All characters, storylines and concepts are property of Squaresoft. I own nothing. This takes place a few years before the start of the game (nine, to be exact) but in a memorable location.

How He Ended Up Here

Kuja tossed a few silvery wisps of hair out of his face and glanced disdainfully at the unsanitary conditions that surrounded him. Every moment he spent in this dank mine strengthened his opinion that he would very much like to return to the surface.

'You'd better make this quick,' he snarled at the lackey guiding him through the tunnel, 'and what you've managed had better be good.'

The servant, a young man from the village, was too afraid to speak, but he quickened his pace all the same.

Soon the two of them entered a larger room, although much of the space was occupied by shabby machinery parts. A collection of wooden boxes lay in a heap in a corner. A makeshift conveyer belt ran through a tunnel to the next room, and the young villager followed it.

Kuja held back, taking his time to evaluate the equipment. He approached the large double doors on the side wall, brushing a ghostly pale hand over the iron rings used to open it.

'Oh – no!' cried the villager, 'D-don't go through there. The Mist comes in from that room. We keep the doors closed because otherwise…' he continued in a whisper, as if afraid that he would be overheard, '…the Mist monsters get in.'

Kuja stepped back from the door, noticing the waves of white Mist emanating from underneath it.

'So, you think…' Kuja said menacingly, 'that there are monsters in there that pose some sort of a threat to me?' His voice rose to an intimidating growl, 'You think I'm so weak, it might be dangerous for me to go in!'

The villager realised his mistake and looked terrified, shaking his head and mumbling apologetically. Kuja appeared to calm down, and the man resumed leading him through the underground tunnel.

Kuja bent to examine and conveyer belt and the surrounding machinery as they passed.

'You have managed to locate a Chocobo?' he demanded, eyeing the oversized exercise wheel attached to the wall.

'Oh – yes, sir!' the man nodded enthusiastically, glad to be able to report a completed task. 'Two, in fact. That way we have a spare.'

Kuja showed no hint of appreciation, but simply acknowledged the task's completion with a nod.

'Although,' the man continued, feeling more courageous after having done something right, 'we don't understand why it had to be Chocobos. Surely if we produced another motor, then…'

'Quiet!' Kuja roared, making it quite obvious that he did not approve of unnecessary questions. 'That it not for you to know and it is none of your concern. You are here to carry out my instructions, not doubt them!'

'Oh, r-right… yes, sir,' stuttered the astounded villager.

As they entered the next room, a hushed silence gripped the few dozen people manning their stations over the equipment. They stopped working and stared at Kuja; afraid of him, what he would say, and whether he would find anything wrong.

The young man who had served his purpose as Kuja's guide ran over to a fellow worker and whispered something to her. In a flash she trotted to a nearby storeroom and came back holding something in her arms.

Taking great care of her charge, she approached Kuja and sank into a deep bow, presenting the object to him. Kuja snatched it up almost greedily, and turned it over in his hands.

It looked like some sort of doll or puppet, being vaguely human in shape, but only reaching about 4 foot in height. Whatever the small doll was, it wore a long blue-ish cloak, gloves, shoes – a complete wardrobe, with a tall, straight, pointed hat perched on top. The only part of the doll that was uncovered was its face, which was black. Not just black, but a deep, unfathomable, inconceivable kind of darkness that could hide anything – no features or expression could be seen.

Kuja turned the thing over in his hands almost carelessly. He seemed to regard it with distaste.

He looked up with one eyebrow raised, momentarily forgetting his desire to impose his superiority into his speech.

'It's a bit small.'

A few of the workers glanced at each other.

'Don't worry about the size,' piped up a nearby woman, 'we made sure it met your expectations. It's just as powerful as you wanted - perhaps even more so.'

Kuja sneered down at the doll, the displeasure clearly registering on his face.

'Lifespan?' he inquired shortly.

'We thought…' said the woman, 'about 10 years might be satisfactory.'

Kuja scowled back. 'Again, my powers are underestimated. You think I will require use of my drones for an entire ten years! I am insulted. And these clothes…' he pulled the doll's garments about, 'they are removable?'

'Oh, yes!' said the woman eagerly. 'It's just like a real person – it has a whole body to itself.'

Kuja seemed to be even more revolted. The woman continued in a desperate bid to redeem herself.

'We worked so hard on the inside, too… we spent so long trying to make it perfect! It'll be able to think for itself, if we wake it up, it can make its own decisions…'

'What!' Kuja interrupted, clearly disgusted. 'This thing…' he shook the puppet in his hands viciously, 'can think for itself!'

He advanced on the lady who had been talking. She cowered.

