"Tell me about your past, Isaac," Lini said casually, while she smashed the flat of her blade into the small of his back.

It was around a week after the six moogles had left Baguba port. Isaac and Lini had, as the mogknight promised, sparred every single night. Quite often, the two would quite simply remain quiet during this time, aside from when Lini instructed that they would switch roles from attack to defence. Thus, this small statement caught him off-guard.

Currently laying with his stinging back on the hard, rocky terrain, Isaac muttered, "Why do you want to know, kupo?"

"I like to get to know all of my party-members a bit better than most people, kupo," Lini explained, tapping her foot impatiently. "And don't think that you can use this as an excuse to quit attacking."

Sighing, Isaac stood back up, and pressed the attack. Between his pants, the gunner began speaking. "Well, there's not terribly much to tell, kupo."

"Then tell me what there is," Lini requested, not even breaking a sweat as she parried blow after blow. "I already know about everything since you started working with that airship captain from my own information, but anything before then seems to be strangely lacking." Isaac nodded, only slightly creeped out by the amount of information she'd already amassed, and began speaking. He and his four friends had long since made up their back stories in this world, and thought through them enough to make them believable. "I was born on a relatively small country across the sea. There was always lots of conflict, kupo, and one time, my friends' and my own parents decided to send us off to Ivalice to protect us. We were on the airship over, when it got attacked by pirates. There was a lot of chaos, kupo, and the five of us got separated. I got captured by the pirates, and worked on their ships for a few years as a slave. Then, during one battle, I got knocked off the edge of the ship. I got caught by the crew of Captain Rolf Tink of the Torrent, kupo, and worked there for a while. I landed pretty hard when I fell, so I've still got quite a bit of amnesia."

Lini considered this for a moment, parrying each of his blows without the slightest difficulty. Finally, she declared, "You're lying, kupo."

Isaac's breath caught in his breath in surprise, and he stumbled forward in what was supposed to be a thrust. Lini casually sidestepped him, and laid the edge of her blade along the back of his neck as he hit the ground.

"You're lying," she repeated.

"Why do you say that, kupo?" he demanded, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"If your reaction hadn't been a perfect indicator beforehand, kupo," she muttered, "I'd say that it was the complete lack of emotion with which you talked about the pirate attack."

"It was a long time ago," Isaac replied, though he knew his cover was blown. "I don't remember much from my amnesia, kupo…"

"That kind of an event would still terrify you to this day, kupo," Lini stated. She sighed, then reached down and picked him up off the ground. Replacing him on his feet, she continued. "Nobody forgets that sort of thing, no matter how bad your 'amnesia' is."

"What would you know of it, kupo?"

"Nothing. But if you want, you could ask your friend Montblanc about it," she informed him, at the same time gesturing that he should press the attack again. Metal began ringing out in the summer twilight, echoing off the rocks around them. "Now, why is it that you won't tell me about your past, kupo?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Isaac demanded.

"Because there are only two reasons why somebody would hide their past so well that even I couldn't discover it, kupo: Firstly, that it is so painful, you wish to no longer be reminded of it. In this case, it could become a hindrance in this quest. Or, there is the possibility that your past is veiled in darkness, kupo, and you have committed indescribable atrocities which you wish to cover up. Then, kupo, I would have to question whether you should be on this team."

Isaac laughed slightly, even though his blade had just been solidly blocked again. "Neither of the above, kupo. My past is just a bit… complicated."

"Explain it to me," she requested.

"Honestly, I just can't. You wouldn't get it, kupo."

Suddenly, Isaac felt Lini block his blade, then give a slight twist with her own weapon. His blade flew up out of his hands, and the familiar flat side of Lini's blade smashed into his face. Isaac hit the ground several metres away just as the mogknight caught his blade from its fall.

"In that case," she muttered, "tell me about your friends."

That was easy. Isaac began speaking, telling her about his relationships with each of his friends. He put special effort into describing how powerful they were, wanting, for some reason, to impress her. However, she simply remained impassive throughout his descriptions, dodging and blocking with a reflective look on her face.

When he was finally done, Lini didn't even have to wait, before she produced her next question: "So how does Thomas factor into this, kupo?"

"That…" he muttered, "is even more complicated than explaining my past, kupo."

"Try."

Realising that he would never be able to avoid her, Isaac finally asked her, "If I tell you a little bit about me and Thomas, will you not ask me about it again?"

