You already know the truth, dear reader. You have not come for the truth. You have come for the lies. You wish to know the falsehoods, the rumors, and the truths history has left behind. Believe none of the truths you find herein, for I am just one more of the rogues, brigands, and fiends that make up my family. As any honorable citizen will tell you, we are warlocks and murderers. We have no interest but our own, no allegiance to king or country. In the journey between salvation and damnation, we have chosen damnation, and we wash our hands in the blood of those who cross us. Any honest man can tell you these things.
So believe not a word I have to say.
I whisper in the shadows, I speak blasphemy. The secrets too black to remember, I recall. The stories daylight wishes to conceal, I expose. You see before you the book of lies, the redemption of the damned, the exoneration of our fallen heritage. I offer this chronicle to those borne of our bloodline, so they might learn of their ancestors' honor. Lest they believe the slanders they hear in public, I commit these words to the page. All those who bear the Almasy name shall know of their birthright through this book.
You have heard the fools say, no doubt, "The pen is mightier than the sword." We, however, do not distinguish between sword and pen. We make our ink from shadows and blood, and we use the fate of nations as parchment.
History divides men into two classes: rulers and the ruled. Once we ruled, shining and glittering in ancient cities. In this. though, time has forgotten us. But time marches ever forward, sweeping men's lives with it. And in the Empire of Dollet, it swept the line of Merovian Emperors into the halls of power.
Dulac Almasy, considered the first of our line: friend and advisor to the first Merovian Emperor. When their dynasty ascended to the throne, we walked with them. At first, we served as advisors and counselors to the Merovian Kings. As time passed, though, we grew into something... more. When the Kings needed liegemen and knights to protect them, we stood, honor-bound and ready to die.
Know that all rulers have one in common: their desire to preserve their sovereignty. For this purpose that they fight wars, and while all wars need soldiers, not all wars take place on the battlefield. Sometimes, kings and emperors wage war in throne rooms and dining halls, in bed-chambers and seraglios. So when a Merovian Emperor needed a task accomplished, one requiring a certain amount of discretion, he turned to the closest, most trustworthy, most honorable souls at hand. He turned, of course, to an Almasy.
We moved in the shadows, subtle whispers in a world of deafening shouts. When a King called for dagger or poison, an Almasy bowed his head. When he wished to kill a friend or placate an enemy, an Almasy slipped into the darkness. We reaped material rewards, perhaps, but never asked a word of thanks. Diplomats, spies, assassins, thieves: the eyes, ears, and hands of an entire dynasty.
When one dynasty fell, we retained our place as tools of order, serving no one King, no one dynasty, but the system entire. The protectors and guardians of those who revile us, and for us to work effectively, they must never know it. Every time they curse the name of an Almasy fiend or assassin, our cloak of shadows grows.
In their name we have sacrificed our honor, given up the appearance of nobility. Our sacrifice, our crucifixion gave rise to our banner: the Cruciform Sword.
So, read these tales, child of my blood, and drink deeply of our heritage. But always remember that I am, first and foremost, an Almasy, and therefore a liar.
* *
Seifer looked up from his book, eyes bleary from hours of study. He took a few glances around the room, noticing that night had long since come to Balamb Garden. Although he'd spent the better part of the day reading, he had yet to make a sizeable dent in the History. He stood up and stretched his muscles before furrowing his brow in determination and returning to the massive tome.
"Seifer?" called a voice from beside him. Seifer looked up to see Zell standing there, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his shorts. "Seifer, are you okay?"
"Yeah, Zell," Seifer replied, blinking a few times to clear his field of vision. "I've been reading for a long time. Kinda tired."
"Long time? Seifer, the library closes in five minutes, extended hours or no."
"Okay, okay," Seifer shot back. "Give me a second and we'll be out of here."
Seifer stood and started to pack up his belongings, as Zell watched, face filled with worry.
"What's with the face, Chicken-Wuss?"
"You look like shit, Seifer. Did you even eat today?"
Seifer paused, considering this for a long moment before shaking his head. "No. I got here right when the library opened and I haven't left since."
"C'mon, then. We'll dip into my stash of emergency hot dogs."
They left the library, arm in arm, revisiting a familiar argument. "You know, Zell," Seifer started, "not every problem in the world can be solved by applying hot dogs."
"Sure they can!" Zell chirped, waving to his ex-girlfriend Callo as they left the library. "You see, hot dogs are nature's most perfect food..."
They continued their ritual dialogue, growing louder in volume until shushed by one of the robed and omnipresent members of the Garden faculty. They walked on in silence, before Zell spoke again.
"This book is really important to you, huh?"
"Yeah." Seifer nodded. "See, you have a family. The Dinchts adopted you, and you know who you are. I mean, you're one of them. Squall knows about his parents, too. I don't have that. All I ever had was this emblem of mine and a desire to be a knight. Now I know where I come from."
"So you come from a line of knights, right?"
"Well, kind of. None of the Almasy's were ever knighted, but they all acted to protect their kingdoms. In fact, you'd be surprised at the part they played in the history of the Dollet Empire..."
* *
Mallis sat in silence, pouring over the latest report.
