Yay, yay, chapter 2 up! X3

I got crazy putting in some FFX allusions here, to keep you in check of the canonical events/facts of the game. And Grandfather Quinn is an original character(OC) of mine I've created to play a minor, useful role in my story. So, leave me comments about that guy. He's funny. (smiles)

This time, it's mostly in Baralai's POV. Razer Athane and I wish you a happy good reading.

Chapter 2

Trusts and Secrets

One lone man stood erect on the narrow bridge, his electric blue eyes transfixed upon the massive, machine monstrosity. It hibernated, purring like an innocent cat in its peaceful slumber, the low metallic hums permeating the desolate, disquiet air.

The blonde youth cautiously jogged forward, weary that the weapon might suddenly spring to life. But no. It fortunately remained motionless.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips, which curled to form a hopeful smile. "You know," he spoke loud and clear, foolishly placing his trust in a dangerous machina that ironically belonged to his enemy, "You're all I can count on to save Lenne."

The male soldier was positive it would save his beloved, if he chose to climb onto its head where the control panel could be located, thus use it to annihilate the hordes of Bevelle troops, whom currently scaled Mt. Gagazet on the path to Zanarkand. Then, the summoners of Zanarkand stationed at the frontlines wouldn't need to fight. They wouldn't need to be wounded, tortured, and murdered for a meaningless cause. And Lenne... her life could, no, would be spared from all the horrors war had to offer.

Red lights suddenly flared on and the warning alarms blared raucously, signaling there to be an intruder within the undergrounds of Bevelle. They had only noticed his presence until now? He jerked his head back in surprise, knowing that he had been spotted.

But how...?

Or maybe the lights meant something else. He didn't know. What he did know, however, was that he shouldn't waste his time pondering. His main topic of concern was the all-powerful weapon that lied before him. With it, he could bring the end of the war with one simple attack of destruction and Lenne could return to his arms, safe and sound.

That's all that mattered to him at the moment.

Is it you? Or does he just look like you?

And... Who's this 'Lenne'?

If there was any person in the entire world who could possibly know, it would have to be the Preator of New Yevon, the keeper of Spira's secrets.

The sun rose high and proud within the azure sky, hovering over the heart of Spira - Bevelle. The afternoon by now had encroached upon the day, casting yellow sunlight to bathe the magnificently layered city, giving it an eerie morning glow that never failed to captivate its audience.

Within the Praetor's private office, light poured through the closed window to reveal Baralai hunched sloppily over his desk, fast asleep. His arms were sprawled over mills of forgotten, unfinished paperwork. His light snores bounced quietly off the walls of his office and drool gradually oozed out from the corner of his parted lips, steadily soaking the papers underneath him, which served as a sufficient pillow for his head.

Poor guy... Ever since Baralai received distressing news about how the rivaling faction had stormed through Kilika's forest to try and ransack the temple for the heavily-guarded sphere - which by the way, Baralai had no clue how it got leaked - the New Yevon members wouldn't stop panicking. It grated on his nerves, and because of the event, his stress sharply increased.

If the Youth League wasn't troublesome enough, though, the Gullwings just had to make things much more difficult.

In result to following his obligation as the Praetor, he had wasted an entire evening away, playing the attentive leader and obediently listening to his fellow New Yevon members whining about how the High Summoner and her fellow sphere hunters stole the secret sphere from Kilika Temple before the Youth League could snatch it. And the sphere itself contained explicit video footage of Vegnagun - an ancient, hidden, and dangerous weapon.

How embarrassing, and problematic.

This is where the term 'typical teenagers' would have applied. Sphere hunters shall be sphere hunters... Of course, Yuna made it clear her party was neutral, however... what should he do about the sphere? Currently, the matter remained undecided, and amidst his perilous paperwork, Baralai had been thinking heavily on what to do.

The captain of the Youth League, Mevyn Nooj, must've known how important it was to go and try and lay claims to it. Nooj...

