I look at him, absolutely aghast and for one of the first times in my life; I say the first thing that comes into my head. Without thinking at all, I retort,
"You're lying!" It's as much a comfort to my own fear as it is an accusation; I don't want to believe that what he's saying could be true. Sometimes I think there's only one thing in the world I'm good at and to fail at it now would question my entire purpose. I don't want to consider it and I can't. My eyes blaze at him and I fail to register the hurt look on his face. "Tell me that you're lying!"
Probably enjoying the hint of pleading in my unusually distressed voice, he stands from his table with the grandeur of a King. His knuckles rest against its flimsy surface, white on mahogany, and he stares down on me as if I am a commoner come to beg a favour from the monarch. In a second, the sorrow in his expression vanishes to be replaced by a look of triumphant superiority; the thrill of finally getting one over on his long-time rival. I feel my breathing increase, suddenly terrified of consequences and the future. Never do I remember Ultimecia being as frightening as this, but it must have been. It's as if I've never known fear until this moment.
"Seifer, please." I continue, hearing my own voice succumb to detestable weakness. "Please tell me that this isn't true. It isn't, it can't be."
"Why?" He barks, the hollow sound filling the small room. "I'll tell you why. You want me to say it because you just can't stand the thought that I might finally have outwitted you. I know what you say about me back in Garden, Squall. You reminisce about the poor little stupid kid, Seifer, who failed all his exams and still had the audacity to think he could touch the mighty Squall Leonhart! I was the petty thief to your Lordship and you just can't stand the fact that I've beaten you at last! I don't care how much you beg, Squall, I won't take it back. This is my victory, fair and square and I've worked too fucking hard for it to take it back. Find your own pride, don't you dare ask for mine!"
"Seifer..." I breathe, exhausted by his furious shouting and his exaggerated metaphors. "You can't beat me by making up stories." Somehow, I know that it can only bring down more anger to challenge his claims, but I can't get the idea out of my head that it's all a lie. Had he founded a military force before I arrived, I would have understood but he said that he achieved it under my nose. He hasn't had that time, I'm sure of it. I've been monitoring him as often as possible. The only time he could have done it would have been during the four hours that I sleep every night and he uses those hours to sleep too. He doesn't sleep when I'm awake, so unless he's been without it for the last six days, I can't get my head around this puzzle. He doesn't show any signs of sleep deprivation. He's got a lot more energy than he used to have. When has he found the time to build up this supposed army?
"And you can't defeat me by dismissing my achievements. Not anymore. When I nearly seized the world, you all passed it off as madness, as another show of stupidity, but not anymore! This time, it's for real, and you're all going to be too busy shaking in your skins to call me a liar!" His voice is dark, rich with anger that is barely under control. His hands have not moved from the table and his eyes are flashing with emotion.
"So, what? What have you done, exactly?" I yell back, taking out my own panic and stress upon him. He milks it up, absorbs it and barely notices my display of rage. "What is it that you claim to have so majestically achieved, Seifer?"
"I told you, I've recruited myself an entire army. That's another thing, you never listened to me. Nobody listened to me. Nobody saw the victim I was because you just couldn't be bothered to open your hearts to me. Nobody heard when I called." The distressed look appears on his face once more; features tight with pain and I almost feel reeled in to sympathise, but at the last minute, logic stops me.
"An army of what? Bitebugs? Empty pizza boxes? That's all you have, Seifer. That's all that's there." My voice quietens; I'm sensing the end of this ridiculous argument. I've had illogical fights with him before, but nothing on quite this level. It's like he's a different person. Then again, I never knew him as a Knight and I wasn't there. Maybe this is what power does to him.
"An army of people, you cunt! 20,000 men; strong, well-trained men just waiting to spill your blood and the blood of your disgusting people. They're hungry for it, and they will get it whether you like it or not. The future is going to be different, Squall, and you heard it here first. Stay with me and you'll have a ringside seat on the action." With that, he walks out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. The door slams and I am left alone with the distant hum of the shower in the background. Rubbing my forehead, I try to make sense of everything that has just happened; sinking into the seat that Seifer has just vacated and dropping my head into my hands.
