Chapter 7

The inn of Radiant Garden was much like any other building in the town. It was a wooden longhouse that was larger than most other homes, but no larger than the stone structures. The front half was a tavern, where local men drank ale and exchanged stories. Round the back were spare rooms for travellers, as well as for Master Trepe and his daughter.

Master Trepe was a wealthy merchant who had travelled throughout many lands and over the great sea. It was said that he had returned seven years ago with a baby girl in his arms and had never travelled again. He instead settled into the life of a tavern owner. Rumours had spread wildly about the origin of his daughter. Some said that she was the offspring of a whore, while other claimed it wasn't even his own flesh and blood. Whatever the story was, Master Trepe never said and Quistis remained his sole heir. She would inherit the inn when her father passed into the next life.

The inn was as lively on this night as it was every night. From a group of drunkards singing rowdily on one side, to a group of older men leaning forward in deep conversation in another, to a lone traveller who sat eating near the back in a dark corner. However, underneath a table beside the door to the private chambers sat a group of very different guests. Quistis ducked back under the table, her hands filled with a large tankard, the golden liquid splashing over her hands as she hurried for cover. She placed it in the centre of the circle of children, who grinned happily.

"I was nearly caught," the little blonde announced, letting the group know just how much trouble she'd nearly gotten into to get their prize.

"Then you should have the first drink as a reward," Ellone announced from opposite her. She unclipped the brooch that held her dark red cloak in place, the heat from fire in the centre of the room getting to her. "And Wendy will make sure to tell an extra special story tonight."

Quistis grinned, taking a deep sip from the cup, pleased with the honour of going first. She then passed the tankard to Wendy, entitled to go second in her role as story teller. It was a fair trade; Quistis stole some cider for them and Wendy told them all a story, and her stories were always worth the risk of getting caught drinking what they shouldn't be. Wendy passed the cider to Ellone, the eldest there.

It was normally cider they stole, but occasionally Master Trepe's stock would run dry and they would have to wait for barrels to be traded from a town up stream. During these times they would settle for Mead, though not as delicious as cider, the children still enjoyed the sweet taste. They had discovered that if they shared a couple of tankards of the honey brew, that their heads quickly became light. Still, it was better than ale. When they had once sent Zell to steal some mead, he had returned with ale and the children found an instant dislike for the bitter, hoppy drink.

"An extra special story…" Wendy mused. Her light brown hair was as short as Ellone's, cut a month ago in an attempt to imitate her friend. Apparently her parents had been furious, but they dared not point a finger at their chief's daughter.

Ellone passed him the drink and Squall finally got to take a sip before passing it onto Irvine.

"Gaiwan of the West," Wendy finally announced before looking round the circle. "Will Zell join us?"

The group of friends shook their heads. Zell was the only one missing in their group tonight, but it didn't seem to bother the young storyteller who, without so much as a shrug, ploughed into her story.

"Gaiwan was the eldest son of a poor farmer. He lived on the western coast, by the great Atlantic sea…"

(&)

Elsewhere in the tavern other stories were being told. These stories were exchanged between grown men about the recent events in their lands. However, they were not necessarily any truer in content than little Wendy's epic tale of love and revenge. A farmer sat with his two good friends gossiping- though they would never admit it, gossiping was done between housewives who had too much time on their hands- while his son sat by his side, listening intently.

"I do not care what men say, no army could destroy the Holy City in one night. There are demons involved, you mark my words." The speaker was the eldest man at the table, an old leather worker.

The farmer laughed. "Mark your words, Gaeleg? You claim demons are the cause of all your misfortunes."

"Then tell me Ennes, what army could cause Zanarkand to fall in one night with no warning? Those Zankardan guards are not to be taken lightly. Twice the size of normal men, they are."

The third man laughed. "You listen to too many fanciful stories. They are fearsome and strong- the Lord Jechthad muscles larger than any man I've ever seen- but twice the size of normal men? Perhaps through a child's eyes."

"And I suppose you would know, Thomas?"

Thomas took a large gulp from his ale. "I would know better than you, old man. I, at least, have seen them. My caravan regularly, did regularly, visit the city to trade."

The men leaned towards him eagerly, the son's eyes sparkling with curiosity, but it was his father who spoke.

"When were you last there?"

"Two weeks past."

"Was there trouble brewing?"

Thomas laughed. "Not at all, no indication of its coming doom. Lord Jecth's wife had even recently given birth, supposedly to a boy."

"Ha!" Gaeleg sounded victorious. "There you are. The heir ruined someone's chance of inheritance, so they took it by force."

