Final Fantasy II: Thorn's Edge
By Chronic Guardian
Chapter 2: To Train the Body...
"So I guess we'll be working together after all, eh?" Paul smiled widely across the table at Firion, Guy, and Leon. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot earlier–"
"Perhaps we'll get lucky and you'll be in another squad," Leon interrupted coolly, "I hear that they're splitting us up into groups of three to four."
"I've heard the same," Alexander, a boy from Gatrea said, sliding in on Paul's side of the table, "seems a logical decision. After all, you can only get so much done at once when you move in one clump. There are also fewer liabilities that way."
Firion grimaced, "correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't less people make it more difficult to prevent liabilities?"
"Only up to a point. Eventually, the group has too many people in too little space, especially with the tasks we'll likely be assigned. Seems the crown has taken to thinking on a small scale, just the way I like it."
And just what were these tasks that they would be assigned? Firion was already having doubts with the enlistment of Paul. What else did the crown have in mind for their "noble" efforts?
"Small groups, large impact," a man wearing a captain's uniform entered the room, bringing with him a brisk aura. "But that impact will require much skill and dedication. I am Sir Conlat, a knight in his majesty's service; I will be your commanding officer and temporary tutor for the next few years. I thank you all for your sacrifice in answering our call to arms.
"Even while half of our numbers have yet to arrive, you will begin training immediately," Sir Conlat continued, standing with his hands held behind his back "When you were selected, we noted that each of you had some form of familiarity with combat. We hope to mold you into specialists for your weapon of choice, allowing you and your squad to be ready should you be attacked in extreme circumstances. As each form of weapon has its own strengths and weaknesses, we may eventually require specialization for each area."
Firion nodded in acknowledgment. This was what he came for, a chance to become a true weapons master of unmatched versatility. It would be difficult, but he had a rudimentary understanding of how each functioned. Too bad for Leon though; Firion did not dare break his gaze from Sir Conlat for fear of being disrespectful, but he would bet a large sum that the last requirement had made his adoptive brother furrow his prominent eyebrows.
"The first area we will begin training in is that of philosophy and strategy. As field operatives who may not be able to regularly contact your commanding officer it is best that you each be able to assess a situation for yourselves as well as possible outcomes due to actions taken in the field. If you decide to kill a human being for example, you jeopardize the lax state of security in an area when such is discovered. If you fail to properly cover your tracks, you could incite political turmoil and all out war on all fronts. Thus we shall teach you how to avoid such conditions and still accomplish your goal." Well put, Firion had minimal experience in stealth operations, this would be good for him. Although he was somewhat put out that they were not jumping straight into weapons training, he would still enjoy a chance to better himself.
He could also tell that he already liked Sir Conlat's approach to a situation. He was brief, fairly thorough, but also left things sufficiently vague for changing conditions; and yet he still sounded rather genuine in his speech. Such were good qualities to have, one must not waste time, give too little information, or tie down a situation to a strict set of actions. A man who understood these things would at least do a good job of informing his troops how to act. Though the "how" and "what" were still to be explained, Firion felt a little more at ease with the situation as a whole.
"Head to the war room and prepare for instruction," Sir Conlat concluded, "I'll meet you there shortly. Dismissed."
Firion and the others at the table watched silently as the knight left the room before turning back to each other. "And where exactly is the war room?" Paul inquired, looking hopefully to his temporary team mates.
"It's the first challenge in and of itself," Firion sighed, making an inference from the topic of today's instruction. He was still getting over not being able to show off his forte, but high performance in all areas would do more for him than sulking. "We've got to use our combined knowledge of the castle layout as well as a team oriented mentality as we will likely be penalized for arriving without each other, does anyone have any ideas?"
Alexander leaned forward, "Well if I were the architect, I would make the war room deep inside the structure in case of a siege. It wouldn't do any good to have your defensive plans caved in on. Also, I would place it as near the stables as possible for easy access to incoming and outgoing message relays. But then, I don't know where the stable is..."
"It's a start at least," Leon commented tracing the wood grain of the table with his finger, "What about you, Paul, have you got experience in the layout of a castle?"
"'Course I do!" Paul assured him, "it's quite vital to my profession not to stumble into the wrong room when visiting a well guarded installation. The problem is, the war room is usually in the quarter of the castle that I would steer clear of under ordinary circumstances."
