January 24th, 1800

Aerbs Mountains

...

— ...We got the workers at Industrial District, the actors at Theater District, the pickle sellers at Business District... – a tall guard started a conversation with his partner. He had quite an eagle's eye for those who crossed South Gate's border – poets in one part of town, anarchists on another, now we got burmecian militia spread everywhere, setting up flags all around Lindlum.

— Let's all just drink the same beer, goddamnit – said a short guard, his voice filled of weariness and unpatience – that's my idea of sorority.

They created the wheel to move carts, the writing to deliver messages, dialogue to express ideas, swords to cut throught grass and fleshand myths to explain the world and its once uncomprehensible phenomenons... With no special gifts other than intellectual skills, mankind has survived for thousands of years in a very dangerous world. A world engulfed by Mist and primal fear.

The Mist, as the ancients said, its from where the monsters were born. The entire world they knew was covered by a thick, neverending Mist that stretched far more than the eyes and tales could tell. One of the ways humans survived for so long was by forming themselves into groups, by building tribes which later became societies who gathered themselves into books, flags, symbols and laws.

A shared ideal is one of the best ways to hold a tribe together in the face of pure chaos. But now the tribes are sharing of the same tent, and everyone might be guilty at mistaking ideas for things. Sometimes, the idea of a monster is far more real than the monster itself. Sometimes, people become monsters to the eyes of another. Sometimes... people do not realize they became the monster itself.

— YOU MONSTER! – the party arrives at Summit Station. On their way to the South Gate which leads to Lindblum, they are interrupted by an unnexpected uproar of revolted burmecians.

— How dare you show your face in here!? – since the fall of Burmecia, they wander around the Mist continent in search of a new home.

— You, of all people... Bastard! Because of you, I lost my uncle. He was all the family I had! – a few of them in search of revenge!

— My legs got buried on piles and piles of debris. I'm glad of being alive... not because of you! – many in search of a scapegoat.

— See what you did? You made my little cry – the burmecians aren't used to solace since the day they were born.

— Calm down, everyone – Freya Crescent knows them very well. Neighbors, childhood friends, lots of cousins... – it's over. Beatrix-

— Beatrix? The one who claimed to have killed a hundred soldiers single-handed... – said a burmecian, carrying of a sign with 'Ignorance leads to fear' written in bold letters.

— But how man of them were INDEED soldiers!? – and then came another.

— This human you're defending was willing to exterminate us a time ago! – and another.

— Are you on Beatrix's side? That genocidal maniac? – and another... the Dragoon would stand at their side if they were not filled by rage.

— Watch your mouth, ungrateful wretch! – for a moment, Adelbert Steiner lets the odium come within his knight armor.

— Those people are within their rights to protest, Steiner – which ain't the case of Freya, who feels lightened – even if we may not agree with them.

— To protest is one thing, Lady Freya, but to spread lies... To accuse Beatrix of crimes she didn't commited, I can't bare to stand such deception!

— I would have expect Beatrix to say something already – Cinna said, willing to use his hammer.

— She's been so quiet it's almost frightening – Marcus said. He and the others were protecting the merciless General against the infuriated crowd.

— That's not like you at all, lady! – Blank too felt something was wrong, as Beatrix just kept staring at the burmecians with a haunted look on face watching those who support her and those who shout their outrage.

— She marched her troops right throught the city, slaughtered every single soldier and left our home at ruins. Are we supposed to pretend that never happened?

— My husband never came back. I fear he was killed by alexandrian troops – a widowed mother spoke with a child in arms.

— Troops that were commanded by YOU! – she ain't the only one to accuse the General of the most horrifying of crimes.

— So, it begins – Beatrix broke out of disturbing silence – I knew this day would come sooner or later. Every bit of my misbegotten past will be brought back for all the world to see. All those dirty deeds done in the name of a throne I no longer swore to fight for. How can I defend such actions? Is it any wonder so many hate me?

— I never thought I'd be protecting you – Freya shared of her doubts – but here I am. Against my will.

— Then why do you insist? Why don't you join your people? They are right after all.

— No, they are not. Just because some birds are black, it does not follow that all birds are blackbirds. They fell into logical error.

