Isaac took his seat by the campfire slowly and quietly. Only five of the six were there so far, Thomas having not yet returned from his patrol. Isaac was in between Montblanc and Carl, and, upon seeing the look on his face, neither one of them chose to ask him anything. He was still quite angry from his practise duel with Lini. He could feel a lump slowly rising on the back of his head, and every time he shook his head it hurt.
Montblanc wordlessly leaned forward to scoop some stew from its pot over the fire into a small wooden bowl for Isaac, then passed it over to him. The gunner nodded his thanks, then sat quietly sipping at it, the fire's light playing across his fur.
Lini was already seated alone on the grass, eating her own stew. She didn't even look up at Isaac as he sat down, too absorbed in her food. Isaac was determined to do the same, so he simply sat in silence.
Thomas's voice came up from behind Isaac, making his ears itch, almost.
"Well, looks like everything around here is as dead as this atmosphere," Thomas announced, walking up. He amicably placed one arm around Montblanc's shoulders, and patted Isaac on his head, directly where the lump was. Isaac choked into his stew, and spilt a bit of the scalding food onto his lap. "Oh, sorry about that, kupo," he said carelessly. "I saw your little fight with Lini there, too, Isaac. Not very impressive. You know, I thi—"
"Mr Thomas," Lini called. All five of the other moogles glanced up to see her glaring at the juggler, the fire's light dancing in her eyes. She went on. "If you intend to say that you could do better, I feel that I could do with some more practise tonight, kupo. If you don't, I would suggest that you sit down, get some food, and cease speaking."
It comforted Isaac in his painful position to feel Thomas stiffen behind him. After a moment of trying to hold his glare against the mogknight's bright eyes, he stood up straight, and walked over to the campfire, grabbing some food for himself. He took a seat next to July, and began eating in a frosty silence.
An awkward quiet reigned around the campfire for a short time. Finally, when it seemed like someone would have to explode under the pressure of the silence, July asked, "Lini, if you do not mind me asking, kupo, could you perchance tell us where it is we are headed?"
"Finally, a rational question, kupo," Lini said approvingly. "Well, if you must know, first we will be going to Baguba Port for one day, to buy any food or supplies we will need. Then, I am afraid that it is unlikely we will be in another town or city for several months, kupo. We will be going directly to Siera Gorge, where I hope to be able to use this."
With that, she reached down to her blade, and drew it out. It, much like her eyes, reflected the light of the fire perfectly, and every now and again Isaac had to shield his eyes to look at it.
"This is the greatest heirloom of my line, kupo," she explained, holding the blade with reverence. "It is known simply as the Materia Blade, and there are only two of its kind in the entire world."
"While it's beautiful and everything," Thomas drawled, "I fail to note the significance, kupo."
Casting him a glare which could have given the juggler a heartattack, she twirled the blade around, tossed it into the air, and caught it upside down by the blade, just below the hilt. She laid the actual blade across both of her hands, carefully so as not to cut them, and showed it to them so that they could see the pommel. It was masterfully crafted, and filled with such incredibly vivid detail that it shocked all of the assembled members. There was an intricate design etched into that point, going into so much detail that it made the onlookers dizzy to glance at it.
"I was glancing through a book written by one of the survivors of the previous missions to find the Avuirs," she explained. "On one page, there was a very detailed drawing of a keyhole in the base of the gorge which had been his company's stopping block. Nobody has ever found the key, until me, kupo."
"So ye're sayin' that th' blade is th' key?" Carl asked.
"Exactly," she confirmed, nodding. "Inside the gorge wall, there should either be one or both of the blades, kupo, or a clue which will lead us closer to the blades."
"And, do we know what else is waiting for us in the mountain, kupo?" Thomas asked.
"No idea, kupo. This blade and its twin have been around for hundreds of years, so somebody else has probably been in there, kupo. However, there aren't any recorded histories."
"Great, kupo," the juggler muttered. "This sounds like it's going to be just a barrel of laughs."
