Author's note: From this point on, updates may take a while. I'm in the U.S Army, and I'm deploying to Iraq tomorrow. I should still have internet access, but like I said, updates will take longer. I ask that readers please be patient and bookmark this story so you'll be alerted about updates, I appreciate your reviews, thank you. I intend to continue this fic to its conclusion.
Story thus far - The exam in Galbadia brought trouble for the SeeD candidates, after unearthing a Dollet surveillance team, Dietrich was engaged in a brutal battle. In the end, an entire building had been leveled, and the President's unveiling of Galbadia's General was cancelled. In a shocking move, Squall revealed to the President that he suspected Irvine Kinneas was behind the plot, but after conversing with his General; Seifer Almasy, both men suspected Kinneas must have had help from Dollet.
Chapter 6 - Cowboys and Conspirators.
Transcontinental Train to Trabia
It'd been a couple of days since the incident in Galbadia, after reading reports in the paper and watching various news programs on T.V, it had been revealed that one Irvine Kinneas, of Galbadian War infamy, had been the who intended to assassinate the President; only to fail miserably by targeting the wrong building. This story would have been quite amazing, had Irvine himself not known for a fact that it was dead wrong. He hadn't even fathomed an attempt on Martine's life, he'd been there for one reason and one reason alone, the man who had given him the healing stab wound to his abdomen in the Centra ruins weeks ago; Squall Leonheart.
Taking extra precautions to avoid Galbadian authority, Irvine had temporarily ditched the classic duster and hat getup that usually comprised his wardrobe, opting to wear a lengthy blue jacket, a lighter shade of blue made the hoodie that was currently pulled up over his head. He desperately needed help, or at least some support, this journey had not only tested him physically, but now the stress of being the world's most wanted fugitive tested his mental willpower. There was only one person he could think of turning to, Selphie. Turning to Zell or Quistis was out of the question, he was liable to get shot down at Garden's doorstep before he even got within 50 meters to the two SeeD instructors.
Selphie, who'd taken up the reconstruction of Trabia Garden as its Headmaster, was his only hope. He could almost remember his train rides with her like they had only been yesterday, her petite, cute little frame perched against the handrails, her beautiful, imaginative blue eyes gazing out into the scenery as it sped by the window. Much like she did then, Irvine gazed out of the window, wondering how so much could change in 10 years. They'd begun to date months after the war, a beautiful relationship that had only brought them closer both as friends and as something more; unfortunately it didn't last.
It was his fault really, he hadn't been up to committing to her completely. She'd asked him to stay with her at Trabia, become an instructor there and help with reconstruction on a permanent basis, hell he'd already spent so much time there anyway. However, something inside Kinneas urged him to refuse. It hadn't so much hurt Selphie as disappointed her, the day they parted, it had been on good terms, but he remembered the look on her face. Disappointment, as if she had fully expected him to turn her down. She'd broken it off with him, saying that though she loved him, she couldn't be with the old Irvine, she needed him to evolve.
He'd wondered what she meant for quite some time when she said that, but now he really understood. He was still seventeen years old, though his body had matured into that of a tall, handsome 27 year old stud, his mentality hadn't matured all that much. He still felt an odd desire to remain unbound, free. He'd been the only one of the group who hadn't settled down and made a life for himself somewhere, he continually wandered between locations. Selphie needed more than a vagrant drifter in her life, she had needed Irvine to let go of his freedom, just a bit, and accept at least two constants in his life; her and some stability. You're a fool, Kinneas. Wonderful girl like that, and you'd rather stick to some childish life of driftin'.
Despite finding himself engrossed in the past, he hadn't overlooked the two men who had both entered from opposite sides of the hallway. Their timing, and their placement on both sides of him gave him a rotten feeling in his stomach, one that he found to be justified the second both strangers paused only feet away from him. Galbadian agents?
"Irvine Kinneas, you are bound by Galbadian law. "
Said the man to his left, drawing Kinneas from his spot along the railing and away from the window. He faced that very man, only a cheerful grin visible from underneath the hood.
"Why, I think you've got a case of mistaken identity, sir. Though I sure wish you were right, I'd give anything to be in that strappin' young stud's boots -- when it comes to his romantic life, not his troubles with the law of course! "
The agents, who were dressed in casual civillian attire, glanced between each other, reaching back and procured their weapons. Kinneas' friendly smile turned sour, his face hardened in its expression, growing dreadfully serious.
