After the months of instability during the First Crystal War, Baron was quick to name a successor after King Cecil's death and Queen Rosa's disappearance. Baron had always favored its soldiers as leaders, so it was little surprise when the newly crowned king came from Baron's military: the current captain of the Red Wings, Gren Norwood.
King Gren's reign began with an aggressive man hunt for Rosa Harvey, amid loud demands for justice. This led to an unfortunate strain between Baron and the other nations, as Baron's search turned hostile toward anyone they suspected might be harboring the fugitive. Because of the high casualties during the Crystal War, Fabul, Eblan, and Damcyan found themselves without the military might to oppose these searches. Troia, however, still retained its army, thanks largely in part to their deal with King Cecil during the events of the Crystal War. While no direct military action ever occurred, Troia made it clear that they would not tolerate Baronian soldiers in their lands, and thus continued the two nations' frosty relationship.
- Excerpt from Mage Whitcaller, A History of the Crystal Wars
Several times over the course of the evening, Galen tried to push me for answers, but I refused to say much else, and only vaguely promised to explain later. I finally convinced him to get what rest he could, then woke him shortly before dawn. "If someone asks: we're going on patrol," I told him, as we both pulled on our cloaks, gloves, and boots, "I'm bringing you with me so you can learn the land better." When I looked up to him for confirmation, his eyes met mine and he nodded, solemn and silent.
It was a chilly spring morning, with a night frost still claiming the newly exposed green grass. A false dawn brought a faint, gray light to the town. We went unchallenged to the stables, where the chocobos shifted uneasily in their stalls at our early morning presence. I saddled up one, then helped Galen with the second, and before I could let myself rethink the decision, we trotted off, leaving Mysidia behind further behind us with each long-legged bird stride.
Twice, Galen attempted to signal me to stop, shouting over the wind that we needed to talk, and each time I pushed my chocobo faster. We needed more distance before Marin discovered we weren't there. The Elder mightfigure out that I had fled and might cover for a short while, especially if Marin began asking questions. However, I had no doubts that he knew who I was and would alert Baron, if he hadn't already. Every time I doubted myself, wondered if I overreacted, I'd remember Marin's too knowing eyes.
It wasn't until we reached the start of the forest that I pulled my bird in to slow down, and Galen rode up beside me. He looked tired, and worry creased his brow heavily. "Well?" He prompted; his eyes expectant.
"Well," I repeated, "Now, I suppose we try to reach the outer part of the Mt. Ordeals forest by afternoon. Then, we go north east, staying hidden in the woods as long as we can, then make another break for the northern coast. There's village with a port nearby, and someone there might be able to help us get on a boat away from here."
"But why?" He brought his chocobo to a sudden stop, the bird warking indignantly at the rough treatment, "And no more vague answers or promises to explain later. Are we in danger? Did someone find out about me? And why don't you trust Marin? Does that have anything to do with me or why we're leaving?"
I took a breath, trying to steel myself against the onslaught of his questions, then circled my chocobo back around to look at him, and then beyond him, to the distant horizon we had just come from. We needed to go much farther in too little time. I took another breath, then sighed out my confession: "The very short version is this: I'm wanted for a crime I didn't commit. I fear that Marin knows who I am and will raise the alarm. I'm leaving now before Mysidia can be implicated in helping me hide." I hesitated, looking back to him, meeting his serious gaze. I should have asked him first, but trust was a fickle thing. I continued, a bit softer, "You can go back, if you want. I didn't think you'd want to stay in Mysidia, trying to hide your powers."
He shook his head, then found his voice again, "No, you're right. I wouldn't want to stay." Now, he looked past me, toward the giant looming forest ahead of us, "You can tell me the details later. Let's ride." He perked up with the firmness of a decision made, sitting taller in his saddle as his spine straightened out. There was no confusion or uncertainty anywhere on his face, no unsure breath in any of his words.
