Part One – Flashpoint

Chapter One – Dawn of Destiny

I don't think anyone really expects themselves to become a fulcrum.

Actually, it would probably be fairer to say that I never really expected to become a fulcrum. I mean, people who're destined to become 'important' or 'heroes' or whatever you want to call them can generally be spotted from a mile off, as either they have a chin like a battering ram and abdominals that can deflect bullets, or they're the sort who have long, carefully managed hair and a personality so depressing that it makes you want to top yourself within five minutes of meeting them. Like most people, I eventually came to the conclusion that in no way, shape, or form was I anything like anyone who might sally forth to save the world.

What I should have realised, in retrospect, is that your average champion only tends to look like that because attractive people sell newspapers. In reality, heroes tend to be small, mousy people who happily do the same thing day in, day out until everything quite suddenly goes to pot. Of course, I didn't realise this, and so I had absolutely no idea that November 15th was the day when I'd suddenly find myself launched into the world-changing events with which we're all so familiar. Naturally, my sister was also blissfully unaware that this day was going to be so, so different, and that's why her boots were, at this very moment, on a direct collision course with my kidneys.

I suspect by now you're probably settling back into the plush leather of your armchair and asking the question 'Okay, chief, you keep on banging on about your sister, but you haven't actually provided much information'. Well, here we go. My sister is none other than the world-famous Terra Madonna Branford, a.k.a. Mage Knight One and a number of other, less-complimentary nicknames. Some of you may already know what she looks like (it's not as if there haven't been plenty of pictures of her in various papers), but I suppose that no introduction is complete without some kind of description…and here it is!

My sister stands at about five foot seven, almost exactly an inch shorter than yours truly and, like me, is maybe on the 'scrawny' side of being slight. This fact tends to pass most people by, however, as, like me, Terra's defining characteristic is a really quite startling shock of emerald green hair. Any soldier, of course, will tell you long hair is a right pain in the arse when you're attempting to get down and dirty with the soldiering, so Terra typically kept the majority of it tied back in a painfully severe ponytail and just clipped the fringe with a handy pair of scissors when commanding officers started making cutting comments.

I'm going to go to hell for that pun. In fact, I think you're probably going to go to hell for reading it.

I suppose I could continue from there, including her tastes in clothing (although we do not speak of that bloody floral print dress), music, food…but there's a limited amount of ink in this typewriter, and I don't really want to build up a database for any budding stalkers out there. If you absolutely must know any of the above, then, well, her address is hardly classified information.

Anyway, let's get going, shall we?

I came to with a sudden oath as Terra's boot lodged itself somewhere between my ribcage and my pelvis. Although the room was barely illuminated, I could easily make out the silhouette of my sister standing over me, the soft glow of her jade eyes throwing her features into light relief. I blinked wearily, swiping at my eyes with a free hand to clear away the sleep. After a moment or two, it became apparent to my tired senses that Terra was not, in fact, saying anything.

"Can I help you?" I asked irritably, raising my eyebrows as I spoke. In response, Terra silently held up a squat, metallic object for my examination.

"That's my alarm clock," I stated flatly, after a moment's study.

"Indeed," Terra replied, in an equally deadpan voice.

"Fascinating," I raised an eyebrow in the ensuing silence, "Have you just woken me up to show me my alarm clock? I bloody well hope for your sake that you haven't."

"It's not wound, Firma," Terra said patiently, "Do you remember what happens when a wind-up alarm clock isn't wound?"

"Oh, wait, I know this one...oh, yes, that's right!" I fixed her with a tired, glassy grin, "It gets force-fed to the first person mind bogglingly stupid enough to bother me about it! Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep!"

"Not so fast, Firma."

"Tee, I swear to Callista that if you keep bugging me you'll be spitting cogs for a godsdamn month."

Terra fixed me with a calm, silent gaze, and then just as I was in the process of turning over, "Do you know what time it is?"

"No, sis, I'm not aware," I turned back to favour her with a chilly stare, "How am I supposed to know what time it is when my wind-up clock isn't keeping time because –as you've so patiently stressed- it isn't bloody wound?"

"It's four fifteen in the morning, Firma," Terra replied, with more than a note of exasperation in her voice, "You'd know that if your alarm clock was wound up by the loud, pealing noises it would be making right about now."

My vestigial logic lobe gave a dim flicker, and I gave a great sigh into my pillow.

