A salmonella-encrusted takeaway and a near-fatal car crash couldn't stop me
from writing for long. This chapter is dedicated to my former driving
machine, currently resting in peace at the local scrap yard. Enjoy...
Quistis stamped her feet on the crowded cafeteria floor once again in frustration. It was now a quarter to eight in the morning, and she would've given anything at that moment to stop the larger clock hand on the far wall in its tracks. She was nervous. Even a woman who guarded her emotions as closely as she did couldn't hide it for long. It had been seven hours since Squall had asked her if she would give him the honour of being the sixth commander of SeeD, and the realisation of what her decision would mean had only just hit her. She, Quistis Trepe, a failed instructor and a mediocre SeeD at best, was going to have to be a leader for once in her life. She was going to have to be in charge of three hundred and fifty lives on a battlefield when she wasn't even sure she could take care of her own. If she had been in Squall's shoes, she would've made a point to pick anybody but herself for the job. She was ready and willing to be suffocated by her own fear - it was already warm in the cafeteria as it was.
'Tell me, Squall,' she began once again, 'and be honest this time. Why am I doing this? Why did you pick me out of all the rest? What's wrong with Xu, or Zell, or even Irvine? Why me?'
Squall chuckled to himself and smiled warmly at her. He took a step closer and placed one gloved hand firmly onto her shoulder, his eyes fixed intensely on hers. If he has any fears to deal with about this battle, Quistis thought, he's doing a better job than me of hiding them.
'What makes you think I wasn't telling the truth before, Quistis?' he replied simply. He seemed to have finally gotten out of the habit of calling her 'Instructor'. 'I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I didn't think you were capable. There's nobody around here who'd be any better at this, and that's the truth. You've got some strengths in you that even you don't know about yet.'
Quistis' modesty couldn't stop her from being embarrassed. The colour was quickly rising in her cheeks and a small smile crept across her lips when she heard Squall's compliments.
'Hey, I'm being serious here. I know that you can keep your head straight when you're under pressure. That's what being a commander's all about. Who else do I know that could do that? Zell? Selphie? No offence meant to either of them, but I doubt it. I even might've asked Irvine to do it, if Unit Kappa had turned out to be a all-male squadron...'
Quistis laughed quietly at his last comment. 'I suppose you're right,' she replied.
'Don't suppose, Quistis. Know it. I believed that you were the best man - woman, sorry – for this, and I won't stop believing it soon. You're an excellent SeeD and you were a good instructor, and I don't care what anyone else in this Garden thinks. Hey, you taught me for a while, and I turned out okay, right? Think of that before you start puttin' yourself down. Besides,' he added quietly as an afterthought, 'there'll be a reward in this for you that you might not have thought about.'
Quistis was generally surprised. 'And what might that be?' she inquired.
'I know you couldn't have forgotten about it that easily. Are you ever going to think about getting it back?'
'Squall, what on earth are you talking about? Getting what back?'
'Come on, Quistis,' Squall grinned confidently. 'I know you've got intelligence, so use it. Think back to before the Sorceress Wars – to when you still had your Instructor's licence. When they took it away from you, what half-concocted excuse did they come up with for doing it? Do you remember?'
Quistis remembered, and remembered well. How could she forget? So many painful memories...
'T-they said that I'd totally failed as an instructor,' she said quietly, 'And that I – that I lacked leadership qualities...'
'Exactly,' Squall replied, sounding as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'So this is the perfect chance for you to prove them wrong. And after today, they won't have an excuse to keep you out.'
The increasing nerves seemed to have caused Quistis' brain to freeze over. 'I'm sorry?'
Squall sighed in exasperation. 'I like talking to you, Quistis, I really do. You're an intelligent woman. But I can't be hanging around here for too long playing twenty questions, so I'll just be frank with you. If you can prove to everyone that you've got the leadership qualities to be the best commander on the battlefield, then –'
Quistis suddenly caught on. It would take a while, however, for the pleasure of this prospect to really set in. '...Then I'd be able to get my Instructor's licence back,' she finished. After she had uttered those ten words, she was left completely breathless.
'Of course,' Squall added quickly, 'I've been putting in good words for you with the Garden authorities ever since I became Commander, and they're all interested to see you in action. So, if you do a good job of impressing them today, it'll only be a matter of time until your licence is reissued. What do you think?'
