FINAL FANTASY: INQUISITION

FINAL FANTASY: INQUISITION

By Thomas Knapp

Act Two- Scene One

Midas took a deep breath as he entered the border town of Media. In reality, it had served as nothing more of an outpost for the Cairos and Moros military, but with the political upheaval in Cairos, it was largely abandoned by even the Moros contingent.

Midas remembered this place all too well. He remembered when he had raided the place in an effort to rescue several Outlaws that had been brought in for shipment to one of the Correction Centers in either kingdom. He also remembered how the carefully thought out plan turned bloody thanks to a certain suicidal monk who was at the moment trudging slowly behind the Red Mage.

"How dismally ironic, that I get to gaze upon the fruits of my failure so many times over." Creed commented sourly.

Tamara huffed, and replied, "You should be THANKFUL for your multiple failures in that you can see what you have desired for so long."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who should be dead."

At this moment, Borz decided to step in, "If you're so intent on doing yourself in, There's no doubt all sorts of military encampments being built along the Moros border now. Why don't you do everyone here a favor and throw yourself onto a pike?"

Creed whirled around, and pointed a gloved fist at the miniature Black Mage, "Care to repeat that?" Creed threatened.

"Certainly. Why don't you do everyone here a favor and throw yourself onto a…" Borz started, when Creed grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. Borz called upon the beginnings of a fire spell, and hissed, "Let me go before I weld your lips together, freak."

"Oh… I'm SO scared." Creed shot back.

"Knock it off, BOTH of you." Midas ordered. "Creed, put him down. Borz, try and keep your mouth shut for more than 30 seconds."

"Any failure to comply, and I'm sure Midas and I can come up with some most creative forms of pain to inflict upon you two." Tamara added, with that grin that would send most normal men scampering into the nearest tree.

Creed glared, but complied, and with a grunt tossed the Black Mage aside. Borz straightened his hat out indignantly, and Midas was afraid that Borz was going to make some comment that would just serve to escalate the situation, but surprisingly the Black Mage kept silent.

"Well, since we made it here in one piece," Yura said, changing the subject, "Why don't we stock up on supplies for our continued trip into Moros?"

"Sounds like a charming idea, my lady." Fredros added, "There are several errands that I can run as well. Perhaps I can get an update from Karma as to how things are progressing in Cairos."

Borz hopped happily, "Gonna get a report, huh? Can I join you? Can I? Can I?"

Fredros laughed heartily, "If you wish to learn the news first that desperately, I'd be more than welcome to have your presence."

Creed snapped, "I'll be… somewhere. I'll return when you are ready to leave." The monk and White Mage, with Borz in tow, parted from the company in two totally different directions.

Trigger just stepped quickly into Midas vision, and pointed outside, indicating that the ninja desired to scout the surroundings. Midas nodded consent, and Trigger quickly zipped out into the countryside, moving with a silence that bordered on disturbing.

Tamara then turned to Midas, and queried, "I am in the need for a new sword, and it would be most welcome to have a fellow swordsman's opinion. Could you spare the time to attend with me?"

Midas shrugged nonchalantly, then answered, "Not like I have anything better to do."

At that point, Yura flung herself on Midas's arm, and interrupted, "I could use some new equipment myself, Midas. Could you help me too?" Yura then glared at Tamara, sticking out her tongue childishly towards the knight.

Midas turned his head back and forth between the two ladies, not totally certain what was going on, and with each glance at the confused Tamara, reached the conclusion that this was something to do with Yura alone. He started to say something, then stopped. Why risk angering both of them with the wrong words? Finally, he sighed, "Well… it's not getting any earlier, so let's get our job done here, and be on our way."

Meanwhile…

Much to Creed's dismay, the Moros regiment that had been stationed here along with the Cairos WAS indeed missing, and most likely from fear of a possible attack from the now magic-friendly Cairos kingdom.

"Well, it's not like this entire world isn't going to be a bloodbath in mere weeks." Creed shrugged, muttering to himself. "Still, it would have been fitting that I end my existence here, like it should have been the FIRST time."