I scold myself for the first thought that comes into my head. Evidently my mind is not concerned with the details of this supposed army or the consequences of my failure, but with Seifer's last sentence.
iStay with me, and you'll have a ringside seat on the action./i
Stay with him? From his speech, I presumed that I was included in his intended death list. Why would he be asking me to stay with him and avoid the bloodshed, if he wanted me dead? He must know that if he were to wage a war against my home, that I'd have to fight back and that I couldn't stay and yet he's conveniently forgotten that. Seifer has a habit of only thinking on what he wants to consider and ignoring the opposing opinion but this is ridiculous. I don't know. Maybe he didn't mean it, I guess there's always that. It could just as easily have been a joke, or some flippant remark intended to wind me up. He probably wanted to make me sit here and think like this, just like he always used to take pleasure in my confusion or discomfort. It probably meant nothing at all, yet for some reason I can't get it out of my mind.
Still plagued by it, I move on to matters in hand. If Seifer has recruited 20,000 men, then he'll have them on record somewhere. He'll have some details about their location and their skills; any intending leader would surely have some sort of military plan surrounding his soldiers. If I can find those then maybe I can make up for the mistake of allowing the problem to get this far. If we know his military strategy, the succeeding battle will be far easier and I owe Balamb Garden that much. I never wanted to betray Seifer but in betraying me, he's given me no option. We're back to being rivals again, it would seem and for now I have to do what's right for my home. I can't let some teenage crush get it the way of that. I start looking for records, pages or files, anything that might help deduce what Seifer has planned for the world. Each leaf of white paper is covered with his spidery scribble, and the thought crosses my mind as I glance over the handwriting that this type of information is more likely to be on a computer database than on stacks on paper. Still, to my knowledge there is no computer in this apartment; there's only the basic electronic equipment. A computer, after all, is not the easiest thing to hide. Even a laptop has wires and makes noise and besides of all this, I know Seifer couldn't afford one anyway. As far as I can recollect, I've never heard the tap of computer keys other than my own fill this apartment. That only leaves one option; that the identities of 20,000 men are all written down by hand somewhere in this messy pile of paperwork. Slowly, I sit down and begin hastily searching through the sketchy evidence of Seifer's betrayal.
It's completely bizarre; each page bears no relation to the one preceding it. One minute, I'm looking at some drawn up military plan involving Centra, and the next; it's moved on to the capture of Galbadia Garden. Neither plan is detailed nor explanatory, nor does either even make sense. I can only assume that Seifer can understand his strange coding because otherwise, it'd look like the work of a deranged man.Shaking my head, I put the pages to the side and flip through the following ones, scanning through studies of his prospective opponents. These are intriguing insights into the weaponry and skills of Quistis Trepe, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Tilmitt, Zell Dincht and finally, me. With underlines. I scoff, tracing my finger over the words. His description of me I'll read later, it's something I want to do only to fuel this pathetic crush of mine and I don't have time for that right now. I place the paper in my pocket with the tiniest surge of guilt, an emotion I dismiss by checking the next page. Names swarm me from the page and I suddenly realise that I've found what I'm looking for; a multitude of unfamiliar names in succession, written in Seifer's handwriting. Unlike the other papers, this one is careful, articulate and entirely different. Each name is followed by data about the identity; ages, dates of birth, heights and weights, skills, family details and personality insights. Turning over the page, I find that its back is identical and there are five other similar pages besides. That should be roughly the number Seifer was crowing earlier and it seems that my job will be made easier by this eventual show of conscientious work. Had I been using his earlier paperwork, I'd have been in trouble, but these papers are full of essential detail and other useful information, so I feel more at ease with my situation. Using these, we should have few problems cracking down on Seifer.
