Split Ends

Introduction: The reason I did not stick to the last name backwards ordeal with Ritz was because her last name backwards didn't sound good at all. Ztir sounds so much cooler don't you think? Sorry if I'm rushing too much, this is a fairly fast paced plotline and I have to keep it moving. I won't get faster though, and if I do I'm sorry. Oh yes, in the next few chapters you will see an increase of romance. I will keep it Marche/Ritz but I will also stray lightly to Mewt/Ritz also.

Italics- thoughts, memories, etc Bold- actions, important stuff

 VIII

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     Marche walked into the pub of Cyril to find Cid talking animatedly with his mom. Babus stood in the corner, conversing with a cloaked nu-mou Marche did not recognize. "Hey! We found Mewt!"

   Mewt hobbled in, still in his illusionist robes. He clutched his torn hat in one hand, his other wrapping around his abdominal wound. Cid was upon him immediately. "Mewt! What happened to you?!"

    "It's ok dad," Mewt turned a slight shade of red. "I'm fine… really."

  "No you're not," Cid picked him in his arms. "You're still bleeding… you must've lost a lot of blood!"

  "No dad… really…" Mewt's face turned scarlet. "I'm fine…"

 Too late, Cid had already carted him off to his bedroom upstairs. Marche's mother looked gravely at him. "Marche… what happened to you?"

  It was at that moment Marche realized how bad he must look. His whole front was caked in mud and blood, his lip was bleeding and puffy, and he had numerous scratches and bruises on his body. Whenever he moved his left arm it ached, and his neck throbbed from Ztir's thin hands. Ztir's scream of hatred still rang in his ears. "Nothing mom… we ran into a hostile person while going to Sphrom, Mewt and his crew came to help out."

  His mother took his face in her hands. Her smile was gentle, but her eyes were sad, "Where is Doned?"

    Marche pulled away from her and stared at the wall, "I don't know."

"We think he's in Ambervale though!" Nono exclaimed. "So don't you worry your pretty little head kupo!"

   Montblanc watched Marche as he shuffled out of the pub. His mother called after him, "Do you want something to eat Marche?"

   "No… it's all right," Marche waved dismissively at her. "I'm fine…"

 He shut the door behind him, just as Cid came downstairs. Cid looked from Miss. Radiuju's grim expression to the door. "I take it something's wrong?"

  She turned her gaze to the floor, sighing, "I always felt that somehow during Doned's hospitalization that Marche was depressed… that I wasn't giving him enough attention or comforting him…" she put her face in her hands. "I realize now how true those feelings were…"

   Cid touched her shoulder. "He's a good kid, and he'll understand. His mind is focused elsewhere… give him time."

  "That's right kupo!" Montblanc piped in. "He seemed fine during our last trip…" but suddenly his expression softened. "Except when he had to convince Doned to come home…"

   Miss. Radiuju sighed. If only you knew how much I love you Marche…

     Marche leaned against the door of the pub, allowing the wind to play with his hair. He slowly removed himself from the door after a moment and strode down the path. Soon he had walked past the path, walking silently in a straight line, having no idea where to go or where he was going.

   He trudged through the grass, coming upon a small lake, where cattails hung around and ducks were swimming on the water. The world may have changed… but we still have some things from the real world.

  He sat down on the bank of the lake, picking up small stones and tossing them into the water, trying to get the right pebble to skip. The events of early afternoon replayed over in his head. Ztir was so intent on killing me…

  He glanced up at the sky, closing his eyes. What did she mean when she said I don't understand her? Does Ritz really feel like that? That no one understands her? But… why?

 Seeing Ztir had reminded his mind of the weird feelings that now churned within him. He remembered how he had wrapped his arms around her that afternoon… and how oddly wonderful it felt. But then Ztir's scream would echo through his head, and in the back of his mind he wondered if that was how the real Ritz felt. Does she really hate me?

 For some reason that thought disturbed him in more ways than one.

 "Hey."

 Marche twisted around to see Cid standing behind him, "Mind if I join you?"