"Thom," Carl said, standing up suddenly and looking over at him. "I'm thinkin' it's time we start trainin', kupo."
"But I'm not done eating, kupo!" Thomas protested.
"Too bad, ye sh'd eat faster, kupo," the gadgeteer shrugged. "Come along, then."
Grumbling, Thomas followed the older juggler out of the camp. As soon as they were gone, Lini asked July, "How many tents are there, kupo?"
"We have three in total, kupo," the animist replied. "Each built for two."
"Alright, kupo, in that case, you and I will share one," she glanced over to Isaac and Montblanc, then went on, "Montblanc, you're with Carl, and Isaac, I want you to share with Thomas."
"Kupopo!" Isaac demanded, glaring at her.
She looked over at him, and her eyes flashed as they had when she'd spoken with Thomas. "Do you have any complaints?"
Much like Thomas, Isaac tried to hold that gaze with her. He was stronger than Thomas, and if he could hold out where Thomas had failed, this would prove it. He stared into those hard, reflective eyes, and denied himself the privellige of looking away. He had to stare at her, had to… to win. It couldn't be that hard…
His eyes lowered, and his teeth gritted against each other. He couldn't see the look on Lini's face, and he realized he didn't want to see it. He wanted to imagine the smug look that was there. He wanted to believe she was thinking to herself how good she was. He needed to believe that.
Slowly, he looked back up at that face, and saw no happiness, no anger, no sadness. They were emotionless.
Isaac put his empty soup bowl down, stood up, and walked very quickly out of the camp.
As soon as he left, Montblanc looked over to Lini pleadingly. Sighing, she told him, "Go."
The mage nodded, then ran after the gunner.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
"Isaac!"
Isaac barely glanced back to look at the mage, simply shaking his head, and saying, "Go away, kupo."
"Oh, come on, Isaac!" Montblanc yelled ahead to him. He ran up beside him, and slowed down to Isaac's pace, breathing heavily. "What's wrong?"
"I never should have come," he replied simply, shrugging.
"I thought we had gone over this, kupo," Montblanc half-laughed, half-gasped. "So you can't kill a few dozen people at a time! It's not that big of a deal."
"It's not just that I can't, kupo," Isaac replied.
"Then what is it?"
"It's that I won't kill people," he replied. "I'm not the right person for this kind of mission."
"Nobody said that we would be killing anybody, kupo!" Montblanc said, shaking his head. "It's not like we're going to have to assassinate somebody or anything, kupo."
"And how do you know that?" Isaac asked, looking over to him. "How do you know that somebody doesn't already have one of the Avuirs, and if we want to reclaim them, we'll have to kill that person?"
Montblanc opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, "I don't…"
"And what would you do in that situation, Montblanc?" Isaac asked, nearly laughing from his bitterness. "Would you be able to kill that person because they did something faster than you, kupo? I'm not like you!"
"Isaac," Montblanc laughed, shaking his head. "That's not the true problem, and we both know it."
"Then what is the problem, kupo?"
"You and Thomas," Montblanc replied easily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, that does make up a small part of it, kupo…" Isaac admitted.
"I honestly don't understand how it is the two of you don't get along, kupo," the Black mage sighed, shaking his head.
"Could it be because we're polar oppostites?"
"No," Montblanc laughed again. "You're not. You're both just… so stubborn."
"How?" he demanded.
"I talked a bit with Thomas today, and he doesn't seem like that bad of a guy. The two of you seem to just… bring out the worst in each other, kupo."
"Are you kidding?" Isaac demanded, staring at him. "How am I similar in any way to that wanker?"
"The way you talk, kupo," Montblanc offered, and began ticking his list off on his fingers, "your senses of humour, a lot of your nervous habits, the way you're both so defensive about people you care about, you're both so down to earth, you…"
"Are we talking about the same moogle here, kupo?" the gunner asked, incredulous.