'I – er – I don't really –'
'I know how much it really hurt you when you lost that licence. Everyone around here does... even Zell's finally caught on, I think. How good would it make you feel to have it back again? To win it back again?'
Quistis was lost for words. She'd never thought any of the five would've realised how she felt about her career, not in a million years. My, my, she thought to herself, even Zell caught on. And Squall, too. It was ironic, to say the least, that he had brought up the subject - she seemed to remember him telling her to 'go and talk to a wall' when she had brought it up with him. It amazed her how much he had changed over the last two years. What had happened to the one-word answers he used to throw at her, whenever she'd tried to start a conversation with him? How could he have changed so much? Was that all Rinoa's doing? Maybe, she hoped, Squall had a point. Maybe she hadn't been such a bad instructor after all.
'Quistis? What do you think, then? Can I still count on you?'
Quistis had once again become lost in her own thoughts. It took her a few seconds to realise that Squall was still standing in front of her, with a half-hopeful, half-pleading expression on his face.
'Oh, Squall!'
Quistis flung her arms around Squall's neck and embraced him as tightly as she could. It was the only way for her to express the feelings that she couldn't put into words.
Squall was a little more than taken aback. If it hadn't been for his burly physique, she would have thrown him to the ground upon impact.
'H-hey,' he choked from somewhere within Quistis' shoulder, 'you didn't really think we'd forgotten about you, did you? You're our friend. Our best friend, even. It was the least I could do to help.'
Quistis didn't reply. Her head was far too comfortable in its resting place on Squall's shoulder for her to think of a worthy response. A passer-by could've read into it a little too much for her liking - possibly because most of it was true. Sure, Squall was obviously romantically involved, and she had long ago accepted the idea of his undying love for Rinoa. But this was her lifelong crush that was standing in front of her, and a few technicalities didn't mean she had lost her attraction to him just yet. And it definitely wasn't going to stop her enjoying a short moment of intimacy. In fact, if she hadn't sensed every head in the cafeteria turning her way, she was sure she could've stayed in that position forever. When she finally let go and backed away, she felt a little awkward, and extremely embarrassed.
Squall, on the other hand, was as calm and cool as ever. 'So,' he grinned, 'can I take that as a yes, then? I'm running out of arguments fast here. I'll do whatever it takes for you to do it, but I don't want to have to get down on one knee, you know.'
If only, she thought.
Quistis laughed softly. 'Oh, Squall... of course it's a yes. Now that you put it like that. I couldn't ask for anything more. Thank - thank you so much.'
'Hey,' Squall smiled, 'don't thank me too quickly. When you're out there on the battlefield, you might hate me for it.'
'I'm a SeeD, Squall, not an eight year old. I know what a battle looks like.'
'Not one with Zell and Irvine running around in it, I'm sure.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
Squall rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. 'Wonderful,' he finished. 'So, are we okay here? I wouldn't normally ditch you like this, but there's things...'
His voice tailed off, along with his sentence. It wasn't as much an honest question as a statement. He was the commander of a thousand-strong army, after all. He would've had to leave even if she'd chained their wrists together, dragging her if he must.
Quistis mockingly waved one hand towards him, as though she were flicking away a stubborn piece of dirt. 'We're fine here, Squall,' she smiled, 'Now be off with you. You're too busy to let me keep you. And thank you once again.'
Squall returned her smile with a rare grin before quickly turning away. He had only taken a couple of paces when he stopped, as though suddenly struck by an unusual thought. Surprisingly, he spun around on his heels to face her once again. The smile had vanished, and his face held nothing but an expression of utter seriousness.
'You're a good person, Quistis. You're an outstanding SeeD, and you were a success as an instructor. I've got nothing but good faith in you. So don't try to let anyone convince you otherwise.'
With those final words echoing throughout Quistis' head, he offered her a friendly smile and turned back towards the cafeteria door. She watched him converse briefly with a young, female SeeD for a minute or two before he was roughly accosted by Zell, Selphie and Irvine, and dragged away to the main Garden hall. Quistis, on the other hand, was left momentarily paralysed. She continued to stand alone, in the middle of the bustling cafeteria floor, with her eyes fixed on the swinging doors through which Squall had just left. It was only when she started receiving amused stares from the people around her that she began to think about moving.