Borz's words rung through the monk's head. He wondered off-handedly if the Black Mage understood that was exactly what Creed had been trying to do in a sense for the last five years.

A slight tap on his shoulder caused Creed to whirl around, even though he knew EXACTLY who it was. The last five years had taught him that only ONE person could hope to take Creed unawares, a fact that had been played out all too often.

"What do you want, Trigger?" Creed hissed. "Did Midas send you to spy on me? You might want to try something other than being his little lapdog, might do you some good."

The ninja cupped one hand over his ear, and with the other, pointed a finger at Creed.

Creed chuckled, and replied, "You want to hear what I have to say? All right… I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."

Trigger glared, obviously not amused by the offer.

Creed broke out in a hearty laugh, one that even surprised the monk himself. With a conspiratory smirk, Creed declared, "Not much of a sense of humor, huh? Not bad, I think I kinda like you."

Creed picked out a small bench that overlooked the town-square, and sat down, motioning for Trigger to do the same. The ninja declined with a curt shake of his head, and thus Creed shrugged, then said, "So, you want to know what happened to make me me, eh? All right. We might as well start at the beginning… might as well start right here…"

Flashback Sequence, same town-square 20 years earlier…

"Brother Creed! You must hurry!" One of his fellow new acolytes shouted out. The alarm bells were ringing through the moonless night, and Creed could hear the sounds of his fellow monks of Alexander preparing for battle. Creed himself tightened the band on his fighting gloves, and picked up his pace leading out of town.

He met his assembled brothers just outside Media, where the Priest of Alexander in charge was already in the middle of his briefing. Not that what the Priest was explaining was anything new. The signs of revolution had hung heavily in the air for decades, as the populace grew increasingly distrustful of the summoners who ruled the Five Kingdoms.

The plan of these "Rationalists", as they called themselves, was to force a wedge through Media, severing the ties between Moros and Cairos. The success of these revolutionaries could not be denied as the kingdoms of the Northern continent had already collapsed, and the island kingdom of Wodensland was probably not faring any better.

A monk pointing to the horizon drew the Priest from continuing the briefing. A small light could be seen, signifying the first signs of the revolutionaries. Soon another light appeared, followed by another, then two, then five, then ten…

"By Alexander!" One of the brothers shouted as the horizon for miles lit up in a sea of torches and other implements of light. "There's got to be THOUSANDS of them!"

"SILENCE! Whether there be thousands, or tens of thousands, we shall fight with Alexander's glory in our hearts!" The Priest shouted, "We will defend this town 'till the last man!"

The unanimous shout from the scant hundred monks most likely bolstered everyone's faith, but Creed found his own belief in his cause wavering. What possible purpose would Alexander have for casting his own disciples into a hopeless massacre?

Panic crept into the eyes of young Creed, who in many ways was still just a boy. A prodigy of Alexander, a monk at 16, the youngest ever, only to die three months later at the hands of bloodthirsty revolutionaries. The thought burned his faith totally out of his soul, leaving a blind, unadulterated fear, his control hanging from the barest of threads…

The roar from the horizon, followed by the surge of the multitude of revolutionaries before him snapped that final thread. Creed suddenly bolted into the darkness, ignoring the confused shouts from several fellow monks who had seen him flee in terror. Creed continued running, even as the screams of death and battle became inaudible. For even though the physical sound had died away, the wails of his tormented soul refused to stop haunting him.

Fifteen Years Later…

The realization of what he had done had actually come to him all those years ago, the moment he decided to desert his kind. Creed did not belong to this world; he should have left with his fellow brothers at the Battle of Media. Since, he had lived the life of the coward, but no longer. Finally he had the courage to do what he should have done 15 years ago.

The town of Media was from the outside NOTHING like what he had remembered. Large walls of brick manned by powerful artillery towers and lined with guard stations wrapped around the city. The armies of Moros and Cairos stood ready to destroy ANY attempt from the scant magic-users remaining to take back the town.

However, Creed had no intention of taking back the city. His only goal was to join the brothers that he had been one of, if over a decade too late. With a breath that he assumed to be his last, Creed emerged from his place of hiding, and charged the mighty battlements.