"I guess what I'm trying to ask, in the end, is," all of a sudden, Montblanc's eyes became piercing, and he focused his gaze directly on Isaac. "What happened between the two of you?"
Isaac looked on in absolute shock at Montblanc for a second, then his face cycled through several different emotions: fear, sadness, hopelessness, and finally, anger. The gunner said, very clearly, "Shove off and leave me alone, kupo."
"Not until I get an answer."
"Stop acting so high and mighty!" he yelled at the Black mage, finally snapping. "I have no reason to obey you, and you have no right to ask those kinds of questions, kupo. You try to make it seem like you've got everything together and figured out, but you don't! If you did, you would've found something better to do other than just follow Marche around as his personal assistant! At least I've got my life figured out enough that I know where it's going, but you can't say that, and you never will. If you want, you can keep acting as the second in command pet to the great Marche Radiuju, magically killing anybody he asks you to blindl—"
A sudden rush of flames shot out from Montblanc's quivering hands, and knocked Isaac over and back onto his rump. The moogle glanced up in fear at the Black mage, and found him standing over him. Both of his hands were wreathed in flames, and his eyes were even harder than before, slicing straight through Isaac.
"I have only ever killed one man in my entire life, Isaac," the Black mage informed him coolly, "and I used no Black magic for that, kupo. He died with my hands around his neck." The mage stopped suddenly, and took several deep breaths. The flames around his paws slowly died down into nothingness, and then the moogle bent over, and grabbed Isaac by the front of his shirt. His hands were still hot to the touch. "And if you ever call me a murderer because of it, I promise that I won't show any restraint, kupo."
With that, he dropped Isaac, and walked stiffly away.
Isaac stared at the mage's back as he left, and gulped. He considered going after Montblanc, but decided against it. Thez both needed some time to cool off, it seemed. He leaned back instead, and stared at the stars for a short time.
He remained there for probably about half an hour, before finally deciding to go back to the camp and going to sleep. Hopefully, he'd be able to get back and get to sleep before Thomas arrived.
Everybody else in the camp had already retired to their tents from the look of things. One already had a blade hanging by the entrance, so it must have been Lini's, and the other was illuminated from within by a wavering light. Figuring this was Montblanc practising some sort of magic or another, Isaac headed over to the final tent, and ducked in. He glanced about the very basic and simple surroundings, and sighed. Home, for a few months at least. He slung his bag down on one half of the little space, and rummaged around in it until he found his bedroll.
He was just laying his head down to sleep when Thomas ducked in through the entrance. He took one glance at Isaac, and muttered, "Oh crap, kupo."
"Tell me about it," Isaac grumbled back.
Thomas shook his head, and flung himself onto the bare ground, saying, "Fine, you stay on that side, kupo, and if you even touch me during the night, I promise I'll cut off the offending body part."
"Yes, because I'd want to touch you, kupo…" Isaac replied, yawning.
Thomas muttered some sort of reply that Isaac didn't catch, then reached for his knives. He glanced over to Isaac, and asked, "I still need to do my throwing knife training, kupo. I'll be gone for about half an hour."
"Fine by me, kupo. Just don't wake me up when you come back in, or else my blade won't discriminate between body parts."
"Whatever," Thom said, walking back out into the night.
This adventure, Isaac thought to himself, closing his eyes, keeps getting worse and worse.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
Several days later, the six moogles walked into the city of Baguba Port. Baguba was an interesting city, as it never really seemed to have many outskirts. More or less, there were six or seven smaller houses, and then, you were in the middle of the sprawling, crazy city. Moogles rushing around in all directions, with the occasional viera, human, bangaa, or nu mou towering along in the mass, attempting not to have anything stolen from them or step on any moogles. The streets themselves probably would have been much less conjested, if it weren't for the fact that stalls lined each side of every street, filled with wares from lands exotic and occasionally illegal.
"Alright," Lini said, glancing at each of the members of her team. "If any of you are going to need anything for the next few months, kupo, now is the time to buy it. When we're all done, we'll be meeting at the inn of the Airborne Traveller. Any questions?"
