)---------- Epilogue and author's
notes
Cecil sighed.
Kain's
right – it's a new year. The past
should finally be left behind. Why can
I simply not leave well enough alone?
Blinking
a few times, he looked around him.
Mt.
Ordeals. Back on the mountaintop where
his life had been completely turned upside-down. He had to come back here. Something was left – he could feel it deep within his very spirit –
something was still here.
Father
– your tie to this world you were forced to abandon by making me a Paladin –
you sacrificed your final link to this life to save me and the world. But if it's not you, then what is it that's
calling me here? What is it that I have
left to do?
A
flash of light ran along the mirror-like crystal wall, as if something glowing
shot by quicker than he could perceive.
"Hello?"
he called quietly, tentatively.
This
place is the source of so much to me – yet I feel like such a stranger. It's like there's a connection between me
and this place, but I can't quite hold on to it . . . like there's something on
the very edge of my senses . . .
Sighing, he bent and carefully placed his Sword and Shield on the shimmery floor, then kneeling before the mirrors and closing his eyes.
For
all this time, I've been a Holy Warrior – yet I've given next to no thought of
meditation, prayer . . . all that Holy stuff. I don't know . . . how to be a good Paladin . . . I don't know
how I can give back for all that was done for me.
A
wind picked up around him.
.
. . this place was here before the Lunarians came to Earth . . . there've been
Paladins all throughout history. Father's spirit may have departed . . . but the powers must still be
vortexed here. Perhaps it's them who
are calling me . . .
And
abruptly he went flying forward as a sensation not unlike a kick in the head
attacked him from an invisible force.
"Gah!!"
he yelped, regaining his balance and turning to defend himself against –
nothing?!
"
– who's there?!" he snapped, spooked.
The sound of laughter reached him, but still he could see no form. Again, however, the flash of light ran around the chamber.
"No,
really," Cecil snapped, growing irritated as well as spooked. "Who's there?"
"You
poor silly child – you have no clue what you're about, do you?"
Cecil
jumped noticeably – the voice came from all around him – a calm, mellow voice
which seemed rather amused.
"Uh,"
was all he could say.
The
wind around him picked up again, circling around him playfully.
"If
we wanted a champion who spent all his time praying and meditating, we'd have
found one," the voice explained. "Although
we figured that such a champion probably wouldn't be very good at saving
planets and ruling kingdoms. This is
why we decided on you."
"I
thought my father chose me," Cecil heard himself say.
"Your
father suggested you," was the reply. "A single voice doesn't choose a Paladin. There was much arguing and gnashing of teeth
as we tried to reach a consensus. In
the end, we approved of you to receive the powers of Ordeals."
"Why?"
"For
one, because we knew that you stood the best chance of succeeding. For two, it was said that the son of KluYa
was necessary to fulfill the prophecy, and we felt that you'd have a better
chance of doing so with our power in you."
"But I was a warrior of darkness," Cecil objected, still surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. "I was corrupt and evil. I was weak-willed and faint of heart."
"You
were damaged, child, but not destroyed. Within you was always the potential for great goodness – your inner core
was always one of purity and light . . . and that sort of thing. When we gave your our power, we reinforced
that core to stand against the deep pains we knew your spirit would encounter. Your father was very grieved – but he knew
it was necessary."
"Necessary
. . . " It struck an unpleasant ring
within him, but Cecil was sound enough of mind to realize that it was
true. "And now? I've fulfilled my purpose. What more do you want of me?"
"We
want, young one, for you to acknowledge your own worth. You, as a ruler, hold within your hands the
lives of many, many people. You ask how
you can give back to us for the powers we've given you? Use them. Use those powers, use your sense, your mind, and your heart to rule them
well. Even the greatest of nations
often has faults – minor corruptions, small abuses – we want you to stand firm
by your code of chivalry and by the code of the Paladin. And don't say anything – it's a lot harder
than you realize just now. You've not
ruled for long. Your oppositions have
been mainly against darkness and obvious evils – you have yet to face the
subtleties of the many faces of evil."
"
. . . and why have you called me here now?"
Again,
laughter.
"Well,
aren't we the impatient one? Child, you
have quite a task ahead of you. Being
the champion of light is never easy. Yet you've already forgotten several loose ends and neglected several
allies. Light and darkness are both
required for balance. In all places
there must be equal opposing forces of both good and evil to keep everything
good and sturdy."
