Prologue - Misconception?
The dry cold air made him shiver slightly, but he welcomed it. He smiled a sighed, a stream of visible air escaping from his mouth as he exhaled. Marché pulled on his black gloves, walking slowly toward the school. Although he had technically been in this town since yesterday, he recognized many faces. And it had been many long months since he had actually seen them.
"Oi! Marché!" Came a familiar voice. He turned his head around quickly, his long blonde hair on his head whipping to the side and then resettling. Mewt, a boy with wild brown hair and blue eyes brighter than his own, was running at him on the slick sidewalks, wearing his green jacket and brown pants. Marché smiled—until he fell face first in the snow. He ran toward him and helped him up, but Mewt was laughing lightly, making him do the same.
"Still a clutz," He said, sighing, brushing snow off of himself. Some of the other kids walking past them toward the school were pointing and laughing, but briefly. "It's good to be back in the cold, eh?"
Marché was glad he had been able to convince both Mewt and Ritz to come back, especially since it seemed Mewt had already forgiven him. He was a little unsure about Ritz, but he decided to wait until he got to school to make an assumption. Just the thought of making her unhappy made his heart sink.
"What's wrong?" Mewt asked, bringing him back to earth.
"Nothing. Ready?"
"Yeah."
They rounded the corner near a red brick building and the back part of the campus came into view, the empty field covered in a thick sheet of powdery, untouched snow. As they entered through the fence, three boys approached them from behind an old tool shed, each with their hands in their pockets. Immedietly, Marché and Mewt recognized them; Lyle, Colin, and Guiness. They stopped in the middle of the bright field.
"Oi look! The kid doesn't have a teddy bear in his arms this time!" Guiness called. The other two laughed, stupidly from Marché's point of view. They kept walking, but the other three stood in their path a few feet apart. Mewt was the first to retort.
"Oi look!" He said, mocking Guiness' voice and tone. "The moron still thinks he's cool with that big time ego of his." Marché looked at Mewt in pure shock, and almost reached out to stop him. The look on Guiness' face, however, was priceless.
"What did you say, daddy's boy?"
Marché could hardly contain himself, smiling. "Aw, poor boy can't understand English. Maybe he should pay attention in class more, eh?" Mewt nodded in agreement.
It was such a light insult, but Colin and Lyle dove to the ground and scooped up a pile of snow and chucked them simultaneously at Mewt and Marché. They both stepped casually but swiftly to the side to avoid it, but Marché stuck out an arm and let the snow burst over his sleeve. Something hard collided with it besides for the snow, and he watched as a rock dropped from it.
"Another accident?" He said calmly, closing his eyes while he spoke. The three boys were looking at him with awe.
"You…you both moved so…so fast." Lyle said, stuttering. I didn't even see it." Marché raised an eyebrow. He didn't think he moved that quickly, but now that he thought of it, they had thrown the snowballs rather fast.
"Well, good dodge, good dodge, but," Guiness scooped up some snow and tossed it. Marché leaned to the side to avoid it, but he saw him start to move in with a fist raised. Marché's eyes widened, and everything slowed down. He leapt diaganolly to the right and gave a roundhouse kick to the back of Guiness' head, but he held back a lot. He was just surprised he remembered how to do it.
His light tap sent him flying back toward the shed. Marché watched, turning white, as Mewt hurled a snowball at Lyle, slammed him right in the face, and sent him flying to where Guiness was. Colin, looking frightened, retreated back to them and started asking them if they were all right.
Marché and Mewt glanced at eachother, breathing lightly but with great effort. Marché nodded toward the school, and instantly they sped off for the stairs to Mr. Laslie's classroom. But before they went, he shouted, "Oh, and for your information, my teddy is the last thing my mom could give me before she died!"
When they were climbing the stairs, Marché could see him fuming. He was more concerned about what just happened. "Okay…what was that!" He blurted out. Mewt looked at him, his anger turning rapidly into fear.
"I don't know, now that I think about it," Mewt said, his voice shaking. "Did we somehow retain our fighting and magic powers since Ivalice…er…the country Ivalice?"
Mewt's sudden mention of the desert dream version of Ivalice sent flashes of memories of Marché's clan, Montblanc sticking out clearer than all of them. He shook his head shaking them off, then replied, "It's possible. I still somehow have the Ayvuir Red and Blue." It was true—the blades, still sheathed, were hidden in his and Donned's chest in their room.