"Touch those weapons and I'll take it as a threat to my life, gentleman. "
When it came to drawing weapons, the Cowboy didn't kid around. Like a gunslinger from yesteryear, Irvine took the action as a severely threatening one, and he intended to respond to it in kind. His warning made both men freeze for a second, they were aware of his reputation. Irvine could only see the man to his front, who seemed to have paused but gave his partner an odd glance. Kinneas shot his gaze to the silver railing, and the second he noticed the man to his rear fetch his weapon discreetly in its reflection, he jumped into action.
Kinneas gave his profile to both men, the quick change in stance had been so that he could extend an arm out to the armed agent, palm extended outward as an unseen aura suddenly surrounded Kinneas for a second. Gloved hands would emit a powerful spell, one that promptly swept the agent of his feet and slung him backward, resulting in a violent crash against the door he'd come in though. The float spell had been powerful enough to knock the man unconscious when he collided with the door, but it had taken precious seconds to cast.
Immediately turning to face his second assailant, Kinneas found that the man had not only drawn a short sword, but was already in his proximity and swinging the blade. It would be a quick draw, one that made Irvine legendary as a gunslinger, that saved his life. Exeter's barrel, made of the rarest of materials, was more than enough to withstand the sword stike. Kinneas held the scattergun with both hands, struggling to deflect the man's sword. A swift boot to the man's kneecap was enough to force him off, and Irvine promptly followed up by swinging the butt of his weapon into the man's face, launching him against the window and shattering it. With the agent flying out of the train, Irvine pulled back his hood, something told him this wasn't over.
A glance past the sliding doors behind him, and he noted four more agents frantically heading his way. They stopped short of the door, reaching into their coats and lobbing what he could only assume to be explosives, through the window.
"Son of a-- "
Irvine made a reckless, suicidal dive out of the window, barely managing to cling onto the ledge where a broken window once stood. The explosion inside of the cart rocked the entire train, nearly severing Irvine's grip along the ledge as flames and smoke spewed out of every window; now shattered due to the explosion.
"Hnn! "
Kinneas fought desperately to keep his grip, lest he wanted to take a nasty 80 mile per hour tumble against hard, parched Galbadian soil. Opting to shimmy along the train, he made his destination the next car, believing that the remaining Galbadian agents were in the train cars behind him. His journey along the totaled car's side wasn't an easy one, shards of jagged glass still remained in the frame, every now and then Irvine would find one of said shards of glass stabbing into the flesh of his palm when he reached to pull himself across. Biting his tongue and forcing the urge to yell in pain away, he'd find himself drawing closer to the platform that connected this car and the next; a silver railing almost within reach.
It was at that point that two bodies poked out from the window he'd dove out of, each wielding handguns. They were okay shots, but not as good as he was. Though their rounds pelted the side of the train, nearly hitting Irvine, they failed to maintain a steady sight. Kinneas quickly reached for the railing, latching onto it with one hand, and while he dangled dangerously along the side of the speeding train, opposite hand took hold of Exeter, training the mighty firearm in both men's direction and pulling the trigger. A massive fire round hit the first man, sending him over the side of the window and ultimately tumbling violently across the dirt, while the other man fell back into the train, screaming frantically as he fought to put out the flames that had set his coat ablaze.
The sharpshooter quickly pulled himself up onto the platform, and began to unleash a series of powerful shots at the bridging device that kept both train cars connected, after the fourth or fifth, the device gave in to the destructive power of Exeter, severing its connection, and leaving about 2/5ths of the train behind, along with the remaining agents. A grim look on Irvine's face as he watched the abandoned cars grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
"If you think getting Galbadia on my butt's goin' to keep me from getting to you, than you've got something else coming, Squall. "
Next stop, Trabia Garden.
Grand Manor Dollet
Conroy Fitzer, the youngest person to ever rule a nation, found himself engrossed in the beauty and majesty of his new estate; Dollet's largest mansion, built solely for the new ruler. It'd been a gift from his top advisor, Bretham. Though few knew it, Bretham was the real genius, a man with incredible Military and Political knowledge, a man that could have very well been Duke himself, had it not been for the shameful little fact that the man was a half-blood, only part Dollet.