"Oh, bloody hell," I said wearily, sitting up again and wrapping my duvet around me to ward off the chill, "Breakfast?"

Terra smiled, "Breakfast."

"Bugger!" I cursed with feeling, "Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger! I only got to sleep three hours ago!"

Terra's eyebrows leapt up her forehead, "And whose fault is that?" she inquired in that special 'it's your fault, isn't it' tone adopted by mothers and overbearing sisters everywhere. I sighed, and reached out in the dark for the top cupboard of my clothing drawer.

"Well, in that case-" I pulled open the cupboard with rather more force than I had intended, "-you can make yourself useful and find my boots. They should be somewhere over by the door, I think."

There was a slight 'hmm' from on high, but Terra turned away to find her way towards my boots, lazily discarded from the night before. Giving her a mildly amused glance, I gave my full attention to rooting through the large drawer to find a cleanly folded uniform.

"Laundry day tomorrow, is it?" I asked quietly over my shoulder, well aware that people were attempting to sleep on either side of the thin walls.

"Well, I've got one set of clothing left," Terra's voice floated in from around the door, "So yeah."

"Wonderful," I said, holding up one black and one white sock for inspection, "That would make this Mismatched Sock Wednesday, then."

There was a thud from across the room, followed by a somewhat distracted "Sounds about right."

I frowned into the darkness, but with no more information forthcoming I pulled out my jumper and slipped it on over my head.

Okay, here's a little test for you. If I were to say that my uniform was a rather bland, unappealing grey (save for the white sleeves), how many of you would know what I was? It's not really a fair question, given the paucity of information, but I'm just curious to see if you do.

Basically, for those of you who don't know, that uniform is representative of a Trainee Sentinel, or, in simpler terms, a field medical technician. Basically, if someone's managed to get themselves injured, either through combat or by other means, it's our job to find them, do what we can to help, and then bring 'em back to somewhere where more extensive treatment can be carried out. We can be found on the field of combat, on the top of mountains, in the oceans, and trekking across some of the most inhospitable terrain on the planet. In short (and we'll cover this more later) we're here to save your lives.

There was a dull thud as the first of my black, half-calf army boots hit the floor just next to my foot, joined a moment later by its fellow.

"Thanks," I remarked to the far end of the room as I finished donning my trousers and got to work on the highly technical lacing, "Where were they, anyway?"

The reply might've held a slight note of exasperation in it, but I was still too sleepy to be sure, "Where they always are, Firma," Terra said, returning and sitting back down on her already remade bed, "Where they've always been, and probably where they'll always be."

I gave a non-committal 'mmm-hmm' as I finished the first boot before turning my attention to its mate, "And where is that, exactly?"

"At the end of your bed, Firma," Terra sighed wearily before lying back, "Could you hurry up? Some of us happen to be starving."

"You don't have to wake me up, you know," I pointed out as I grappled with the laces, "I reckon you're old enough now to go and grab a bite to eat without my presence."

Terra ignored my jibe, "If I don't wake you up now then I'll still have to wake you up in an hour for Magical Studies, and all that'll do is make sure you're hungry and bad-tempered and just slavering at the prospect of an argument with Celes."

"Oh, you know she's slavering just as much as I am," I tied the final knot in the left-hand boot and stood up, swaying slightly as my blood –several seconds behind events- rushed to my head, "Although...come to think of it, that is quite an unpleasant mental image."

"Can we go? Finally!" Terra moved from her position on her bed to standing in one fluid movement, "Let's get something to eat – I'm ravenous!"

Outside the dark dark room was a dark dark corridor, with walls of concrete and a rather distressed, threadbare carpet underneath. At regular intervals down the passageway small alcoves held doors leading into rooms almost identical to our own. Of course, they were all closed and locked, as their occupants were well aware of the benefits of getting plenty of sleep and, still feeling rather put out about this, I favoured Terra's back with a scowl as she quietly locked the door behind us.

"Okay," she whispered, turning around to face me, "Let's go- what's that expression for?"

"Nothing," I replied with mild annoyance, "I'm just thinking of what I could do with another, oh, four hours sleep."

"Nothing useful, I'm sure," Terra said lightly, her eyes glittering cheerfully in the twilight gloom. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to prevent a small smile from rising to the surface.

"C'mon, Firma," my sister grabbed my hand and started pulling me down the corridor, "You can whine after you've got some food inside you."