— Which is very understandable. Who needs logic in this mad world? – Beatrix replied to the rat lady.

— Listen, everyone! Stop fighting among yourselves. We are all humans!– with a short and quick leap, Freya landed upon a lamp. The red belonging to the Dragoon suit made her stand out from Summit Station's grayish walls – yes, we know Beatrix did a lot of bad stuff, but Justice is what makes civilization be. If there's no Justice, the alternative some of you might be contemplating right now... everything falls apart. Everything a decent civilized being stands for.

— My... It does not feel like its Lady Freya who's talking! – Steiner said, promptly after hearing his comrade's speech.

— We are not here because we wanted to, miss Crescent! – a female burmecian said amidst the crowd. Her hair looked as terrified as the stare. Even the flowers she sold looked like mandragoras yelling in agony feeded by the woman's tiny cries – we had no choice but to leave home. I left everything behind for the sake of survival. By seeing so many being driven near extincion by the window, I... sob... I could not bare to watch it anymore!

— Cough!... Alexandria has subdued us in many ways – a rodent covered in bandages said, between coughs – got myself burned. Cough cough!... A little, I'm fine. I'm fine... cough! Those little black devils have taken my family, my pride, my dignity... but not me. Not me...

— Yeah, black mages. Idiots, they ruined everything! Everything everything everything! – a little boy said. It felt odd for him to say such things without feeling anything. Anything but remorse – bastards killed my father. All he did was sleep. Sleep! And I didn't wanted to wake him up. He never woke up...

— I miss the rain – a young mice girl said, holding onto her father's legs.

— I hate my existence more than ever – the father being a burmecian soldier with scratches all over skin. Tired, wasted and covered in dark red smudges, he took his daughter on arms, who didn't minded the irony smell at all – had not been for my little, and her future, I would not be here.

— Silly dad.

— No, my dear. That's not silly, to share of a dream – the soldier could not feel his own daughter's touch, but he was happy by being able to smile. She made him smile... – with these hands, I holded an entire floor on my back so I could save my neighbor who has been taking a bath and didn't noticed war was going on outside.

— I see – with a somersault, the Dragoon came back to same ground as her turf.

— The ceiling, I swear, it was on my back. It fell all over me and my neighbor. His dog gave birth and he gave a puppy to each at neighborhood. They are this size, but soon as they grow, oh my... they're huge and cry all day long for attention. Like a son.

— Where's my puppy? – the girl asked, looking around with an innocent melancholic look.

— Angelo will be back, honey. He knows our scent – the father comforted his daughter. He too was in need of comfort long cold – still, why do I feel so weak? I don't get it, Lady Freya. I did my best, and feels like nothing.

— Same – a young burmecian yelled, out of any hopes – I was the one who began it all. The one who yelled at that... that thing over there, I can't even look right at Beatrix, that disgusting creature!... but our ancestors, my own father, they did far worse. I feel so weak, so idiot, so so... servile. Father said I would never become a man in life. Guess he was right.

— Weakness does not make any of you servile – Freya is at her most serene state of mind. While everyone is lost in thought and time, she transcends beyond both – it's because you are weak that you are able to develop kindness... and never look down on people. The basic of human interactions begins. Don't you see? Your weakness drew you to each other... And made you grow strong. Never forget those feelings. When you all lived together side by side... but be careful lest you let your pure flame mix with the flames of hell. Let fear propel you forward, not backwards.

— My... – the entire crowd stood quiet aftr hearing Freya's words, except for a few whisperers – she spoke just like Mother Reis.

— Mother Reis?...

— ...Could it be? It can't be.

— Freya? Reis? You've got to be kidding...

— A reincarnation? Impossible – the burmecians found themselves astonished before Freya's presence. They walked back and opened of a free way so the Dragoon Knight and her allies could follow their path to Lindblum

— Please, I'm no Reis... – the Dragoon felt flattered, but there was a limit for everything. She enjoyed seeing her people being optimistic.

— Good job, Ratchel – Blank does not know when to stop. Before Freya teachs him about limits... – you were impressive. Absolutely left us speechless.