"You just
said you want me to rule with light and goodness."
"Darkness
and evil can be present and controlled without ever being used, young one. In your own Kingdom, the balance was held
for quite some time by a single figure, one who had much power at his disposal
and little action. In fact, I believe
he was your teacher?"
"Rorunar?"
"Yes,
Rorunar."
"A
man of little action?!"
"What
he did he did of his own strength if possible. That particular representative of the Esper People had a superb mix of
energies – you never saw more than a sliver of it. Really, although you probably didn't know it, you'd be
hard-pressed to find a more honorable man alive, but he held within him a
mastery of some of the darkest arts known to this world. Sometimes, young one, it is necessary to
know evil well in order to defeat it. This was another factor that made you invaluable to us."
Cecil
mulled for a bit over that. It all
seemed rather counterproductive to him.
Then
something in the voice's voice struck him.
"
'. . . a more honorable man alive'?!"
The
voice was silent for a moment, as if caught in a fib.
"
. . . well, yes. As I said, you've
already forgotten several loose ends and neglected several allies."
"Rorunar's
still alive?!?!"
"
. . . somewhat. I wouldn't count on
seeing him again, though. He's just an
example. Also, as an Esper, he was
Guardian of your territory. Now that
he's gone, you will need to pick up his place as well as your own. Or find others to do so. You, of course, cannot hold evil within you
without relinquishing your Paladin gifts."
"
. . . who are you?"
"Ah! I wondered if you'd ever get to that. Many spirits inhabit this shrine,
Paladin. Ordeals is not a single power
or force. It is the combination of
powers left by all other Holy Warriors throughout history. And as our energies remain, so do a part of
our spirits."
"
. . . then why . . . why did my father have to depart after giving me the
Sword?" Cecil asked, trying to get all this stuff straight in his head.
"You
said it yourself – you were, at the time, a Warrior of Darkness. That posed a problem. It required quite a bit of extra . . . ah,
but that's getting pretty technical. I'm not about to explain to you exactly how we make Paladins. It was necessary. You must accept that."
Cecil
squinted around him, not liking all the necessary things that had happened.
"I
have a question," interrupted a new voice from behind him, and Cecil turned
with surprise to find Kain and Rydia standing in the entrance.
Again,
the light winked throughout the chamber.
"Yes,
Dragon Knight?"
"Not
to get you away from the subject of Paladins, here, because I'm sure you both
find that to be rather interesting, but you made an interesting comment involving
Espers and Guardians? I don't get it."
"Let
the Caller explain."
Rydia
blinked at Cecil, who blinked back, wondering why the two of them were there.
"Er
. . . well, take an example. My
village, Mist, was guarded by . . . Mist. The Mist Dragon. She was the
Guardian of the region. All major
dwellings and/or cities have a Guardian of some sort – she was just one of the
more obvious ones. Generally, they keep
the darker powers away with little trouble, but even they can be overwhelmed,
as we all saw. Odin had been living in
the basement of Castle Baron for some time – I guess that when your Sir Rorunar
spent all those years frozen underground, Odin stepped in to take over the
region. They had quite a squabble when
Rorunar returned. Odin ended up
stepping down because Shiva blackmailed him, but he stayed down there to
sulk. Then, after Rorunar was killed –
"
"Somewhat."
"
– whatever, Odin tried to take the balance back into his own hands, but
completely blew it. I'm actually pretty
amazed he was willing to help us at all, even after we defeated him."
"Then
. . . " Cecil tried to get this straight in his mind, " . . . who's
Guardian of Baron now?"
"This
is where you come in, Paladin!" The voice sounded cruelly cheerful and chipper. "You don't have one. You'll be hard-pressed indeed to find an
Esper willing to step in where a Fiend so recently held office. The balance of good and evil is entirely in
your hands."
"Oh,
peachy."
"It's
also where you come in," the voice continued, emitting a blinding
flash of light in Kain's face. "For
you have quite an extensive understanding of evil. I know, I know – your will was subverted and you had no control –
but you still had the experience."
"Don't
remind me."
"Tough. Heck, you've even been dead a few
times. All this helps. I'm quite sure you can manage between the
pair of you. Dismissed."
The
three of them blinked, completely startled and even more completely confused.
