For the first time I am pleased with the comedic content. Note that there will be a sizeable amount of serious and semiserious material in this fic. My previous disclaimer stands, as it will for all proceeding chapters. Thanks for the encouragement. Salvete. Et nunc, hoc …

Physical training met indoors in the expanded training center, after his lunch and other class, which was heavily assisted and Trepie-free: unless you counted Irvine. Seifer was actually free to take notes on the subject matter. Should he choose to, that is. The renewed interest in the Gardens called for each of them to expand considerably so the center now held a full gymnasium and dueling circles. Seifer was mildly surprised that such a class on protocol even had a physical requirement. Sure, he knew that fitness was integral to each segment of SeeD development, but he didn't expect it to be a taught portion; the kids here weren't young by any means. Unless this meant they were to learn marches, forms, and subterfuge. Ugh. How boring.

"Today we will be studying the art of the duel."

This must have been a new trick Trepe learned: how to hold his attention and change his mood.

"Dueling was recently re-allowed in Garden, to help with training and to instill senses within you. Senses of fear, opportunity, of honor." She was looking all of them over, trying to keep everyone's attention, but even at this point it was clear that all they wanted was to fight. "The duel is an intricate and ancient tradition. It was once widely used throughout the world, but now I can think of only two people that still practice it regularly." She glanced over to Seifer and some students followed suit. "It is a means of growth in many ways. Dueling is an honor-based system of settling disputes, deciding conflicts, competing, and merely communicating. It is way of understanding yourself and your opponent. Do any of you know how to duel already?"

Well, Seifer didn't need to be asked twice. He stepped forward silently and without pretense. "If no others of you have studied it before, then I'll just get Commander Leonhart to demonstrate." Seifer was almost certain that, even if any of the others did know how to duel, they would refrain from letting it be known just to see Squally Boy kick his ass. Even though last time he did win, he himself was not sure if Squall had just let him. Yes, they would hold off for the commander to show.

"I've studied the duel Miss Trepe and I'd be glad to point out to the lap dog here some parts it seems he's missed." Yes, they'd pine for Leonhart all right. Unless one of them was stupid enough to have a go with Seifer. He was a haughty bastard too. Fairly tall and muscular and with a gunblade as well.

Hmm. I think I hate him. I realize I've not even met him and know nothing of him. But there's just something about him. Reminds me of…Me. Yup. I'm sure of it now. I hate him.

"Very well, Epimetheus. But I demand that you give all students the respect you give me." The arrogant student rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible. She could have demanded the respect he gives himself, but hey, no point in getting greedy is there?

What a fitting name. They both walked into the center of the circle, Seifer giving his instructor a questioning glance. She walked up to him so that no one would hear her, "It's okay. He really needs it." She glanced over at Epimetheus. "Just be gentle alright?" Quistis looked intently up at Seifer who grinned and nodded knowingly. She'd used that term before with him. It was code for 'don't instigate.' He assumed it meant he should give the kid the metaphorical rope enough to let him hang himself. Sounded fun enough.

He turned around to see his opponent twirl his own gunblade in the air, showing off while he warmed up and bounced around on his heels. Seifer yawned lazily and waited for the kid to stop messing around. Hyperion rested on his shoulder. Epimetheus finally nodded and brought himself into a fighting stance. His blade was a revolver type but with a slimmer rapier-like edge down the barrel. The ex-Knight placed his gunblade on the ground and propped himself up on it like he would with a cane.

The kid sighed and whined, "Instructor, how are you supposed to watch me defeat my opponent if he won't even get into a ready stance?"

"He looks ready to me. I'm watching. Go on."

Epimetheus snorted; Seifer was watching him intently but with a disinterested, even bored, stare. He started to encircle him, still being closely watched. Feinting a few times to test Seifer, he elicited no response. Beginning to frown, the cadet backed off and suddenly charged, only to have Seifer pivot around his blade that was still standing upright on the floor. By this point the kid was growing angry. He was desperate to humiliate the traitor before him and win the respect of his comrades and instructor. Squall had done it as a cadet and a few times after hadn't he? He launched into a flurry of frenzied attacks, but they were predicted and parried with apparent lethargy. Even with the flair he added to the nearly carbon copies of textbook gunblade attacks he was unable to force Seifer to move anything with the exception of his right arm (and his left when he decided to switch hands and further enrage his opponent).

