orders at other uniformed people.
The city was a sea of blue and red and purple checked folks, swarming around the city, serving food, selling tickets, searching his clothes for hidden weapons. As he regarded the soldier positioned near the door of this 'waiting hall', Fred wondered what colour the man wore when he was off-duty.
But he remembered what that resistance guy told him in Timber before they all set off for the capital. No Galbadian soldier was ever really off-duty. Fred was slowly starting to understand the nature of this city, where people had to wear labels with their name to know who they really were.
As he stood in the middle of this empty concrete room with the rest of the farmers they managed to rally, he wondered what Marge was doing back home on the farm. They had not been able to afford the season workers they used to. The kids would have to chip in.
Some others in the province had already withdrawn their children from school to work the farms. Two local schools had shut up shop. The question had come up once. But Fred and his wife had looked each other and both knew they would die before they would let that happen. The kids stayed in school and Fred went to Deling City to make a stand.
Cerren Philips coughed nervously behind him. "Fred," he called quietly, "do you think they will listen to us?"
The other six men leaned in, all desiring some sort of assurance to relieve their anxiety.
Fred turned and smiled at them. "Of course they will," he said confidently, "they need us more than we need them. Who is going to work the land if we drop dead of hunger huh? There has been a misunderstanding, that's all. We just need to reason with them, make it clear to them that they can't go on like this."
Cerren nodded, as he regained a little of his confidence. "You're right Fred. Aren't I glad you're with us mate."
Their attention was quickly diverted when the door opened and four other soldiers entered the room. Unlike the one who was guarding them, these ones wore a red uniform, their faces concealed behind a mask of iron. Two positioned themselves on each side of the room and obviously awaited someone else, as the door was still open. Doubt stirred in his mind as Fred observed the soldiers; they seemed awfully stern with their weapons firmly held close. He never knew that such things existed; even the soldiers who took to looting their farms didn't carry such bulky ominous arms.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, approaching steadily at a leisurely pace. The farmers' party in the waiting room shuffled nervously on their feet as an ambassador of the Galbadian government entered the room.
Sighs of relief and surprise hissed from behind him. It was merely a boy, barely out of his teens. His brown locks covered the forehead of a blank well-formed face. Eyes the colour of blue metal surveyed the room. There was a frost in that gaze that chilled Fred's courage.
The young man was smartly dressed and entirely in black. He had left the top three buttons of his long-sleeved black shirt undone and through the gap Fred saw a chain of silver catch the light. The boy's hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his black leather pants, his many criss-crossing belts clinked as he moved, sounding like faint scratching.
Fred now used to the importance of colour coding in this city, wondered what status black was associated with.
Cerren Philips and the rest smiled, as their confidence grew. But Fred was disturbed, the boy was calm, emotionless and this band of angry farmers didn't seem to leave a scratch on the surface of his troubles. Standing less than two feet away from this boy and his empty concrete soul, Fred's alarm swelled and some tenuous unidentifiable warning sounded in his head. Fred did not fail to notice how the soldiers tensed when the boy entered the room. Four battle-worn soldiers who were scared of one young man. Something told him that they had not much reason to be confident.
"State your business," the boy said.
Fred swallowed and prepared to deliver the arguments he had been practicing all week.
"Forgive us for coming here without any notice," he began politely, "we're farmers from Timber and we have come to talk to you about the things that have been taking place there."
"What sort of things?" he asked.
"Terrible things," Fred replied, as the others mumbled sounds of resentment. "A group of soldiers, Galbadian soldiers have taken hold of our farms and claimed all our products for their own. Last week, a batch of soldiers came and seized our milk stores. I'm not claiming that the Galbadian government authorized these crimes or anything, but . . ."
"You are right," the boy interrupted him; "we did authorise their actions. Your stocks will serve as provisions for the Galbadian army. I believe you were given monetary compensation in return?"
"Yes, we have" Fred admitted, "but that's not nearly enough to provide for our families. We received one-tenth of what we normally would have received. We will starve if this goes on."
"It has come to our attention," the young man said sharply, "that you have conducted illegal trade with the Eastern provinces and Balamb Island. Under Galbadian law, this is tantamount to treason.
"Treason?" exclaimed Fred. "That is ridiculous; my family has lived here for dozens of generations. I love my country, don't you tell me about treason. It's the Galbadian government who's guilty of treason. I need to export my goods if your government continues to raise the taxes on this continent."
The expression on the boy's face remained indifferent. Fred grew angry suddenly, damn the frost, damn the soldiers, damn the ruthless machinations of wars he didn't ask for. Why was he pleading with a self-important punk when his kids were going hungry?