Cecil
cleared his throat.
"Um?"
No
response came.
Shaking
his head, completely bemused, the Paladin at last rose to face his companions
head on.
"What
are you doing here?"
Kain
and Rydia exchanged glances and shrugged.
"We
have no idea."
"
. . . do any of you have any idea what that was all about?"
Kain
blinked.
"I
guess they're trying to tell us that our work isn't yet finished."
Rydia
sighed.
"Gosh
darn it. I so need a
vacation." She turned to exit the
chamber. "Well, are you coming? I'm not sure how we all got here, but I'll
have Chocobo give us all a ride back home."
Sighing
back, the two Warriors followed at a distance.
"Will
life ever make sense again, do you think?" Cecil asked, a bit weary in tone.
Kain
grinned.
"Did
it ever? Cheer up. So, a ghost tells you to take on the
world. It could be worse."
"How?"
Cecil asked, surly.
Kain
only grinned wider.
"They
could switch our roles. I could be the
ultimate good guy, and you could be the little keeper of darkness."
Cecil
blinked.
"True. Very true."
They
reached the foot of the mountain and waited as Rydia chanted to Summon her
yellow buddy. Cecil, noting something
shiny at his feet, bent to inspect it more thoroughly and found it to be one of
Masters' purple scales which had somehow survived the scavenging carrion birds.
For
some reason, this struck him to be outrageously funny, and he burst out
laughing. Earning odd looks from his
companion, he simply grinned and began singing.
"It's
good to be King, just for a while . . . "
)---------- Disclaimer: Annie's
Final Thought
"It's
that time again!"
"To
floss?"
"To
make bubbles with our spit?"
"No,
it's time to learn the moral of today's story! And to do that, we turn to . . . the WHEEL OF MORALITY! Wheel of Morality, turn turn turn. Tell us the lesson that we should learn."
Okay,
everyone, if you haven't caught on to my morals by now, one of us must be
stupid. Either you, for not getting
something so obvious, or me, for not making everything so painfully obvious as
I thought I was. The deal is this: War
sucks, and always trust a friend over a Royal Advisor. Just because the King of Dragons says you
can't do something doesn't mean you shouldn't go out and do it anyway. Never trust an evil sword. Don't eat the jelly flavored jelly. Scare the Yokels whenever possible; it's a
lot of fun. Sucking up can be a good
thing. Turning purple and growing a
tail usually aren't. Don't be
embarrassed after saving the world. When your chocobo is running out of juice, prompt him with thoughts of
warm stables and food, lots of food. Never trust a spittin' moron. It's what's in the heart that counts. If no one believes you've seen a monster,
show them your bloody stick. Never trust
an evil cook. When all else fails, give
a speech. If it seems too easy, deal
with it later.
And
above all, everyone, don't let people tear you down for doing what you know is
right. Press your point, and eventually
someone's going to be forced to listen, whether it's an army of confused
soldiers on the verge of attack, or your friend who still thinks it's cool to
sniff nerve gas. One person can make a difference. *sigh* Okay, moment over.
Cecil,
Kain, Rosa, Cid, KluYa, Golbez, Yang, Edward (was he even in this story? I forget!), Edge, Rydia, the Mysidian Elder,
Palom, Porom (both of which were, I think, mentioned once in there), King
Baron, the X-King of Eblan, Baigan, Masamune, Aeris (who isn't quite mentioned,
just alluded to in the opening dream sequence), Sephiroth (likewise), the guy
at the Inn (whom I have had the honor of naming Albion, although to my knowledge,
he has no official name), the spooky Toroian Clerics, and all Summoned Monsters
who made an appearance (that's not including certain beings mentioned during
Leviathan and Asura's little chat about Rydia wearing white), are property of
Squaresoft. I'm sure I missed some
others in there too, but you get my drift.
Max,
Cami, Lori, Thomas, Veronica, Matryad, Alexandria, Cid's mother, Cid's father,
Julia, Dad, Michael, Abraham, Phil, Torram, Techie, that poor Eblanian kid whom
Kain almost slaughtered, Jason, Uriat, Kormag, Aromuth, Timothy, Chia (That's
right, Edward was in this story!),
gracious, there are a lot of characters here, aren't there?, the Eblanian
Conspirators, Marion, the various nameless characters from just about
everywhere, and of course, my dear Sir Rorunar are my own, along with probably
another slew that I've forgotten about. Do any of us care anyway?