The whelp had backed off for the time being and Seifer noticed Squall standing by, observing with one hand on his hip. Seifer started to smirk and then proceeded to wink at his adversary. This caused him to engage him yet again. As he barreled toward Seifer, Squall could be seen with his face now buried in one of his hands, fingers spread apart so he could still see as he shook his head.

Revolver brought with the full force of its owner met Hyperion with almost no resistance. He was surprised, as his blow seemed to keep traveling even after the momentum of his swing should have ceased. A subtle yet immense force was continually shifting on his blade, wrought from the fluid motion of Seifer, which caused him to perpetually modify his stance and remain off balance. Soon, his control was fully in the hands of his opponent. All the while both blades remained almost fused together. Hyperion sang in all directions while Epimetheus fell into heavy fear, being tossed about; the only reason for his danger and his safety chasing him constantly, bringing dizziness and flailing… To such a degree that both his and his opponent's weapon came impossibly close to lacerating him only to be cast away at the last second.

Such a dangerous dance was ended as his revolver was flung sideways back over his head so quickly that he twisted in midair several times, falling, with his blade clattering safely nearby. He couldn't know what to think or do. Thusly, he lay there, in shock.

"Thank you for the demonstration." Instructor Trepe spoke up to end the short silence. She could see that Squall was smirking; a strange habit with a slight mystery of origin. Motioning to Seifer, she said, "I asked the Commander to come and play so you wouldn't have to be bored for the rest of the period." Quistis left to speak to the rest of the students. "All right partner up: like weapons please." At this point Seifer noted that certain weapons had gained quite a bit of popularity of recent. The gunblade, whip, and shinobuo were especially well liked now.

Seifer inclined his head towards his rival. He did the same in return. Seifer mused that his long and still developing camaraderie with Squall was something like a contractual sale: Squall was interest free for a several years and required no payments either. Strange.

The Lion Heart met Hyperion again, and their masters spoke, and their teacher rejoiced.

After the duel ended, Seifer was free of classes for the day. The battle had enthralled a few students a little too much, and there were a couple of injuries. Unlike old times, both felt at least marginally guilty, and unlike old times when the event ended with a draw, both accepted it as such. Squall walked with him towards his dorm.

"Cid told me about your new position." The unspoken congratulation was in the lilt. "He also told me about what's going on with Quisty. I know you just started, but I'm a… Well I'm worried. Any theories yet?" They stopped momentarily to face each other, Seifer reaching out to feel Squall's forehead with the back of his now bared hand. Squall backed off slightly looking perplexedly miffed.

"Just seeing if you're sick or something. I swear you've just doubled the previous total of your life's spoken words. And yes, I do have a theory, it's a bit weak now but I'm workin' on it. You see when…"

"Then you mean…?"

"Yes."

"But…"

"Quite…"

"How?"

"Well…"

"Not…?"

"I'm afraid so…"

"Why?"

"Who knows?"

"You think…?"

"Could be…"

"But…"

"I know…"

"She was…?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…"

"Hmm…" They made the contemplative sound simultaneously. For a nine second conversation it was extremely enlightening for both parties. Conversation with Seifer was quickly dismantling much of Rinoa's training of Squall to get him to open up and be more garrulous. Fortunately, she wasn't there to witness their eccentric way of communicating. Those that were though were confounded for several minutes, including Irvine, who was passing by.

Squall was all about secrecy, privacy, and efficiency, and he'd be damned if anyone understood that better than Seifer Almasy. He actually enjoyed conversing with him; if you could call it that. "Going to 'ball later Almasy?"

"I'll think about it. I have a lot of work to do. See you Leonhart." With that he set into his dorm to ready himself for his return to his office. He had a number of things to set up in order to fully understand the malfunction in his instructor's classes.

Since returning to the security offices, Seifer had been directing technicians to install the new surveillance equipment in vital areas of the Garden, deciding that such advanced tools did little good being boxed up and stowed away. Cameras were placed in entrances, hallways, and areas of general congregation, as well as the classrooms. This was to monitor for cheating more than anything else. Laser sensors were positioned in the more sensitive areas, along with motion, heat, and aural monitors. The head of security was quite pleased with the equipment he had just arranged to be set up. He also asked Headmaster Cid for permission to use some of the surplus gear to monitor the instructor's private life. Fujin was at present, distracting her while Raijin was tapping her phone and mounting a hidden camera in her suite.