"Tell your government that we farmers won't stand for this anymore," Fred said furiously, "All the farmers of Timber have agreed to put sanctions on trade with the army until you pay us what you stole from us. We declare ourselves independent of Galbadia and her Sorceress until this is done."
The boy nodded. "I am sorry to hear that."
Was there even a signal? Fred didn't see it. But these soldiers knew, like they must have done a thousand times, when to raise their arms and who to point it at. Stifled cries of panic choked the group and Fred in his own panic didn't notice that his friends all looked to him for an escape. It was then that Fred noticed a long strange blade hanging from the boy's waist. As the young man turned to leave the room, the light caught the silver of the sword and a flash of an image flared in Fred's eye just before he left. It was an image of a lion engraved into the silver of a blade, a gunblade.
So that was what the Sorcerer Leonheart looked like.
As the soldiers opened fire on the seven farmers, Fred's thoughts in a brief spark of sadness, drifted off to his little farm in Timber. A feeling of the most profound sorrow pierced through him, and the realisation that he was a failure shattered his heart more savagely than the bullets of the soldiers. As he lay shivering on the floor, twitching with every pint of blood that rushed out of him, Fred thought about his beautiful Marge toiling at the farm and the hardship that would age her and destroy the dreams they had for their children.
I am so sorry
II.
~ We need an Instructor's judgment ~
"The Galbadians have raised the alert in Timber. Reports have come in from our security base in Dollet that the northern regiment is moving, all heavy artillery within a 100 mile radius of Timber is held on stand-by. All farms in the area have been seized, in an effort to cut agricultural exports to the Balamb continent. Dollet is surrounded at a 50 mile distance. We may have secured Dollet City for a while, but the harbour is too valuable for the enemy to give up."
The Headmaster's assistant, a raven-haired young lady called Xu, ran her pen along the red circle around Dollet, which they now referred to as Zone 1. It was the only land on Galbadian soil that managed to stay clear of the hungry clutches of the Sorceress's rule.
"And has the Dukedom found a way to deactivate the tower?" a young blonde woman asked.
As a mere instructor, she was the only one of the five attendees whose presence could not be explained during a Combat Policy meeting. Yet curiously, she was here on the headmaster's invitation so no one dared to object and Quistis was grateful for this opportunity to fill in the blanks of her knowledge on the Dollet situation. Not twelve hours ago, her own students had embarked on a SeeD qualifying mission to Dollet. The true intent of that mission was only just beginning to dawn upon her.
"No, they haven't Quistis," Cid replied from the head of the conference table. "Even our technicians believe that the security codes cannot be bypassed."
Quistis nodded. "All this time we believed they wanted to win the harbour, while they were after some rundown radio tower no one has used in seventeen years. I'm not really sure on what front we're trying fight Galbadia anymore."
Xu's head snapped up suddenly. "Which reminds me, what was that mission you wanted to see us about Headmaster?"
The Headmaster of Balamb Garden, an amicable but authoritative man, stood up to face the three people gathered for this briefing, his hands tightly clenched around a black unmarked file.
"Though this might breach our neutrality," he began, "we have for good or ill, entered into a war with Galbadia. While this country has always been a cause to look over our shoulders, we have never dealt with Galbadia in this capacity before. Ever since the sorceress entered into the picture a few years ago, old assumptions have become obsolete. We know next to nothing about the sorceress and her intentions, though I'm sure we all here can imagine the consequences should she retain her influential position."
"We don't need much imagination, some of the consequences are already occurring," muttered a tall mouse-haired woman with rather small eyes, which always gave her the appearance of someone who has just come out of bed. Jaina Frost was the head of Communications, who contrary to what her position might suggest, never much interacted with her peers.
The Head of Combat Policies and Strategies, a young man with red hair, spoke up. "So, we're talking about intelligence gathering here?"
"Yes Zander," replied Cid, "I propose to send a small squad to investigate matters in Timber; we need to know what prompted the activation of the tower. We also need to know the cause for this sudden shift in Galbadia's behaviour and the sudden increase of activity in the past few months."
"I can dispatch some level 50 SeeDs by tomorrow morning. Say, eight SeeDs?" Zander suggested.
"No Mr. Marks," Cid shook his head. "No, we will only need a squad of three and I have already appointed the SeeDs to execute this mission."
Instructor Quistis squinted. "And which three SeeDs are to do this?" she asked, already knowing by Cid's shifting that she wouldn't like the answer. She had trained many cadets herself and she didn't know many who could perform such a task.