Once again, she had been struck with the weight of the fact that Squall had changed beyond all her recognition. Since when had he become so good at raising people's spirits? It suddenly felt like she had been in a coma for the last two years of her life. She grasped a strand of her hair and brought it before her fragile eyes, relieved to confirm that it still held its striking blondness. Well, at least she had two feet firmly in the real world. She wondered, however, what other changes she could have missed, more to amuse herself than anything else. Had Selphie committed suicide? Was Seifer crying to himself, wherever he was right now, at the sudden beauty of the rising sun? Was Irvine a woman? It was while she was musing over the possibilities of that last thought, and what the end result might look like, that she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.
'Umm... I-Instructor Trepe?'
She turned around quickly, surprised at the fact that anybody would have a memory so poor as to refer to her as 'Instructor'. She found herself faced with an interesting sight. A youthful, nervous, and obviously embarrassed teenage SeeD, who she seemed to recall from distant memory having taught at some point in her Instructing years, was standing a couple of feet away from her. Her gaze flickered from his left hand, awkwardly scratching away at the back of his head, to the way his eyes tried to focus on everything in the room apart from hers.
'Yes?'
The boy's expression quickly changed to one akin to that of a tramp being addressed by royalty. His finger were drumming nervously on the cafeteria's counter, and for a second Quistis was torn between feelings of absolute sympathy and utter amusement. The balance was tipped ever so slightly when she noticed that a group of similarly-aged boys, seated around a table in the nearest corner, were avidly watching the pair of them, with grins plastered across their faces. It swung all the way towards the latter, however, when she noticed that money was exchanging hands.
'I-I was just wondering. I've junctioned all my magic already, you know, ready for the battle, b-but I was just wondering if you – you could take a look. Y-you see, just to know what you'd do if you were me, with my magic, a-and, you know.'
Quistis tried to remember the way that she'd seen older women smile at young, muscular bartenders, while on her various travels as a SeeD. She was glad when she copied it down to a tee.
'Of course. Why don't you just take a seat and let me have a quick look at it?'
It was a comforting thought to remember that, no matter how depressed or alone she was feeling, Quistis Trepe still had a fan club – and not many other people around the world could match that statement easily.
Worthing shifted uncomfortably as the heavy iron door swung shut, and the darkness of Aifel Massery's lair ensnared him. A line of perspiration was forming on his forehead, despite the fact that the coldness of the dingy room was already biting into his skin. His eyes darted this way and that. The only light in the room came from a pair of hungry green eyes in what he assumed to be the far corner, ever watching him beadily. He had the appearance and character of a man about to face his own execution.
'Have the troops reached the city of Timber yet, Worthing? Or was the journey too tiring for their poor, feeble legs to manage?'
Worthing cleared his throat nervously.
'Sir, we have just received a radio transmission from Unit Four's main commander. He says that the entire unit is only a matter of minutes away from the outskirts of the city. He – he also says that the troops are ready to fight - w-whenever you may order it, of course, sir.'
'Has Balamb Garden been sighted yet?'
Worthing stalled for a split second. His master's unusual questions always succeeded in placing him on edge. Their random nature was in complete contradiction to Aifel Massery's otherwise calculating military brain. None of it seemed to make sense. Who cared, after all, if the commander could see Balamb Garden from where he was? Was it really going to stop the Galbadian unit from attacking Timber? And why was it so important for him to know about it anyway? But it all had to make sense somehow. It had the weight of Massery's logic behind it, and Worthing had yet to see him make a move that didn't eventually pay off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as though... as though there was a plan, a plan that his mind just couldn't see, being intricately woven, piece by piece, in between the confusing orders that the Colonel frequently gave. It worried him greatly. But, yet again, so did a lot of things nowadays.
His master obviously sensed his confusion. In Aifel Massery's book, a split second's delay would never go unnoticed.
'Answer the question, Worthing.'
'S-sir, the commander made no mention of any – any -'
'Good. This gives us more time to prepare.'
A flurry of movement from the centre of the spacious cavern, followed by the sound of footsteps, told Worthing that his master had begun to pace the length of the room.
'Tell the commander to hold his men back for now. They will need their rest. They have been travelling for two days across a number of difficult conditions, and a weary force will not stand against SeeD for very long.'