 "Sure…"

 Cid sat down beside Marche, his arms around his legs. Marche hugged his knees and stared out across the lake. It was a while before Cid spoke, "Mewt's sleeping now, it took me a while just to get him in the bed. I had Babus tend to his wounds."

  "Hmhmm…" He did not take his eyes off of the lake.

 Silence followed as each was absorbed in his own thoughts. Cid spoke once more, "Mewt wouldn't sleep… he was worried about you."

   "Why?" Marche looked over at Cid quizzically. "Why would he worry about me?"

"Because you're his friend, and he heard what Ztir had said too…" Cid said gently. "He knew it would shock you."

  "You don't know what she said." Marche turned his eyes back out to where the sky and the water met.

  "No, but I have an inkling," Cid began. "That you care for her more than you realize. Just like your mother cares for you more than you realize."

   Marche looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Your mother loves you very much Marche," Cid put a hand on his shoulder. "I know your family has had a rough past, as have my own. I know at some point that you, like Mewt, felt there was no one you could turn to."

  Marche was silent.

 "But there are people to turn to Marche," Cid pressed his shoulder. "Your friends are here for you Marche, you do not have to keep it locked up. Your mother wants to know…"

  "I know…" Marche stood. "I know…"

 Cid stood at his side, "Everything will turn out fine in the end ok? We'll find Doned and Ritz, I promise."

  "Llednar has the book…" Marche pulled away and picked up a pebble. He tossed it across the blue water. "He could kill us in a heartbeat if he wanted to. He wants us to suffer… he wants me to suffer."

   Cid sighed. "And we'll suffer together. You do not have to do this on your own."

 Marche glanced at him. "You and mom talk a lot don't you?"

   "Yes…" There was different look in Cid's eyes, an emotion Marche could not place. He stepped toward Cid, another pebble clutched in his hand. "What did you mean when you said I care more for Ritz than I realize?"

  A smile curved on Cid's lips. "I believe you already know. You just don't want to think about it." He gestured to the pub, "Come, I have news for you."

  Marche discarded the pebble and followed Cid into the pub. Inside everyone else sat around one large round table, with a strange nu-mou walking toward them. "Hello."

   Cid nodded to Marche. "Marche, this is Ezcel. I believe you two have already met?"

 "Ezcel!" Marche's face burst into a wide grin as he shook the nu-mou's hand vigorously. "You're ok!"

   "Yes, yes," Ezcel said, beaming. "I'm just fine… but I'm afraid that since the palace has decided to do away with laws that business has been slim."

  "No more antilaws?"

"Indeed, stupid people," Ezcel growled in annoyance. "Now I can't bug the palace as efficiently as before… but I still have one trick up my sleeve that should even the odds between you and that weirdo."

  It was at that moment that Ezcel pulled from his pocket a very battered looking package. His eyes softened, "This is my family heirloom, passed from many a generation. It was bestowed upon me years ago, and I have made great use of it since."

  Marche took hold of the package and examined it, "It's heavy! Wait…"

 He looked at Ezcel and the nu-mou nodded back to him. Marche pulled the tied string apart and carefully opened the package. His eyes widened as he over turned on last piece of wrapping. "Ezcel… this is how you created the Antilaws?"

  "Yes," Ezcel smiled. "I knew how to create law cards, but by using this I could pour into it magic much unknown to the world. It was pure genius; it was an antilaw."

   Mewt trotted downstairs at that point. "What's going on?"

"Mewt," Marche stared at the unwrapped package. "Mewt come here."

   He looked questionably at Marche and walked over. His eyes widened as he peered over Marche's shoulder, "Marche, where did you get that?"
  "Ezcel's been using it to defy the laws," Marche smiled. "I never knew there was more than one…"

  In his hands was an aged book, the magic circle embedded upon its cover. Reds, greens, blues, yellows, and oranges dotted the book's surface, the clasp holding the book together thick and metallic. Mewt gasped, "You mean to tell me that Ezcel made those antilaws…"

   "The Gran Grimoire," Ezcel nodded at the two. "Yes."

**To Be Continued**