The
original concept of this story started after my dear friend Clovis told me of a
dream he'd had, featuring a large, purple monster named Masters' who had a
haircut like Matt Maffatt***. Somehow,
it took off. So anyway, Masters is
property of Clovis' subconscious.
Serpentine was named in honor of my
passing the Serpentine portion of Drivers' Ed. The other Airships, with the exceptions of the already-named Enterprise and Falcon, were named by myself simply because that's what I felt like
naming them.
A
brownie point for anyone who can say why the Moogles each had a different
comment.
Did
everyone like this little tale? It's
only about 3 years later than I'd planned on completing it and shipping it out
all over the Internet - not so bad, huh? See, I have this horrible habit of overworking stuff, and so I probably
would have been better off posting this three years ago. I didn't. Then, the more I learned about Medieval society and battle tactics, the
more I went back and changed. I know
it's still highly flawed, and if there are any other history majors out there,
please don't beat or taunt me. I'm
fragile.
This story
was originally a drama. Again, though,
my overworking kicked in, and one year after first writing it, everything
dramatic just seemed cheesy, so I began replacing everything with silly
comments and stupid yokels being wounded accidentally. The entire epilogue I originally wrote has
been scrapped. It sucked. In case you're curious, it involves yet
another trip to Mt. Ordeals, a chat with another ghost (KluYa, to be exact),
some very sappy crap goin' on (you all know how much I love that sappy crap - why do you think I took it out?), and an
insight of life after death, as well as the song which is still gracing the end
of this story.
UPDATE: the epilogue I wrote to
replace the original epilogue has been replaced with this epilogue. I lost the other one. Don't ask why – the reason involves federal
agents and disgruntled postal workers.
I
would like to extend a thank you to Mr. Mark Twain, for introducing me (through
our High School production of Big River) to the term "Yokel."
I
dedicate the song to Matt Maffat***. Even if he seems to hate my guts.
(Along
this note, I have just, at the last moment (I think) decided to make yet
another change. Has everyone by now
realized why this sucker has taken so long? Rorunar had, up until a moment ago, been depicted by a fife; however, I,
on a power trip and Mannheim Steamroller kick, have just changed all references
of such to a recorder-like instrument capable of playing a specific rendition
of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" which has so
captured my heart in the past five days. It's a phase. Before I'm
through, I may just change him to trumpet to satisfy my own brass ego, or maybe
give Cid a startling affinity for the oboe.)
The
preceding paragraph was written about a year and a half ago. The fact of the matter is, though, that
Rorunar's affinity for musical instruments should come into play in later
stories. Anyway, continuing on:
THE
BARONIAN ROYAL MARCHING BAND!!!
Featuring
Cecil:
Mellophone
Kain:
Sousaphone
Rosa:
Baritone
Cid:
Cowbell
Hey. It could happen. Look! Here comes Edge
with a Bari Sax! And hark! It's the rotting and decaying body of Tellah
carting along a flugelhorn! Yippee!
You
know, when I wrote Black Lightning and Red Eyes, it was the biggest deal in the
world for me because it was exactly 50 pages long. I wrote a 50 page fic! Wow! Then I come to this one,
where chapter 8 alone is 80 pages, and, well . . . never mind. Just never mind.
This
is my first FF fic where Kain did not die. I'm sure he's relieved. After
"Don't Jump, Kain, Don't Jump", and his double-death in Lighting, he's spent
enough dead time for the next couple of tales, I think. Maybe. Instead, I kill off his teacher, who makes an interesting reappearance
in the upcoming fic: Venus Admonition. You're probably dripping with anticipation. Anyway, though, for anyone who may be wondering, his being dead
will eventually have a point later in the series.
I
really got a kick out of writing this one. It gave me a chance to attempt to be dramatic, and still be silly all in
the same story. Hee! The power!
NOTE:
just about every other sentence contains an inside joke of some sort. There are very few people on the face of
this planet who would be able to grasp the full humor of this (Clovis), but
that's okay! Why? Because I am Fighting Otter, Giant
Butterfly! Look! An owl! Head 'em up and MOVE 'EM OUT! AR! AR! AR!
