This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, most of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.

Enjoy...

:Faraway Dreams:

Chapter Two:

"Funny to see you up so early, Fedrich." Macky commented after taking a swig of coffee.

Fedrich looked back from his perch at the edge of the square, seeing the stocky figure take a place nearby. His eyes looked ringed with blackness, and his appearance was more than enough to show that he had another all night meeting despite the earlier start. "Another late session?"

A nod. "It's beyond logic. I get the meeting started at seven, and it lasts until three! They never last that long, but everyone seemed perfectly content to argue and bicker all night long. The Gods must not be done amusing themselves with me."

"At least you don't have to deal with early morning patrols around the city." Fedrich muttered, his own complaints echoing in his mind.

"Trust me, I'd rather do that. I'm tempted to go kill the bastards as it is, at least that way I'd get paid for it."

The two snickered for a short moment, then fell to silence. Fedrich took a long look at the walls, seeing the warm glow of the sun beginning to brighten the skies. Getting up before dawn was something he normally despised, but being able to witness the sunrise was looking to be worth the lost sleep.

"So what's up?"

Fedrich looked back to the tired man. "Not much. I just woke up for some reason, and it's not even light yet. Normally I'm never awake this early, so I figured I might as well watch the sunrise."

Macky grinned knowingly. "Ah, the hypnotic taste of seeing the world wake up before your eyes. It's a rare treat to have, not just anyone can appreciate it." He leaned heavily on the railing. "Being able to see everyone get up, starting their days before stress and problems have a chance to screw things up, it's calming. Watching the sun come up bit by bit, you could almost get lost in your thoughts. It's like a fleeting sense of what paradise must be, a place where nothing can go wrong."

Fedrich clapped his hands weakly. "Bravo. Getting poetic, are we?"

A laugh. "Inspired is more like it, I'm hardly an artist."

"Well you certainly sounded like one. Maybe staying up all night works to your benefit."

"That's not funny. I'd rather sleep."

"Agreed."

Macky stood up and stretched his arms up, tilting his head until it gave a satisfactory crack. He downed his coffee, then spun the cup around his fingers. "You heard anything about the Hunters for the Festival?"

"Not really, just that a previous Master Hunter was trying out again." Fedrich glanced to Macky. "Why?"

"Well, this is just rumors, friend of a friend's brother's uncle-in-law's accuracy, that there are a lot of key players in this Festival. The previous titleholder must be Ivan Theend, a local merchant with a taste for spearing whatever pisses him off. There's also Belna, Taggert, Mikal, and Flaure just to name some other favorites. What's suspicious is that a mercenary from Treno is coming, one that's earned a reputation as being the biggest bitch around."

"What's odd about that?"

"Mercenaries tend not to get into these kinda things, it doesn't pay well. This mercenary happens to hold a sizeable warrant on her head, so it would be madness for her to join." He held up his hand to forestall Fedrich's next question. "Her name's Lani, the quote unquote most beautiful bandit Lani."

"Lani..." Fedrich repeated the name, unable to recall hearing anything about the woman. "So why is it odd for her to enter? She might just be after a big reward, or she might not have anything else to do."

"Because she has a fat sack of Gil hanging over her head, remember? The rumor most vague, but most reasonable, is that she's here because someone paid her to come."

Fedrich stood up, fur ruffled. "Paid to do something to affect the Festival..."

"A lot of money rides on who the winner is and the ranks below. Lindblum doesn't like it, but millions of Gil are won and lost by gamblers from across the continent on bets for the Festival. Someone hiring Lani to rig it in their favor sounds like a good idea, the risk alone makes it almost impossible to prove in court, being able to get away with it would be tougher."

The Burman sighed, rubbing his hands together to ward off the morning chill. "Figures this would happen, even the Festival of the Hunt is going to end up being more trouble for me."

Macky eyed the Regulator. "Who said anything about you havin' to stop her?"

"Well, who else is going to? You don't want the Festival to be ruined because of one person, do you?"

"So you're going to take on the task? It's just rumors, Fedrich, nothing more. It could just be random threats to scare people one way or another. You don't have to do more than win the thing, leave it up to the guards to fix."

"I don't think I can do that, Macky."

The tired man laughed to himself. "You're worse about honor than Gordan is."

