Author's note:

This is a somewhat musical chapter, so if you've never heard about the songs mentioned below, I strongly recommend you look them up on Youtube.

Enjoy! :)

Albeit there were many stunning sights on Gaia, few rivaled the bucolic splendor of the City of Illusion, as Cleyra had been often dubbed. Without the massive sandstorm swirling around the tree, every corner of the settlement offered a magnificent view of the vast forest below. An artificial sun shone bright above Reis's domain, while a few fluffy clouds lazily drifted by, emulating a peaceful spring morning.

"Are we in a memory..?" Freya asked her father as they climbed a staircase carved into a massive branch. She had reluctantly left Garnet's armor in her room at his behest, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. "Please don't tell me we're reliving that day..."

"Heheh, relax. No more memories, I promise," Fridgeir dismissed her concerns. "The goddess built this place in secret centuries ago. A haven for those rejected by Berlioz and his church."

"So, if you're Burmecian or Cleyran, and you don't have a Dragon's Crest, your soul ends up here?" Zidane ventured.

"Not necessarily, but you're almost always offered the choice," the spirit answered. "Besides, ever since Lord Gizamaluke arrived, this place has been taking in more than just our kin."

"The black mages," Freya said.

"... And Kuja," Zidane somberly added, making the knight wonder what had happened between the brothers inside the fortress.

"... Right," Fridgeir reluctantly concurred, trying to avoid the subject.

As they reached the residential area of the city, the trio began encountering small groups of spirits along the way, going about their business without a care in the world.

"Gods... I know some of these people..." Freya commented, trying not to gawk at the ghosts. "Isn't that..?"

"Oh, you remember Mrs. Algar?" her father chuckled, gesturing towards a portly lady tending to her garden. "I'm surprised! You were just a kid when she passed away. Poor woman."

"Lady Freya! Lady Freya!" three Burmecian children cheerfully greeted her.

"Oh, hi, little ones..!" she meekly replied, awkwardly waving her hand; even if they meant her no harm, merely looking at their translucent forms greatly disturbed her.

"Wanna play hide and seek?"

"Is Mr. Fratley with you?"

"Are you gonna stay with us?"

"Whoa, slow down, youngsters!" Fridgeir came to her aid. "Lady Freya has come a looong way from home and still needs some time to recover. Why don't you go tell Mr. Gizamaluke to meet us at the mead hall? He'll be happy to see his old friend again!"

"Okay!" the three little rodents exclaimed, leaving in a hurry.

"Mead hall, eh?" Zidane said, cocking an eyebrow. "I could really use a beer right now... or three..."

The spirit snorted.

"This way," he said.

After a short walk, the trio reached a large gable-roofed building, which Freya promptly recognized as a Burmecian-styled mead hall. Muffled laughter, chatter and music came from inside, but she couldn't quite make out the melody due to all the ambient noise.

"Ooh, sounds like someone's having fun!" Zidane commented.

"That's because we're celebrating the Harvest Feast!" Fridgeir explained as he banged on the door thrice. "Just because we live in a timeless dimension doesn't mean we can't find excuses to party!"

After a moment, the gate creaked open, revealing a short, brown-haired Burmecian in casual clothes standing on the other side with a flabbergasted look on his face.

Freya felt her legs tremble; she wasn't expecting to meet him. Not in Reis's realm, at least.

"P-Puck..?" she stammered, unable to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. "Puck is that you..?"

"Holy shit..! Freya..?" the late king said, slowly approaching her as if she was the ghost. All of a sudden, he burst out into a fit of ecstatic, almost manic laughter, so contagious that even the dragoon started laughing. "I knew it! I knew you'd make it! Gwahahahah!"

"Gods, it's so nice to see you again!" the knight exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Fólkvangr, like all Spears of Berlioz!"

"Meh, guess I'm too cool for his lame-ass club!" he huffed. "Speaking of clubs, you absolutely need to come drink with us! Cleyran beer may be bland as fuck, but you'll love the company!"

"Hey! It's the drink of my people you're dissing!" Fridgeir jokingly complained.

"What? You know I'm right!" Puck countered. "Besides, you're not even fully Cleyran so shut it and get yo' ass in here."

Zidane snorted, drawing the diminutive king's attention. "Oh my fucking gods, Zidane?!"

"Long time no see, shrimp," the Genome answered.

"Shrimp?! Have you looked in the mirror lately, banana breath?!"

"Banana breath? C'mon pal, you're losing your edge," Zidane joked, opening his arms.