Lini considered, and finally consented, nodding her head slightly.

"Alright," Isaac sighed, shaking his head. "Thomas and I are, in our interests at least, kupo, complete opposites. I've always spent as much of my time around machines, and trying to get along with my friends. Thomas is just so… smart, kupo. Faster than me, too. But he's never really made many friends. He just… doesn't get it, kupo."

"And yet," Lini remarked, sidestepping him again, "the two of you are quite similar in your mannerisms."

"I guess that that's true, kupo," Isaac muttered. The two of them had definitely been the most reckless students in their classes at school. Always trying new things. But that didn't make things easier between them. No, it always set the two of them against each other all the more. Made them competitors.

A blow to his ribs shocked Isaac out of his reverie, as he went over backwards. He landed hard, and spent several moments gasping to fill his lungs. Eventually, Lini's slightly blurry face appeared in front of his vision, and her voice called out to him.

"That's enough for today, kupo. Go and get some rest. We should be reaching the first stop on our journey tomorrow."

With that, she left. Isaac listened from his position on the ground while her footsteps receded. Finally, he pushed himself up and off of the ground, coughing several times from the exertion. When he was finally on his feet, Isaac staggered slowly back towards their campsite. He could dimly see the light of the dying campfire before him, glittering off of the mountainous terrain. They could see the great expanses of the Siena Gorge, and all through the day, they could see the slight, soft yellow glow of amber.

Approaching, Isaac noticed somebody sitting by the fire. Deciding that he didn't quite want to go to sleep yet, he started heading towards the smoky remains of the fire, and away from the small ring of three tents. Eventually, the slightly bent form of Carl came into view in the fire's light, small rings of smoke leaving his lips. Isaac picked up the view of a small pipe in his hands, etched and notched.

"How's th' trainin'?" the gadgeteer asked as he sat down.

"It could be going a lot better, kupo," Isaac supplied, pulling off his fingerless gloves and exposing his hands to the heat.

"Cold, kupo?"

"My hands always get a bit cold after a lot of fighting," Isaac explained, shrugging. "Worse when I'm using my blade than my gun, kupo."

"Fightin' wit' Lini's 'nough teh make anyone's blood run cold, kupo," Carl laughed, shaking his head. "I shud know."

Glancing at him in curiosity, Isaac asked, "Since when have you been smoking, kupo?"

"Few weeks?" he shrugged, and to accentuate the point, began hacking and wheezing.

"Only a few weeks, kupo?" the gunner demanded. "And you can already blow smoke rings?" "Wha' kin I say?" he shrugged, taking another puff. "Me father showed me how when I was a kid, kupo. He said, 'I ain't got much more teh live fer, so I'll enjoy what I got left!'" He shook his head, and let the smoke slowly sneak by his lips. "I fin'ly 'nderstand what 'e said."

"You understand it, kupo?" Isaac said, continuing his work as an echo to the older moogle. "I don't think that I'll ever understand that."

"You will, kupo," Carl promised. "Righ' now, yeh're still pure. Don' gemme wrong. Yeh're better'n more pure than most. But wait a few years, kupo, 'till yeh've felt some loss." He sighed, and overturned his pipe. The cherry-red lined wad of tobacco fell out to the ground, where his foot stamped its life away. "Keep yer friends close, Isaac," he counselled.

"And my enemies, kupo?" Isaac asked, figuring that that would be coming next.

Carl was silent to that question. Then, he finally went on, whispering, "Two options with 'em. One, make sure they ain't yer enemies any more. An' then there's option two, kupo."

"Which is?"

"Kill 'em," Carl said, giving him a piercing look. "Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, overbalancing backwards slightly. He pin wheeled his arms to keep balance, and leaned back forward to listen. "If they're still 'live," Carl muttered, staring into the fire, now no more than embers, "they kin still hurt you, 'n' hurt yer friends."

Isaac wanted to say something. He really did. However, his mouth wouldn't move from its place, dropped open.

"I'm tired," Carl announced. "I'm headin' teh bed. G'night."

The gunner didn't move in the slightest while the gadgeteer walked away, simply staring at the dying embers. He shuddered once, not from the cold, and pulled his gloves back on. Deciding to call it a night, he headed back to the tent.

Stepping through the flap, Isaac's eyes just barely made out the sleeping form of Thomas, lying next to his own bedroll. A vision flashed across Isaac's mind for a moment, one of Rolf falling to the deck, a knife in his back.