Thomas scoffed. "So they could lord over a crumbling city of corpses?"

The old man fixed him with an intense stare. "Men do strange things when they feel cheated."

"Enough for sacrilege?" Ennes sounded doubtful. "And how would the man raise an army to destroy the city without anyone noticing?"

The paranoid man slammed his tankard on the table, raising his voice. "I've told you: demons."

Several people looked round and his friends hushed him. Thomas spoke in a low voice no doubt to clam the man. "But even so, it makes no sense. Lord Jecth is merely the lord of the guard, not the city. He may be the leader of the council, but he does not have free reign."

Ennes snorted. "Strange way to lead."

The merchant shrugged. "It suits a city and land to which many lay claim."

For the first time, Ennes' son, Cullen, spoke up.

"What about the boy?"

His father's eyes snapped to him. "What boy?"

"The one found in the ditch, on the town outskirts."

Ennes seemed to lose interest in the matter. "What of him?"

"I hear he is being seen to away from the other patients, inside the chief's own home."

"Sounds like our chief."

"Did he take in the other children?"

"No," Ennes was forced to admit, "but they died."

Thomas stepped in to explain the matter more clearly.

"The Leonharts are kind, good people with a soft spot for children. They will not let one die if they can help it. We could not ask for a better chief."

The men cheered and smashed their tankards together in a toast before drinking deeply. Once Cullen had lowered his drink, he tried again.

"But what will they do with the boy once he has recovered?"

However, Gaeleg seemed to have grown tired of the subject. "No doubt give him to the temple to become a novice. What does one small boy matter when we have our borders to worry about? We have not seen the last of those demons that sacked the Holy City."

For once Thomas nodded in agreement, choosing not to comment on the 'demon' part.

"We are entering dark times. Have you heard of the trouble stirring in Dalmasca?"

"Another army?" Ennes guessed.

"Not yet. The king is dying and the crown prince is young, not much older than our own princess. They fear an over-zealous family will see their chance take control from the royals."

Gaeleg waved a dismissive hand. "What does it matter to us? Let Dalmasca deal their own problems, we have plenty of our own."

(&)

The worries of the great kingdom were not so far away for some.

Half a day's ride from the capital was a crossroad at which two mounted chocobos stood. On one, a dark haired boy sat before his minder. The child crossed his arms over his chest, looking none too happy about the situation.

"I want to stay," the child repeated stubbornly.

On top of the other chocobo, the father sighed. "We have been over this a hundred times; I need you to stay out of harm's way." His expression softened a little. "It will only be for a week, perhaps two, then I will come for you. The city needs to calm down and Prince Reks to be on the throne before you can return."

"I can help you."

The father smiled down at the boy. "Not this time. People will try to use you against me and then I will have to work against our king." Seeing that his son was still not convinced, he tried another tack. "I would have thought that you would be glad to see your friend again."

"I am," and then the child's eye lit up, successfully distracted. "He won't expect me to be coming. I will have to think of a great way of surprising him." He grinned up at his father.

"Just stay out of trouble."

"I don't look for trouble, trouble just finds me."

The man chuckled. "And you wonder why I am sending you away." He looked up to the minder sitting behind his son. "Thank you."

The woman frowned back at him. "I do not do this for you, knight, I do this for our king and crown prince. I am not happy about being reduced to the role of wet nurse."

He knew this already. Bow had made her feelings on the matter very clear to anyone who would listen. It was a shame, as she was a happy woman was normally, full of life. However, this tedious task that she had been assigned to had taken its toll and sent her into a foul mood. She would recover soon enough.

"I am aware of your feelings. Do you have the letter?"

She reached into the dark folds of her cloak, pulling out a thin roll of parchment, a red seal locking it shut.

"What makes you think he will accept your request?"

It was a reasonable question, but it also showed a lack of any knowledge on the man in question.

"Because he is a good man, and even if he does not accept the request, his son will change his mind. Just keep my son safe."

"I will." She shifted in her seat, taking a firmer hold of the reigns. "When I return I expect to see Prince Reks as king and the traitors dead or imprisoned."

The man straightened. "I swear, on my honour as a knight of Dalmasca, that when you return the rightful heir will be on the throne." He turned back to his son. "Stay safe."

The boy thumbed his chest. "I swear by my honour as a son of a knight of Dalmasca," he imitated his father's words, with a little effort. "…at least I will try."
"We should move." Bow said, turning the chocobo down the road leading away from their home.