"A Dragon Knight must do all that he can to ensure that the law is upheld, be it from his own nation or any other." Fedrich quoted from the brief list of Knight's mottos that he knew. "It's duty to do what I can to stop this Lani from doing any harm."

"Except you forget that you're no knight." Macky rubbed his hair. "But not that you care, eh? You've hunted down criminals across the continent, this would be simple in comparison."

"Simple..." A grin creased his lips. "Goddess, it wouldn't be too much to ask for something simple."

"You'd think so, but it's the difficult things that make life interesting." Macky yawned, blinking weariness away. "I'm gonna get more coffee. Want any?"

"No thanks, I should be going." Fedrich tugged his hat down and started towards the Aircabs. "I've got some shopping to do."

"Then I'll see you around, and good luck on the opening trials."

"Right. See ya."

.

"Welcome, welcome! How can I help you?"

Fedrich grinned. "Good morning. I'd like to take a look at some of your swords."

"What kind are you thinkin' of? Long, short, serrated, I've got more than anyone else could boast of!"

"Short, preferrably Burmecian forged."

"Ah, shoulda known right off." The hulking demi-human went to one of the many racks behind his counter, picking blades at random and setting them on the surface with utmost care. "I've got your standard Guard issue, mass forged but good quality. There are also some replicas of the older style common to the unified Burmecian age. Ah! Here's a few worth a looking over, newest of the new designs straight from the King's own armory!" With great pride, he arranged three short swords onto the table. "These are some 'o the best works I've seen outta Burmecia in years, lad, each a regular masterpiece in my opinion."

Fedrich took up one of the weapons, noting that it was lighter than it looked to be, and was of a unique shape. Instead of a simple crossbar, the hilt was angled upwards as if made to catch a falling sword rather than repel it. The blade itself had an intricate design stained in the metal, a dragon roaring at invisible foes. He set it back, and took notice that the two other short swords were fashioned with the same idea, a few changed and additions, but otherwise the same as the blade he carried.

"They do look detailed, but what makes them better than any other?"

Dragoos leaned closer, excitedly picking up a sword and staring at it. "Better? Lad, if what I tried with 'em makes the cut, then these make anythin' else nothing more than toys! Here, I'll show you exactly what my meaning is!"

The gruff merchant stepped to the back counter, rummaging through layers of papers and spent metal pieces. Eventually his hand came out with a jingle of thick chain rings. He tugged it repeatedly, then tossed it on the table and straightened it out to a line. He then drew a short sword from a rack and gripped it tight.

"Now pay attention, lad! A normal sword like yours or mine wouldn't do so much as nick this chain. See here!" He raised his arm, and with a powerful grunt, he brought the sword down on the chain with a crack of wood and metal. Raising it, the chain had only a slight indent on it and the blade itself bore a mark of the same type.

"Now here's that sword you don't think is any better!" With an equal amount of effort, he swung down, cut through the chain, and buried the sword partly into the wood counter.

Fedrich's eyes widened at the sight, and Dragoos smiled. "There's a little truth to everythin'."

"That was...amazing." Fedrich took a deep breath. "Goddess, that's one hell of a sword!"

"A masterpiece, looks and action both." Dragoos beamed with pride.

"How much would that sell for? You could set any price and get away with it!"

"You speak truer words than most people, lad, and believe me, the temptation is high and mighty to resist. 'Owever, Dragoos keeps a reputation as being a fair and decent man in a world of greedy merchants with silver tongues. I bought each of these fine swords at four thousand each, straight from the weaponsmasters of Burmecia's guard, and I'm willin' to part with 'em for five thousand."

With a whish of leather against cloth, Fedrich put his sword on the table with a loud thump. "My sword, my livelihood, will stay right here until I come back with the money for that blade. You sold it to me for two thousand Gil several months back, would you buy it off me for fifteen hundred?"

Dragoos took the sword from the sheath and looked it over. "Seems in good enough condition..."

"Then I'll be back before you have time to miss me!" With a clatter of steps, the Burman pushed through the door and took off into the air as if he could fly.

Fedrich was glad it was as early as it was, making little trouble to leapfrog across the streets and squares of the Business District. What would be twenty minutes in the commercial center of Lindblum became six, and minus the constant speed of the Aircab, he made it back to the Hall in equally fast time. Everyone had departed for the morning patrol, which he was excused from to prepare for the Festival, leaving the rooms empty. Skidding into his bedroom, he opened his dresser and shoved aside folded clothes until he found his stash of Gil beneath. Pulling the sack out, he gave quick blessing to his parents for instilling a frugal mindset in his youth. Pocketing the saved money, he left the Hall and sped back towards the business streets and eventually to the waiting eyes of Dragoos.