"They can still hurt you, and hurt your friends…" he whispered.

Thomas was helpless, lying there unconscious, and his blade was lying so invitingly on his hip. Isaac himself didn't realise that he was reaching for it until he felt the cold touch of metal on his fingers. He stared down at the offending digits.

Then, before he could rethink the decision, his fingers worked at the clasp of his belt. He pulled the thing off, with his blade attached, and tossed it unceremoniously out of the tent. Shaking, he threw himself into his bedroll, and turned his head away from the juggler's form.

Closing his eyes, he tried as hard as he could to not think about that blade, lying on the cold earth outside.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the six moogles awoke, they prepared a cold breakfast, and then set off. Despite their differences, the experienced adventurers had learned how to adapt to each other's abilities and movement patterns, making the setting up and taking down of camps a very quick and simple procedure. Everybody dealt with their own tents, and then Isaac and Carl would gather up cooking equipment while Lini and Thomas destroyed the tracks of their existences. Montblanc would feel through his magical connections with the elements all of the weather about them, and July prepared their rations for the day. In the evenings, Montblanc and Carl would handle the cooking, each one proving to be surprisingly good at it. Isaac and Lini normally set up the tents, both being slightly more physically strong the others. Thomas did scouting and occasional hunting, and July tended to the fire.

The dawn that day was slightly more brilliant than usual, the sunlight being helped along by the glow of amber coming from the Siena Gorge. They were travelling in their normal procession, Isaac bringing up the rear. Despite the fact that they had barely run into anybody during their few weeks together, both Isaac and July kept up constant vigilance. If Lini suspected otherwise, the two of them shuddered to think what would happen. Probably something involving a new fur coat.

At about noon, the six reached the edge of the gorge, and made the descent. Fortunately, a zigzagging path had long ago been carved into the rock, leading down deeper and deeper into the canyon. General rumour and folk-lore said that it was orginally formed by the five Totema during their searches for the Gods. As amber was a well-known holder of ancient power and energies, it was assumed that there would be some clue hidden with the massive stores of the substance found within the gorge… Whoa, Isaac thought suddenly, shaking his head. Where did all of that come from!? He had definitely not known that a moment ago. It was just as he was stepping down into this deep canyon that the knowledge had flowed back to him from some unknown source.

"Thomas, yeh doing alrigh'?" asked a voice ahead.

Isaac glanced up, and saw that Thomas had suddenly stopped walking, shaking his head hard. Carl was staring at him in concern, but the juggler quickly stood up straight again, and declared, "I'm fine. Just a headache, kupo." He probably just went through the same thing I did… Isaac thought, a certain melancholy accompanying the realisation. They were both in the same situation in this world. Both were constantly remembering things they had never known without warning.

Without more discussion, the six continued walking along.

The hard terrain was slightly hilly, but otherwise, quite plain. Very sparse vegitation dotted the area; no more than tiny bushes and shrubs could grow in such irregular sunlight. Good enough cover, if it came to a fight. Not quite as much as Isaac would have liked, but enough.

Isaac stiffened, one of his ears twitching. Not even stopping to consider, he whispered, "July?"

Without breaking stride, the animist's voice drifted quietly back to him. "Where, kupo?"

"Back left."

The six went on for a few more moments, before July replied, "I hear it. And one directly to the right, kupo."

"You all know the signal," Lini whispered, taking control. "Montblanc, kupo, you're in the middle. Carl, cover July. Isaac and Thomas, stay on opposite sides and cover rangers, kupo."

All the moogles' paws slowly went to hilts or handles. Carl tightened a fist, the action causing blades to grow from his gloves. Montblanc's voice was barely audible, whispering something.

Metal scraped off of a sheath, and a judgepoint disintegrated. Weapons came out on all sides, and the moogles quickly pulled themselves into a circle around Montblanc. Lini's voice called out, hard and clear.

"Whoever you are out there! Show yourselves now, kupo, or suffer the wrath of Lini the Mogknight!"

There was a moment of silence. Both Isaac and Thomas knew what it meant, and within a moment, both sent off several missiles to knock arrows from the sky. Isaac heard the juggler behind him drawing a melee knife, and a few quick steps. Probably picking off a few closer attacks.

There were several more moments of silence after this, when finally, a voice replied to Lini's challenge. It was low, masculine, and confident.