At this point, unfortunately, natural honesty forces me to mention that at no point could one ever really consider what the Imperial Air Force canteens churned out to be 'food'. If you were ever unlucky enough to sit down to a meal in the Imperial canteens then you'll know, for certain, that the food there has the appeal of road kill and all the nutritional value of boron. Okay, so it's hard to produce healthy, energy-packed food for what must be going on close on a thousand people, but...well, let's just say that the cooks tried for none of those and succeeded spectacularly in their attempt.

However, if the food was bad, the actual canteen itself was even worse. Someone had once told me that it had been envisaged as a sort of relaxation and gathering area before the budget cuts hit, but to be honest I can't possibly see how any amount of money would have made that damnable hall any better. Essentially, it was nothing more than a large cube, lit from overhead by several racks of dazzlingly bright electric lamps. The furniture was simple; three metal tables that very nearly stretched the entire length of the room, with some really quite horribly uncomfortable wooden benches on either side. It's difficult to describe exactly how uncomfortable those godsdamn things were, but I can tell you that I used to hear of plenty of incidences where people developed calluses on their behinds as a result of dining at Imperial canteens.

There were always a few people around even at this godsforsaken hour, generally either bureaucrats catching a quick cup of coffee or soldiers just coming off the night shift. A few of these turned to watch tiredly as Terra walked cheerfully up to the counter, but quickly turned their attentions elsewhere as my gaze scythed across the room, looking for anyone I might know. My eyes alighted upon a tall, lank fellow brooding darkly over a cup of coffee. With long, unkempt brown hair and a lab coat that was so heavily stained with chemicals that it had given up any thought of being white, it could be no one else but a friend from my medicine classes.

"Hey, Tanis!" I called out to him across the hall, drawing annoyed stares from the rest of the congregation, "I'll be right over, save me a seat!"

Tanis gave me a long, steady gaze before turning slowly to his left and right. Finding nothing but empty, unending tables, he turned back and gave me a look filled with tired contempt. Feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole exchange, I slunk quietly over to the counter where Terra was standing, considering the food on offer with the air of someone pondering a deep metaphysical conundrum.

"You know, I think you were right," she said distantly as I approached, "You really could've done with another hours sleep."

I decided the best approach would be to simply ignore her and, instead, picked up a disgustingly cheerful blue plastic tray from the pile.

"What's on offer today, then?" I asked Terra as I approached the counter, "Anything edible?"

My sister threw me an amused look that spoke volumes, "Well, its Wednesday, so that's-"

"-either porridge or cereal," I finished, staring with dismay into the bowl which held the aforementioned oat soup. Every now and then the bland, grey goop would give off a sulphurous hiss as it deflated a little more, releasing no-doubt lethal gases into the air.

"Are you quite sure that's porridge?" I prodded the mixture with my forefinger, and was mildly disappointed when it failed to strip the digit to the bone, "It looks more like quick-drying ceme-"

"Do you mind?" a thin, reedy voice snapped from out of view, "I've been up making your breakfast since two in the morning, and this is the thanks you give me?"

"Oh cripes…" I muttered, and managed to get safely behind Terra just before Doris the Canteen cook bustled into view, ladle at the ready.

"Right!" Doris snapped, presumably at my sister, "Where is he? Where's that rascal?"

Terra shrugged and took a long step to the left, leaving me to fry in the baleful glare of the cook.

"I thought it might be you," she snapped irritably, and then held out a gnarled hand expectantly, "Give me your tray, deardrie."

I hesitated for a moment before handing her the tray. Not taking her eyes from me, she took a bowl from beneath the counter and slammed it down on the tacky plastic before filling it nearly to the brim with grey porridge.

"Growing lads like you need lots to eat to grow big and strong," she gave me a sickly smile and stabbed a spoon into the centre of the gloopy mix, "Now, I want to see that bowl licked clean, or there'll be no breakfast for you tomorrow!"

"I'm not sure that that's much of a threa-" I began, but my devastating riposte was smoothly cut off by my sister.

"Firma, take your cement and go talk to Tanis," gently but firmly, she rotated me to face towards the tired medic, "I'll join you in a moment."

Well, discretion was the better part of valour, and so it was with my head held high that I strode away to consult with Tanis.