"Back!" Fedrich exclaimed, heaving for air.

A wide-eyed glance. "Lad, if you went all the way to the Theater streets for that, then you must've set some records!"

"Worth the effort." He inhaled, then gathered himself. "Right. You'll take my sword for fifteen hundred?"

"Sure."

"Then here's the rest." He took the pouch and emptied it onto the table, coins skipping about and flashing large denominations. "There's more than enough, but all you need is thirty five hundred." Fingers quickly divided coins apart, stacking them until the proper amount was in one pile and the rest slid back into the pouch.

"Okay, payment due and made. Many thanks and blessing on you, lad, you've been a good customer!" He took the blade and reversed it. "Here, take a swing at the chain, get a feel for what I mean."

Fedrich took the sword, light weight confidant in his palm. He leveled his feet, and with a quick up and down motion, split the length of chain apart once more, adding a second groove into the tabletop. A smile stretched his lips as far as they would go, a chuckle from his throat. "Goddess, what a weapon. How did they make it so strong?"

"I believe it's from good materials and good blacksmiths, but that Burmecian went on about havin' the elders and Dragon Knights themselves offering prayers to the spirit of the weapons. He said that it's the strength of the dragons that make it what it is, not any fancy forging tricks."

"Blessed with the strength of dragons..." Fedrich mused, looking the sword over. The stain of a proud and fearsome dragon was on either side, the bottom of the grip looking like the sharp point of a dragon's horn.

"Either way, it's a sword unlike anything else out there. You take care of it, lad, it'll give you decades of use with the right treatment."

"I'll keep it sparkling. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Have a fine day!"

.

Fedrich's feet touched the stone ground for only a brief second as he propelled himself further up. A single leap sent him far into the open, and with a quick thought, his hand reached out and took a firm grip of a rail bordering the street. Falling to gravity, he tugged himself up and dusted his hands off. His fur bristled in the cold, and Fedrich actually buttoned his vest up against the chill, a first since his stay within the city walls. The effort did little good to trap the heat of his body, so he shivered and crossed his arms with a grumble.

He looked up, and saw the top of the Grand Castle's walls within jumping distance. His logical half protested the waste of time and effort, but he huffed a breath and ignored it.

"It'll be worth it." He muttered quietly.

Checking the immediate footholds, Fedrich jumped up and landed on the thin stretch of roofing that bordered the walls. Another minor leap and he took hold of the top of the wall, letting himself hang for a moment in sweetening anticipation. Pulling his thin body up, he settled into a crouch, keeping his eyes to the stone below. Standing slowly, he raised his head towards the east and opened his eyes to the brightening view.

The expanse of the world entered his green eyes, and his body quaked at the magnificence of it.

The morning currents were fresh, cold drifts of wind wafting across the air in gentle movements. The sun was just barely above the horizon, long rays of light staining the world a plethora of reds and oranges. Clouds in the sky were alit in a fiery brilliance, puffy forms resting idly across the expanse of the vast ocean and plains beneath Lindblum's gaze. Stars winked silently in the dark blue sky, fading away as the mother sun woke from a fitful rest. Forests spread like vast quilts across the land, deep green patches threaded in ample portions on the bright green and yellow plains. The land was shrouded in a thin layer of mist, both the known and unknown, making everything appear as if it was completely still. The sun alone moved, all other things at a pause as it woke to a new day.

Fedrich felt shivers of a different kind race along his spine, like he was witness to a vast secret of unimaginable power. He felt like he was floating, almost, looking down upon the whole of existence from his perch on the wall. Everything was distant and beautiful, a sight that humbled him as memories of the day bubbled beneath his consciousness. What problems in his life could compare to the vast, unending horizon of the waking world?

"Macky, you were right." He smiled, then chuckled at his reaction. "It is like watching a brief moment of life in paradise."

..........

Fedrich tugged idly at his vest, trying to get it seated properly on his shoulders. His hurried rush to the grounds of the royal castle itself made just about everything on his person get tangled and misplaced. Fingers went into his pocket and pulled out a thick paper card, his name and a machine printed number on one side, the seal of the Regency on the other.