There were none, and the six moogles departed, instantly loosing sight of each other in the overly crowded streets.
Isaac limped most of the way, cursing everytime he stepped on his left foot. He had had absolutely no time to speak with Montblanc since the incident. As Lini had promised, they had sparred every night of that incredibly long week, rain or shine. And his body was showing for it. There were bruises covering his ribs and sides, and a nasty cut on his right cheek, from where the edge of Lini's blade had rubbed during a slap with the flat. He unconsciously clenched and unclenched his left paw as he walked, feeling each of the many cramps in muscles he hadn't known he'd possessed before. His wrist hurt everytime he moved it more than about fifteen degrees, from all the reverberations caused by the blade blocks.
Of course, the gunner reflected, a thin grin coming to his face, Thomas wasn't doing too hot, either. Isaac saw the bruises on his body every night when they were getting ready to sleep, and the bags under his eyes from the exhaustion of all the fighting.
In fact, during the two other engagements the six moogles had been involved with during the past week on their way to the port, both gunner and juggler had been more or less useless for the fight. Isaac and Thomas had both found themselves incapable of using their greatest assets, guns and throwing knives, due to all of the exhaustion and aches. Thus, even in real combat, they had to resort to their melee fighting.
Of course, Lini would not allow either of them to be excused from these engagements. Oh, no, never. Even though, as Isaac and Thomas, and even one or two of the others had pointed out, the other four moogles were far more than enough for most battles. The two had to battle in reality for their skills to improve.
Isaac paused by a stall laden with bandoliers, holsters, and guns, to barter with the owner over the price of three belts of pistol ammunition. He wasn't quite sure about how fit he would be to use a gun for the next few months, but he figured he may as well keep some at hand just in case. It was better to have it and never use it than to need it and not have it. That was one thing he had certainly learned in Ivalice.
The moogle standing behind the stall finally agreed to Isaac's price, which he figured was still excessively high, and handed over the belts. Isaac thanked him, and kept walking. Occasionally, he would take a glance skyward, to watch as airships flew by overhead. There were constantly airships in the skies of Baguba, what with it being the largest port on the continent. Dozens of impossibly tall towers, sustained by magic, dotted the city, providing docks for any smaller schooners and pleasure vessels. The larger, heavier freighters and battleships docked at the main dock in the centre of the city. Back during his time on the Torrent, one of Isaac's favourite passtimes while docked was to go over to the central dock and simply watch all of the chaos going on around him. The constant sound of voices, whistles blowing and machinery tinking calmed him, somehow.
Glancing towards the sun, Isaac decided he may as well go to the Airborne Traveller. He may as well check the rumours and find out what was going on in the world.
When the gunner had finally managed to wind his way through the thick crowds and push into the popular inn, he made a beeline over to the bar. There, he waited patiently until the barmaid, a moogle who couldn't be older than fourteen, found her way over to him.
"What kin I getcha, kupo?" she asked.
"One flagon of ale, kupo." It was the unwritten laws of pubs: when seeking information, always order a flagon, first. When the frothy drink finally came, and the barmaid asked if Isaac needed anything else, he replied, "Nothing right now, kupo. But, I was wondering if you've heard any rumours, lately?"
"Sorry, hun," she said sweetly, "Gotta be more specific 'an that."
"Well, kupo…" Isaac searched his memory for any details the others had given him about their journeys. The picking was slim for Eileen and Maxwell, but Jacqueline and Ben… "How about the Cadoan Colour Tournament, kupo?"
"Ah, well, then," she replied, leaning in and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's lookin' up tuh be a mighty fine show this yea-uh, kupo. Only thing is, kupo, neithuh of last yea-uh's champions is signed up."
Isaac choked into his drink for a few moments, before glancing over to her sharply. "You mean that the Scarlet Rapier and the Blue Ninja aren't competing, kupo?"