'I – I agree, sir. But –'
'I want the entire unit to begin the full assault on Timber at a very specific time. Whatever the commander protests at you about reaching the centre of city before SeeD do, have none of it. What idea does he have as to the nature of the greater scheme? He is far too feeble minded to grasp the entirety of my plan. Do you think that is too much for you to handle, Worthing?'
Worthing was struck by the dangerous feeling that his master was, for some reason or another, not entirely pleased with him. Maybe it was the obvious stutter in his voice that seemed to go hand in hand with a one-on-one meeting. With anybody else, this wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest – he hadn't come so far in his career by breaking into a gibbering wreck glass whenever a withering look was thrown his way. But with Aifel Massery, it was different. Everything was different. Either you were in his good books, or you were in his dead ones.
'N-no, sir. N-not at all.'
'Good. I want the commander to launch a full-scale attack on Timber as soon as Balamb Garden becomes visible to the unit in the sky. This must be exact, Worthing, do you understand? Not a moment before, and certainly not a moment after. Is this clear?'
Worthing shifted his feet uncomfortably again. Now he was confused. What possible benefits could come from an order like that? He actually wanted the attacking unit to wait until their opponents had arrived? He almost got as far as opening his mouth to protest, but a different set of words ended up coming out as he remembered what had happened the last time he had tried to interfere with his master's plans.
'Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir.'
'Good, Worthing,' his master answered silkily, 'You seem to have finally mastered the art of obeying my every command. Loyalty is always a virtue that I will pay handsomely for. My orders seem strange to you, yes? I thought as much. But have no worry for the future, Worthing. For the future is now in the palm of my hand. The board is set, the pieces are in their places, and the pawns have only just begun moving. And this is a game that only I stand a chance of winning.'
Worthing wasn't entirely sure whether it was his turn to speak or not.
'Loyalty, Worthing... loyalty to the right thing can take you a long way in a very short time. Loyalty to me, for example. Leonhart has no chance of standing against my power. Once Garden has been destroyed, SeeD will undoubtedly perish. And once the entire Galbadian continent is under our control, we can amass an army with the power to finally launch our attack against Esthar. Yes, Worthing, our attack. For if you stay loyal to me, loyal to Aifel Massery, then the future will be paved for you in gold. And once I stand unopposed, as the undisputed ruler of east and west, you will be standing at my left arm.'
Perhaps Worthing had been wrong, as he so frequently was. Perhaps his master was more impressed with him than he'd thought.
'Sir,' he replied in a high pitched voice, 't-thank you, sir. Colonel Massery. That is... is more than I could ever ask f-'
'I'm sure it is. And now, Worthing, I place before you another task, another great chance for you to prove your worth to me. All the necessary orders for our victory today have already been given. That is no longer in question. You must act as my voice and my will in my absence.'
Worthing was quickly taken aback. Had he heard his master correctly? 'Your – your absence, sir?' he asked, 'I don't understand –'
His master was already chuckling uncannily from the far corner of the room.
'A good player uses every piece on the board to its full advantage, Worthing,' he replied, in a tone of voice suited for cutting through steel, 'and I am a piece that has far greater powers than all others. My time has come to move. I must leave this place soon.'
He walked over to the darkest corner of his lair, his footsteps echoing eerily from every surface.
'You must ensure that everything continues to run according to my orders. You must refrain from issuing any new orders to any member of the Galbadian army, no matter what anyone else advises you or what new events you may learn of. And you must continue to be a good servant to me, and obey all of my orders. Send the message to the unit commander immediately.'
'Y-yes, sir. Immediately, sir.'
'Regianus, it is time.'
Worthing recoiled in horror until the small of his back was pressed against the large iron doors. His breath seemed to have frozen somewhere in his throat next to his voice box. Maybe his mind had played a trick or two on him, but he could've sworn he had heard something, whatever it was, hiss deeply and menacingly in response to Massery's order.
'Come, Regianus. The next time we meet, Worthing, the full extent of my plan will already have been revealed to you.'
And, with those words, silence claimed the room for its own once more.
After another two minutes of standing in the blackness of Massery's lair, Worthing came to the conclusion that he was now alone in the dark. When his legs finally found the energy they needed to move, he immediately made to leave. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, muttered a few nonsense words under his breath, and left the room quickly before the double doors closed sharply behind him.