Much to the Crescents' amusement, both kings performed their fabled 'royal salute', which consisted in a chest bump followed by a playful tug-o-war handshake.

"Seriously now, tell me you didn't kick the bucket too, pal..." the ghost said.

"I would have, if it wasn't for Freya dragging my ass all the way from Alexandria to save me," the Genome answered, winking at the knight.

"She's still babysitting you, huh?" Puck snarked. "Alright, enough chatter! Come on in, guys! First round's on me!"

"It's a free bar," Fridgeir pointed out.

"Heheh, right. Force of habit," the short king conceded.

When Freya entered the mead hall, she paused for a moment to assimilate the scene unfurling before her; A bard ensemble played catchy tunes, singing with angelic voices while a crowd of spirits danced and laughed between two long rows of tables, each brimming with mouth-watering delicacies. Candles, torches and a large central fireplace painted the room in glorious golden hues, and the air was thick with the intoxicating aroma of traditional Burmecian cuisine.

"Gods... this place smells like home..." the dragoon muttered, soaking in the cozy ambience.

"I haven't seen one of these in decades..." Zidane added, excitedly looking around like a child in a candy shop.

"Amazing, huh? Never gets old," Puck concurred, gesturing towards the far end of the hall. "I was going to introduce you, but I guess you already know my drinking buddy!"

Freya gasped and covered her mouth; none other than Sir Wulfweard himself was sitting at Puck's table, smiling and waving at her as if nothing had ever happened. Moved to tears, she crossed the hall in a few quick strides and embraced the old man, catching him completely off guard.

"Oh! Hi, Cherry..." he said, awkwardly patting her on the back.

"Hi, sir..." she whispered in return.

"... Hey, why didn't I get one of those?!" Puck jokingly complained.

"To be honest, I had no idea she even knew how to hug before the night this guy showed up," Zidane added, glancing at the colonel.

"Really? I mean, she used to be the sweetest cuddle bug ever when she was a kid," Fridgeir unironically commented, causing the two kings to snort.

"Oh, cut it out, you three!" Freya squawked, rolling her eyes as she broke the embrace. "What are you, of all people, doing here, sir..?"

"I, umm... accepted an honorable challenge from an old colleague, and lost despite cheating thrice to even the odds," Wulfweard answered. "Guess the Allfather isn't a fan of pragmatists. Or losers."

"Aw, c'mon Wulfie, at least you saved Siggie's ass," Puck chimed in, patting him on the back. "Besides, without Gunnar to lead them, Ulrich's enforcers will need time to regroup. A perfect chance to hit him and Bishop right where it hurts."

"What do you mean?" the dragon knight asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're going to cut their supply chain," the ghost king answered, pouring everyone a drink. "Please, take a seat. Wulf?"

Freya, Zidane and Fridgeir obliged. Wulfweard sighed.

"As much as I hate interrupting this reunion to talk business, there's something you two need to know," he said. "I assume you remember your old comrade, Amarant Coral..."

"Seven feet tall, blue skin, perpetually pissed... yup, he's kinda hard to miss," Zidane commented, making a pause to finish his pint. "Ahhh... that hits the spot..."

"I haven't seen him in years..." Freya said, averting her eyes; the emotional scars left by her final showdown with Lani were still quite fresh. "Last time we met, he was planning to go on a dragon hunting trip, so I lent him the Coral Ring and he disappeared with it, never to return."

"Yeah, well, he's back, and now he's working for Regent Cid of Lindblum," the colonel stated. "He's offering the Partisans valuable intel on Ulrich and Bishop in exchange for their help."

"What kind of help does he need?" the Genome asked.

"He came to our kingdom investigating a series of seemingly disconnected abductions. One of the victims is his own partner, Lani, so the whole affair is rather personal for him," Wulfweard explained. "Turns out there was a pattern after all, and he followed the trail to Iron Mountain, a supposedly abandoned mining complex near Vube Desert, deep into monster territory."

"Wait, abductions..?" the blond king cut in; he already didn't like where Wulf's story was going. "Who's gone missing..?"

"Lindblumese beggars, orphans, prostitutes... easy pickings," the colonel listed, lowering his snowy head. "Someone's been preying on them for a while, and Cid suspects Bishop and Ulrich are behind the kidnappings."

"The soul cores..." Freya muttered, craning an utterly heartbroken stare at the Genome. "Oh gods, Zidane... the soul cores..!"

Zidane covered his mouth, paralyzed by a mixture of sheer, undiluted hatred and horror.

"I'm gonna kill them..." he said, at first in a barely audible voice, but then he started screaming. "I'm gonna fucking kill them!"