Taking the six pages, I try and figure out a way of analysing them without Seifer noticing their absence. The plan I think best would be to retrieve them when he is asleep, sacrifice my own slumber for the night and check the names out. Unlike Seifer, I do have a limited computer database with me and on it is a gem of Quistis' doing. She figured that if Seifer were to be building an army, I could keep an eye on his soldiers using her database of populations. In short, it's a legal copy of government census files tracing every citizen in Gaia. Of course, we can't access anything that doesn't relate to our military aims, but I can certainly check out the special abilities of his soldiers, whether they were ever SeeDs and thus hold GFs; that sort of thing. I have to be two steps ahead of Seifer now and that program is going to help me achieve that. I will not fail this mission, I can't afford to. Tonight, I have to pay for my neglect and try to catch up with him, as otherwise I don't want to think about the consequences. I rise from the table as the shower ebbs out and prepare myself for another round with the man himself.
---
Later, I silently wait in the darkness until I know it is safe to move. From down the hallway, I can hear the rhythmic sound of Seifer's breathing in his bedroom. I've been on enough training missions sharing a room with Seifer to know what he sounds like when he's asleep. I also know that he's too light a sleeper to maintain slumber if I went into the room to check on him, so I move as soundlessly as I can straight across to my room. From the dim light created by the slightly open door, I locate the small, portable computer and bring it to the bed, balancing it on one bare knee as I activate it. I've learned since being here that the central heading isn't wonderful and even in my black shorts I'm chilled. Throwing a dark shirt over my shoulders, I balance Seifer's papers on the other knee and load the program. I don't feel any particular emotion overwhelmingly and for the first time since my arrival, I feel as if I'm on a proper mission. I know where I stand and I understand my task in hand. I can do this. Tapping the codes to access the database, I wait in anticipation for signs of Seifer stirring. When the trained soldier in me is satisfied that I am not about to be discovered, I begin my task and enter the first name.
Johan F. Reynolds. Seifer has him written down as being a year younger than me and having graduated from Galbadia Garden in the year after I finished my studies in Balamb. He is a skilled swordsman, his weaponry reminding me instantly of Kiros Seagill's artillery, and his specialist subject academically was the use of rarer magic. Digesting this, I turn to the whirring computer and watch it check through the census records, looking for the bait. After a minute or so of this incessant humming, it comes up with nothing. Frowning, I check my spelling and try the search again, adding a specification of Garden and age. Again, my efforts are rewarded with silence; no such person exists. I wonder briefly whether this program is as good as Quistis claims, but then she's used it ample times before and it's never once failed her. There is nothing to do but to check the next name and to see if it's me making the mistake. After all, I've never used this machine before; most likely it's some kind of human error. People assume that being Squall Leonhart means that you have the Midas touch with everything you turn your hand to, but to be honest, I'm not good with electronics. Not besides the basics, anyway. Garden computers are fine and I've an adequate knowledge of average computer systems but other than that, I let Zell or Irvine handle the technology. Give me a good old fashioned sword or some letter-writing paper any day.
Aria Seymore, a current honours student of Trabia Garden. She excels at some kind of pyrotechnic archery, by the looks of it; probably an original weapon. Fire magic is her forte and she commands "a respectable number of fire-based GFs". My Hyne, I muse, if these are just two examples of Seifer's military force, we may well be in trouble. Biting my lip, I key in the name into the system and watch it hum into life. As it carries out its task, I scan slowly through the following names on the list; Micha Kassa, a technological wizard with an interest in machine and magic combinations, Thea A. Zinan, with a vast zoo of GFs at her fingertips, and Thomas W. Alyans, a freelance soldier with excellent skills as an assassin. It seems that Seifer has taken an interest in him; there is more information to his favour than for any of the others. The little swirls around the name and the interest taken in him seems strange to me, and the thought crosses my mind that the two are involved in some way. The computer rudely interrupts my consideration of Seifer's sexuality by again coming up with nothing. I stare at the blank screen aimlessly, checking and re-checking my spelling and running more complex searches, changing everything that I can think of to make it as specific a search as I possibly can, and still I find nothing. Out of pure frustration, I type in 'Seya Andersen', a student I knew from my year in SeeD who failed her SeeD test that year and then re-took it at Galbadia, I believe. We had a little bit of a thing when I was younger, don't ask. It doesn't take the program two minutes to locate her and bring up her details; her studies of ice magic types in Trabia along with her progress as a higher-level SeeD. Evidently, the damn thing works. So, why isn't it bringing up Seifer's information?