Instantly, the guards reacted, great spotlights from atop the guard towers shined down, illuminating Creed… as well as a group of 10 people who had been successfully sneaking away from the town.

"ESCAPEES!" The shout began, and militiamen emerged from their posts to bring down the 11 Outlaws outside. Creed was about to turn to the group that had been discovered, and order them to flee when the blast of a cannon, and it subsequent impact mere lengths from Creed's position sent him flying backward. He landed roughly, and felt where several bones in his body had been broken. Managing to lift his head, he saw three soldiers rapidly rushing towards him, and no doubt the cannon that had just fired was reloading.

"Finally… I shall be where I belong…" Creed moaned, and dropped his head again, resigning himself to his overdue death. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his final moments…

"FIRE!" A young voice shouted, and Creed felt a searing heat rush above his prone position. He opened his eyes again, and in his painfully hazy vision he watched the three soldiers bearing down on him collapse, beating away the flames that had suddenly burst upon their bodies.

The caster suddenly popped up above him, and Creed managed a weak gasp. The spell-caster was but a young boy, no older than his middle teens. "Are you all right there, sir?" The boy asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Looking away, the young man yelled, "One of you, get over here and help him out of here. He's hurt!"

The mage then stepped over Creed, and with a sigh muttered, "I hate having to play dirty like this, but desperate times…"

Four hands helped Creed up from the ground, and slung him over someone's shoulder. Creed tried to protest, but his broken body refused to comply. Looking back helplessly, he watched the boy cast several Confusion spells to slow the soldier's pursuit.

Creed couldn't help but be filled with a seething jealously that slowly melded into hate. From that day forward, whenever Creed looked into the face of Midas, all Creed saw was the boy that Creed SHOULD have been…

Present Day…

"Anyway, I guess that is all I have to say about that. Trigger, I shouldn't be here, I should be in the burial trench that the Rationalists dumped my fellow brothers in. This world doesn't need me, not when it has Midas."

Trigger turned his head towards the market, no doubt wondering what the Red Mage in question was up to…

Market Street of Media…

"Oh, Midas! Look at this!" Yura exclaimed as she tried to divert Midas attention from the pair of swords that Tamara was having him compare.

Midas smiled apologetically towards Tamara, and said, "The Gold Sword is the better weapon, but I'm not sure if we've the money to purchase it. If you will excuse me for a moment…"

Midas strode to the other side of the street, where Yura was looking over various baubles and accessories. "Which one should I choose Midas? They're all so pretty…"

"These are combat accessories, Yura." Midas explained, "They aren't purchased to be pretty. Besides, all of the accessories here are designed more for the less magically gifted. Purchasing one of these would probably be a waste of money for you."

Yura whirled to face Midas, her eyes shining as if she was about to cry. "Why are you being so mean to me? It's not like I KNEW…"

"I wasn't being mean to you, Yura…" Midas began.

"AND THAT'S WHAT IRRITATES ME SO MUCH! YOU DON'T EVEN REALIZE IT!" With that flash of temper, Yura stormed off further down the street.

Midas rubbed the back of his head, and exhaled slowly. Tamara approached his side, and commented, "If it consoles you any, I don't think you were out of line."

"Well… MAYBE I was a little hard on her." Midas admitted, "Come on, Tamara. We better catch up to her before she does something we'll all regret later."

Midas jumped into a brisk walk, hoping to regain sight of the flame-haired summoner. When he finally did, he saw the lanky blue robed character too late to warn her. Yura and the stranger collided with a violent crash. The man's bag flew in the air, spilling various alchemic items and scrolls in a messy circle.

By the time Midas and Tamara pushed their way through the busy intersection, Yura had managed to recover most of the poor man's articles, and he hastily shoved them back into his worn leather satchel.

"I am so sorry, sir." Yura apologized, her cheeks almost matching her hair.

"No, my dear. I am afraid the fault is mine. I should have been watching my progress more carefully." The blue-robed man retorted. He stood up, and placed the book he had been reading under his arm.

"My name is Yura."

"I am called Harmon, young lady." The man replied. "I am fascinated by your summoner's horn. Are you the summoner that has been spoken of in mere whispers to the north?"

