All of the foreign names such as San D'Oria, chocobo, etc. were taken and credited to Square-Enix's Final Fantasy XI.

-PROLOGUE-

Nine months after Yllibas set sail for Bastok.

The Kingdom of San D'Oria was bustling as always. With merchants proclaiming their 'Best prices,' and adventurers running to and fro in eager attempt to complete various tasks ranging from escorts to saving another lost baby chocobo. Another aspect of kingdom life, or in this case, life with auctions were the constant auction campers eagerly awaiting their most craved for items inside their poorly assembled tents made of crafted wooden sticks and canvas sheets.

One of the tents, standing at a height no higher than a dwarfed Hume, hardly resembled a tent. Life at the edge of the auction window was so vigorous that after a week of consistently waiting, the public living space, meant to last, which was in fact hardly meant to last at all after it's construction, was worn and torn on the top where the rain could easily sneak in and wake its unexpected homeowner. The creator of this catastrophe was still asleep, feet poking out the at the ends of his canvas layer, sticks, tightly warming in between the man's two arms replacing the traditional stuffed-goblin doll. The tent, without realization, had converted itself overnight into his sleeping quarters. The only difference between the matted-brown haired man's bed at home and the tent he slept on near the auction window was the presence of all the smiling small children giggling, throwing objects. Finally, the best feature of his outdoorsy getup was the fact that the news press did not have to leave a paper on his doorstep, but instead, they could just leave one by his feet as he slept, or better yet, drop the whole stack on top of him. That is what happened.

With a low thump, stacks of Sand'Oria's own enchanted-local newspaper, hit the sleeping man in the chest knocking him from his dreams. He grumbled and mumbled words not even the most experienced of goblin linguists could decipher. The man turned over in his "tent" and quickly accepted the invitation back to slumber but this siesta was cut short as the local Tarutaru, Hume, Elvaan, Galkan and Mithran inhabitants alike all reached down to grab a paper. There was much fuss as the readers read and even gasped in shock at the text stylishly published on the parchment.

Slowly and very slowly did the man in the tent awake. Just as the millimeters began to increase between his eyelids blindness struck him sharply but only for a moment as he laid there adjusting to the bright morning sun. Finally he noticed all around him, the bodies reading the paper and one body neared closer to him. This figure hovered above him, embodied by the light above creating a contrasting silhouette to the sun that blinded him.

"Hey!" the figure said. "Hey get up will you? Look at this Machi! Can you believe it?" The silhouette said with a shaken voice as he held out the paper for the man to see. Half conscious, lying in a broken down tent in front of the Auction House, Machiavelo groggily snatched the paper from out of the figure's grasp and analyzed the front page. The page started out as a worn, piece of old paper at first but the instant Machiavelo put it into his hands, words and screens phased into the page. The front was home to a bewitched picture of an unfamiliar place. The picture moved as if it were a live feed, a feed of a Quadav infested stronghold possessing charred stoned walls on its constructions. Just another story on the war Machiavelo thought to himself and he was correct, it was a story on the war but this one was different. Quickly he rose, sitting up now, hands tightly gripped on the edges of the newspaper appropriately named The Sand'Orian Slate. The front page headline read: "Beastmen take Bastok."

~Machi's Memoirs~

~Beginnings

Machiavelo was lost in thought. His good companions, Nico and Yllibas, they were stationed in Bastok. Holding onto the pages of The San D'Orian Slate and analyzing the words that read: 'Beastmen take Bastok" was difficult to digest. He could not believe it. What does this mean? Are his friends gone? Taken? Captured? Or Tortured!? Machiavelo sat on the windowsill in his finely crafted home within San D'Oria's residential district contemplating what could have happened.

As Machiavelo peered out the window, he could recognize a knight marching towards the property and still in his working apron; Machiavelo greeted the knight at the door. "The Prince requests your presence in the main hall Don Machiavelo," said the knight equipped with traditional Royal Knight Mail and emblem that hung scarlet on his chest.

"I'll be right over," Machi replied with a slight bow.