She gave the knight one last nod before kicking the giant bird into a sprint. He watched them go, till they were no more than a speck in the distance. His face shifted, becoming grim. The next few weeks were going to be very difficult.

(&)

At another crossroad, less north but further east, three other mounted men sat waiting. However, these men rode horses, not chocobos. It was a matter that plagued the mind of one of them. Kain frowned at the fourth horse whose reigns he held, its rider in the nearby village. His face was exposed to the world as they travelled light, minimal armour and minimal weight to drag down their journey, which meant he had had to leave his helmet in Shinra. Even Firion only carried his bow and quiver with him. He turned to the man in question.

"Would it not be best if we sold the horses? The further west we travel, the more attention they will attract."

Firion didn't seem bothered by the notion. "It does not matter. We are not operating under stealth. Walking round would take too long, unless you would rather ride an overgrown chicken. I am sure Cecil would not object."

At the description of the alternative mode of transport Kain stiffened. Him? On an overgrown chicken? His pride wouldn't take it. He tilted his head towards the other man, silently conceding the point.

The master of arms smiled, knowing he'd won, and turned back to look at the village.

"If Cecil does not appear soon, I will be forced to leave without any parting words."

"Do you ride to Dalmasca?" Kain asked.

Firion nodded. "Yes, I have a missive from the Lord Sephiroth to friends of his in the city. They may be able to assist us, otherwise my companion and I will search the city."

"A difficult task, I hear it is a large city."

"Far larger than Shinra, but I hope to have help."

Kain nodded, and something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He let himself smile.

"Finally, Cecil appears."

They turned to see the Lord approaching; the cloth that normally covered his face had been pulled down. The dark knight had taken to doing this when speaking with the Celts. He'd noticed that his strange dress made them uneasy and his hidden face made him daunting, so he uncovered his face to put them at ease. Kain didn't see the point, but then, that was Cecil: too kind for his own good. Still, it worked, and it was why they had all changed into their Celtic clothes. Horses were one thing, but drawing attention to oneself needlessly in the towns was another; they did want to find the child eventually. The task would be a lot harder if no one would talk to them.

Kain called out to his friend as he drew close, noticing the bundle in Cecil's hand.

"Cecil! What took you so long?"

The dark knight swung up onto his horse and unwrapped the bundle. The three other men leaned in to get a better look as he lifted up the object enough for them to see. Kain blinked in surprise. It was…

"…a dress?" Firion voiced his surprise. He looked up at his friend. "You do realise that dresses are women's clothing?"

Kain burst out laughing at the slightly hurt look on Cecil's face.

"Of course I know."

This made Kain laugh harder. "This is a new side to you that I never knew. Perhaps I shall see you as the heroine the next time I see go to the Noh theatre."

Firion bent over his horse laughing. Cecil sent his friends an annoyed look, trying to hide his own amusement.

"It's for Rosa, not me. I doubt she will wear anything from Shinra."

Kain shock his head, letting his laugh die down. He should have known.

Firion's companion had his own comment to add though. "You are too kind to the woman. You should tell her that if she refuses to wear what she is given, then she can wear nothing at all."

Firion's amusement evaporated, his eyes snapping to his travelling companion. "Start riding, Kuroki."

Kuroki's jaw clenched, noting the manner in which his companion addressed him, without title or honorific, a blatant disrespect. Kain mentally dared him to say something, but the boy's mouth remained firmly shut as he spun his horse round and rode away.

"I am sorry."

Cecil shook his head, repacking the dress. "There is no need to apologise." He turned to tie his bundle to the saddle. "Perhaps no need for your companion to apologise either."

"He is the son of a country lord; he has no right to speak to you in such a manner."

"No, but he only says what others are thinking."

At least Kain could rest his mind on one matter; his friend was no fool.

"I should follow him. I hope one of us is successful."

"We have a dozen groups across this land, one of us will find him." Cecil reassured Firion.

The master of arms smiled back. "Let us hope it is one of us. May your lives be free of Chaos."

"May your life be free if Chaos," Kain echoed, but in his heart he doubted the farewell would come true.

Firion spun his horse round and galloped after his young companion, leaving behind the two friends to truly begin their search for the sacrifice.


Noh- For those who don't know, it's a traditional form of play in Japan. The men play both male and female parts, which is what Kain jokes about Cecil playing the heroine after he buys a dress.

Lack of honorific- I know it's more to do with intimacy and that's why it's unwelcome to not use a honorific if you aren't very close, but I'm taking a little artist licence here.


Hey guys, it'd be nice to know what you guys think of this, constructive critism included in that.

I pormise something will start happening soon.