What was the Death Seeker planning to do with this information? Perhaps some random, crazy scheme to kill himself with it? Use Vegnagun to cause harm to the people of Spira, or... destroy the weapon of mass destruction itself?

Having no answers to supply any of these questions, Baralai couldn't alleviate his people's worries, as much as he wanted to in order to silence their nonsensical jabbering. To escape the onslaught of complaints from the priests and nuns, he had insisted on paperwork needing to be done to shoo them away. Of course, he'd lost track of time and... quite simply, fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

No one came to check up on the Praetor, until now.

Someone firmly rapped their fist against the door. Startled from the sharp noise, Baralai jerked awake and immediately sat up - idly scratching his sleepy head. 'Is something stuck to my face?'

Clutching the drool-drenched sheet of paper attached to his cheek, Baralai pulled it off and eyed it with evident distaste, suppressing a grimace. Thus, he proceeded to crumble it into a ball and toss it aside into the nearby waste basket, but had missed its intended target by a couple inches. 'I'll pick it up later... or let one of the maids do it, in case I forget.' Deciding against it, Baralai shrugged his hand out of its sleeve, pointing to the ball of paper, pouring little magic into the spell, easily lifting the object by force of gravity. He directed it to the wastebasket and dismissed the magic to let it drop inside.

It's been barely two months, and you'd think Baralai ought to be used to paper work by now. No one could deny it being an awfully tedious, mental chore.

"Excuse me, Praetor. May I come in?"

"Yes, yes. Enter," he muttered, hurriedly gathering up the documents into a messy, single pile. Baralai also made sure to discard the few papers that were smothered by saliva. 'No sense keeping those anymore…' The contents of said pages were pretty much memorized in his head anyway.

An old, hunched man limped into the room, the wooden cane clutched firmly in his wrinkly hand. Though his ancient, wise eyes were veiled behind thick, untrimmed eyebrows, the individual smiled fondly at the young man.

"Good afternoon to ya, my boy. Finished work, I see."

"Don't remind me..." the young man mumbled, messaging his temples to quell the drowsiness clouding his mind.

Grandfather Quinn, as most people would refer to him as, was a close friend of Trema, the founder of New Yevon, and the Praetor's trusted advisor. This man had looked out for Baralai when he first assumed position as Navigator of Bevelle and guided him through the tricky ropes of politics and order; something Baralai felt eternally grateful for. Quinn left much to be respected, being the wise director of the council and a close confidant of the current chairman himself. If anything, this man had connections within the entire scope of Spira.

Once the old geezer halted beside his desk, Quinn slowly lifted a hand to scratch the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, trying to grasp the reason of his visit from the depths of his forgetfulness.

"I've been sent to tell you that those young'ns uh, sphere hunters, you call em'... They seek your audience, something to do with an 'awesome' sphere-."

"Ah, the Gullwings?" Baralai exclaimed, recognition glowing in his lethargic eyes.

"Don't hang your mouth open, boy! It's rude," the old man chastised, withdrawing a clean piece of cloth from his robe pocket and rubbing it firmly on Baralai's cheek to wipe the dry saliva off, much to his unsuccessful and droning protests.

"Why didn't they send someone else to alert me?"

"What, you don't love me anymore?" he joked, coughing out raspy chuckles.

Baralai deadpanned, before releasing a string of nervous laughter to conceal how self-conscious he felt to be treated so informally. Due to the fact he had never met or got to know his blood-related grandparents, it felt nice to be regarded as a grandson to someone as kind and respectable as Grandfather Quinn. "Ahah... it's not that..."

"Everyone's all busy welcoming the famous High Summoner. As if there ain't enough of them down there already..." he grumbled, stuffing the cloth back into his pocket (for later cleaning). "You should clean yourself up, before leaving. Straighten your clothes, re-adjust your headband, brush your hair..." Quinn completely disregarded the fact that Baralai was a full-grown man, let alone the Praetor of New Yevon, and proceeded to pull him out from his seat with complete intention of grooming him.