Over the next two hours, I go through half of Seifer's lists, working as quickly as I can. As I work, the computer picks up speed so that I can run the commands quickly and the list of names vanishes before my eyes. Not one of those names matches on the search engine. I've a list of crosses on a separate piece of paper so long that I'm getting seriously worried. This isn't going to look good in my report for Quistis, naturally, but there are other consequences to consider. As I continue checking and continue receiving blanks, I consider the possibility that these are all codenames for the real identities. It's a valid idea, but surely it would take too much work to cover up names when the rest of the information is left to peruse? Doing searches by abilities, GFs or Garden has also brought up nothing, so if this is all Seifer's cunning deceit, he's basically had to invent 20,000 false personalities. Even Seifer isn't that conscientious, surely? I rest my head in my hands, musing. This is all far too weird for me. The logical conclusion is that he's figured out 20,000 cover stories, but...I can't help but think it. What if there's more to this than meets the eye? What if I'm looking at this too logically, with too much of Squall Leonhart in my mind? There may well be a different answer to this and it's one that I don't really want to think about. I shake my head violently and continue on with my search, forcing hideous ideas to the back of my mind where they cannot hurt me.
---
It is dawn. Seifer is still sound asleep, no doubt dreaming of the world falling to its feet before him as his peaceful breathing might testify. I am sitting, crooked, in the tiny stairwell outside his apartment. Quistis' voice is filtering in cross spurts through the mobile phone to my ear as she tries to understand what I am telling her. That in one night, I have checked through 20,000 names. My hands are practically numb and my head is suffering even more, but I have checked every one of Seifer's potential recruits out. Only a bare handful showed up as actual, existent human beings and even then, their other specifications were wrong. Hari Densmith was a sixty year old man who ran a small bakery and had no military connections whatsoever. Angelica Brushel was a forty-two year woman who spent her time teaching in a local primary school; a sworn Pacifist after her father was killed in the First Sorceress War. There were others, all living humdrum lives, over twenty years out of the target age for a soldier, and then nothing. I had thirty or so real people alone for Quistis to chew over and I could tell she wasn't impressed. I think she thought I'd spent the last two days screwing Seifer senseless and was trying my luck at a second-rate excuse. I wish. I sighed.
"Quistis, I know how important the mission is. Do you really think I'd take a risk like lying to you? I'm telling you, the names don't show up. I'll pass them over to you if you don't believe me. You check them out."
I can almost see her glaring. "Fine. Fine, Squall. Let's just say, hypothetically, that you're right. It leaves us with no information, nothing to go on and he's getting off scot-free. Meaning that we need to catch up, or risk this whole thing going absolutely haywire. Personally, I think it's obvious why I'd prefer to believe that you're just being an arse and lying to me."
"Point taken." I admit grudgingly. "I need to stay here and do some more investigation. I'm no happier with the situation than you are."
"I don't think so, Squall." She retorts sharply. That knocks me off my feet and I frown darkly. If my hunch is correct about Seifer then I can't leave him. It's about more than a war, more than the Gardens dying a fiery death. If I'm right, he's going to need my help. I can't go back now.
"Excuse me?" I say, my voice steely and prepared for the fight. I've scared higher persons with that voice, Quistis shouldn't be too difficult. It's not like I haven't won an argument against her before and I'm not going to lose the knack now. People generally think I'm too quiet to argue and you'd be surprised how far my voice can get me these days just in pure shock value.