He didn't reply but instead shoved the file he had been holding across the glossy marble table. The file only contained the pictures and the basic status reports of three SeeDs.
Zander gasped just as Xu dropped her pen, when they recognized the faces. Even the usually composed Jaina Frost uttered a loud "WHAT"?
Quistis merely stared at the pictures, wondering if it would be above her station to suggest that the Headmaster visit Dr. Kadowaki for a check-up. But she couldn't say that she was entirely surprised, at least not about one of the SeeDs chosen for this mission.
"That's preposterous," Zander said, "with that many troops stationed in Timber, with tensions rising through the roof, and then to dispatch three inexperienced cadets. SeeDs I might add who are not even initiated yet, to a hostile country, forgive me sir, is foolishness, barely short of assisted suicide."
"Zander is right," Quistis said, annoyed that it was even necessary to point this out. "These cadets have never been on a mission. Their investigative skills are bred in a classroom and have not had the time to be nurtured by experience. To assign them on so important a mission, is . . . ill advised."
"Indeed," Cid said, holding his hands up to halt their torrent of disbelief, "but a soldier can only learn the art of war when he's called to arms. Didn't you hear Xu's briefing, the security in Timber is pitched at top level and they are expecting interference, especially from us. They are expecting weathered SeeDs, mercenaries who know all the tricks in the book. The ideal undercover SeeD will pretend he doesn't know anything. The only thing more ideal than that, is a SeeD who really doesn't know anything."
Zander grunted. "We have very capable SeeDs, mercenaries who would take a bullet before betraying the code to the ladies toilets. Are you saying that those very SeeDs, who have survived many missions against all odds, are not even capable of doing something an inexperienced SeeD would be able to accomplish?"
Cid gave Zander a sympathetic smile. "What I am saying is that I do not doubt that those fine SeeDs would never betray a word to the enemy. But I'm not concerned with what they can get from us, but with what we can get out of them. Right now, we need those who will raise the least amount of suspicion."
"Cid, if something happens, should they fail," Quistis paused for a moment, "we won't be able to step in. With their chances so slim, we would be sending them towards a ready death."
The headmaster loosened his tie. "The tides are turning Quistis, you know that. Galbadia is up to something. I fear that the reactivation of the communications tower in Dollet is just a prelude to something infinitely more sinister. Every day we spend in indecision, the sorceress spends in progress. With her powers extending well beyond the borders of the capital, I say if we don't manage to stop her now, I don't think we ever will.
You see, whatever methods and concepts and contingency schemes we had in the past no longer matter. A new plan will weather the currents of change better than old beliefs. The enemy won't hesitate to change tactics if it might suit their purpose, neither must we.
"Good grief Cid, but three inexperienced SeeDs?" Jaina said in exasperation. 'They won't last. If we send them out, it means we can already mark their graves and wait for the bodies to return."
The headmaster brushed a clammy hand over his already moist forehead, as he sighed. "Yes it's a dangerous mission with unfavourable odds. But someone needs to do it."
"And what if they die?" asked Quistis, her eyes ready to catch the slightest change in this headmaster's expression. She was waiting, looking for anything that would tell her his true intentions.
He sighed. "That would be a tragedy, but not one we can't use. Their sacrifice might be central to our next step should the mission fail.
Three pairs of eyes laced with incredulity gazed back at him. But the Headmaster wasn't too shaken by their lack of confidence. Soon they would understand the reasons behind his actions. Bitter realities, like the ones he had been protecting everyone from, had a way of revealing themselves with stunning clarity.
"I would like to send these SeeDs along with the good faith of us all," Cid said, "I ask you all to trust me in this. It won't be completely hopeless, there's a chance they will make it back and when they do, we will be stronger than we are now. Will you not trust me in this?"
Xu and Zander shifted uncomfortably in their seats, muttering that it was crazy. Quistis said nothing.
Cid stood up from his seat and paced the oval shaped conference room for a minute. The majesty of the large Balamb Garden Conference Room seemed daunting and gave the impression that as small as they were, they were not to expect any guidance or courage as they reflected on the significance of what they were about to commit these three unknowing SeeDs to.
"If this is what the situation calls for," Zander said, "I vote yes."
Xu nodded. "I do too."
Jaina gazed intently at the headmaster with her commanding dull brown eyes. "I don't like this Cid. But there is a chance that they will succeed, and I vote yes on that tiny margin of hope."
To everyone's surprise, Cid asked: "How do you vote Quistis?"