"Well, 'Lini the Mogknight'," the voice said mockingly, and Isaac heard Lini mutter a few dirty words under her breath. "If we have offended you, we apologize. Show yourselves, boys!"

From the rocky protrusions appeared about a dozen clanners. All of them were obviously skilled and experienced, from both their equipment and the condition of their bodies. Scars adorned every figure, some so dramatically that they looked no more than a bunch of stiches held together by occasional bits of clear skin.

The leader himself was very obvious. A young man with well cared for brown hair, and two blades strapped to his back. The weapons showed Isaac that he was a fighter by class, and the very large muscles that he was good. A certain bounce about his gait gave the gunner the impression that this man could simply spring into violent action at any moment.

"Eric…" Lini hissed under her breath.

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, surprised to see such a violent reaction from the normally cool-headed moogle.

"Good to know that you haven't forgotten about me," the young man called back. He looked and sounded to be around twenty or older.

"I had hoped that we wouldn't be meeting, kupo," Lini called back.

"Now that was quite rude!" he replied, pretending to be offended. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Eric, why are you here, kupo?"

"A little birdy told me that you were going after the Avuirs, Lini," he called back, a grin crossing his face. "Now, you weren't thinking about going after them without me, were you?"

"Do you still believe that you have a right to those blades, kupo?" she demanded, tilting her head slightly.

"Of course. More right than you, certainly," he shrugged. "The blades were originally wielded by Gaol…"

"Oh please, kupo," Carl whispered from Lini's other side. "Does 'e still b'lieve he's th' d'scendant oh Gaol?"

"Apparently," Lini replied, gritting her teeth with annoyance. "It does nothing to improve his ego, either, kupo."

"Oh, Carl's here too, then?" Eric called across to them. "What a surprise. Especially after…"

"Please lemme kill 'im?" Carl requested, loud enough for the entire assembled audience to hear.

"Be my guest, kupo," Lini muttered, and both of the moogles lunged forward from their places.

Their trained opponents closed in at them, probably five at once. Metal began ringing out, and then the four moogles still in formation couldn't watch anymore, forced instead to look over at the six fighters coming at them. The sound of metal on metal was heard again, as Isaac's blade and Thomas's daggers parried blows. Isaac, his opponent a short human wielding a sword, pulled his blade back out of the counter, and brought it around in an attempt to knock the weapon out of his way. The human, however, was no novice. He simply pulled his sword quickly out of the way of the blow, throwing Isaac off balance from the force of his own swing. The human raised his sword above his head in preparation for a finishing swing.

Something hit Isaac's legs, and he felt them fly out from underneath him. As he fell, he caught a glance of July stepping forward to fill his place. She ducked easily under the soldier's swing, and then raised her violin to the crutch in her neck. The bow touched to the string, and she began playing. The pace was incredibly fast and frantic, bouncing from high to low notes in quick succession. Strangely, however, Isaac felt that he could barely hear it. It seemed to be coming from far away.

The soldier seemed to hear it perfectly fine, though. At the first couple notes, he had looked simply confused. Now, however, an expression of increasing panic was taking over his face, and he tried in vain to clamp his hands over his ears. An instant later, a puff of green smoke covered his form. When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the warrior was a small frog, staring up at the now towering moogle animist.

"Run, kupo," she ordered, and the frog hopped hurriedly away in compliance.

She turned away from it, just in time to catch a fist in her face. She fell back, clutching at her bloodied nose in surprise.

The tall bangaa who had delivered the blow advanced quickly upon her, placing his free hand back upon his broadsword's hilt. He drew the sword back for a swing, but at the last moment, he twirled out of the way.

This move saved him from Isaac's low blade swing. The moogle had gotten up, and was ready to fight again. He pressed his advantage on the retreating bangaa, throwing two quick swings at him. His aim wasn't quite to hit him, but simply to keep him on the run.

The bangaa surprised him by blocking the second slash, and then using his tremendous strength to push his weapon out of the way. He then threw a foot out, taking the risk of going off-balance for a chance to knock Isaac out of the fight.

It worked. The foot smashed into his chest, and threw him perhaps two metres to land heavily on his upper back and shoulders.

July tried to set her bow back to the violin, but before she could, the bangaa had reached her, and cloven her in half with his massive sword.

"Bugger!" Isaac cursed, getting back up. The bangaa glanced back over to him, and lunged forward at him again.

