Prologue

Chapter Ten and Six:

Of Lord Mi'ihen and the Forming of the Crusaders

Seven and half centuries ago there lived a Great Warrior, the greatest of all time after the Unsurpassable Lord Zaon, who along with Revered Lady Yunalesca gave his life to bring the First Calm. The name of this warrior was Lord Mi'ihen. He was known as a Slayer of Behemoths, renowned in battle for his skill and fearlessness, and there was no match for him to be found in all of Spira. Statues in his honour still stand on the Mi'ihen Highroad, which has been laid along the route he took for the Great Journey of Redemption that he made through the treacherous paths in the Wilderness, to seek Yevon's Blessing. Such was his wisdom that we revere him to this day.

But, above all, Lord Mi'ihen is remembered as the founder of Crimson Blades, that were later to become known as the Crusaders.

For Lord Mi'ihen had a Vision, and out of this Vision the Crimson Blades were born. He called to him the mightiest of warriors from all around Spira, and every last one rallied to the Greater Cause he envisioned. Under Lord Mi'ihen's banner, they fought fiends and Sinspawn, protecting Spira's many towns and cities, as well as those who could not defend themselves. And victorious they were; though many fell in the fields of battle, more lives were spared than lost through their actions. Numerous records still praise their Glory and Valour, and many a Lied has been written and a Song has been sung in their honour, for they were truly Great Warriors.

As the Blades' fame and prowess swiftly grew so did their numbers. Soon they spanned the entirety of Spira, and neither town nor village was lacking of defenders. Where the people of Spira had only had the Holy Summoners to turn to in times of Grievance and Crisis, they now could call on these seasoned Warriors that willingly gave their lives in Yevon's name. For though the could perform no Sending, made they certain that neither they must.

Yet though the Blades were renowned far and wide for their accomplishments, there were those among their numbers who were reckless. Many became blinded by their own prowess and turned away from the Sacred Teachings, seeking to further their own ends instead. Turning their backs to Yevon's Wisdom, they forgot the Grave Nature of their Duty and wished to seek the Spoils of War instead.

Seeing this frightful change in his charge, Lord Mi'ihen was greatly distressed. A man of True Faith he was, so he told the Crimson Blades to wait for him, and set out on foot for the Great Journey to set right this wrong. A hundred days and a hundred nights he walked, they say, barely stopping to rest, until he stood before the Gates of Holy Bevelle. And there he cried out:

"O, Great Maesters, Revered Elders, I have made a mistake. Now I seek to right it, and I come to beg for Your Forgiveness and to yield to Your Wise Guidance!"

Upon seeing that he was indeed of True Faith, the Great Maesters ordered that the Gates of Bevelle to be opened and Lord Mi'ihen be allowed to enter. And into the Holy Chambers of Yevon he walked, and his soul trembled in reverence, as was Good and Proper. And there he pledged himself to the Great Maesters, that upon his Faith and Honour should no warrior of Crimson Blades, during or after his time, ever again rise against the Sacred Teachings.

Moved by Lord Mi'ihen's sincerity and troubled by his distress, the Great Maesters sought counsel among each other. Three days and three nights they considered, before they emerged from their Chambers, bringing their Wisdom to the faithful Mi'ihen. Unwilling to abandon a Man of True Faith to such a trial, the Great Maesters told him that they would spread their Wings of Protection over the Crimson Blades, so that not one of them would ever again become lost from the Light of Yevon's Sacred Teachings.

Upon learning that such Grace had befallen him, Lord Mi'ihen sank to his knees and cried his gratitude:

"Of Your Greatness I had heard, but never could I portray it in my Mind's Eye in such a way that gave it Justice, for You are Truly the Wisest among Men! My debt to You shall be Ever-Lasting!"