Quistis snapped her eyes up at Cid. "I'm not a board member, I'm just an instructor. I can't vote on policies and strategies."
"We will have to make an exception this time," said Cid, "we need an instructor's judgment."
"I don't know Cid," Quistis said doubtfully, "they are real people to me, not just pawns. You all have the privilege of distancing yourselves from those you send to their deaths, that's why it wouldn't be fair to have me decide."
Cid smiled as he approached her and laid his hand gently on her shoulders.
"But that's why you're here Quistis," Cid explained. "Two of these SeeDs used to be your students. You know them better than we do Quistis."
Panic as well as a small stock of pride surged through her. So that's why he had invited her to a board meeting. She was the only one who truly knew whether they'd be able to pull through. Two SeeDs, one remarkable and one slightly less so. And she was the only one who could be sure of their ability.
Their sacrifice might be central should the mission fail
Of course, it was as good a pretext for war as anything. Quistis picked up one of the status reports and glanced at the distant expression on the SeeD's face.
Cid's favourite student, the one he had such high hopes for. Quistis didn't know much about this one, since Cid never explained his motives. But something about this SeeD had brought out the passion in Cid. It was about a year ago that everything changed and suddenly everything revolved around his prized new pet.
If only to see how valid those hopes were, she would send them in. And she trusted on Jaina's hope that they would make it.
"I say we shouldn't divide the responsibility of the board, it will have to be unanimous, so I vote yes," Quistis said finally.
Cid smiled as though he hadn't expected any other reply. "I thank you for your trust."
Jaina gave a derisive snort that seemed to pass Cid by.
"But headmaster, will they go completely unsupervised?" asked Xu, "Can't we send at least one experienced SeeD to assist them when needed?"
Cid smiled, "Ah yes, of course there will. But I rather wait until I inform this SeeD before I announce them. So if there are no more questions, I will need to see to a few things, not least of all the initiation of the SeeDs. Enjoy yourselves at the graduation ball tonight."
Everyone nodded and collected their papers to leave. No one made eye contact and no one spoke.
"Oh Quistis, a word if you please," Cid called after her as she was about to walk out of the conference room.
"Yes Headmaster?" she said. Her blue eyes appraised him expectantly, trying to figure out what it was that he was going to say before he did. Cid noticed that curious quality she always had. The need to be prepared, to never allow yourself to be caught unawares.
"Quistis Trepe," Cid began, "you are to accompany the squad on their mission to Timber."
She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "But I'm an instructor," Quistis said quietly, "I don't do field work."
"I hereby relieve you of your office," he stated, "You are now a level 15 SeeD and are under obligation to assist in this mission."
Whatever pride she experienced when the headmaster had invited her so unexpectedly to the meeting, ebbed away. The conference room seemed so small, she felt the air walling in around her and there was no getting out. Breathe, she thought.
When Cid personally paid her a visit to her office this morning, she had expected to go sleep that night with the thought that her life would be different in the morning. Well the only thing that would be different now was that she'd just booked an earlier ticket to her grave.
"I understand Headmaster," she said and her smile was glorious, as if nothing else could have made her this happy. "I'll expect my briefing report tomorrow, shall I?"
Cid nodded. "I'll come by early tomorrow to go over a few things."
"Of course Headmaster," she said, still smiling. "Well then, I'd better go and finish up on a few things. Clear my office, the usual and perhaps stock up on a few supplies. Goodness, so much yet to do, so I better run off. Goodbye Headmaster."
He held her back just as she was about to turn. "Beware of the Sorceress's knight Quistis."
Quistis blinked. "I didn't know he was even real. The stories . . . "
Cid's lowered voice interrupted her. "He is dangerous, more than you could possibly imagine. Keep out of his way, no matter what."
"I heard so many different tales. In all of them he is barely more than a lapdog," she said, genuinely disturbed by Cid's behaviour, "a brainless puppet led by her strings."
Cid surveyed Quistis through his glasses. "You would be making a grave mistake if you believe that. This man knows no mercy. It would be useless to argue with him, because the very concept is beyond his grasp. A man so ruthless reserves no hesitation in battle, no act is too brutal. Quistis, there is no limit to what this man will do to achieve his goal, no limit whatsoever.
"Very well," she said, putting the cheer back in her voice. "Point taken, I shall remain well clear of him."
Cid smiled amicably. "I'm sorry it had to be like this Quistis. Good luck and enjoy the ball tonight."
Sure I will.
She nodded and turned quickly, because her smile was about to break and she didn't know what would take its place.