A/N ; Well, well. More to come very soon. Victory will be his indeed... but does that mean victory in the battle, or will it be something else? (Well, of course it will be if I mention it like that). Tune in soon...
Quistis stamped her feet on the crowded cafeteria floor once again in frustration. It was now a quarter to eight in the morning, and she would've given anything at that moment to stop the larger clock hand on the far wall in its tracks. She was nervous. Even a woman who guarded her emotions as closely as she did couldn't hide it for long. It had been seven hours since Squall had asked her if she would give him the honour of being the sixth commander of SeeD, and the realisation of what her decision would mean had only just hit her. She, Quistis Trepe, a failed instructor and a mediocre SeeD at best, was going to have to be a leader for once in her life. She was going to have to be in charge of three hundred and fifty lives on a battlefield when she wasn't even sure she could take care of her own. If she had been in Squall's shoes, she would've made a point to pick anybody but herself for the job. She was ready and willing to be suffocated by her own fear - it was already warm in the cafeteria as it was.
'Tell me, Squall,' she began once again, 'and be honest this time. Why am I doing this? Why did you pick me out of all the rest? What's wrong with Xu, or Zell, or even Irvine? Why me?'
Squall chuckled to himself and smiled warmly at her. He took a step closer and placed one gloved hand firmly onto her shoulder, his eyes fixed intensely on hers. If he has any fears to deal with about this battle, Quistis thought, he's doing a better job than me of hiding them.
'What makes you think I wasn't telling the truth before, Quistis?' he replied simply. He seemed to have finally gotten out of the habit of calling her 'Instructor'. 'I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I didn't think you were capable. There's nobody around here who'd be any better at this, and that's the truth. You've got some strengths in you that even you don't know about yet.'
Quistis' modesty couldn't stop her from being embarrassed. The colour was quickly rising in her cheeks and a small smile crept across her lips when she heard Squall's compliments.
'Hey, I'm being serious here. I know that you can keep your head straight when you're under pressure. That's what being a commander's all about. Who else do I know that could do that? Zell? Selphie? No offence meant to either of them, but I doubt it. I even might've asked Irvine to do it, if Unit Kappa had turned out to be a all-male squadron...'
Quistis laughed quietly at his last comment. 'I suppose you're right,' she replied.
'Don't suppose, Quistis. Know it. I believed that you were the best man - woman, sorry – for this, and I won't stop believing it soon. You're an excellent SeeD and you were a good instructor, and I don't care what anyone else in this Garden thinks. Hey, you taught me for a while, and I turned out okay, right? Think of that before you start puttin' yourself down. Besides,' he added quietly as an afterthought, 'there'll be a reward in this for you that you might not have thought about.'
Quistis was generally surprised. 'And what might that be?' she inquired.
'I know you couldn't have forgotten about it that easily. Are you ever going to think about getting it back?'
'Squall, what on earth are you talking about? Getting what back?'
'Come on, Quistis,' Squall grinned confidently. 'I know you've got intelligence, so use it. Think back to before the Sorceress Wars – to when you still had your Instructor's licence. When they took it away from you, what half-concocted excuse did they come up with for doing it? Do you remember?'
Quistis remembered, and remembered well. How could she forget? So many painful memories...
'T-they said that I'd totally failed as an instructor,' she said quietly, 'And that I – that I lacked leadership qualities...'
'Exactly,' Squall replied, sounding as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'So this is the perfect chance for you to prove them wrong. And after today, they won't have an excuse to keep you out.'
The increasing nerves seemed to have caused Quistis' brain to freeze over. 'I'm sorry?'
Squall sighed in exasperation. 'I like talking to you, Quistis, I really do. You're an intelligent woman. But I can't be hanging around here for too long playing twenty questions, so I'll just be frank with you. If you can prove to everyone that you've got the leadership qualities to be the best commander on the battlefield, then –'
Quistis suddenly caught on. It would take a while, however, for the pleasure of this prospect to really set in. '...Then I'd be able to get my Instructor's licence back,' she finished. After she had uttered those ten words, she was left completely breathless.
'Of course,' Squall added quickly, 'I've been putting in good words for you with the Garden authorities ever since I became Commander, and they're all interested to see you in action. So, if you do a good job of impressing them today, it'll only be a matter of time until your licence is reissued. What do you think?'