"W-wait... you don't have to do that," Baralai stuttered, prying his bony hands off his arms gently. "I can do it myself. Aren't you listening?" The old man's paternal resolve could not be swayed, preferring to act deaf to his pleading voice. Soon, Baralai decided to give up for he didn't quite possess the energy or the desire to continue a one-sided argument.

Grandfather Quinn had patted his clothing free of wrinkles, slid his blue bandana back down into place, and raked his stiff hands through his unkempt hair to smooth it out - before he released a deep, satisfied laugh. "Aha! Let's go."

Hooking an arm around Baralai's, he literally began to pull him out of the office, and the Praetor had absolutely no problem letting him lead whatsoever, even as he continued to prattle on, his reserved voice barely audible to someone so tired. "I've been itching to meet this gal. Heard she's a sight for sore eyes."

Baralai managed to hear, and responded, "It's an exaggeration, Grandfather Quinn. But I do say, she is pretty..."

Upon the Gullwings' entry into the chamber, nuns stationed at both sides of the hallway performed the customary Yevonite greeting (for the umpteenth time today) to deeply express their gratitude. The priests gathered on the upper level stared down at the company with suspicious, stone-hard gazes. And standing at the end of the corridor, Baralai waited with Grandfather Quinn at his side, the former trying to conceal the pleased smile on his face while the latter's curiosity was painfully obvious, due to his mouth hanging open like a fascinated child.

The young, chestnut-haired woman trudged forward demurely, her long half-skirt swaying by her left side. Nervousness matched her steps, along with her captain, Aniki, leading the way, and Paine and Rikku bringing up the rear. Once they halted before him, Baralai approached the four and stopped to repeat the nuns' actions once, before flashing a quick smile of acknowledgement to Aniki.

"Gullwings, I welcome you." The leader of the Gullwings simply scowled skeptically at the Yevonite and folded his muscled arms over his bare chest, which was heavily tattooed with blue and black flames up to his elbows.

"Bnaddo puo..." he muttered crossly. 'Pretty boy?' Baralai disregarded the comment, thanking Gippal in his mind for giving him a vague understanding of the Al Bhed language.

Why the High Summoner would become a sphere hunter along the likes of Al Bhed, despite knowing of Yuna's unique heritage, was beyond the Praetor's comprehension. The last time he heard of her status, Yuna was living a quiet, content life in the island of Besaid with two of her guardians...

The nineteen-year-old took one pensive step forward, pausing for a few silent moments, before she reluctantly handed over the item. A fluorescent, orange sphere was cradled in her hands, and he knew precisely what it was, but couldn't quite believe it. "This is the sphere from Kilika Temple."

A friendly and appreciative smile formed on his lips. "Thank you." After accepting the 'awesome' sphere, Baralai pocketed it under the folds of his coat and, out of habit, crossed his arms absently. "It's not everyday you meet hunters who are willing to bring back a sphere they stole," he mused, his tone hinting at flattery. At this, Yuna chuckled bashfully, a little unsure of how to explain her unnaturally selfless act.

"It's a long story..." It didn't occur to the Praetor that what drove Yuna to return the significant item was personal. However, he respected secrecy as long as the matter was something she was uncomfortable to discuss.

"You helped us keep the sphere out of the hands of the Youth League," he appraised, closing his eyes for a moment to let them rest, appearing to look thoughtful. "I am willing to leave it at that." 'What I would do to have some few hours of sleep...' Before Baralai could completely doze off, he re-opened his eyes to regard Yuna with a forced, weary smile, hoping she wouldn't see passed the mask of placidity he struggled to maintain. "You've been a great help, High Summoner." It just occurred to him there was no reason to regard the woman as such when her ability to call forth Aeons was practically not invoid. But it would be wrong to say she was an ordinary sphere hunter. Baralai was unaware of the fact he wasn't the only one thinking that.

"Excuse me," the blonde girl brazenly said behind her cousin, placing a hand on her hip. "Her name's Yuna, and she's a Gullwing!"