"Honestly, someone should gag that brat…" I heard the breakfast lady mutter somewhere behind me, before she turned to deal with Terra, "Now, dear, what can I get you for breakfast?"

Tanis gave me a tired glance as I sat down across from him, staring with horror at the goop in my bowl.

"She likes you," he said, giving me an encouraging wink.

"Good morning to you too, Tanis," I replied, plonking my bowl on the table and giving him an acid stare.

"Good evening, you mean," Tanis said, swiping at his eyes in a tired manner, "I haven't got any sleep yet."

"Really?" I frowned, ramming my spoon into the porridge with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, "Uh, don't we have another class in about four hours?"

Tanis shook his head, "You should really check the notice board more often, Firma. Because we didn't finish until midnight last night, Professor Peron cancelled today's lecture so he could, and I quote, 'Finally get some blasted sleep'."

"That sounds like him," I reflected as Terra joined us with a cup of coffee, "Doesn't really help me, though. Even if I didn't have these early magic classes, I've still got to prepare for some formation flying this-"

"No, you don't," Terra cut in, earning herself the full effect of my tired glower.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I do," I said irritably, "It's written down on my notice-board and everything!"

"No, you really don't," she sighed, rolling her eyes skyward, "I've already told you, remember?"

"Told me what?"

"You mean you really don't remember?"

"No!" I snapped, "Now can we move on to what it is that I don't remember, please?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Terra put up her hands innocently, "I just can't believe that you haven't heard-"

"Terra!"

"Okay, okay..." my sister took a long gulp of her coffee, "You know, maybe you should have had an extra hours sleep. You're in a foul mood today."

For a long, long time, the only sound was the slow, dangerous rapping of my fingernails on the surface of the table.

"Terra," I said brightly, "It is four thirty in the morning and I have had three hours of very rough sleep which –may I remind you- was interrupted rather harshly by your boot becoming one with my urinary tract and a really quite exciting discussion about the merits of winding clockwork-powered alarm clocks-"

"You forgot to wind your alarm clock again?" Tanis said, rather unwisely.

"You stay out of this, you bloody insomniac!" I snapped, "Now, Tee, I would really, really like to know that all-important bit of news that you're so-"

"Celes is attacking Maranda," Terra said simply.

"...what?" I blinked, suddenly lost for words, "What is she doing?"

"What generals do, I guess," she shrugged, "Apparently Maranda's gotten something into its head about seceding from the Empire, so the Emperor's sent a task force over there to sort 'em out."

"...and when was this announced, exactly?" I looked over at Tanis, who shrugged emphatically, "How did I miss it?"

"General Leo came by our magical lessons last week – y'know, the one that you missed," Terra added pointedly, "He's already laid out all the logistics, but Celes is going to be the one who's actually planning the attack."

"'Cause he's buggered off to fight the good fight in Doma, right?" I nodded, "Well, it sounds like good training for her, anyway."

"Good training for you, too," Terra's smile seemed, for just a moment, to glint rather nastily in the light, "We've been called up as an observation team."

There was a 'clink' as my spoon bounced off the side of my bowl, and I buried my face in my hands, "Wonderful," I said eventually, "That's bloody wonderful."

"It'll be okay, Firma," my sister patted me consolingly on the back, "Here; I'll let you finish my coffee."

"Oh, thanks," I said, "That's supposed to make me feel better, is it?"

"It might wake you up," she pointed out, "C'mon, cheer up; everything seems better when you're up and about!"

"Thank you for that thoughtful observation," I swallowed half of the bitter black fluid and sent down a large spoonful of porridge as moral support. The combined flavour of the two was, to put it mildly, underwhelming, "Gods! There's no way this can possibly be healthy!"

"It isn't," Tanis shrugged, and took another sip of his coffee, "But it probably won't kill you, either."

"Are you sure about that?" I said sourly, washing down another bite of the hateful goo with some more coffee, "There's no way this's been anywhere near oats of any description. You know what? I think Doris has something against me."

"Really?" Terra's eyebrows went up, "It would be so unjustified, too. Anyway, I don't think she'd poison your porridge – it's not as if the Empire's known for employing cereal killers, after all…"

The silence was palpable as Tanis and I exchanged a long, long look across the table. Finally, I turned towards my sister with a faintly disbelieving expression.

"I thought you were giggling in your sleep last night," I said, "How long've you been working on that, exactly?"