"Why, no, sugah," she replied, shrugging. "Nevuh showed up, kupo."
"Right…" Isaac muttered. "Thanks, kupo."
With that, he pushed his way through the crowds again, sheltering his drink. He tried glancing around for any sign of his companions, but there were too many moogles for him to see. Finally, sighing in annoyance, he walked over to one table, and asked the bangaa seated there, "Would you mind if I used your table for a second, kupo?"
"Go right ahead," she replied, understanding his meaning and moving her food out of the way.
Isaac nodded his thanks, then flapped up onto the tabletop. Glancing around, he scanned all of the faces, until he saw a familiar flash of green eyes from a white furred moogle in the corner, nursing a mug of what appeared to be water. He hopped down, thanked the bangaa again, and made his way over to the table at which July was seated.
"Hello," he greeted, trying to act polite.
"Hello," she replied, barely glancing at him. "You are already done, kupo?"
"What can I say?" he shrugged. "I know this city, kupo."
"Apparently."
"Would you mind if I were to just take a quick nap, kupo?" Isaac asked, sitting down and trying to get comfortable.
"In here?" she asked incredulously, glancing around at the people all over the place.
"In here," Isaac confirmed, nodding.
"Be my guest, kupo," she said, taking a sip from her water.
Isaac nodded, then leaned back and closed his eyes. Slowly, he began relaxing his thoughts, and then delved down into that one section of the depths of his brain where he kept all of his memories of St Ivalice stored away. He began constructing a mental image of the boy who had been his friend since he was seven years old. The light blue eyes, the pony tail, the smell of animals, that constant, slightly challenging look in his eyes, the confident stride. He had never met another person who was quite as sure of himself as Ben was. Some might say that it was bordering along the side of cockiness or arrogance, but that was just a front he put up to his rivals. Ben was one of the people who Isaac both competed with, and trusted, the most in his life. The entity of the blue mage truly suited him, in many ways. Isaac could not imagine him as anythi—
Isaac's breath caught in his throat, and beneath his eyelids, his eyes halted their movement.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
He ran along the ancient treetop paths, never breaking a stride, and never hesitating. He had learned all of these old ways in his earliest times. This was where he was meant to be. This was the place he would protect with his life. The forest had given him his true powers, and now, it appeared as though it was high time that he pay back that debt. There was far too much at stake for him to fail here. He would simply have to keep working at this until he succeeded, until there was no chance of a threat ever returning. Then, he would go after her, and try to find her. There was no way that that little skirmish could have stopped her. She was definitely still out there, somewhere. Probably winning that tournament without him. Either way, she was there. He could sense her, almost touch—
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
Isaac's eyes shot open, and he took in several deep breaths, almost as though he had just held his breath for a minute straight. Once or twice he coughed, and he became dimly aware that somebody was pounding him on his back. When he finally came in control of his body again, he looked over, to see July staring at him in concern.
"Thanks," he said, nodding shakily to her and reaching for his ale.
"What was that?" she demanded. Though Isaac wasn't looking at her, he could hear the worry in her voice.
"Nothing, kupo," Isaac replied, taking a very uneven sip. "Just my own 'special power'."
"It seems quite dangerous, kupo," she said seriously. "You should be careful with that."
"Trust me, I know," the gunner muttered, shuddering. "Have any of the others shown up yet, kupo?"
"Montblanc has," she confirmed, returning to her seat, and keeping a watchful eye on him. "He is purchasing a drink."
"Alright," Isaac nodded, carefully taking another sip.
"Are you sure that you are fine, kupo?" July asked one last time.
"Positive."
Montblanc soon returned to the table, and after him, it was not long until Thomas and then Lini arrived. Finally, after the others had already finished eating a light supper, Carl arrived, informing them that he had already dined at his workshop. With that confirmation, Lini announced that they would be leaving immediately. Nobody argued, so they left without further discussion, nobody noticing the six less moogles in the city of crowds and airships.