"Then we can hypothesize where it isn't," Alexander suggested, "and that would isolate the possibilities to–"
Ordinary circumstances... Firion frowned, "Hang on a minute. Paul, under ordinary circumstances you're usually trying to escape a castle with all possible haste. Have you ever had to make use of a castle's stable for a quick getaway?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because according to Alexander's earlier statement that would at least get us near the right area."
Leon chuckled, "Conlat does seem the sort who doesn't like to waste time. Stables near the war room sounds good enough for me."
"Alright then, let's go," Firion declared, getting up from the table, "Paul, if you'd be so kind?"
Paul gave him an odd grin, "It would be my pleasure."
They set off down the hallway, Paul taking the lead and occasionally stopping to sniff the air, scratch his head, and reluctantly choose a direction. "What are you doing?" Alexander asked after the third turn or so, "we don't seem to be going very quickly."
"Well usually a Chocobo stable has a very distinct and thick scent," Paul explained, now quite apparently trying to catch a whiff of something that was not there, "but no matter how far we go, I'm not smelling it."
"That's because a Chocobo fed on a diet of Gyshal greens has no odor," a man in a green cloak and light armor spoke up, joining in with their ranks. "I'd reckon that Sir Conlat has made such supply adjustments to accommodate his future stealth endeavors."
"Is that you Rochenst?" Alexander asked, turning around to fully face the new-comer. "Have they got you too?"
So Alexander knew this man already, Firion took note that they were likely from the same area and might share cultural quirks. Alexander did seem awfully talkative after all...
The man smiled, his rough features accentuating that it was a common expression, "Yes, but if you'll excuse me I'm off to the war room. I mustn't be delayed on my first day of 'training'."
"Yeah, there's probably not much they can teach you," Alexander chuckled, "so where do you suppose the war room is?"
"Just down this hallway," Rochenst informed them, "or that's what they said at any rate. Care to come and see if it's true?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Firion saw Leon's expression darken a little. He was either suspicious or upset about something in that last comment. Falling to the back of the crowd as they began moving again, he came side by side with Leon while Guy took up the rear, probably also aware of Leon's change in mood. It was not uncommon for Leon to become serious about trivial matters, but that did not stop Firion from seeking a resolution to whatever the matter was.
"He's fully informed," Leon muttered under his breath as his brothers came closer, "if this is truly a test, don't you think it probable that he's misleading us?"
"It could also be a chance to test our intelligence gathering abilities, discerning the correct sources to draw from."
"I don't think that's how Conlat operates," Leon's whisper was edging on a hiss, "why would he encourage a self-sufficient unit to rely on–"
"Here we are!" Alexander announced from the head of the column as he opened the doors to what looked very much like a war room should. The room sunk into the ground a little, enough to make stairs leading up to the doors a practical addition. A central table covered by a map took up the majority of the room, the walls were occupied by similar strategic documents and a banner of Fynn. As well as six torches: two by the door they had entered, two by a door on the far side, and one on either wall flanking the table.
Rochenst moved to the walls to examine the various maps and their notations as they entered the room, gesturing Alexander over to join him. Firion was getting the distinct idea that these two shared more than a village in common. The most likely circumstances were either that Alexander had been formerly apprenticed to the man or they were of blood relation.
"I see you understood 'shortly' well enough," Conlat came up from behind, ushering them into the room and closing the doors. "We have much to discuss. Please, take a seat."
"How did we do?" Paul asked, pulling out his chair at the near end of the table. The others began to follow suite. Leon, probably wanting to keep his distance from Paul, sat down one seat from the opposite end, Firion and Guy flanked him.
Conlat gave Paul a stern look, "we have barely begun, soldier. I will alert you of your standing when I deem it necessary or profitable. Now then, down to business." He paused as he came to the seat at the head of the table and found Guy at his right hand.
"Are you volunteering for a leadership position, soldier?"
Firion saw confusion form on his brother's face. Obviously, in their move to stay away from Paul they had strayed into the area usually reserved for elites. Firion held back a grunt of frustration and stood up, "we apologize sir, my brother is simply not used to the etiquette of the situation. Please allow us to make amends for our mistake."