'I – er – I don't really –'
'I know how much it really hurt you when you lost that licence. Everyone around here does... even Zell's finally caught on, I think. How good would it make you feel to have it back again? To win it back again?'
Quistis was lost for words. She'd never thought any of the five would've realised how she felt about her career, not in a million years. My, my, she thought to herself, even Zell caught on. And Squall, too. It was ironic, to say the least, that he had brought up the subject - she seemed to remember him telling her to 'go and talk to a wall' when she had brought it up with him. It amazed her how much he had changed over the last two years. What had happened to the one-word answers he used to throw at her, whenever she'd tried to start a conversation with him? How could he have changed so much? Was that all Rinoa's doing? Maybe, she hoped, Squall had a point. Maybe she hadn't been such a bad instructor after all.
'Quistis? What do you think, then? Can I still count on you?'
Quistis had once again become lost in her own thoughts. It took her a few seconds to realise that Squall was still standing in front of her, with a half-hopeful, half-pleading expression on his face.
'Oh, Squall!'
Quistis flung her arms around Squall's neck and embraced him as tightly as she could. It was the only way for her to express the feelings that she couldn't put into words.
Squall was a little more than taken aback. If it hadn't been for his burly physique, she would have thrown him to the ground upon impact.
'H-hey,' he choked from somewhere within Quistis' shoulder, 'you didn't really think we'd forgotten about you, did you? You're our friend. Our best friend, even. It was the least I could do to help.'
Quistis didn't reply. Her head was far too comfortable in its resting place on Squall's shoulder for her to think of a worthy response. A passer-by could've read into it a little too much for her liking - possibly because most of it was true. Sure, Squall was obviously romantically involved, and she had long ago accepted the idea of his undying love for Rinoa. But this was her lifelong crush that was standing in front of her, and a few technicalities didn't mean she had lost her attraction to him just yet. And it definitely wasn't going to stop her enjoying a short moment of intimacy. In fact, if she hadn't sensed every head in the cafeteria turning her way, she was sure she could've stayed in that position forever. When she finally let go and backed away, she felt a little awkward, and extremely embarrassed.
Squall, on the other hand, was as calm and cool as ever. 'So,' he grinned, 'can I take that as a yes, then? I'm running out of arguments fast here. I'll do whatever it takes for you to do it, but I don't want to have to get down on one knee, you know.'
If only, she thought.
Quistis laughed softly. 'Oh, Squall... of course it's a yes. Now that you put it like that. I couldn't ask for anything more. Thank - thank you so much.'
'Hey,' Squall smiled, 'don't thank me too quickly. When you're out there on the battlefield, you might hate me for it.'
'I'm a SeeD, Squall, not an eight year old. I know what a battle looks like.'
'Not one with Zell and Irvine running around in it, I'm sure.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
Squall rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. 'Wonderful,' he finished. 'So, are we okay here? I wouldn't normally ditch you like this, but there's things...'
His voice tailed off, along with his sentence. It wasn't as much an honest question as a statement. He was the commander of a thousand-strong army, after all. He would've had to leave even if she'd chained their wrists together, dragging her if he must.
Quistis mockingly waved one hand towards him, as though she were flicking away a stubborn piece of dirt. 'We're fine here, Squall,' she smiled, 'Now be off with you. You're too busy to let me keep you. And thank you once again.'
Squall returned her smile with a rare grin before quickly turning away. He had only taken a couple of paces when he stopped, as though suddenly struck by an unusual thought. Surprisingly, he spun around on his heels to face her once again. The smile had vanished, and his face held nothing but an expression of utter seriousness.
'You're a good person, Quistis. You're an outstanding SeeD, and you were a success as an instructor. I've got nothing but good faith in you. So don't try to let anyone convince you otherwise.'
With those final words echoing throughout Quistis' head, he offered her a friendly smile and turned back towards the cafeteria door. She watched him converse briefly with a young, female SeeD for a minute or two before he was roughly accosted by Zell, Selphie and Irvine, and dragged away to the main Garden hall. Quistis, on the other hand, was left momentarily paralysed. She continued to stand alone, in the middle of the bustling cafeteria floor, with her eyes fixed on the swinging doors through which Squall had just left. It was only when she started receiving amused stares from the people around her that she began to think about moving.