He stopped suddenly as a bullet hit him in the snout, freezing him in position. Isaac rushed forward, and prepared to stab the bangaa in the chest.

Just as the blade was about to scrape the skin, the bangaa's forehead flew forward and smashed into Isaac's. The moogle called out and fell back, realising that he'd been duped. The bangaa hadn't actually taken the effect of the stopshot: he had simply acted like it to get the gunner's defences down. Isaac picked himself up painfully, only just managing to reach his feet when the flying form of Thomas landed before him. The juggler coughed once, and stood up slowly, shaking his head to stave off the pain. "We just lost Montblanc, kupo," he announced, wheezing a bit. "And July," Isaac replied, gazing up at the remaining warriors. There were four of the original six; one was hiding in frog shape somewhere nearby, and one had both legs encased in ice and a few knives sprouting from his chest.

Isaac and Thomas began backing up from the four warriors slowly, keeping in stride with each other and watching for an attack. At one point, Thomas suddenly flicked a wrist, throwing a knife at the warriors. A viera fencer easily batted it away with her shield, and they continued their progress.

Overall, it was looking quite dismal for the two, before the attention of all six remaining combatants was drawn over to the right, where Carl and Lini had charged earlier.

Lini was nowhere to be seen. Her handiwork, however, was evident. The five combatants who had originally charged her all lay on the ground, each with a single, gaping wound somewhere on their bodies. Not a one was breathing. What had drawn their attentions, however, was not the mogknight. It was in fact Carl, who was currently fully engaged with Eric. His fists were tightly clenched, bringing the twelve inch blades fully out of his knuckles. They were each clanging hard in attacks and parries with Eric's two blades, which pinged off again and again in quick succession while Eric pulled a complicated spinning manoeuvre. Every time the two blades were blocked by the knuckles, sparks would fly from the contact.

Carl's hands were a blur, and they could see the strain on his face at maintaining such a difficult and heavy series of blocks. His wiry muscles bulged with exertion, and they could tell that if he didn't mount an attack soon, he would fall to exhaustion. Suddenly, without any of the onlookers realising it, Carl's attack came. As Eric's right hand blade swung down in the arcing twirl, Carl's right knuckle flew forward to stop its momentum momentarily. Then, his left knuckle came down, smashing into the top of the blade. Using this grip with his left fist as a pivot, he threw himself up, and over the second blade which came twirling in at him. He extended a foot out perfectly into a kick, and flew in towards Eric's face.

The fighter, working on pure instinct, threw his head back and out of the way, then bent himself backwards. Carl went flying by harmlessly high, and then swept across after the moogle with the right-hand blade.

Remarkably, his blade arm was faster than Carl's momentum, and the blade pierced into the moogle from behind, ripping out through the other side. Carl's momentum wrenched his body off of the blade without Eric even having to do anything, and he hit the ground with a sickening crunch noise.

"So," Eric muttered, turning casually to the two remaining moogles, who were still backing up from the four opponents before them. "Where has your little leader gotten to?"

"Eric!" a voice called, and all seven of them turned to find its source.

Lini was standing by the wall of the canyon, holding her blade easily in her right hand. It was still dripping with the blood of the five warriors she had downed, leaving a small red puddle by her feet.

"I propose a change of rules, kupo," she offered.

"Oh yes?" Eric laughed. "And what would those rules be?"

Without stopping to explain, Lini turned and slammed the hilt of her blade into the rock. It sunk in several inches, and then the mogknight wrenched it clockwise.

A small crack appeared in the stone and amber wall, and it began growing. The thing twined along, eventually turning into a perfect circle reaching down to the ground. As soon as the outline was done, Lini shoved at it, and it fell inward with a deafening crash. She turned back to Eric, and proclaimed, "Inside this cave is either an Avuir, or the key to finding the next Avuir, kupo. I say we change the rules of the engagement to read, 'First to the target' as winning terms." She pulled her blade out of the rock, and twirled it around until it pointed at the fighter. "Do you accept?"

Eric remained quiet for a moment as he pondered this offer. Then, he inquired, "We aren't bringing back anybody who's already gone down?"

"No."

"Fine, then," he agreed, twirling his right hand blade around to point at Lini, then he directed a tiny nod to the judge. The two warriors glared at each other for a moment, their subordinates watching on. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the judge's whistle blew. "The rules have officially changed! You may begin now!"