"Hold on," Conlat stopped Firion in mid shuffle as he tried to move one seat down, "if your brother wishes to have leadership and is capable of it, he is welcome to the position. I know you all are mostly of common descent and do not expect you to know the perfect navigation of an upper class situation. If I wanted you in an assigned seats I would say so. I assume that you moved to your location out of a sense of individual and exclusive identification, you do not yet wish to be integrated with the rest of the group. This is understandable but also something I hope to see you overcome in the coming weeks. From now on, your brothers are the members of the Thorn's Edge, where many thorns are gathered the plucking of one is impossible without being pricked by another."
"With all due respect, sir, I do not think it is wise to entrust ourselves so easily to men who have not proven to be faithful in character."
"I take it you are referring to the previous occupation of Sir Paul," Conlat sighed, giving a calculating look in the thief's direction. "We understand your hesitance on the matter and shall let his actions speak for themselves. Are you satisfied then, Firion?"
"... Yes." Firion was a bit taken back by being addressed by name as opposed to "soldier". Perhaps Sir Conlat was seeking to sound more familiar and trustworthy. It did not quite suite the man but it did reinforce his words about standing together as brothers.
"Good, now with that taken care of let us move on to a few basic mental principles about how you will face battle. For starters, your enemy will almost invariably go for the kill, there will be many situations in which you must do the same when engaged in combat. We discourage you from seeking out such opportunity but when the time demands it you will be ready. Do everything in your power to avoid the death of a human opponent though, our purpose is to bring peace, not slaughter. Should my suspicions prove true, there is one target and one target only that absolutely must die: Emperor Mateus of Palamecia. Even this may be circumventable given that our estimates of our position are grossly exaggerated."
"What are your estimates of the current position?" Alexander interrupted. Firion was beginning to presume that the lad lacked a sense of tact, though he was effective in getting his immediate concerns across.
Conlat sighed, "another tenant we hope to instill you with is to learn the full value of listening. You may have to carry a conversation for intelligence gathering purposes at times but the ability to hold one's tongue can prove vital. With that said, we are under the suspicion that Emperor Mateus IV is raising an army. His strict and hostile enforcement of the Palamecian borders is a curious move in a time of peace and one does not build thick walls for sport in most instances. We have assumed that he is trying to keep casual eyes out of his schemes, as this is in direct violation of the peace treaty signed thirty years ago by his father. Although getting inside the border will not be an immediate assignment, you will someday be asked to investigate the matter if it does not resolve. But enough of this, you will be ready for this information in time. For now, please focus on the lesson."
Guy attempted to give the lecture his full attention but for the remaining three hours he could do little more than take his cue from Firion and try to nod at the appropriate spots. Leon was of no such assistance, he sat stoically with his right cheek resting on his fist, his only life signs being an occasional blink.
"And now some hands-on training," Sir Conlat said, his words piercing through Guy's consciousness. Real world application was just what he could use about now, Guy thrived on example; thoughts were made readily understandable when translated into action. "You will be split up into three teams of two, these teams will consist of a strategist and an agent. Strategists must give three specific actions to their agents, these will be verified with me. It is then up to the agent to carry out these actions and defeat their opponents. The point of the exercise is not only clear and concise communication in chain of command but also to learn to read your opponents and play up on the strengths of your allies. Now, if I may have you blindfolded I shall pick the teams."
Two knights entered the room, each carrying a hand-full of cloths. One by one, those seated at the table gave their consent and were blindfolded, some more readily than others. Reluctantly, Guy followed suite. Although he had developed his senses of hearing, smell, and touch acutely early in life he was loathe to give up any section of his arsenal.
After being blindfolded he was led away down a corridor. One set of footsteps in front from the leading person, many diverging away, and one beside him. The last pair did not belong to Firion or Leon, although they sounded similar to the former. It was a lighter tread, the sort used by one who favors agility and stealth over a solid stance. Guy fought the sinking feeling that he had just been paired up with Paul.
They halted just as the sounds of the outdoors and the smells of late autumn were becoming stronger. The leader undid their blindfolds and stepped back, giving Guy his first good look at his surroundings; as he had deduced, they were in a small alley, still within castle walls but open air and carpeted with grass rather than stone. It apparently continued on around the corner, probably leading to a more open area. A stairway to the right led up to a raised area about one story higher than their current elevation.