Once again, she had been struck with the weight of the fact that Squall had changed beyond all her recognition. Since when had he become so good at raising people's spirits? It suddenly felt like she had been in a coma for the last two years of her life. She grasped a strand of her hair and brought it before her fragile eyes, relieved to confirm that it still held its striking blondness. Well, at least she had two feet firmly in the real world. She wondered, however, what other changes she could have missed, more to amuse herself than anything else. Had Selphie committed suicide? Was Seifer crying to himself, wherever he was right now, at the sudden beauty of the rising sun? Was Irvine a woman? It was while she was musing over the possibilities of that last thought, and what the end result might look like, that she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.
'Umm... I-Instructor Trepe?'
She turned around quickly, surprised at the fact that anybody would have a memory so poor as to refer to her as 'Instructor'. She found herself faced with an interesting sight. A youthful, nervous, and obviously embarrassed teenage SeeD, who she seemed to recall from distant memory having taught at some point in her Instructing years, was standing a couple of feet away from her. Her gaze flickered from his left hand, awkwardly scratching away at the back of his head, to the way his eyes tried to focus on everything in the room apart from hers.
'Yes?'
The boy's expression quickly changed to one akin to that of a tramp being addressed by royalty. His finger were drumming nervously on the cafeteria's counter, and for a second Quistis was torn between feelings of absolute sympathy and utter amusement. The balance was tipped ever so slightly when she noticed that a group of similarly-aged boys, seated around a table in the nearest corner, were avidly watching the pair of them, with grins plastered across their faces. It swung all the way towards the latter, however, when she noticed that money was exchanging hands.
'I-I was just wondering. I've junctioned all my magic already, you know, ready for the battle, b-but I was just wondering if you – you could take a look. Y-you see, just to know what you'd do if you were me, with my magic, a-and, you know.'
Quistis tried to remember the way that she'd seen older women smile at young, muscular bartenders, while on her various travels as a SeeD. She was glad when she copied it down to a tee.
'Of course. Why don't you just take a seat and let me have a quick look at it?'
It was a comforting thought to remember that, no matter how depressed or alone she was feeling, Quistis Trepe still had a fan club – and not many other people around the world could match that statement easily.
Worthing shifted uncomfortably as the heavy iron door swung shut, and the darkness of Aifel Massery's lair ensnared him. A line of perspiration was forming on his forehead, despite the fact that the coldness of the dingy room was already biting into his skin. His eyes darted this way and that. The only light in the room came from a pair of hungry green eyes in what he assumed to be the far corner, ever watching him beadily. He had the appearance and character of a man about to face his own execution.
'Have the troops reached the city of Timber yet, Worthing? Or was the journey too tiring for their poor, feeble legs to manage?'
Worthing cleared his throat nervously.
'Sir, we have just received a radio transmission from Unit Four's main commander. He says that the entire unit is only a matter of minutes away from the outskirts of the city. He – he also says that the troops are ready to fight - w-whenever you may order it, of course, sir.'
'Has Balamb Garden been sighted yet?'
Worthing stalled for a split second. His master's unusual questions always succeeded in placing him on edge. Their random nature was in complete contradiction to Aifel Massery's otherwise calculating military brain. None of it seemed to make sense. Who cared, after all, if the commander could see Balamb Garden from where he was? Was it really going to stop the Galbadian unit from attacking Timber? And why was it so important for him to know about it anyway? But it all had to make sense somehow. It had the weight of Massery's logic behind it, and Worthing had yet to see him make a move that didn't eventually pay off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as though... as though there was a plan, a plan that his mind just couldn't see, being intricately woven, piece by piece, in between the confusing orders that the Colonel frequently gave. It worried him greatly. But, yet again, so did a lot of things nowadays.
His master obviously sensed his confusion. In Aifel Massery's book, a split second's delay would never go unnoticed.
'Answer the question, Worthing.'
'S-sir, the commander made no mention of any – any -'
'Good. This gives us more time to prepare.'
A flurry of movement from the centre of the spacious cavern, followed by the sound of footsteps, told Worthing that his master had begun to pace the length of the room.
'Tell the commander to hold his men back for now. They will need their rest. They have been travelling for two days across a number of difficult conditions, and a weary force will not stand against SeeD for very long.'
'I – I agree, sir. But –'
'I want the entire unit to begin the full assault on Timber at a very specific time. Whatever the commander protests at you about reaching the centre of city before SeeD do, have none of it. What idea does he have as to the nature of the greater scheme? He is far too feeble minded to grasp the entirety of my plan. Do you think that is too much for you to handle, Worthing?'