"And The Grand Grimoire is still in my possesion, the stories in it unchanged. And…" He paused. "I can read it. Perfectly."
"What?" Marché's jaw dropped, blinking at him.
"Yeah. Maybe you can too. And Ritz. Didn't you suddenly know the written language? The official language was English, except the Viera and Bangaa had their own language, but the words are written in more runic-like symbols," He explained. Marché looked at him searchingly. "Oh! But that doesn't mean I'm glad we're back. I'm not sure if I'd want to go back."
Marché thought about this carefully as they entered the door. They agreed to talk about it later. Mr. Laslie looked at them from behind his desk, peering at them from behind small glasses on the rim of his nose, his blonde hair split neatly to the side, removing his seagreen jacket.
"You're both early. I saw what happened outside," He said. Marché felt a drop of sweat run down the side of his temple. "I'll let this one go, but even if they make the first move, you shouldn't have beaten them up that badly." He said, Marché looking at him with awe. He had said it with a hint of pride in his voice. He nodded, and they went to their seats, the rest of the class not yet there.
Ritz stared at herself in the mirror, the silky-smooth white hair sticking out a lot less than she used to remember it. She glanced at the red dye tube, then laughed gleefully. She picked it up and squeezed its contents into the toilet and flushed. Content and feeling better than she thought she would, she went back to her room and threw on her favorite white winter dress and went outside. On the edge of the neighborhood, her friend, Sharon, was waiting for her at the corner, wearing an open purple jacket with an orange turtle-neck underneath with long purple socks.
"R-Ritz!" She said, gasping and darting her eyes around at her. "Y-Your hair! It's as white as snow!"
"Yup." Ritz replied happily. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, actually! It's beautiful and suits you! Of course, red was good too, but this is just as good too!'
"Thanks, Sharon. Oh, I may dye it again. How does green sound?" She asked, laughing as they started for the school.
"Ew! Ew! Ew!" She shrieked, flailing her arms. After Sharon had recovered, they were both giggling.
They had taken the usual shortcut—a place that was usually just an empty retention pond and slightly damp, but during winter they could cross it, saving a good ten minutes of time of walking through the busiest part of the town. Ritz stepped into the wide open field, but her foot sank over three feet. Sharon dashed to help, but she tripped and fell just as far in flat on her stomach.
They both giggled. It had never been this deep, and when Ritz stopped, she tried pushing herself out with her right hand, which just pushed more snow into the hole her leg had created. If only I could melt most of this! We're going to be later at this rate! She thought.
Her long white socks grew wet, and slowly grew even more. Ritz felt a warm sensation in her fingers and looked down and gasped. Small flames were dancing on her fingernails, and then began rotating around the entirety of her hand. The snow melted slowly. Sharon lifted her head, and Ritz grasped her arm firmly, making it stop.
"What was…?"
"I…I don't know. Let's go." Ritz said hurriedly. Walking across the wet snow was much easier. Ritz stared at her hands, conscious of Sharon looking at her with soft green eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just thought I saw…nah." She said, waving her hand with her wrist only. I didn't see it, and I didn't do anything. Or did I? Was it Fire Whip? Couldn't be. But there's no mistaking the beginning of the spell.
When they reached the school, Ritz apologized to Sharon and left her at the lockers, dashing up the stairs toward the classroom, hoping that at least Marché was there. When she entered, Mr. Laslie glanced at her with a warm welcome and, as if was telepathic, both Marché and Mewt sat in the back, looking at her.
"Guys!" She said happily, abandoning her panic. She went to the back and hugged them both, much to Marché's surprise.
"How are you, Ritz?" Marché asked, blushing when he felt her softness, admiring her resolve to accept and like her white hair. It is really beautiful…all of her really is. He thought, nodding to himself.
"Good! Oh wait…except…" She began, but Mewt interrupted.
"Something weird just happened. Me and Marché," He had dropped his voice slightly as he spoke, glad that a few other students had come in talking loudly. "We still have skills we learned."
"How did…?" Ritz first wondered about how they had found out, but then was glad she wasn't the only one. "Me too! I melted snow!"
Marché gazed at her, dumbfounded. "So I'm not going crazy," He said. "Yeah, we got into a fight with the moronic trio. And…that's how."
"What did you do to them? Literally?" Ritz asked, glad that they had done what she had only expected without asking about it. Marché explained the story.