I realized, with a sudden despair that weighed my stomach down, that he trusted me fully. A dark shame washed over me; how easily he followed, with no evidence and handful of half truths. For one blasphemous moment, I wondered if Cecil reflected on me the same way — how often had I followed his trail, without question, without worry, blind with love and faith that he knew what he was doing, that he knew the right path?
Did Galen look at me the way same way? I looked away, unwilling to confirm, to hold on to a shred of doubt so I could pretend otherwise. I wondered who else, besides a boy with a crush, I'd have to manipulate to keep myself out of Baron's hands. Who else would get hurt trying to help me? Would Cain's offer still stand, and could I bear the hurt of disappointing him again? Could he?
A thought, tiny and curled in the very corner of my mind, asked if I even cared, if I would turn myself in now if it meant sparing anyone else in Baron's path. I did not answer.
"Let's go," I tried to say it with confidence, but it came out of me small and fragile-sounding. I hated this feeling, this desperate desire to have someone else making decisions, to place your foot inside someone else's tracks and know the way is safe.
I urged my chocobo forward, past Galen, and with more firmness in my voice, said, "I will lead."
We rode on, stopping to walk the chocobos as the wooded trail became too dense. We didn't speak much during those moments. Galen was focused only on the task ahead of us, and I was grateful that his attention was centered elsewhere.
The sun marked our slow progress through the small forest, called Dragon Neck Forest affectionately by the locals. It stood high in the sky, directly overhead, as we reached the large open plains that separated Dragon Neck from the woods surrounding Mt. Ordeals. Standing at the tree line, we looked out to the flat, open prairie land ahead, seemingly endless, the faint wind sending infinite ripples through the tall grass.
"With no tree cover, we'll be very exposed. It's not a long distance but we'll have to ride quickly." I squinted into the distance, trying to see if I could make out the forest or the mountain beyond it.
"We'll see anyone coming far off, they won't be able to outdistance us even on chocobos." Galen replied, his gaze following mine off into the distance. "Even if they spot us and follow, we'll reach the trees and lose them there."
"I'm not worried about them on foot, " I said, now peering up into the sky. I shaded my eyes from the sun, directly overhead and bright. White clouds dotted the sky, suspiciously silent about what lurked behind them. I closed my eyes, and listened, trying to parse out the sounds of my own breath, of the chocobos shifting nervously between their clawed feet, of the wind softly whistling. I heard birds, faintly singing, in the trees behind us. I heard nothing else.
I opened my eyes to Galen's expectant gaze; he waited, with a breath held in.
"Nothing," I said, and I saw him deflate with his exhale. I climbed back up on my chocobo's back, resettling myself in its saddle, "We must move swiftly. If anything happens..." What could I warn him of? What could I say in the space of a few seconds? "Just keep riding. No matter what."
Galen nodded, his mouth in a grim, colorless line.
We broke cover, riding out slow to start, while our chocobos settled into a comfortable trot. The sky, in comparison to the lush green of the new spring forest, seemed eerie and too bright. I leaned forward on the chocobo's neck, knees guiding into a gallop, urging faster. As we grew farther away from the forest behind us, a stillness took over, and a finger of dread walked slowly up my spine.
Something was wrong, and as my anxiety bubbled, I could not place what it was. I looked over at Galen, who rode next to me competently, if he clutched at his saddle a little too hard, "It's too quiet!" He shouted over the wind between us, "And there are no birds!"
His words rang true and immediately validated that wrong feeling. I looked around, my eyes desperately seeking out a lone bird or critter that might prove him wrong. I saw nothing — no, I saw the grass, rippling heavily, suddenly, its patterns all wrong and wild. In the next breath, I heard it — the heavy chopping gusts of wind, the scream of its churning engines. In the next terrible moment, I did not see it, exactly, but its shadow suddenly darkened our path from behind us.