Taking all this in, Guy turned his attention to their escort. He was one of the knights from earlier, a man of medium height, shorter than Guy, with a bushy beard and mustache and short, light brown hair that curled at the ends. "Familiarize yourself with your partner," he instructed them.
Guy turned to find his partner was not Paul, but the man Rochenst. He was tall, almost Guy's height, but of a lighter build. Wrinkle lines were evident upon his face, though not very deep yet, indicating either excessive expression or middling age. If the latter proved true, he would likely have considerable knowledge of some sort, particularly to be selected for the Thorn's Edge.
"Now then, Guy, you will take the strategist role for the exercise," the knight told them, apparently having deemed their silent analysis adequate, "Rochenst will act as the agent. Your goal is to equip Rochenst with the proper parameters to defend himself against the perceived threat. Understood?"
Guy assumed their opponents would be either captured fiends or their comrades in arms. Asking for clarification would probably be pointless since Conlat and his staff enjoyed ambiguity. "Guy Understand," he said to the knight, or as far as I am going to understand given the circumstances... "Rochenst, what weapons you use?"
Rochenst let his gaze drift towards the sky as he thought about his answer, "I am proficient in the use of daggers and bows, as well as some hand-to-hand technique. Also, I may wield a sword with some level of competency should the situation demand it."
Hand-to-hand, now there was something Guy could relate to, "how good your reflexes?"
"Adequate, perhaps, what do you have in mind?"
"First command: use catch-counter," an excellent use of the barehanded style, catching an opponent's weapon and countering while they are in your range. Of course, it required perfect reflexes and strength superior to the opponent's; but from Guy's evaluation, Rochenst would only be in danger of being matched in the latter category if he were to face Leon. Even so, Leon was often too focused on planning out a series of attacks to react to a breach in his plans. Firion would be another story...
"And that would be...?" Rochenst queried, raising one of his thick maple eyebrows to augment his meaning.
It then occurred to Guy that Rochenst probably did not use the same terminology as himself and his brothers, "When opponent attack, grab weapon and counter." It really did seem quite self explanatory...
"With my fist or the weapon?"
"Fist," non-fatal attacks were easier to ensure that way. Guy was fairly certain whatever they were up against, it would be in their best interest to keep it alive.
"Any other commands?"
Guy thought a moment, counter attacks were an excellent tactic given one had quick reflexes and an aggressive opponent. Rochenst would require an initiative move of his own, otherwise he would be subject to the willingness of his enemy to strike first. He seemed a little impatient at the moment, and waiting for a hit would not suit him well. "When not counter, feint to head and go for legs."
To complete the set, it would be wise to give him a final offensive move to keep the enemy off guard but still give him room to counter. Something compact in movement and meant to occupy time and energy rather than actually attack. "Guard-gut-jab," Guy stated, "that final move. Keep one hand in chamber, jab at gut with other." It would keep one hand ready to counter and aim for an area the enemy could not afford to leave unguarded. Of course... that was assuming their enemy was human.
"Is that it then?" the knight asked, almost turning to go. Guy concluded the man must be anxious to keep moving.
He wanted to pause and think it over but doing so would not be taken kindly in all probability. Everyone wanted to move forward with whatever it was, Guy just wanted to do it right. However, there was only so much he could hypothesize about his enemies. "Go," he nodded his permission to the knight. Hesitance would gain him nothing in this situation, through experience he would learn whether or not it was the right decision.
"Good," the knight almost smiled as he started off around the corner with Rochenst in toe, "Go up the stairs and meet with Sir Conlat, he'll elaborate on the subject for you."
Guy watched them go before moving up the stairs to what he could only describe as ramparts looking inside rather than out surrounding a good sized, moss laden arena. The upper level was symmetrical, forming a C around the arena with the back attaching to the castle. There waited Conlat and Alexander, Guy could also see Firion and one of the knights coming up on the other side. It would seem a safe assumption that the agents would be facing each other then... Paul, Leon, and Rochenst.