— I admit, you are good when it comes to long speeches – Cinna said, holding on to his heart, which was not made of stone as his hammer – mind if I invited you to a theater play?

— Thanks, but... – despite the praise and growth of hope around, it all felt too overwhelming for the crimson knight – I'm not good with speeches. My strenght is at combat.

— Indeed – and Beatrix knew better – you were quite a challenge on our past battles.

— Know what's more challenging? To defend you – Freya could not ignore the many deaths and destruction left behind Burmecia... and Cleyra. She saw no one from Cleyra. No survivor. It would be odd to see such pacific people turn over to hatred, but if that could happen to the burmecians themselves, why not with their cleyran cousins? – Cleyra...

— I heard the cleyran maidens were the prettiest, charming and most exotic ladies of all Gaia – Blank said — never saw one in my life.

— And they never saw the world outside the sandstorm. Well, Alexandria revealed them to the world, to which this very world revealed itself back – Freya layed her hands on a metallic handrail, watching the sun settle down at the horizon. The orange shape slowly coming down the hills reminded her of eyes. Eyes without a face, who got no human grace – the cleyran maidens you've mentioned, Blank, they were wonderful. The most talented dancers were reunited at the cathedral, where they danced along the melody of Eternal Harvest, following of a ritual to strenghten the sandstorm surrounding the colossal trunk were they lived. An ancient tradition of centuries ago, still alive...

The Dragoon remembers the eyes filled of hope, smiles of joy, the cerulean skies atop the sandstorm, those fancy peach dresses the maidens of Cleyra once wore... she tries her best to not surrender to despair.

— ...To see myself between those cleyrans was kind of a shock. With the Dragoon training, I haven't dedicated myself to other things at youth. To play píano, read books, dance along a song... Never had time to try something new, something different. When people looked at me... look at me, the first thing they see is the Dragoon helmet, not who's wearing it.

With a single claw, Freya took away the shiny red helmet who stood in head and holded it like a skull, to which someone asks 'To be or not to be?' It was not as heavy as the weight of responsibility, duty, but as a symbol, that very helmet bared of such weight and life draining powers to the burmecian. A mere burmecian... that's what she sees on its metallic surface. Looking better, Freya sees herself, not as a burmecian, but herself before years of harsh training and torture to achieve a status on a rudimentar, almost obsolete society as Burmecia's.

— When I went at Cleyra, I rediscovered a side of myself ignored for so long. It was truly the first time I ever realized... that there was another piece of me... that I thought it was dead. You see, my whole life has been an unbalanced mess. My mother died when I was young, my father an absent hero present on every single lullaby I heard, I had no one but myself to take care and Sir Fratley was a complete stranger to me. And I had to fall in love with him, of all people!... so, I've spent my whole life seeking constancy and steadiness... and never found it.

Evening is on the verge of falling, like tears out the rat lady's eyes.

— ...Sorry about the rambling. It's just that... I... I feel like I lose a lot more than I find. I lost at Burmecia, lost again at Cleyra and... I lost Freya Crescent somewhere. All the deaths and identities and monsters... all the monsters took her away. And only now that I found it out...

— It's normal to not feel like yourself at all – Blank said. He could not stand seeing someone such as Freya to suffer.

— A while ago, it truly felt like you were someone else speaking – Beatrix recalled – I know you're as strong as that person, Crescent.

— That's right! – Steiner tried to cheer the burmecian's mood. He sounded goofy but really meant to be serious – it's not the neurotic Freya who spoke a while ago. It's the bit of Sir Fratley that's in you! The bit that's made of sterner stuff.

— War just happened, no one asked for it – Marcus shared of his wisdom to the fallen knight.

— Well... war is about to happen as we speak – Freya recomposed herself. By wearing the Dragoon helmet on face again, she felt Lindblum's fate at her hands – let's not waste our time any furth-

— General Beatrix of Alexandria... We finally met face to face – a hooded figure slowly approached the party, pointing his index and eyes to Beatrix in specific – The suffering you have brought to my family and my people ends now!

The shadowy figure reveals himself as a Dragoon Knight with ebony strands and scarlet suit. From out his pocket, golden gils are threw in the air and sliced one after another by its sharp spear's tip!