Events in her personal life may well explain the ruin of her professional one. Currently he thought that her plight was caused by exhaustion and from being overworked. He felt after talking with Squall that she was probably just not able to handle the stresses any longer: signs of over-exertion, depression, and frustration were already evident to them. She was handling a typical load of classes, but with a heavy load of students, and in addition, she attended SeeD political functions and occasionally was called on duty.

The only sign of poor teaching she had really showed was inconsistency, however. All possibilities needed to be explored, as the inconsistency might just be a reaction to traditional methods failing, a response to poor results in the past.

Maybe she went through a bad break-up? Maybe the attention garnered from being a heroine was finally causing her to crack? He could only speculate at this time but he would talk to her in private to get a better read. Tomorrow he would talk.

Still, he couldn't help but think that it might be best for everyone if she were to leave her position as soon as possible, if only temporarily. Yet again, he hated nothing more than fixing mistakes the way he used to sometimes, he must be patient, and hopefully not at her expense. Shit. He really hated to solve problems by cutting something twice only to find it still too short.

Someone opened his door and walked in. An auburn haired cowboy with chaps and all. He noticed that the chief of security wore a contemplative scowl as he often did when worried and planning, so Irvine approached with caution.

"What do you want?" He asked straining not to sound annoyed, sitting beneath the only ornamentation in the office: a wall scroll written in an ancient tongue. It read, 'Nescio quid fiat.' The cowboy had walked up to his desk, looked down at it and scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, chief," He began with his distinctive drawl, leaning forward and muttering conspiratorially, "I was wonderin' if you sold your equipment to others." Seifer's eyes narrowed with moderate offence.

"Listen cowboy, I don't appreciate it when someone comes into my office while I'm at work to ask me if I'm a man-whore. Not all of us are like yourself and I don't want to know why the hell you just asked me that. That established; the only service I offer is abuse. I know it makes poor business sense, but I just can't help giving out free samples all the time. I suggest you leave before I 'go in the red again', if you catch my drift." He didn't really know why he became so tense around Irvine. Perhaps it was because he seemed to look at Selphie and Quistis the same way he looked at every other woman. Maybe Kinneas was just indecisive about whom he wanted to pursue, or he was overly appreciative of the feminine form, or maybe… Regardless, Seifer wouldn't have his childhood friends hurt by the cowboy's apparent misogyny. Selphie had expressed her concerns about the playboy before, calling him 'nice to a fault.' Too suspicious were his intentions.

Irvine was notoriously poor at handling pressure situations. He backed away and put up his hands, "Look you got me all wrong, Ah just saw some techs puttin' up some surveillance stuff, and Ah jest wanted to ask if you would sell the extras for personal reasons." He knew that he'd asked the question in the wrong way yet again when the ex-Knight's eyes tore open and he shot up from his seat.

"WHAT?" He bellowed. "The almighty self-proclaimed 'ladies'' man wants help to fulfill his voyeuristic desires? You're one sick motherfucker, you know that? Personal reasons. Feh."

"But…" He tried to protest.

"Shut your festering hole, you outlandish whore! Your kind makes me vomit! You vacuous, omelet-faced, fetid pervert of uncertain origin! Scullion! Away, you disgorge with such kin as the parish heifers; I cannot endure such a fastidious rascal. Be gone." Yes, his methods and content were unorthodox, but no one ever, EVER, could compete with Seifer's insults. His palms were on the table and he was breathing heavily.

To Irvine's credit (of remarkable bravery or stupidity) he didn't quite leave. "Good. Ah figure if you wouldne' let me buy anything, there's no way you'll give those little bastards that asked me to come up here what they want." He was exceedingly relieved that he hadn't been killed before he had the chance to finish.

"Wait. Now why the fuck didn't you just come out and say that some stupid kids were asking? Shit, cowboy. Names. Give me names." He sat back down at his workstation.

"Arthur Reginald Webster, Charles Patrick Trumpington, and Marcel Agnes Bernstein." Seifer put the names in a Garden directory search and soon was viewing their profiles. Just as I suspected. Trepies.

The 'reminds me of me' bit is more or less lifted from the film Tombstone.

We'll see the rest of the crew next chapter and finally be privy to real interactions between Seifer and Quistis. Did you know that her name means, "You all had been able?" Seriously. Valete omnes et curate.