After everyone was in place, both knights reported to Rochenst discreetly, probably giving the move set that had been selected. Ensuring secrecy was somehow vital to this exchange, but Guy could not seem to fathom why. There's much subtlety to be had in conversation, Maria had once told him, sometimes people leave things out so you can figure it out yourself. He agreed with her statement but did not like it anymore now than then; though it did open a new possibility: rather than simply using secrecy to blind them, Conlat could be attempting to give them opportunities to try to see through it. If the moves chosen were carefully not stated out loud it meant that only through direct combat would the fighters get a handle on what the others could do. If the agents were skilled enough, they would pick up on little cues of what would be used.
Guy mentally slapped himself for choosing such easily recognizable moves. Unless Rochenst somehow found a way to be innovative with those moves, Leon would likely find a way to exploit his opponent's limitations as he had when Guy had first started training with him. Despite being a specialist, Leon rained punishment upon those who were stagnant in their attack patterns.
And yet, with everything in place now, Guy could only watch the events unfold and wait with bated breath. He highly doubted Conlat would review him favorably for this...
Rochenst rested against the wall where the knight had left him, looking across the way to what he assumed to be one of his opponents: the man named Paul. If everyone else was correct in their projected evaluation, the man would use an unorthodox and trickery based fighting style. Of course, that was assuming he was left to his own choice. Rochenst did not know who had given Paul orders but if it resembled his experience at all the given commands could conflict with the basic nature of the inherent fighting style; therein would lie his advantage, for he could adapt.
As a hunter, Rochenst had often faced the necessity of adaptation; when one is far from home and the normal means have run dry, bending to a new way gains a whole lot more prominence as a possibility. It was in being able to learn how to deliver full impact despite barriers that one could truly call themself skilled.
However, something else was also bidding for his attention within his mind: Conlat's lecture. One of the points he had brought up was discipline and discernment. Not only must a commander evaluate his forces but a soldier must also evaluate his commander and decide whether or not his decisions are valid given the situation. Only given very special circumstances is one to dissobey orders but at the same time, it should not be counted out of the possibilities entirely; for even those in control are human. Rochenst was not entirely sure how he was supposed to take this but someone like Paul could definitely equate it to free liscence. So long as Rochenst followed the spirit of the attacks he had been given he wouldn't be violating the original intent of the orders. In any case, he had always felt the spirit of the law preceded the letter of it.
"Agents, enter the ring." Conlat's voice came from around the right turn that led deeper into what would serve as their arena. "Prepare to fight on my mark. Agents are to sustain five body hits before being counted as defeated."
So they were to fight eachother... all the better. Humans had a tendency to act more rationally, and therefore more predictably, than beasts. Rochenst obeyed the orders to move before looking up to Conlat's position, a balcony lining the area. The captain held his open hand high while he surveyed those who were about to enter combat. Taking the moment to note his third opponent, the man who had sat by Firion who was now armed with a wooden pole, Rochenst put the last pieces together.
Conlat seemed like a fair man, by purposefully choosing Guy to order Rochenst he had put together two unfamiliar elements; Rochenst suspected the others had also been given strategists equally unacquainted. Since Firion knew the third agent and was not in the ring, Rochenst surmised that Alexander, who preferred to fight on the defensive from a distance, had been given to the task of directing the man. Thus, he could expect guarded attacks from as far away as possible. It also probably meant that the man had been ordered to observe his move set before attacking. If such was the case, Rochenst could effectively keep the man away by not revealing his move set and thus evade the conditions for attack.
With Firion left as the final strategist, Rochenst could only form a vague hypothesis on what Paul might do. Firion seemed to be a forthright man and not at all compatible with Paul's general demeanor. The fact of the matter was that the most unexpected thing Paul could do now was actually follow orders.
Lastly, with the stipulation of five hits it would be the fast fighter who held the advantage. He would have to either abuse the worth out of his feint or modify the "guard-gut-jab" and jab at multiple areas. Of course, he was still uncertain of how specificly Conlat would hold them to the commands given but this was a risk he felt worth taking.
His evaluations completed, Rochenst shifted his gaze up to Conlat just in time to see him close his hand in a fist, supposedly the starting mark. Moving in towards Paul, Rochenst took the initiative and threw a feint to his face before switching to a sweep kick to knock him off his feet.