— He sliced all those coins on mid air! What a freak! – Cinna gasped.

— Who's this dude anyway? – Marcus was not impressed at all – do you know him, Lady Freya?

— I sincerely can't remember – Freya said, staring at the other Dragoon Knight. She struggled to remember anyone from out the past that was not Sir Fratley or Prince Puck or the King or...

— How unfortunate. I thought you'd remember me, pumpkin

— Pumpkin? What the hell... – with a single, depreciative nickname, Freya somehow remembers who he is – thought you were dead, uh... again, what was your name? It was not anything memorable, as I recall. Red something, right?

— Redwind. I am Sir Redwind Garamond – the knight presented himself with a honored way.

— When did you became a Sir? – until Freya interrupted.

— The day after you left.

— After I left?

— Yes. You were gone, everyone talked about it, I... don't know what to say, good to see you again? – Redwind stood confused for a short while. He felt glad of seeing Freya after years, but – sorry, I'm not here for good old time's sake. It's her who interests me!

— Let me guess... you're willing to fight in revenge.

— Revenge? This is far from an act of vengeance, lady! – Redwind had a way with the spear, twirling its staff on a quick and fast-paced speed in an almost surreal manner, as if the air around himself got sliced by the metal tip.

— You have a way with the javelin, I'll grant you – Beatrix stared at the Dragoon showcasing his powers. While spinning a spear looked cool on every fool's minds, it is an useless technique when it comes to combat, the General thought – but, it seems you have quite an ego as well.

— And yet you speak of ego? This spearmanship of mine... is it mere ego!?

— We will see – in order to test the young Knight's skills, while as well make him pay for such arrogance, Beatrix released a single and powerful Thunder Slash. No one she has fought against has ever deflected the technique, except by sheer luck.

However, more than luck stood on Redwind's side. Normally, one would run away or try to avoid an attack, moreso from living legend at combat Beatrix. Instead, Redwind just stood on the way of Thunder Slash, as if he wanted to be hit by the elemental attack. And he did!... by the javelin's edge. A single point, a single moment! That's all Redwind needed.

— My... Thunder Slash is indeed useless! – he said all confident. Before lightning overcame his body, Redwind channeled it throught the silver iron tip like a plate spinning on top of a pole, which spinned until that boundless amount of energy dissolved in the air.

— You are far from being egostitical, kid. Do not waste your talents with a match against me – still, it all felt like a circus presentation for Beatrix.

— Thought it might as well look like an illusion, t his spear can freely slice apart and slash anything, even the air itself – Redwind explained – that's the result from all these years of training to be the best Dragoon, how I managed to avoid getting in contact with your nefarious Thunder Slash too! While my weapon acted as a ground, it's tip worked to cut air and therefore easily manipulate your elemental spell like a gas cloud to any direction I wanted.

— I see – does that even makes sense? Beatrix thought to herself. A kid trying to be smarter than an adult by relying on difficult words, not the first time she saw one of these.

— I could take you in this small room, but that would be unfair. Isn't your Seiken better suited to wide-open spaces, General? – Redwind asked, while everyone from the station stopped to look. The burmecians watched unfolded what could it be Beatrix's last stand.

— Do we really have time for this silly cat and mice game? – Freya wanted to go at Lindblum, nothing could stop her.

— It won't take long, Crescent – except Beatrix, and the inconvenience she found herself at.

— Were not you raised as a warrior? – said Redwind, in a pragmatic tone – beating you only at your best is the only victory worth of my spear.

— Challenge accepted – Beatrix said. She could not fight inside the station, not with everyone looking. The lives she ruined, direct and indirectly, judging her to this day and ever – let's go outside and finish it at once.

— If you say so... alright. My name, I'm not very proud of it but, okay... My name is Eugene Garamond. For the honor of my father Leonard, may he rest in peace, and so my mother Ifalna, may she sleep soundly tonight... I'll fight you, Beatrix of Alexandria. Just you and me, General. Knight and Dragoon, how it should have been from start! – the burmecian crowd stood both in shock and awe to Redwind's words.

...

Next Issue: Beatrix versus Redwind. One wins. One dies.