Worthing was struck by the dangerous feeling that his master was, for some reason or another, not entirely pleased with him. Maybe it was the obvious stutter in his voice that seemed to go hand in hand with a one-on-one meeting. With anybody else, this wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest – he hadn't come so far in his career by breaking into a gibbering wreck glass whenever a withering look was thrown his way. But with Aifel Massery, it was different. Everything was different. Either you were in his good books, or you were in his dead ones.
'N-no, sir. N-not at all.'
'Good. I want the commander to launch a full-scale attack on Timber as soon as Balamb Garden becomes visible to the unit in the sky. This must be exact, Worthing, do you understand? Not a moment before, and certainly not a moment after. Is this clear?'
Worthing shifted his feet uncomfortably again. Now he was confused. What possible benefits could come from an order like that? He actually wanted the attacking unit to wait until their opponents had arrived? He almost got as far as opening his mouth to protest, but a different set of words ended up coming out as he remembered what had happened the last time he had tried to interfere with his master's plans.
'Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir.'
'Good, Worthing,' his master answered silkily, 'You seem to have finally mastered the art of obeying my every command. Loyalty is always a virtue that I will pay handsomely for. My orders seem strange to you, yes? I thought as much. But have no worry for the future, Worthing. For the future is now in the palm of my hand. The board is set, the pieces are in their places, and the pawns have only just begun moving. And this is a game that only I stand a chance of winning.'
Worthing wasn't entirely sure whether it was his turn to speak or not.
'Loyalty, Worthing... loyalty to the right thing can take you a long way in a very short time. Loyalty to me, for example. Leonhart has no chance of standing against my power. Once Garden has been destroyed, SeeD will undoubtedly perish. And once the entire Galbadian continent is under our control, we can amass an army with the power to finally launch our attack against Esthar. Yes, Worthing, our attack. For if you stay loyal to me, loyal to Aifel Massery, then the future will be paved for you in gold. And once I stand unopposed, as the undisputed ruler of east and west, you will be standing at my left arm.'
Perhaps Worthing had been wrong, as he so frequently was. Perhaps his master was more impressed with him than he'd thought.
'Sir,' he replied in a high pitched voice, 't-thank you, sir. Colonel Massery. That is... is more than I could ever ask f-'
'I'm sure it is. And now, Worthing, I place before you another task, another great chance for you to prove your worth to me. All the necessary orders for our victory today have already been given. That is no longer in question. You must act as my voice and my will in my absence.'
Worthing was quickly taken aback. Had he heard his master correctly? 'Your – your absence, sir?' he asked, 'I don't understand –'
His master was already chuckling uncannily from the far corner of the room.
'A good player uses every piece on the board to its full advantage, Worthing,' he replied, in a tone of voice suited for cutting through steel, 'and I am a piece that has far greater powers than all others. My time has come to move. I must leave this place soon.'
He walked over to the darkest corner of his lair, his footsteps echoing eerily from every surface.
'You must ensure that everything continues to run according to my orders. You must refrain from issuing any new orders to any member of the Galbadian army, no matter what anyone else advises you or what new events you may learn of. And you must continue to be a good servant to me, and obey all of my orders. Send the message to the unit commander immediately.'
'Y-yes, sir. Immediately, sir.'
'Regianus, it is time.'
Worthing recoiled in horror until the small of his back was pressed against the large iron doors. His breath seemed to have frozen somewhere in his throat next to his voice box. Maybe his mind had played a trick or two on him, but he could've sworn he had heard something, whatever it was, hiss deeply and menacingly in response to Massery's order.
'Come, Regianus. The next time we meet, Worthing, the full extent of my plan will already have been revealed to you.'
And, with those words, silence claimed the room for its own once more.
After another two minutes of standing in the blackness of Massery's lair, Worthing came to the conclusion that he was now alone in the dark. When his legs finally found the energy they needed to move, he immediately made to leave. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, muttered a few nonsense words under his breath, and left the room quickly before the double doors closed sharply behind him.
A/N ; Well, well. More to come very soon. Victory will be his indeed... but does that mean victory in the battle, or will it be something else? (Well, of course it will be if I mention it like that). Tune in soon...