According to his sources, the Almasy boy spent the day in the library, studying a book that he'd brought with him, and had taken with him when he left. Every so often, he'd consult another text, presumably as a reference, but for the entire day he focused his attention on the one large volume.
Seifer procured this book, he assumed, on his trip to Cid Kramer's private library, located in the lower levels of the Garden. This intrigued the General for, try as he might to conceal it, the Headmaster had some special interest in Seifer. Why Cid made such a point of weaving a web around Seifer, Mallis didn't know, but like all things, he would learn in time.
He turned his attention next to the daily report on Squall's activities. These always proved less interesting than Seifer's – Squall spent most of his time training or running SeeD. His actions seemed more predictable, yet Mallis couldn't afford to stop watching him.
"Death itself fears him," he said aloud, quoting an ancient Centra proverb, "for he has the heart of a lion."
* *
"I just don't know, Xu," Quistis sighed, leaning across her bed, "this resolution sounds good and everything, but it's not exactly easy to just 'get over' someone you've loved for years."
"And no one thinks it should be," Xu replied, curled up in a chair on the other side of the room. "We just want to see you learn that you can be happy without Squall."
Quistis sighed again. "I know. Seifer completely has the right idea, but I'm somewhat at a loss when it comes to implementing this resolution."
"What do you mean?"
"I... I can't help it. I still love Squall. He's... radiant. Every time I see him, I feel lifted, and I know that I'll never be able to love anyone else. Then I picture him at the SeeD ball, dancing with Rinoa. You could see the peace in his eyes. For the first time in maybe his whole life, Squall was at peace, and it was all because of her. I see them together, and it destroys me. Why does she make him happy, when I'm not even allowed to try?"
Her face fell to the floor for a moment, and a moment of sheer panic gripped her heart as she felt a profound sense of failure wash over her. Quistis had never learned to tolerate anything she perceived as a personal weakness. With all her achievements and her knowledge of Squall, she'd never managed to register as a blip on his radar, and that, to her, could count as nothing but failure.
"Because he deserves someone like her. Squall deserves a princess. Someone who can offer him a life other than bloodshed and violence. While I'd like to be that person, I'm a SeeD at heart, and nothing will change that. Every time I see Rinoa, I just want to hide. I don't have her looks. I don't have her voice. I don't have her temperament. Whatever it is he likes, I just can't compete." Her eyes traveled across the room to her bulletin board where her lone picture of Squall hung in the sunlight.
"And what kills me is the way he doesn't even notice me. You and I are used to that, Xu. Everybody's big sister, everybody's best friend. We're the girls you just don't think of 'that way.' But with Squall, it's different. Unless there's a mission to run, I may as well be invisible. His world centers around Rinoa."
"Quistis, are you listening to yourself? Do you realize what you sound like?"
"What do you mean?" Quistis asked, wondering if she should feel offended.
"Seifer's right. Pining away like this can't be healthy. I mean, a schoolgirl crush is one thing, but this has gone way beyond that stage."
"You're right," Quistis snapped, perhaps a little more hastily that she would have liked. "This isn't a crush. This is love. I love Squall."
"No, but you think you do."
"How would you know, Xu? You're not in love."
Xu flinched slightly. "No, I'm not. But Seifer is, I agree with him completely."
"Okay," Quistis said, her voice starting to tremble. "Let's just... forget I brought this up, okay? All I meant was that it's hard changing after all these years."
"Look," Xu replied, walking over to the bed and kneeling beside it, "I don't mean to be harsh here, and I'm sorry if you feel like I'm betraying you. But I think Seifer knows what he's talking about.
"I may not be experienced with men, Quisty, but one thing I know is that love is supposed to be shared. It's the proverbial two-way street. Squall may respect you, but you have to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't love you, at least not in the way you want him to. So if you don't want to call this a crush, then let's settle on 'infatuation,' or something like that. But let's not call it love, or act as though Squall represents your only chance at happiness. Okay?"
Quistis looked at her friend for a long moment. "Okay." Another moment passed. "So what is it I'm supposed to do?"
"I'm going to give you a mission," Xu replied. "Phase one: I want you to practice not using the word 'love' with reference to Squall. It sounds silly, but it's a start. If you let yourself believe that you'll never care about anyone else, you'll spend the rest of your life wasting away in his shadow."
Quistis nodded. "And phase two?"
"I want you to think about what happened that night that Seifer took you out. When you stopped worrying about what Rinoa has that you don't have, you were able to have fun. The less you obsess over Squall, the more this will happen. You don't have to stop caring about him overnight, just... stop obsessing."
Quistis nodded once more. "Is there a phase three?"
"Yes," Xu answered. "Go to the bathroom and wash your face. You've been on the verge of tears for far too long."
Quistis did so, and spent a long moment looking at herself in the mirror, forcing herself to acknowledge the truth of Xu's words. When she finally felt composed enough to face her friend, she stepped back in her room, barely having the chance to duck as a pillow came screaming toward her head.
"Defend yourself, Trepe!" Xu challenged from her position standing atop the bed, hurling another pillow at the blonde woman. "I don't think you're nearly as tough as they say."
Quistis deftly caught this pillow and smiled, grimly at first, but then with growing excitement. She clutched the pillow by the case and twirled it, sneering at her friend's challenge.
"Let's dance."