"Now gentlemen!" A voice boomed out from the center of the courtyard, a reedy looking man standing on a raised wood platform erected there. "If I may have your attention! First, I wish to congratulate all of you for assuming the risks and dangers that signify this contest. It takes an extraordinary man to summon the courage to run with the beasts of the land and to do battle with them. His honor, Regent Cid IX, also adds his personal praise and wishes you all the best of skill."

Fedrich paid little attention to the speaker, ears more than able to pick up the words without need for his concentration. He looked around at the other participants, eyeing those that looked serious about the Festival and of combat. Although he didn't know what monsters would be loosed upon the city, he knew that the strengths of the Hunters would be just as important to judge.

"All participants of the Festival have been handed a ticket to signify their entrance, and as you are aware, have been gathered in similar places as these to perform the trials. There are a total of seven hundred eighty four warriors in this years Festival, a large number not seen in many seasons! You warriors here will engage in individual fights, and the victors of each battle will move on to the next tier of combat. After achieving four victories over your competitors, each one more suited than the last, will you finally achieve the title of Hunter!"

The man raised his arms to gather attention. "The rules of combat are simple! Each warrior may use a single weapon for the entire Festival and only that weapon. To win the battle, your opponent must declare defeat and disqualification by calling out mercy or be rendered unconscious. If, during the battle, you or the judge determine that a wound is too serious to allow you to go on, then you shall be disqualified. If a death occurs in the battle, as it very well can happen, then the warrior who delivered the blow will be disqualified and possibly tried in court if it so warrants. Each battle will last for only five minutes, and if a victor has not been determined, then one shall be by the number of wounds visible as dictated by the judge."

"Does anyone here need the rules repeated for them?"

Silence.

The man smiled widely. "Then let the competitions begin!"

Fedrich stifled a yawn as weariness edged in on his mind. He had already watched most of the battles, and so far was impressed with only a handful of them. The others were not unsuited, but lacked the proper experience that the rigors of the Festival demanded of them.

"Calling numbers five hundred eighty three and eight four, warriors Fedrich and Andren!" The judge announced.

Fedrich's senses came alive at the call, and he stepped forward to the center of the courtyard and onto the wooden platform. The judge, dressed in the finest of clothes and wearing oversized spectacles, waved them to his side. He looked to his opponent, a massive hulk of a man that rivaled the size of most demi-humans, hands enclosed in sparking metal gloves. The judge checked their cards to verify their names, and then he led them to a five pace distance apart.

"Alright, warriors, engage!"

"Get ready, boy, for my fury!" Andren boasted.

Fedrich let a smirk touch his lips. "I quake in your presence."

"Oh, so you think you're really hot stuff, eh?" Andren laughed, circling the stage. "I've seen six years in these fights, and I doubt that some first timer is gonna outdo me."

"Well, there's always a first for everything, right?" Fedrich followed his steps to keep him at bay.

Andren scowled. "Trust me, this isn't your time!"

The brutish man dashed forward, his gauntlet encased fists raises high as he prepared to strike. Fedrich jumped back to avoid the man's first punch, then continued to jump back to dodge each one following. He then leapt up and kicked a foot out to strike the man's face, clawed toes lacerating his face. Andren growled in pain, putting a hand to his cheek.

"You know, I think it is my time." Fedrich allowed himself a measure of taunting. "You may be strong, but if you can't hit your enemy, it isn't worth much anything."

"Oh, I'm just getting warmed up!" The brawler declared.

Again he charged towards Fedrich, and the Burman was quick to jump out of his punches and kicks, moving back towards the center. However, Andren pulled out something from his vest and threw it at the Burman. A knot of rope and weights unraveled in the air and wrapped itself around the Burman's legs, stopping him from jumping back. Andren the used the extra time and lashed out with his metal encased fist, connecting with the Burman's chest to draw a gasp from him. Another punch against his ribs sent the Burman stumbling back, his face wide with pain as he tried to maintain balance.

"You see? Just because you think you've done good doesn't mean you don't have a superior!"

"I'm not done yet!" Fedrich spat, finally drawing his sword out and slashing the rope binding his thin legs.