Thus came the Crimson Blades to be Under Yevon's Guiding Wing, and in honour of the Unswaying Courage with which they faced their Daunting Task, were they later to become known as Crusaders, or those who wage a Holy War to bring the Light of Yevon to all of Spira. Now, as the Maesters in their Boundless Wisdom watch over them and send their loyal Acolytes to guide them, shall they never again stray –

And then there was a large greasy stain that overlapped the last lines on the page, blurring the letters beyond recognition. What it was and how it had ended up there was impossible to tell, but if you brought the page close enough and sniffed at it, you could detect the distinct smell of Bevellian Smoked Grain - a brand of sausage that was known for coming with enough grease to soak through six layers of stiff paper wrappings.

Snorting, Maester Kinoc flicked the book shut. He was familiar with the passage – familiar, in fact, to the degree where he could have recited it in his sleep without much effort. Still, he enjoyed reading it every now and then. It was a welcome reminder of how things were supposed to be, and definitely a more pleasurable account than the ones concerning the current state of the Crusaders.

Whatever the book said, it was true that the founder of the Crusaders had not been the most devout Yevonite in existence. After all, this particular account had been written for the less enlightened. Mi'ihen had more likely been a pig-headed fool and more trouble than he was worth than a co-operative pushover. But either way, he'd at least had the decency of acknowledging the temples' power. That was a lot more than could be said of his successors. They were far too busy to spare time for showing respect even where it was long overdue, as they were all running around in circles like berserk chocobos, coming up with dozens of crazy plans and climbing over each other to get to be the first in the front line to carry them out. The last one in their long line of brilliant strokes had almost succeeded in landing Sin in the Blitz city of Luca. Admirable indeed.

Well, smart people did not go chasing Sin all over Spira in the first place – they joined the Warrior Monks or the priesthood. Which was why Kinoc himself was a Maester of Yevon and not one of the mangled corpses buried under the rubble on some backwater beach. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and what he had he'd most certainly earned. The life of a Maester was good by all definitions.

The only problems he had were connected to the Crusaders. Being the head of Yevon's military wing, he was directly in charge of two separate organisations – one of which unfortunately happened to be the Crusaders. From the Warrior Monks, he'd never had a tenth of the trouble the Crusaders caused every single month. Being associated with them was a disgrace.

And though Kinoc had no proof yet, he was willing to bet a considerable sum of money that the other Maesters were beginning to regard him with less respect than he was willing to see on their faces. He had seen Grand Maester Mika's eyes flash when he thought Kinoc wasn't paying attention. Mika hid it well, but he could tell – the old codger was thinking that since he couldn't even handle a bunch of sword-waving fools, he would not be much of a stumbling stone if and when his removal became desirable. And Kinoc knew he was too smart to be allowed to remain where he was if he couldn't hold the position himself.

Thinking about it usually gave him a heartburn.

While Mi'ihen had wisely succumbed to the temples' judgement, these Crusader morons seemed to be practically immune to any form of control. Their organisation was sprinkled all over Spira, operating mostly as independent chapters that were impossible to keep in line. And though they were supposed to have some sort of a command structure, trying to gain a firm hold of it was like trying to grasp a trickle of water. The Captains and Commanders of the chapters had the highly annoying habit of partaking operations themselves, with the result that every time he asked for a report from a specific chapter he found himself staring at a new face. It infuriated him to no end, because the problem kept repeating itself over and over.

But that didn't mean it was unsolvable.

Wen Kinoc was not a Maester of Yevon for nothing. He had struggled his way up the steps, sucking up to someone here, stabbing someone in the back there. He knew how to hoard power to himself.

The trick was to do it discreetly.

He picked up and opened the soiled book, turning the pages until he found the part he had been reading. Settling back in his chair, his eyes flickered to the last intelligible line on the page, right above the sausage grease stain.

Now, as the Maesters in their Boundless Wisdom watch over them and send their loyal Acolytes to guide them, shall they never again stray…

Author's notes: I've been turning the thought of writing a longer fic in my head for a while. If that turns out to actually happen, this will be - like its name suggests - the prologue for it. Confusing start?