'What use is free will in an obedient army of slaves!' he screeched, clearly shocking the poor woman. She tried to protest, but before her words had taken comprehensible form, Kuja had flung the doll to the floor in repulsion.

Several of the workers audibly gasped; not because they were concerned for the safety of what they had created, but because they had simply spent so much effort building it.

Kuja raised his arm, demonstrating the awesome magical powers at his disposal. He held his hand aloft and within seconds, a fiery, crackling sphere had formed in it. Kuja's face was contorted with hate, apparently using it to feed power into forming the magic. Nobody made a single sound, although all the villagers were praying silently that their master wouldn't unleash the mighty powers he could call upon.

Kuja's hand was poised, ready to swing down and throw the enlarged ball of burning malice at the puppet on the ground; lying crumpled and lifeless. Kuja stared at the pitiful bundle for another second.

'Pah…' he spat, grudgingly dissipating the magic and lowering his hand. 'That pathetic attempt isn't worth it…'

He turned away, his long white cloak fluttering over the ground as he walked on. Another worker hurried over to rescue their creation.

'You are to make a new model,' he firmly instructed the man who had served as his tour guide earlier. 'Make the next version bigger. Much bigger. These things are to become my army – they need to be intimidating. Nobody is going to run in fear from a child,' he said scathingly. The villager only nodded.

'Make them more powerful if you can. I want these to have the highest magical prowess you are able to arm them with. No singular clothes and bodies, either – just apply the clothes directly on. These aren't works of art. They're vessels.'

Kuja raised his hand to press his last point. 'And under no circumstances are these toys allowed to have free will. I don't care how you take it away, and I don't care if anyone disagrees with me. My army must obey me without question; they must have the mindless servitude of drones. Not a single contradictory thought may pass through what passes for their minds. You will reduce the lifespan to a little under a year… I should think that will be long enough.'

Kuja turned, apparently having decided to leave. The man was stunned, but managed to splutter out a sentence.

'Sir… of course, of course, we will make sure all your demands are met. But in order to redesign entirely… it will be faster than the first, but it could take us several years to produce a new form…'

'Whatever,' Kuja snarled. 'I knew you people wouldn't be able to do this particularly quickly. Just do it as fast as you can,' he stressed each word clearly, as if talking to someone with much lower intelligence than his own, 'and make sure you do everything right this time.'

Kuja turned to leave once again.

'Sir?' piped up a nervous young lady. 'What shall we do with the prototype?'

Kuja waved a vague hand in the air. 'Put it on the next ship to Alexandria – show them the kind of thing they will be expecting,' he said as he walked back down the underground corridor towards the exit.

All the workers breathed a sigh of relief at his departure. Then they went back to work while considering Kuja's new demands.

'Do you think we'll be able to do all that?' remarked one man to a woman.

'I should think so,' the woman replied exhaustedly, 'but one thing's for sure – it'll certainly take a few years to get this batch right…'

'And about removing the free will…' he continued.

'Yes, I don't know how we'll manage it,' she said exasperatedly. 'Although I had one idea – we could try engaging a mental block.'

The man looked surprised. 'You think that'll work?'

'Well…' she looked doubtful. 'It won't be permanent. We know that sort of thing won't last long… but he says he only wants them for a year. Besides, all we have to do is ship them out of town. Who cares if they malfunction once they're out of our hands?'

The man nodded and let her get on with her work. He collected their doll from a nearby villager before heading back towards the exit. The man felt awfully disappointed; they had all worked so hard to get it ready, and they had been sure it was satisfactory. The next version, he resolved, would be better.

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In a large grass field just outside of town, a huge airship powered its way off the ground and into the sky. The long blades of grass fluttered as the force of the air from the ship hit them. The ship rose higher into the clouds and floated away from the village of Dali.

A little while later during their journey, some thing odd happened to the ship's cargo. Since the ship's hold had been deemed full, Kuja's little production prototype had been propped up on the ship's deck, and it now swayed from side to side lifelessly with the bobbing of the airship.

Over the side of the ship, the city of Treno could be seen coming into view over the mountain, since the airship would be dropping cargo off there before continuing along the mountain range to reach Alexandria.

During a sudden bout of turbulence, the slumped puppet sitting on the deck fell over forwards and lay there, looking particularly forlorn and helpless. Something metallic fell from above.

A silver hook, fastened with string, had come down from somewhere indiscernible above the layer of clouds. The hook searched around in the air for prey, before finally lowering further and hooking into the blue fabric of the doll's coat. Feeling the weight, the line's owner began to reel in the catch, pulling the small, lifeless mage off the ship and upwards into the sky.