"It just came to me," Terra said dryly, "You know, in a blinding flash of inspiration."

"Is that so," I sighed, and regarded the rest of my breakfast with despair, "Ah, hell, I'm never going to get through this. Well, not without a stomach pump – anyone else want it?"

Tanis' face went through a number of different expressions before finally settling on something approaching horror. Interpreting that as an emphatic 'no', I turned to Terra, only to find that she had already clambered to her feet.

"Something I said?" I asked facetiously.

"What?" Terra frowned for a moment before shaking her head, "Oh, no. I've, uh, just got to deal with a few things before Magical Studies. I'll see you there, Firma, provided that you manage to turn up this time."

"I will," I replied blandly, taking another bite of the vile porridge, "That is, if I ever get to the bottom of this bloody porridge…"

Terra laughed, and lightly ruffled my hair before walking away with a quiet 'play nice, you two'. Tanis watched her go, before turning to me with a grin across his long features.

"She's hiding something," he said, in the proud tones of someone stating the obvious.

"Gee, you think so?" my voice held just a hint of sarcasm, "If she'd kicked me any harder this morning, I probably've ended up with a couple of cracked ribs!"

"Do you know what she's hiding, then?" Tanis asked lightly.

"Oh, come on, Tanis," I sighed wearily, "I may be a Wraith-in-training, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go through Terra's stuff to find out what her secrets are. Besides-" I gave him a wry grin, "-I think I should let her keep a few things from me, just so's she can feel all dark and mysterious. If she wants to tell me, then I'm sure she'll tell me."

"Fair enough," Tanis shrugged, before glancing at his watch and then down at my bowl of 'porridge', "You'd better eat up, you know. You've only got thirty minutes to eat that and get over to the hospital."

I glanced down as well, and saw a distressingly large amount of highly dubious foodstuff looking right back at me.

"Oh, blow this for a game of soldiers," I cursed and pushed the bowl away, "There's no way I can finish all this…this…stuff!"

Tanis took the spoon out of my unresisting fingers. "How about this, then; you go and have a shower, wake up, and get over to your magic show, while I'll sit here attempting to down as much of this porridge as'll satisfy Doris."

"Sounds like a brilliant idea," I said, and pushed the tray over to him before he had a chance to change his mind, "I'm certainly not going to pass up an offer like that!"

"What a deal, eh?" Tanis said, digging in with his own look of disgust, "You were right, this really is quite hideous."

I stood up, downing the remainder of my coffee in a single gulp, "Well, you asked for it."

"I certainly did," he replied, "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, right? We've got to attend that bloody Order of Callista ceremony."

"Been the high point of my calendar," I raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed."

I left, gagging slightly at the taste of the coffee.

The shower I had was, quite naturally, cold. This wasn't surprising, considering the typical Imperial view towards unnecessary creature comforts. Still, it managed to finish the job that that coffee had started, and before long I was walking briskly across the barracks, my breath crystallising in the bitter cold as I made my way towards the hospital wing where the lesson was due to take place.

Typically speaking, I'm generally on time for any classes or lectures I have (well, for a given value of 'time'), but for me to be early is a relatively rare experience. Normally I'm rushed off my feet from can to can't, and it requires a fairly major effort to juggle all of my classes and their resultant homework by themselves, never mind all the battlefield exercises and flight time that I have to log as a matter of course. However, despite my extra effort to be the first person to Magical Studies (partially to make up for the fact I slept right through it on Monday) one person had managed to slip in just before me, and was at that moment staring at the door with an expression of perplexed impatience.

"Mornin', Celes," I said wearily, starting down the corridor towards her, "Sleep well?"

Now, here I meet a little dilemma. On the one hand, I have to describe one of my best friends in such a manner that doesn't make her out to be the local gorgon, because the inevitable result of that is that I'll end up in the concussion ward after being beaten senseless with a boating hook. On the other hand, however, I happen to be engaged to a wonderful woman – the problem here being if I go too far the other way and cause small flecks of drool to appear on the lips of adolescent males everywhere…well, it's widely known that hell hath no fury like the sharp, pointy grapnels of a fiancée scorned.

Anyway, General Celestine Chere could be said to be strikingly beautiful. Clocking in about my height, she bears the features typical of someone not from Vector, but from the more southerly town of Albrook. With long blonde hair and a figure that resembles a sand-timer, it's not really any wonder why most people don't bother looking any further then her bonny blue eyes – which is something that she is most definitely capable of using to her advantage.