A tense silence overtook the hall as the spirits alarmedly turned their heads towards him.

"... Buddy, I understand how you feel, but you're gonna get us all kicked to the curb..." Puck whispered in his ear.

"How do you know all this..?" Freya asked once the crowd resumed their partying.

"A spirit anchor, just like your mother's pendant," Wulfweard explained, handing her his wooden mug. "What do you see in there?"

"... If I'd known this was possible, I'd have become a fortune teller decades ago," she joked, realizing that he had enchanted his beer (creating what could only be described as a drunken crystal ball) to scry on Fratley and Amarant. The two of them were discussing some kind of plan with the other Partisans in a small room. "I've never seen those two getting along so well... they're planning to storm Iron Mountain, aren't they?"

"Yeah, and looks like Amarant's latest 'hobby' will prove to be Ulrich's undoing," Puck stated. "See those purple vials on the table? That's pure, liquid irony."

"Grand Dragon venom. Deadly at high concentrations, easily aerosolized, a small dose makes for an amazing incapacitating agent," Wulfweard detailed. "The complex's tight security makes it pretty hard to infiltrate..."

"... Unless you pump the vents full of knockout gas," Zidane completed his sentence. "Do you think they're... processing the victims in there..?"

"We only know two things about that place: people come in, and black mages come out," the colonel stated. "Whatever's happening in Iron Mountain, it needs to be stopped at once."

A gloomy silence grew between them, only interrupted by the occasional drinking.

"Alright, fuck it," Fridgeir spat, angrily planting his mug on the table.

"What's gotten into you, dad..?" his daughter asked, shooting a surprised look at him.

"It's just... argh! I'm so frustrated..!" he exclaimed, glaring daggers at Puck and Wulfweard. "This was supposed to be a welcome party! A relaxing moment after months of hard work and suffering! Why you, killjoys, had to start with the bad news?!"

"Uh... right..." Wulfweard muttered, averting his eyes. "... I'm sorry."

"... Me too..." Puck sighed.

"It's okay, guys," Freya intervened. "The world sucks, that's nothing new, but hey! We're finally reunited in a lovely place, with great food, great music, and my mug keeps magically refilling itself. Maybe we should focus on that."

The rest of the table laughed at her joke.

"Heh heh, fair enough," the colonel conceded.

A cheerful fiddle riff heralded a classic tavern song, and both Freya and Puck's ears instantly perked up.

"Ooooh! I've been a wild rover for many's the yeeear," she started singing with a tipsy grin plastered on her face.

"... and I've spent all me money on whiskey and beeer!" the short king excitedly answered. "Man, I love this song!"

"But now I'm returning with gold in great stooore," Zidane joined in, gleefully raising his mug.

"And I swear I will play the wild rover no mooore!" Fridgeir completed the verse, summoning a mandolin out of thin air.

"And it's nooo, nay, never!" the whole mead hall sang along. "No, nay, never, no mooore!"

"C'mon, Wulf!" Puck exclaimed, pointing his finger at him.

"... Will I play the wild rover... no, never, no more..." he reluctantly obliged, prompting both his student and his rival in love to cheer and pat him on the back.

The bards began playing a febrile jig, and most of the ghostly patrons abandoned their chairs and started dancing like the world was ending.

"They know River Wide in the afterlife?!" Freya squeaked, immediately springing to her feet. "Dunno about you, gentlemen, but I'm not staying here a second longer!"

"Wooo! Let's show 'em how it's done!" Fridgeir said as he followed her, mandolin in hand.

Father and daughter, both gifted dancers, exchanged graceful bows, and then proceeded to tear the dance floor to shreds, drawing sighs from the audience with every move.

"Fratley... you lucky bastard..." Puck accidentally thought out loud, earning himself a wide-eyed stare from Zidane. With his pride on the line, he raised the stakes. "... What? Aw, c'mon, can't a dude enjoy the scenery?"

Wulfweard cast an amused glance at him.

"You know, she's been divorced for almost a year now..." the colonel commented, mostly to see how he would react.

"So... what are you waiting for?" Zidane challenged him, sporting the most infuriating smirk ever.

"What? Naw, I... I dunno, man... won't it be... weird?" Puck nervously stammered. "Besides, she hasn't seen Fridgey in, like, forever... I don't wanna spoil their moment."

"Dude, it's just dancing," the Genome snorted, abandoning his chair to forcibly pull Puck to his feet. "C'mon, buddy, you only live once... or twice, in your case."