Every
kick in the shin is lovingly dedicated to my dear friend Gloria. Even if she, I think, hates Final
Fantasy. And just so everyone knows I'm
not writing for lack of experience, my own shins have been kicked on numerous
occasions. And let me tell you - it
hurts like a mother monkey!
Now,
I don't want anyone accusing me of plagiarism. I realize that there are many tales of Masamune and his evil, but I don't
intend to be copying any of them. Just
adding my own insight. Just as I know
I'm not the only one to voice the aftereffects of a war between Baron and
Eblan, which I don't believe was mentioned in the game, but still seems to be
another common theme. C'mon! There has to be war somewhere - why else
would Baron have built itself an air force? Not simply to annoy local crystal-hoarding Elders, I nearly guarantee
it.
Okay,
I was about on my second revision when I began playing the Japanese hard-type version
of this game, and I realize that my story conflicts in many ways. But that's okay! This is fan fiction! We're aloud to make things up!
Fie
on thee who canceled Knuckled the Echidna, the greatest comic book ever
written!
(If
you read this entire fic, you probably have a lot of time on your hands. This being the case, allow me to recommend
some specific time-killers. First of
all, there is a book. It is called Five
Hundred Years After, and it is written by a gentleman known as Steven
Brust. I recommend it. Why? Cause it's @#$%! awesome!! Take
that! Also, while satisfying your
desire for conspiracy and magic and swords and a very unique writing style such
as Brust employs, why not make like my own Mathe self and jam along to my
latest kick . . . Mannheim Steamroller? While, of course, savoring several handfuls of Dan-Dee Corn Twists . . .
with a large glass of Pepsi at your side . . . during the commercials of Ronin
Warriors . . . ah, bliss.
It's
Christmas. I'm allowed to go on such
tangents.)
The
preceding paragraph was written last Christmas. In case you're wondering, I didn't feel like writing a whole new
disclaimer, so I'm trying to salvage what I already had.
So
let's discuss this fic a bit, and why I wrote it the way I did. I realize that I probably annoy many people
because I have a lot of down time. You
could, if you wanted to, probably take everything after chapter eight with a
little bit of chapter two and be done with it. I guess I have this big ol' thang goin' on with character
development. I did a crappy job of it
in Lighting, and I think tried to make up for it here. By the time I was done and revising, I
didn't have the heart to cut half of it, and figured that a little down time of
talking and thinking doesn't really seem threatening. The point of the Masters' Poison section of this fic was pretty
much to say that we can't run from our past if we want to shape our future in a
pleasant manner. C'mon, we've all seen
the Lion King. Hakuna Matata does not work, and sometimes we all need a
poison-induced flashback to remind us of things we may have tried to
forget. Cecil and Kain had pretty much
been determined not to get into any of the events that had transpired just
prior to the game, and would have continued to not do so had not a certain
student of our favorite Dragoon suddenly sprouted a tail. Once forced into discussion, however, they
managed to get things resolved rather well, I think, and LO! Just in time to face yet another impending
disaster! They have a lot of disasters
in Baron, but that's okay. Disaster
builds character. However, this does
not mean I am prompting you all to go out and cause your own disaster. When used in moderation, it does indeed
build character - however, as was illustrated (I hope) in this tale, it can
also destroy the very characters it attempts to build . . . that, along with
several buildings, an Airship propeller, Edge's temper . . .
Blood
feuds suck. If you see a hundred years
of war going on, for heaven's sake, try to stop it (or call Jerry
Springer)! I don't know why the war
broke out between Baron and Eblan. Cecil and Edge have not seen fit to tell me when I mentioned I was
writing this tale. It's quite possible
that they themselves don't know. Yet,
had not Zeromus interfered when he did in the game, it would have likely
continued indefinitely. At least, it
would have continued until one or both Kingdom's were wiped out. And then where would we be? It would, in a word, suck.
Edge's
section of the fic is meant to be a bit darker than that of his Baronian
Buddies. As if theirs isn't dark enough
- he gets to be the ghost! But he just
goes to show - everyone in your Kingdom may be against you, but that doesn't
mean you can give in if you know you're right. If Kormag had had his way, this story would have had an early ending:
Eblan attacks Baron head on earlier in the year, Baron blows them away, most
likely, and the story is over. And just
because maybe the person who's supposed to give you your best advice tells you
that your friends are really evil and out to destroy you doesn't mean that they
are. Only you can make that decision,
and if necessary, you have my permission to tell your Royal Advisors at home to
shove it and stick with those who have earned your trust. Just . . . make sure you know what you're
doing first. But I'm starting to sound
like an after-school special. Back to
the fic.