Why? Because she's smart, very smart – in fact, she's probably the cleverest person I know. After all, it takes more than an adopted grandfather heading up Magitek Institute and a streak of ambition a mile wide to reach the rank of General by the age of eighteen – you need to be a pretty bright bulb, too.

Unfortunately, while Celes was busy snaffling the good cards from the bottom of the deck someone dealt her a personality which, it must be said, is about as blunt as your average sledgehammer. If you screw up, she'll tell you in rather graphic detail what you did wrong and how she'd do it better. Come to think of it, its probably that last point which explains why Celes has many admirers but only a few real friends – because anyone who isn't a closet masochist will give up and walk away about thirty minutes after listening to her in full 'dressing down' mode. Don't, however, mistake that for her being a nasty bit of work, because she isn't. She's, well, 'restrained' would probably be the best word to use. To see Celes laugh or cry or display any other ardent emotion is a rarity indeed, so instead what you have to do is to train yourself to look for the slight quirky smile or the pensive tapping of her fingers.

Anyway, let's press on.

Only the slight tensing of the muscles around her shoulders gave any indication that I had nearly made Celes jump out of her skin. After a moment, however, she turned around and fixed me with a Look. For a moment, we stared at each other in silence.

"Wonderfully," she said finally, in a voice that was just dripping with irony.

I raised an eyebrow, "I'll assume that's a 'No, Firma, I didn't sleep well at all', then."

The general gave a slight shrug, and in the predawn gloom I noticed the sullen glint of armour, "I suppose you could say that," a slight pause, then: "I assume by your tone of voice that you didn't get a good night's sleep, either."

I exhaled through my teeth, and leaned against the wall, "Well, I had a medical lecture that didn't finish until midnight, and it was gone one by the time I managed to get to sleep."

"That's harsh," Celes lamented, "What time did Terra kick you awake at?"

"Four fifteen," I replied gloomily, "Just before she gave me a short lecture about my wind-up alarm clock."

"Really?" Celes might have smiled slightly, but I wasn't sure, "Well, the thing about wind-up alarm clocks is that they seldom work when-"

"All right, all right," I said irritably, "Very funny, Celes – anyway, where's Cid got to?"

"Where's Terra?" Celes looked up and down the corridor.

I shrugged, "Gods only know, she said she had some stuff to do and buggered off."

An amused snort floated across the corridor, "So did Cid."

There was another awkward silence, and then I decided to offer up the question that I had been dying to ask all along.

"Okay, Celes, what's the deal with Maranda?"

The awkward silence continued, but this time it seemed like Celes was carefully thinking about how to phrase her answer.

"You weren't here Monday, were you?" she said finally. Mutely, I shook my head.

"Leo dropped by with a command straight from the Emperor himself. Apparently diplomatic relations with Maranda've broken down, and so I'm supposed to oversee a punitive demonstration of our power."

"So you are going to attack Maranda? Bloody hell, Celes!"

Celes' fingers rapped dully against the wall, "It's not quite what you think, Firma. General Leo drew up the logistics for me, and I've been given nearly five thousand foot soldiers to command, not counting armour and artillery. I think they want to see how good my generalship is, really."

I whistled appreciatively, "That's...a pretty hefty force."

"Mmm hmm," Celes nodded ever so slightly, "Well, just in case it does get too rough, I've got a squad of Titans ready to send in at a moment's notice."

"Titans? Titans?" I said incredulously, "You're...you're joking, right?"

"I don't have a sense of humour, remember?" she laughed mirthlessly, "Yes, the Empire's sent some of them as well."

"Those things could probably level Maranda all by themselves," I gave her an anxious glance, "If you send them in, a lot of people're going to get killed."

"I know, Firma," Celes sighed, "I think a lot of people are going to die anyway...but, well, if we can somehow nip this insurgence in the bud then we can stop it from spreading into the lives of other innocent people…"

Celes trailed off, and I knew that she was thinking the same thought as I was; 'there are a lot of innocent people in Maranda'. Unfortunately, if the fighting ended up degenerating into a general melee throughout the city then scores upon scores of families who had had nothing to do with the civil disobedience would probably find themselves living very short and terminally exciting lives.

"Any air power?" I asked, breaking the melancholy silence, "Y'know, attack helicopters, jets...possibly some observation planes?"