Standing quickly, the Burman leapt forward and swung his blade out with intent to give the man a scar to remember. The behemoth merely raised up a hand and caught the blade in his palm, metal gauntlets holding up to the force of the strike. Fedrich pulled back in time to avoid yet another punch and tried his best to attack despite being unable to find an opening. For a long minute, the two warriors fought between blocking one's attacks and making their own, each unable to connect with the other. Andren, his face red with anger, finally let the Burman's blade connect with his hand before closing his fingers over it, trapping the weapon.

"Heh heh, whatcha gonna do without your little butter-knife!?"

With a firm pull, the man yanked the blade free of Fedrich's hand and tossed it behind him, then proceeded to charge the demi-human. Fedrich dodged left and right, knowing that he wouldn't be able to match the man's power without his sword.

Come on, improvise, improvise!

Fedrich curled his fingers into fists, then waited for Andren make a mistake. Finding an opening, the Burman used his quick feet to jump in and punch the man across his jaw. The brawler shrugged the blow off, then backhanded the Regulator across his own face with greater results.

Rei's suffering, this isn't good! I can barely keep up this pace with my chest hurting so badly...

Fedrich felt blood well up in his mouth, his tongue victim to the teeth that cut it. Cursing silently, he watched as the man drew his fist back to again deliver a powerful strike. Fedrich ducked around the attack, then curled his fingers and lashed out quickly, claws raking across the man's face to add to his visible wounds.

"Two and a half minutes, gentleman!" The judge declared, his eyes glued to his wristwatch.

Fedrich spat out a mouthful of blood once he jumped out of the brawler's reach, trying to think of a way to overcome the man's stronger body.

Damn, this isn't good. He's just too strong to be hurt by little scratches...

The brute cracked his knuckles, then again checked his face to feel the blood smeared on it. Fedrich then noticed something that he could use, something that he should have understood right away. Andren came racing forward, and Fedrich watched as his bulk made his charge much slower and time consuming.

Using his weight against him…yes, it could work!

The demi-human waiting for the man to come, and he ducked down as his metal fists came racing for his head. The Burman then grabbed the man's leg tightly, straining his own legs as he stood up and forced the brawler onto his face. Fedrich then leapt up into the air as high as he could, hoping Andren didn't notice.

Andren stood up and looked around, confused as he couldn't find his opponent anywhere in the platform arena. The man looked up casually, and his face paled as he saw the Burman's thin form drop out of the sky and land squarely on his broad shoulders. The force of Fedrich's fall caused the man's legs to collapse, spilling the man forward to have his skull again slam into the ground, this time consciousness fleeing from his rattled head.

Fedrich leapt off the man's body and readied himself for battle, but Andren didn't rise to the occasion. The judge entered the arena and checked the brawler, turning the man over and seeing his eyes rolled back into his head. He waited a second to see if Andren would come around, but as he gave no response, the watch closed.

"Warrior Andren has been rendered unconscious! Warrior Fedrich is the winner of the first round with a time of three minutes and eight seconds!"

The men present applauded as a sign of manners, but Fedrich could see on each face the registering of a foe to keep an eye one. He walked to the edge of the platform and hopped down, looking around for his discarded sword. Seeing it lying on a patch of tall grass, he approached to pick it up as another hand gathered it. He followed the hand up, over a sleeve of voluminous material, a shoulders length of brown hair, and to a face of milky complexion.

"Yours, I presume?" The girl lifted it to him, hilt first.

"Yes. Thank you." He added politely, receiving the blade and sheathing it.

"You did well back there, what profession do you claim?"

"I'm a member of the Regulators."

"Oh," She mouthed, resting her fingers on her chin. "I see. Then that would explain your...unorthodox methods of combat."

Fedrich arched an eyebrow, noticing that the girl looked even younger than Ruthy. "Unorthodox?"

The girl laughed lightly. "Take no offense, please, I meant nothing by it." She turned to leave, silken robes swirling around her legs.

"Who are you? If I might ask, of course." Fedrich figured the girl wasn't merely acting formal, and he tried to maintain his own civil language. "I'm Fedrich Castor."

She looked back a moment with unsettling amber eyes, pace not slacking. "Flaure Highguard."

Fedrich felt a spark run up his spine. She's Flaure? The same woman that Macky said was a favored Hunter in the Festival? How could that girl be a warrior, she looks barely old enough to be able to use a weapon effectively...

The girl disappeared into the crowd, the judge ordered the call for battle, and Fedrich smiled despite himself.