Poor
Edge is faced with quite a dilemma. His
people are about to make the greatest error of their lives, and he is unable to
do anything but yell at a faltering Dragoon halfway across the world. Maybe, maybe not, we'll never know if
indeed, it might have been better if he'd allowed Baron to conquer Eblan. If indeed, Cecil would be able to bring some
order to the crazed populace, we'll never be certain. This may have been a simple and adequate solution, and he could
take it as a given that if indeed he were conquered, no harm would come to him
when and if he escaped from Masamune. But rather than risk it, he, along with Rydia's unexpected aid, did
manage to prevent the war from occurring, and now that Kormag is out of his way
and a new government is in place, he can finally begin the tedious task of
rebuilding his Kingdom. However difficult
it may turn out to be, he at least knows he's not alone.
None
of us are meant to know the future, as I see it, except perhaps for a chosen
few biblically referred to as Prophets, and if we are not among those few, we
have no right to seek what lies ahead. I don't see how anything could be more terrifying in life than seeing
one's own death as it will happen, along with all the other horrors Masamune
inflicted upon Edge's mind. This would
be the end of sanity in any case, which is never a good thing. Be relieved that we don't know the answers
to everything. Infallibility would be a
bore.
Rydia
gets the fun part of this story. She
alone gets to strike a blow against the great Masamune. She's certainly now the most well-traveled
member of the party, hitting several points of the world weekly with her good
buddy: Chocobo. I was going to have
another section of this story somewhere between when she escaped from Eblan and
when she makes her drastic Summoning of Bahamut against Leviathan's wishes where
she ends up in Baron with the intent of warning the Baronians of what lies
ahead from Eblan's end of things. This
would lead Edge's ghost into a deep and thought provoking chat with Kain
involving a piece of cheese, which I decided against using because I already
had too much down time in this stinkin' fic.
Next
time . . .
Next
time, we'll just have to wait and see. The characters are their own. I
just write them down. Because for every
Final Fantasy, there is another waiting to be realized.
Anna-mathe
Echidna
echidna@neobright.net
"When
you breathe, you inspire. When you do
not breathe, you expire."
An interesting theory was put
forth by my pal Em* once in band. We
were sitting in the stands watching our football team getting clobbered, and
I'd been discussing a matter of this game with my squadling, Golden Tiger**,
and she, listening, says:
"Maybe
Cecil can regenerate. I'd bet that if
you cut his chest open, he wouldn't have a heart. He'd have a starfish!"
That's
not a direct quote, I can't remember exactly what she said. But something to that effect.
I'm
still trying to remember what GT and I had been talking about that would have
prompted this. Maybe some things are
better left un-remembered. Starfish? Jeez! Why didn't I think of that?!?!
" . . . and we went into a
tailspin and crashed into a hillside and the plane exploded in this giant
fireball and everybody died!!! . . . except for me! Wanna know why?!
"Because
I had my tray table up! And my seat
back in the full upright position! . . . "
So one day I'm giving my friend
Amy*** a ride home after school, and I get out of the car to see if she needs
any help lugging her stuff inside, and this big ol' cat comes up and jumps
right into the front seat! It was
weird! She told me that this cat has
mental problems.
Yet
another case for my mother, the counselor.
Don't ask why I'm putting all this
stuff here.
A big hello to my L.A.
teachers! HELLO!!!!!!! HELLO, MRS. LAIRSON AND MRS. WILKING!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!
Clovis, when are we ever going to
get around to starting that rock band?
What does everyone think of a
Chaotix/Reboot crossover? You know:
"Warning, Incoming game!"
"Bob,
look! There's a blue hedgehog coming at
us!"
"Glitch! Stat!" ? "It's a . . . Sonic the
Hedgehog game! We're dead! He'll nullify us all!!"
* - name altered slightly for this
publication.
** - Internet handle. His name is Sir Boco****.
*** - name may be altered or
changed . . . or maybe it's not. You'll
never know.
**** - no, his real name isn't Sir
Boco, either.