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me, you hav-"

"Ah, there you are," the familiar voice of Professor Cid floated down the corridor. I looked towards the voice to see him marching quickly down the corridor with Terra just a couple of steps behind.

Like most of the people thus far introduced, you should at least be familiar with the name 'Professor Cid'. You may not be aware, however, of what he looked like or even did for a living. Fortunately for you, that's exactly what we're just about to cover.

Professor Cid Chere was -at this moment in time- the head of Magitek research. This didn't really count for much, as he was basically far too nice a person to hold such a position. Under his command were the departments which had developed Magitek technology...so, basically, if it involved either magic or its technological derivative then this was the man who was overseeing it all.

However, you wouldn't exactly know it to look at him. A short, dark-haired man with runny blue eyes and a weak chin, he was not normally found in his spacious, airy office halfway up the Magitek facility, but rather down in its cavernous depths working on the very front lines of research and development. Because of this, his preferred attire was the standard Magitek red and yellow lab coat, designed primarily to prevent any of the hundreds of lethal chemicals he routinely worked with from coming into contact with his skin.

Despite the need for intense concentration and daily risk of death in his job, Professor Cid always seemed to me to be a pleasant man, if in a somewhat absent-minded sort of way. While Terra, Celes, and I were certainly one of his research projects, he had never treated us with anything but the utmost of care and respect which –come to think of it- was probably why Celes doted on him so much.

"Good morning Celes, Firma," Cid greeted us cordially, before gazing at me in a severe manner, "My memory isn't what it used to be, Firma…but I don't believe you were here last Monday. Might I ask why?"

I adopted an innocent expression, "Would you believe me if I said that I was on call for last week's night exercises?"

Cid shook his head wearily, "Firmament, I'm surprised that someone as bad at deception as you hasn't taken up telling the truth as a full time occupation. As always, your eyes are a dead giveaway."

"Would you believe me if I said it with my eyes closed?"

There was a long sigh from the professor, "Firma, I understand that your other commitments place a great deal of strain upon your time, and I also understand that this lesson may not be at the most opportune time for you. However, you cannot expect to develop your magical abilities if you fail to turn up. Do you understand?"

"Yes Professor," I replied contritely, "I'll try not to let it happen again."

You'd probably think that the phrase 'I promise it won't happen again' would be more placating given the circumstances. I don't throw the word 'promise' around lightly, though, as events may conspire to prevent me from fulfilling my pledge – and if there's one thing I hate, it's the feeling that I've not been able to keep my word.

Professor Cid gave me a look that suggested that he didn't entirely believe me, but in the end he favoured me with a small smile and a 'that's my boy' by way of encouragement.

"Where did you go, grandfather?" Celes asked. Cid turned away just in time to miss my somewhat annoyed scowl.

"What was that, my dear?" he asked Celes kindly, before something evidently clicked, "Oh, yes. I initially forgot to bring the equipment for today's lecture, so I had to go back and get it-" he gestured to Terra, who unslung a large dark object from her shoulder, "-thank you, my dear. They're really quite surprisingly heavy, and I don't like to fancy the thought of having to carry them all the way up here myself."

Celes and I exchanged a quick glance before I aired the unanswered question.

"What are 'they', exactly?" try as I might, my voice still held its surly morning edge, "Anvils? Metric weights? Hilariously small grand pianos?"

Cid smiled; "Nothing quite so impressive, Firma…why don't you open it?" he waved idly at the sack, "I think you'll find that the objects therein are rather appropriate, given your absence Monday…"

Frowning slightly, I kneeled down and peered inside the sack. From within, several fluffy white items peered straight back. Not bothering to look back up, I sighed as I stared down at Cid's small joke.

"Pillows," I said flatly, "Why in the world do we need pillows?"

There was a click as Cid inserted his key into the door, "Because –as you would've known had you turned up on Monday- today we are going to be investigating an interesting development on the front of universal magic."

"What's that?" I stood up, hefting the sack over my shoulder. Cid looked as if he had been just about to push the door wide open, but upon hearing my question he turned back with a slightly mysterious smile.

"Telekinesis," he said, quietly.

Now, this is an area where understanding is critical, as it is entirely possible to get the wrong of the stick and then you'll have nothing to do but to chew nervously on that foot you've somehow got lodged in your mouth. So, on that note, I recommend that you all take out a pad of A4 paper and pen for note-taking, 'cause I'm only gonna write this once.