Yura looked around nervously. There was something not quite right with this guy, she just couldn't put her hand on it. Then she saw a face that she recognized, and sighed with relief. "Midas!"

The Red Mage looked over Harmon suspiciously, then said, "Well… if it isn't a Blue Mage. Not many of those down here anymore."

Harmon's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Ah… you are well informed young man. Yes, I am a Blue Mage, although I have been more scholar than magic-user as of late. I arrived in the eastern port of Kohlinsgrad three days prior, and am on my way to Cairos. I hear that a magic-user himself has seized control, and is offering asylum to others of his kind."

Tamara and Midas blinked several times before Midas asked, "You are heading to Cairos?"

"Indeed."

"Taking the scenic route, are you?" Tamara quipped.

Harmon looked puzzled, and queried, "I know not what you mean, my lady."

"To get here… you must have already passed Cairos. The capitol is but a day's journey by Chocobo in the exact opposite direction from which you arrived here." Midas explained.

Harmon looked back to the east entrance of Media, and moaned, "Oh dear… I have done it again."

"Done what again?" Yura commented.

"You see, I am quite absent minded at times. It does appear that I must have walked right by Cairos, and not even known it. 'Tis a shame, for I have news for the king that he may wish to hear."

"Well… he's right here…" Yura chuckled, pointing at Midas.

Harmon suddenly stiffened, and fell to a knee in reverence. "Oh my… most right. King Midas of Cairos of course. I meant no disrespect, your highness. Please forgive your humble servant."

Midas took a step back, and looked around the intersection nervously. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying any mind to the character bowing in the middle of the street. Motioning for Harmon to rise, Midas said, "Listen… don't give me that 'your highness' and bowing crap, okay? I don't like it, and frankly, I don't need people advertising that I'm here."

"Oh… but of course. I understand, my liege." Harmon rose, but still stood tensely.

"Call me Midas, all right?" The Red Mage corrected, then decided to hear what Harmon had to say before the Blue Mage did something else utterly ridiculous. "What is this news you have to bring, Harmon?"

"I have come bearing news from the Northern Kingdoms. The Summoner's Labryinths in the Kingdoms of Artica and North Landing are still intact. The news that a summoner still lived has renewed hope there. Under cloak of darkness, some who sympathize with us are sending a ship to take the summoner to the North."

Yura blanched at the thought. "Me… alone?"

Midas stopped that train of thought with a hand motion, "Of course not. Once we have retrieved the crystal from Moros, we shall indeed go north. All of us."

Tamara shook her head, "I shall have to make sure that is acceptable for my superior to have me leave, but if able, I too shall join you, Midas."

Midas noted how Tamara referred to joining HIM, not the group, and the no doubt intentional reaction it drew from Yura. Midas decided to step in again, addressing Harmon, "Well, thank you Harmon for the information. You are dismissed."

"Yes, thank you so much for hearing me out…" The Blue Mage replied, and turned to leave. He suddenly whirled around, and asked, "Have any of you seen my glasses?"

Tamara pointed gingerly, and said disbelieving, "You mean… the ones on the top of your head?"

Harmon paused, and with his hand patted his head, and brightened as he felt his spectacles, flipping them down over his eyes in one motion. "Yes! Thank you, milady." He then turned to leave once again.

"Midas…" Yura pleaded, "He's probably gonna get lost again…"

Midas dropped his head into one hand, and moaned, "I know… I can't believe I'm about to do this…" He then straightened, and shouted out, "Harmon… how would you like to help us out?"

Harmon smiled broadly, and he gasped out, "Do you think I could be of service to you, my liege? I would be most honored, your majesty!"

"The name is Midas… remember that."

"Of course, my… Midas."

Midas then addressed Tamara and Yura, "Let's finish gathering our supplies, and get out of here. The longer we stay in this town, the more likely someone's gonna figure out we're up to something."

They turned, and proceeded to the market, but Midas had to quickly stop, and call to Harmon, "Harmon… we're going THIS way."

The Blue Mage stopped, looked back, then flushed. "Quite right. So you are."

End Scene 1