"Sent them flying like a pair of scared swallows.
"I see," Ritz said. "But what does this…"
The bell rang loudly, and almost instantly, Mr. Laslie, their homeroom teacher, began speaking and instructing. Used to his college-like teaching method using lectures, they all sat down, Ritz retreating to the side nearest to the blindless windows that allowed much of the white light into the room and Marché and Mewt in the back next to eachother. "I'll finish later," Ritz mouthed to them.
Once classes had finished, Ritz had told them about what happened to herself. Then she asked, "What does this mean, do you think?"
Marché shook his head slowly, shrugging his shoulders. The air had become much colder, and clouds began settling around the town. When they got nearer to Marché's neighborhood, a blizzard kicked up out of nowhere, but just light enough for them to be able to see. Chattering his teeth as the cold bit into his cheeks, he motioned toward his house. He called, "Come on! We can go wait at my place! Besides, I think Donned would like to see you guys."
Marché made his way up the street and opened the door to his house, used to the yellow paint. He waited for Ritz and Mewt, and then followed them inside. They kicked off their shoes and made their way upstairs.
"Donned!" Marché called. A small voice replied. "We're coming up!" At the top of the stairs, they went down the hallway, glad to feel the warmth of the house and the wood underneath them, and opened the door to his room. Donned smiled at them, lying his green bed next to Marché identical one.
"Hi." He said, fidgeting with his Game Boy, his deep blue eyes straining with concentration and his thick brown hair spread on the pillow, wearing his white pajamas. He put it down and hopped into his wheelchair and came over to them.
They all settled in the middle of the floor, glad to get off their feet. Mewt pulled out The Grand Grimoire from his backpack, which he had accidently kept there.
"What're we pulling this out again for?" Donned said suspiciously but filled with curiosity.
"Because we apparently still have our skills," Ritz said, staring at Marché as he flipped through the pages. She caught herself and shook her head. What the heck am I thinking, looking at him like that? Damn it all.
"Yeah, I can read this perfectly," Marché said, sighing with discomfort. Ritz ran the back of her hand through her long hair and brushed it to the side, holding it in place while she looked at it herself.
"…And thus caused the formation of the book that you hold and read as of this moment," she read aloud. The goddess, able to cross time, space, and bring the most desired wishes from the hearts of civilized beings, will never truly be able to be defeated. Her spirit wanders through the hearts of many—including my own. It is with this new found co-operation with the goddess that I created a second world, where peace was easily within grasp, and fighting was less common." She stopped and inhaled deeply.
"So…does that mean that this world was the reflection of this…" Marché peered at the signature. "Grimoire Valkanstan?"
"It seems so," Mewt said, nodding, his eyes full of wonder. "Perhaps Ivalice was at civil war during his time? So he wished for our world?"
"This is too much to understand. So technically, I wished us from the fake world, which was originally the real world. My head hurts now." Marché said, wondering how they would take it.
"I...I'm surprised too. It was an easy mistake to make. I forgot who I originally was—until I saw you. In the "fake" Ivalice, I mean. Then it all came back. Not in a bad way, it just did, and I realized it," Ritz said, her voice kind. "But now I do like this world."
"But now…with your powers back…what'll happen?" Donned asked. Silence settled upon all of them, the heat from the stove wafting over them as they stared blankily into the old decaying pages.
"We wait." Marché said finally. "If worst comes to worst…and including the oddity of our powers coming back, and the weather seems to be acting weird, eh?"
Ritz thought about this and said, "You're right. There hasn't been a blizzard like that in over five years." She pointed to the television mounted on one of the bookshelves. The weather reporter was waving his arms around a greenscreen showing the region, and how the temperature low suddenly dropped by ten degrees.
"What happens if we do end up going back? Are we willing to accept that?" Marché said, wishing that his wonder about going back wasn't contradictory of what they had originally come back for—reality.
"I…I should be. If it's unavoidable," Ritz said. Mewt nodded.
"Me too."
"Me three," Donned said.
Marché sighed and laid back on his rug with his arms behind his head. Ritz and Mewt stood up and left without saying a word to them. Donned stared at his brother for a while, then rolled back onto his bed.
"This is an unexpected theory, eh?" He said sleepily. The blizzard outside had ceased, but nightfall was slowly descending.
"Yeah," Marché replied simply.