"AIRSHIP!" Galen screamed into the gusting wind; I knew it, but still I risked a look back over my shoulder as my chocobo warked shrilly and ran faster from fright. The airship hovered low in the sky, its red hull in violent contrast against the blue sky. I saw a thick cloud, hanging overhead, and I wondered dumbly how long they waited, watching from a distance until we presented ourselves. Its cannons whirred into life, slowly spinning up in power, with a high hiss. How did I ever come to love that sound? How much I treasured the airship's breathy song when I was young, and how much I hated it as I grew old.
I wondered, too, if the same sounds filled the ears of Damcyan's citizens as they bled out and burned.
"RIDE!" I shrieked, not knowing if Galen actually heard me. My chocobo sprinted out wildly, its heavy muscles bunching beneath me. It lowered its head to the ground, steadied its body, and ran. I saw Galen as a blur beside me. I heard, and felt, the airship ease closer to the ground, the forceful wind tearing and pulling at any loose piece — my hair streamed out, blinding me suddenly; my cloak swirling up violently around me. I tugged at the neck of it, finally got a loose end, and ripped the fabric free of me, sacrificing it to the greedy wind. It whirled away, lost to the whirling sky above.
Ahead, a blur of green broke across the horizon line. I let out a wild whoop of a laugh, mad with the chaos of it all. Even if the ship landed immediately, it would still take time before the troops could safely disembark. As long as we cleared the tree line, we could lose them in the woods. Although the thought of being hunted by Red Wings soldiers while trying to avoid the roaming undead wasn't exactly ideal, it was still better than fighting out in the open plains.
I heard the whining squeal and click of shifting gears, then a loud BOOM. I did not have time to react or even look around, the ground ahead exploded into rocks and flying debris. The force of the blast blew outward, the earth shuddering with the violence, and I was sent flying from my bird.
I knew, as I hit the ground and felt my body whole, that the ship meant to miss us. I had spent too many evenings between Cid and Cecil, as they designed the current generation of airship weaponry. Once, I had asked if it was a good show of peace to invest so heavily in weapons development, and Cid had chuckled and gently chided me — this was science, not warfare, and more accurate aiming technology meant that they could efficiently target enemy monsters. Yes, monsters, both Cecil and Cid emphasized, this could help protect our allies, after all. Their years of tinkering and experiments produced a sophisticated and deadly weapon. The airship not hitting me was deliberate, which meant they wanted me alive.
With my head still spinning, I managed up to my feet. Somewhere nearby, I could hear my chocobo's noisy complaints, which at least meant it was alive for now. As my vision cleared, I saw the path ahead, now in ruin through the shattered earth. The dropped bomb had created a sizable hole in the ground, roughly the size of a large house. Not impossible to go around, but costing precious time.
I turned to look back behind me. The airship hovered lower now, still sending whipping winds in all directions. I could see a few vague outlines of soldiers on its decks, as they scrambled around to follow their captain's orders. I saw the whole of it now, the sleek red ship with its puffy white sails. With a startled jump, I realized — I know this ship. It had been christened Bloodletter, while Cecil presented it to his soldiers with a speech about how sometimes a knife can excise the foul cancer within, to save the whole. Equal parts grief and horror welled up in my heart, and I wondered, was I now the poison blood, to be spilled away and forgotten, lest I continue to corrupt Cecil's legacy?
I came to the slow realization that the ship wasn't moving, but maintaining its current position. Why? They would need to land to pursue me. If I could regain my chocobo and find Galen, maybe there was still a chance that we could make it across to the waiting forest.
I saw, then, a dark blue flicker on the decks of Bloodletter. I watched as it bobbed around at the ship's railing, and then without preamble, jumped over the edge, into the open waiting sky. It fell for a few short terrifying seconds, then moved toward me, like a feather caught on the rapid, furious winds. At first looked like a blue jewel, shimmering in the sky, then as it drew closer, a long graceful bird — no, no, a small dragon. It hit the ground a hundred paces ahead. The figure straightened up, standing tall on two legs, then started moving briskly toward me.
My heart lurched sideways in my chest as I finally recognized the blue armor glittering in the noon sun.
"Cain," I whispered, because there was no breath left in me.