"... The fuck, man?! Whoa! Chill, chill!" he squeaked as Zidane pushed him onto the dance floor. "Oh shit, oh, shit, oh SHIT!" he exclaimed, miraculously skidding to a halt before crashing into Freya. "Hey... 'sup?"

The knight deviously smirked, hooked her arm through his before he could react, and took him square-dancing with the other couples, much to everyone's amusement.

"Look at 'em go! Woooo!" Zidane cheered, enthusiastically clapping and whistling.

"Holy shi-! WHOA!" Puck blurted out as the knight spun him around like a top.

"A little rusty, aren't we?" the dragoon playfully teased him.

"Hey, I haven't tripped over my own feet yet! I call that improvement!" the king retorted, and the knight chuckled.

The jig eventually died out, transitioning into a slow, romantic folk song, much to Puck's chagrin.

"Wait, is that Wild Mountain Thyme..? What are you trying to do, kill us with cringe?" he squawked, trying to mask his intense discomfort with more of his ineffectual bravado. Freya saw right through his bluff, and far from shying out, she pulled him into a close embrace, causing his pulse to skyrocket.

"Uhh, Freya..? What are you doing..?"

"What? Weren't you complaining about not getting a hug five minutes ago, Your Majesty?" she whispered in his ear, leading him so smoothly, so gently, that he forgot how to speak. A melancholic smile eventually blossomed on Puck's lips.

"I thought I'd never see you again..." he muttered, feeling a lump in his throat. "Even this place feels lonely without my favorite knight..."

"And Burmecia feels like a tomb without your terrible jokes..." she sighed, resting her chin on his shoulder. "... how are we supposed to go on without your guidance..? The kingdom's on the brink of destruction... everyone expects so much from me... I... I'm scared to go home..."

The king craned a perplexed stare at her, but she averted her eyes.

"Freya... there's no one I'd rather entrust our future to than you," he declared, eliciting a confused look from her.

"But why me..?" she asked. "For all intents and purposes, I'm just a glorified bodyguard..."

"Are you kidding me..? You're so much more than that!" the king exasperatedly exclaimed. "You saved the freaking world! You're the symbol of victory against impossible odds for our people! If someone can rally the clans and unite Burmecia, that's you!"

"But I have no idea how to lead a country!" she answered. "What if our people starve because of me?"

"They won't!" he countered. "You're as sharp as you are brave, every muscle in your body is a weapon, even Ulrich admires you, and your heart is always in the right place. If there's someone out there I'd gladly follow to kingdom come... that would be you."

Humbled beyond words, Freya replied with a blurry-eyed smile, and Puck thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Holy fuck... I think she's actually gonna go for it..." a wide-eyed Zidane muttered, his hands clasped in anticipation.

CREEEAAAKKK

Everyone in the mead hall turned their heads towards the front door, utterly ruining the moment: Lord Gizamaluke had finally arrived.

"Um... hi?" the demi-god saluted the crowd, awkwardly waving his hand.

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!" Zidane's outrage echoed across the room.

Thirty minutes later

Instead of the grand palace of stone and gold that Freya had imagined, Reis's actual dwelling was just a humble, yet gorgeous chalet overlooking the vast Myrkvidr forest.

"Here we are... dreamy, isn't it?" Gizamaluke said as they walked through a small front garden teeming with flowers. Cleyra's leaves provided shelter from the sun, and its branches were chock-full of ripe, appetizing fruits.

"It's beautiful," the knight muttered in awe, wishing she had half of the goddess' gardening skills.

"Alright, this is as far as I go," the demi-god said as he rapped on the house's door. "My mother will answer any question you may have to the best of her abilities. She's really, really old, so please be patient with her."

"... You won't be staying?" the dragoon asked, a little surprised.

"No. I've already told you everything I had to," he answered in his unfailingly polite tone. "Listen to her and draw your own conclusions. Come see me when you've made up your mind, okay?"

"... Okay. Thank you," she said as she watched him leave.

The chalet's door creaked open behind her, and the knight felt an unfathomably mighty, yet soothing presence.

"I've been waiting for you, my child..." a cheerful, yet positively ancient voice greeted her. "I'm glad you made it..."

Freya gulped and turned around; a petite Cleyran granny was beaming at her. Her fur was white as snow, and she wore a green ankle-length tunic belted at the waist.

"Mother Reis... forgive my rudeness," the dragoon apologized, immediately dropping to her knees.

"Oh, save the formalities for someone who cares, dear," Reis chuckled, helping Freya to her feet. "Come, I'll make you a big cup of lemon tea. I've heard you like it with honey!"

"Uh... sure..." the dragoon stammered.