"You've done enough. It's clear that Seifer knows that we're onto him. He's covered his tracks completely and it's gotten too far for you to do anything. We need to compile our armies now, in preparation for the battle. Balamb Garden will have to call on its best SeeDs and that means you, sunshine. I want you out of there tomorrow." Listening to her voice takes me back to the classroom, but I'm not her pupil anymore. She outranks me, but she doesn't own me. I don't have to do what she says, and if my instincts are right I've got time to get back to Balamb if need be.
"No, Quistis. I'm going to stay. My job was to determine the threat, and I haven't yet. I bet we haven't even locked onto a Sorceress yet, have we?"
"When questioned, Rinoa said that she knows nothing about it, no. But that doesn't mean-"
"Then we haven't any evidence. We've no Sorceress, and no army. As far as I'm concerned, my job isn't even close to being done and I'm not leaving until it is. Am I being understood?" I can hear the pause in her voice that means she's registering my rudeness with a shocked expression, probably with a look of fury on her face to boot.
"I wouldn't take this crap from anyone else, you know that?" She retorts darkly. "I don't even know why I take it from you; Hyne knows I don't get anything back for it. I haven't a clue why I ever had a crush on you, Squall. You're miserable, stubborn and a pain in the arse."
"Is that my permission?"
"I thought you didn't need it."
"I don't, but it'd be nice to be assured that you won't be sending out a fleet of armed guards to drag me home." I smirk down the phone, curling my bare legs close to my chest for warmth. The stairwell is absolutely freezing and my skin is pimpling. Shorts and a shirt are no opponents against the chilly, morning air.
"Now, there's an idea." She remarks dryly. "Can I just ask why, then, if I'm not even allowed to disagree with you? Why you want to stay? I understand your aims, but I just get the feeling that if it were Zell, you'd be out of there like a shot."
"If it were Zell, I would have left days ago." I snort and then more seriously add, "No, I understand. I just...I know Seifer better than any of you back home and he's been behaving strangely. He's done odd things, left these cryptic clues and I don't think it's as straightforward as it looks."
"How do you mean?" She taps the control panel on her office phone gently as she talks and I can see her in my mind; swirling in her chair, curling a strand of blonde hair around one finger as she struggles to keep her temper from attacking the infamous black sheep, Squall Leonhart. It brings a smile to my face that falls just as suddenly as it arrives.
"Well...all this. First, he insinuates to me that Rinoa is his Sorceress, when she knows nothing about it and he knows fine well that I'm her Knight. Secondly, the names. Don't you think it's a little elaborate, even for a set of cover stories? I mean, the detail he's gone to...it must have taken months, Quist. Months he probably hasn't had."
"You think he's made the entire thing up, don't you?"
"That's exactly it; I don't know. That's why I'm staying."
"You know what I think?" Her voice goes hard and I prepare myself for the worst. "I think that you're in love with him, and it's making you see this unclearly. You're being completely naive, more than a touch stupid and downright irresponsible. I think that you're wrong and I think that you're going to get burnt for it. The only reason I'm letting you stay there is because I can't make you do anything else. You're his as far as anyone else is concerned, fuck Balamb. I should have sent someone else. Well, don't come begging to me for help when it all falls down on you and it turns out that your name is the first on his hit list."
"For God's sake," I spit out, stung. "Don't mince your words or anything."
"You think that was harsh?" She's on a roll; always a bad thing. Refusal always hits her badly, she's a woman. "How about this: I'm going to get Balamb, Galbadia and Trabia ready for battle. I can't leave the situation alone on your word; I don't trust it for toffee. You feel free to investigate all you want, but I won't hesitate to instigate war against him if we get the slightest provocation. Do you understand?"
"So here our ties end, then?" I ask bitterly. "All those years together, the six of us against Ultimecia, all of that means nothing, does it?"
There is a long pause before she replies, and the sound of a hollow click rings the bell on our ending friendship;
"Better hope he's worth it."
---