When most people think about telekinesis, they think about the many dark and mystifying people who, with the help of smoke and mirrors, appear to mysteriously bend spoons and cause pens to rotate inside a glass box – and hey, that's okay, although you should be aware that it is possible to bend a spoon without rubbing it vigorously between the fingers, and you can quite easily move a pen about without the aid of a conveniently placed hole. Of course, if you want to do that then you're going to have to move beyond simple trickery (which, let's face it, is pretty harmless) and into telekinesis by magic, which is most certainly not harmless. I really, really suggest you throw away any previous misconceptions you had about it right now, because we're not talking about moons or stars or pretentious children with jury rigged glasses. This is magic in the blood and the bone, and it doesn't make friends easily. I warn you; if you approach this particular discipline with the attitude of 'izzy wizzy, let's get busy!' then it will eat you alive.

With that aside, not everyone with a grain of magical ability has the same aptitude in every area. Because of several unknown factors some people might be able to throw fireballs and move earth, while others may be able to influence rivers and glaciers. Some others (me) might be able to manipulate the air and weather with a fair degree of skill.

Those are all examples of 'elemental magic', and the typical rule governing this area of magic is that if you happen to be a natural with a particular element, you're not going to be able to do anything worth a damn with its somewhat arbitrary opposites. On the other hand, though, there is a small selection of spells which anyone -no matter what their elemental alignment- can be proficient at. This is what we call 'universal magic', for reasons that should be immediately obvious to all of you.

Universal magic in itself is not terribly famous, as it lacks the massive explosions and insistent crackles that have etched the more eminent forms of magic into the collective memory of humankind. Its effects seem to be far subtler; whispers in the wind, or a slight puff of flame possibly sufficient to light a candle. However, what people don't realise is that at higher levels, it is universal magic that can mend bone and flesh and call back the dearly departed, among other things.

Anyhow, telekinesis turned out to be one of the former varieties of universal magic, and it was not long before we had mastered the spell in all its glory. However, while it did transpire that while the pillows Cid brought along were very easy to manipulate, it was all but impossible to hurl a heavier object (like, say, Celes) across the room. Still, I could see that it might have some practical applications where my work was concerned, and decided to make a mental note to read up on the spell if ever I had some free time.

All too soon, however, the Magical studies lesson came to an end. While it was not exactly unusual for it to proceed well past the timetabled slot of one hour, there is surprisingly little you can do to reasonably extend a lesson whose core activity involves lobbing pillows across a small room. Still, I supposed, if I didn't have anything else to do until someone needed me somewhere then I could at least go back to bed and get in a couple hours of really hardcore snoozing.

No sooner, however, had that thought oozed its way out of my cerebrum then I felt a light hand on my shoulder. Frowning slightly, I turned to see Celes standing behind me with a small piece of heavily folded paper in her hand.

"Mmm?" my frown increased in the face of Celes' silence, "What, Celes?"

The general exhaled wearily, "I was just waiting to see if you were going to try being cordial."

"Uh, yeah; sorry, Celes," I apologised, rubbing at my sinuses, "I really haven't had enough sleep today."

"That's better," she said quietly, "I don't want to keep you long, anyway. Just…well, you asked about air support, right?"

"Hmm?" I searched my memory for the relevant conversation, and then it clicked, "Oh, right – Maranda. I heard we were required?"

"Yeah, your squadron's up," Celes shrugged, "I don't think that you'll really be necessary, but there've been mixed reports about what the Marandese have to throw at us – and some of them contain references to air power."

"I guess this is the observation job I heard about, then."

Celes had shaken her head, and wordlessly handed me the small piece of folded up paper, "You're not there to look out for enemy threats; we have people doing that already. Your job is to fly one of the reconnaissance planes with a qualified observer-"

"Terra?"

"-if you want," Celes replied shortly, "Anyway, I don't want you to get too close to anything hot, but I'll need you to be near enough to get a reasonable idea of what's going on…it's all on that bit of paper, anyway."

"What time-"

"It's all on there," she gestured to the paper, "I know you've got enough time to get some sleep, though – oh, and Firma?"

I had just been in the process of turning away, but turned back to look at her, "Yes?"

Celes favoured me with a dry smile, "Remember to wind your damn alarm clock."