Paul jumped a little too late and was clipped by the motion, causing him to fall towards Rochenst. Taking hold of the situation, Rochenst grabbed Paul by the shoulder and pulled him in towards a ready fist aimed for his gut. Rochenst was fully aware that grabs were not part of the prescribed move set but his innate combat sense was a bit overpowering at the moment. He would have to be more careful next time...
Releasing Paul to stagger backwards, Rochenst performed another blow to his opponents mid-section. The punch was near flawless in its execution but pulling his hand back into chamber was hampered by the newfound attachment of Paul's grip. Rochenst was tempted to perform a grab break but his determination to stick to the parameters barred the motion. Instead, he feinted a hit to Paul's face. Paul didn't flinch to the blow but jumped, anticipating the follow up attack to his ankles. Rochenst had other plans though.
With his feet off the ground, Paul no longer had an anchoring point to keep Rochenst in check. Using the man's stalwart grip against him, Rochenst pulled Paul in before delivering a blow to the back to drive him down towards the ground. This move roughly followed the bounds of a catch counter so Rochenst felt fully justified in its use.
In one motion, Paul rolled to his feet and threw a clod of dirt towards Rochenst's face. Rochenst was only fast enough to block the majority of the projectile, the rest of it splattered across his face. Fighting the urge to blink and splutter, he used his left hand to wipe away what he could and refocus. Apparently, he was one step behind. A sharp blow to his abdomen forced him back a few steps, a blow of wood rather than flesh. So the third party had entered...
Backstepping to give his vision time to clear, Rochenst brought his guard up. The intervention of Alexander's partner meant that either he had become impatient or that he truly believed he had observed all there was to observe. A brash opponent was dangerous because of his unpredictibility, but easy to defeat if caught off balance. Rochenst had to force the point if he hoped to win.
The sound of three successive blows from the wooden weapon would indicate that Paul had been taken out of the fight, assuming all had landed on target. Rochenst had no distractions to rely on now, only his skill and the yet unproven weakness of his adversary. His eyes refocused on the boy as the pole rushed towards his right shoulder. Using his left hand, he grabbed the weapon, spun to pull it and his opponent closer, and delivered a kick into what should have been ribs but ended up as an arm brought up to absorb the impact. The young man then backhanded Rochenst's leg to throw him offbalance as he pulled it back and yanked the weapon from Rochenst's grip.
Rochenst rolled back and dodged as a number of thrusts pushed him towards the wall. So long as the boy held his weapon he controlled the duel by forcing Rochenst to overcome two barriers: the pole and the boy's own defensive capabilities with his hands. The back hand that had been used to put Rochenst on the defensive was sloppy though, it was doubtful that the boy was fully proficient in hand-to-hand. Therefore, getting the weapon out of the picture would be Rochenst's immediate goal and key to victory. And he was getting just the idea of how to do it: the spirit of Guy's instructions had essentially been to play upon the basic attack patterns most often used by opponents; if an incoming blow would make them block, then getting them to block in the wrong area with a feint was the preferred method of assault. This approach relied mostly on predicting an opponent's reaction due to repetitive movements. Perhaps this was constructed in counter to a frequent sparring partner...
As his opponent continued the push towards the wall, Rochenst watched the pattern of attack, observing the cycle the pole underwent as it wove around him, driving him in a desired direction. Once he was cornered the boy would likely go for a central thrust. This would allow him to put more direct energy into the attack but would also have a slower recovery time than his alternative assault. It would have to be enough...
Just as Rochenst had predicted, the boy shifted into a central thrust the moment his back bumped against the wall. Moving as far to the side as possible, Rochenst felt the blow glance off his side and into the wall. Seizing the pole as well as the moment, he pushed the weapon back into its user. The boy let out a gasp and staggered backwards, clutching his stomach.
Spinning around and smashing the pole in half against the wall, Rochenst turned to face his opponent once more. The boy glared but that would do little to help him now, they both knew it was as good as over.
A/N: It has come to my attention that perhaps my writing is a bit cryptic at times. If such is the general consensus then I shall be happy to oblige to the challenge of improving but I first must settle the matter in earnest. Please leave your opinion! Also: I appreciate that you have taken the time to read this story. I know that FF II the original does not have an extremely large fanbase like some of its successors in the series but I feel it shows some promise. Thank you for choosing something off the beaten path!