The sun was bright in the sky shining over the Auction House and square. Locals and adventurers alike bustled left and right, bumping, yelling, shouting, and conversing about what they usually discuss at this time of the day. The day was busy. But this was not the case within the castle.
Machiavelo was invited to see the Prince, but why he thought. What would they want with a simple carpenter?
Halver was standing by the steps leading into the main hall, as always, he would greet royal guests such as Machiavelo. The two shook hands and Machiavelo proceeded in where they met Prince Peauje for a private meeting.

"Master Machiavelo," he said. "It is truly an honor to have you here. It's not everyday I require the assistance of someone of your merit, but today, you are the only one I can count on." Peauje was dressed appropriately, like a Royal of the Kingdom of Sand D'Oria. But in contrast the Prince did not seem healthy; his voice was a slight rasp as if he was overcome with an illness. "Earlier today, you may or may not be aware, but the Republic has fallen. This is most a tragic day in the eyes of Altana. The Confederacy has pushed viciously and the forces of Bastok fought valiantly, but… the outcome was same. The Beastmen broke the Great Seal within the mines and from within, the Hume city has fallen…"

Machiavelo broke in and cut off the royal speech. "How can the seal be broken? Months ago you sent San D'Oria's greatest smiths and troops to help re-enforce it. Those craftsmen were my students, those troops were my friends! How could they have failed?" Machiavelo was angry at the disappointing news he knew he was going to hear and there was no way of preventing the emotional explosion.

After a short intermission between words the Prince spoke again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you must miss your friends as I miss my brother but that is why I fight and do the things I do. With my father lurking ever so closer and closer to the heavens…It is difficult to keep on. But Don Machiavelo, this is a time of need… what I tell you hear is top secret…Tonight I will address the people. As the last eligible member of the Royal Family, I will send the Kingdom down a path of glory! I will declare war against the Beastmen forces and with that, eradicate them from our borders. Yes, we were already sending troops to assist Bastok, but now, it will be different, mobilization of the Royal Knights and Temple Knights in addition to the Reserve has begun. The Construction of the new fronts are being readied as we speak. San D'Oria will be the savior of Vana'diel. I ask you, will you be there tonight when I address the people? I need your support Don Machiavelo."

Machiavelo was shocked at what he had just heard. The Prince? Authorizing a full war front for San D'Oria? "Prince, San D'Oria has not participated in a full scale war for several years. We do not have enough troops and you have seen what has happened to the Republic; if we do this we cannot do it alone."

"A council held in Jeuno is being prepared for the near future. Once again… the Allied Forces of Altana will unite. Except… we will be banded together under the crimson flag of San D'Oria; you will see. If you love this kingdom, you will support me will you not?"

"You've gone mad… I will not support your decision. If you want to do something then go send a team to Bastok and find my friends! What your doing is not helping the Kingdom, your sending us to our deaths!" Machi paused as the grin of Nico appeared in his mind next to the cheering face of Yllibas. "I will not lose anymore of my friends to this cause, no more!" Machiavelo stormed out of the hall.

"You are turning your back on your own people!" The Prince grew furious and shook his fist at Machiavelo. "Do not walk away when you are spoken to!"

Machiavelo returned to his home. And shut the door, not only to his house but to the Kingdom he once believed in.

The moonlight lit the night sky and the Kingdom was a hue of blue. The residential district was quiet and still, the northern walls rang with no vibration, the cathedral was a soft hum, the port was closed and the fishermen were all done with their shifts. All was still and quiet… but far south, the bustle and cheering of the people could be heard from the plateau beyond. The Prince was making his speech to the people.

The oak home of Machiavelo was quiet and dark in and out. A shadowy hooded figure silently made its way up on top of the roof. In an instant, the shadow made it inside of the home, but created no such sound a Hume could hear. Inching closer and closer towards the hallway, the shadow peered left and right searching. Door after door, the shadow searched. But finally, the last door opened quietly revealing a dark room that held a beautifully crafted bed. Within the blankets and sheets was a bulge as if a person were sleeping. The shadow figure slowly creped its way near the foot of bed and stood over it. It raised its head in satisfaction and with a whisper the bed was aflame along with everything else in the house.

Outside of the gates, away from the festivities, away from the crime and controversy, the brilliant scarlet chocobo and its matching master made their way through the forests of Ronfaure and towards La Theine Plateau.

-Machi's Memoirs