At this sudden outburst, Baralai blinked dubiously, overcome with a brief moment of nostalgia. He chuckled to mask the green monster of envy in his heart. "Forgive me." This Al Bhed girl reminded him of Gippal, and of the days he spent in company with a small group of trusted friends - like how Yuna trusted her sphere-hunting colleagues. And among them, was Paine.

She seemed to be doing well... but before him, the ex-recorder acted as if they had never met. It stabbed his heart, a little, but it was completely understandable. They believed it would be best to split up and avoid detection. He, Paine, Gippal, and Nooj...

"By the way... Have you seen the contents of the sphere?"

"Yes." He was glad Yuna didn't even attempt to lie.

"Then... I suppose I have a little explaining to do." To deny the Gullwings the chance to learn what exactly they had seen in the sphere would be rude. They deserved at least some information for their troubles. Baralai faced away from the party, putting care into phrasing the words carefully inside his mind without giving up too much of the secret. "What you saw was Vegnagun. A weapon built roughly a thousand years ago. It's currently being held under some tight security. The location is, of course," he crossed his arms seriously, "highly classified."

"I see Yevon still likes its secrets," Paine remarked suddenly, her tone sardonic and full of distrust. Yes, something the Praetor wasn't proud of. He disliked secrets himself, however if dangerous information went into the hands of the public, there would no doubt be individuals who'd use that knowledge to harm the world.

Endearing, light-hearted chuckles resounded in the hallway, a robotic reaction in which Baralai found it necessary to diffuse the thick tension present in the air. "True." He then lowered his arms and swerved around to face the Gullwings, locking eyes with Yuna - the sincerity once again present in his brown eyes. "The Youth League would like nothing more than to use Vegnagun to control Spira." This assumption was proven by the fact Mevyn Nooj had personally led his faction to storm the Kilika Temple for the sphere. That's why, along with the morbid memory of two years ago, when Nooj had purposefully planted a bullet into Baralai's back which nearly took his life, he could not be trusted. "But do not be afraid. We will stop them at all costs."

For a fleeting moment, Baralai's cajoling, impressive and firm words made Yuna want to believe that the Youth League was truly in the wrong. They're a bunch of reckless, young people who frequently went around picking the fights, after all.

"Tell me..." She murmured, her mismatched colored eyes on the verge of pleading. "Who was the man in the sphere?"

"Hmm..." Baralai made a motion to shrug, the words 'I don't know' on the tip of his tongue, however he stopped himself before folding his arms in thought.

Despite having months of exploiting his position, rummaging through ancient records of Spira's history that was stashed away in the vaults of Bevelle (before Trema had the chance to collect them all and venture deep into the Via Infinito to destroy them), there wasn't much to gather about this sole individual. Except he was once a resident of the metropolis Zanarkand a thousand years ago whom had planned to use Vegnagun against the enemy city during the great Machina War.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Baralai felt he should know him personally, but... "I couldn't say."

"I see." He wished, upon seeing the look of utter disappointment on Yuna's face, that he could've done something more to help her. Perhaps point her in the direction of the books himself, and tell her to scour through every last record if only to find a mere name.

The doors creaked open, causing Baralai to look up from his thoughts and unfold his arms. The Gullwings' navigator, Dachi, entered the scene in a reserved form of panic and urgency.

"Hey, we got a distress signal from the Celsius! Gullwings, we're leaving!"

The leader exited first, eager to leave this creepy place of Yevonite baldies, having been especially silent to preserve some class. His sister quickly followed his cue. Paine hesitated to throw a farewell to a former friend; however she thought against it and simply left. Yuna lingered for a few moments, rewarding Baralai's generosity with a silent smile. "Thank you," she whispered delicately and he produced a modest grin in return.

"You're welcome."

We never got the chance to know each other very well. Me being a sphere hunter, him being the Praetor...

Yet, somehow... I have come to trust him more than anyone else I know.