Though Bretham would never admit he was the true genius behind this new administration, it was evident to some that without the man's guidance, Conroy would fail miserably at leading this new nation. Of course, in the vain Duke's mind, Bretham was just a very valuable advisor, while he, as Duke, was the supreme power in Dollet. Fitzer currently marveled at his new estate from the grand living room, one that gave a perfect glimpse at the master stairwell that lead to the other two floors in the estate. Ornate decoration covered every item in the room, be it expensive vases and portraits, or masterfully crafted tapestry. Differing portraits of Duke Fitzer littered the room, paying homage to the young man's narcissistic personality.
"This is perfect, Bretham! We'll have to hold a ball, invite all the nobles! I want them all to see what I see right now; Dollet's most remarkable ruler. "
Even his voice, which held a thick Dollet accent, was filled with a high degree of self absorption. Though he did have some reason to be so vain, he was a remarkably attractive young man. Pale skin that was appropriate to any noble, a thin body; little muscle when compared to a soldier however, and a face that seemed fit for a movie screen. In short, the young Duke was a picture perfect nobleman, young, handsome, hair as golden as the sands of the Dollet shore, most certainly any girl's dream. It was just wanted Bretham wanted in a ruler.
Bretham, who was taller than his Duke, and just as wealthy as he had been before becoming Duke. Whereas Fitzer was the face and physical embodiment of the ideal ruler of this nation, Bretham was the spirit. Possessing a vast intellect and silent demeanor. Though handsome in his own right, he appearance made it evident to the rather close minded Dollet elite that he was not full Dollet, born of an Esthar exiled man and a Dollet countess. Long black hair and slightly tanned features had been inherited from his father, despite the fact this would always prevent him from obtaining the power he felt he deserved, he didn't feel any resentment toward his origins. He was proud of what he was, in his mind it wasn't his shortcomings, but the bigotry of Dollet's upperclass that held him back.
It was fine, for now he'd virtually become the nation's ruler, guiding the Duke. He gave the people what they wanted, a pretty face to represent the Duke's they'd seen in romantic novels and movies, while he served as the real brains behind it all. While Fitzer wore a bright, eye catching red suit during his travels through the manor's halls, Bretham wore a dark pair of pants and a coat; no shirt worn beneath it.
"Duke, I don't think we should worry so much about the ball. We should focus on Galbadia, I'm positive they've discovered that those spies came from us. "
"Nonsense, the news clearly stated that Galbadia believes this Kinneas fellow was behind all of it. "
The two men continued to walk through the vast, expansive rooms within the manor, stopping every now and then so that Fitzer could admire a portrait of himself. Though the topic of discussion was vital, Fitzer seemed intent on focusing on less meaningful things in between their discussion.
"Hm, I need a wife, Bretham. We should hold some sort of event, we need a Duchess! "
"We both know you'll never be able to settle on just one, sir. "
"You're right Bretham, but who would deny a Duke a mistress or two? "
"Certainly not me; anyway, about Galbadia. I think it's pretty obvious they're misleading the media, they're not going to tell the media they think we're involved, they want us to believe we're safe from suspicion, make us vulnerable to attack through complacency. "
Though he continued to admire the portraits, Bretham's words did stir the young Duke a bit.
"Of course, yes, I suspected as much.. You're right, they probably know we had a hand in all of that. "
"There have been reports that some of the exiles have been seen receiving rather..expensive equipment. "
Dollet exiles, people who had supported the democratic government; despite its failings, and were opposed to this new 'dictatorship' as they called it. Most of them had been killed in the civil war, but a small band had managed to escape, and now posed the only real imminent threat to Dollet.
"What? Are you saying they actually have a chance to hurt us, Bretham? Why haven't they been crushed! I won't have some misguided pissants ruining my glory. "
"It'll be taken care of, I just have reason to believe that Galbadia is providing these rebels valuable equipment. I think that's good, though. It proves that Galbadia recognizes our Military strength, otherwise they'd attack us directly rather than support a band of rebels. "
"Well, I do not share your enthusiasm, Bretham. I want this taken care of. "
Both men paced away from the portraits, walking side by side now as they conspired.
"Very well, sir. This is what you'll do then to speed up the process; call Squall Leonheart, he's the commander of Balamb Garden. Have him dispatch a small unit of SeeD here. "
"What? That will make us look weak, like we can't protect ourselves. That's what my predecessors did, Bretham… "
"Trust me, sir. You see, we won't be using them unless we absolutely need to, more than anything, we're going to have them sitting on the sidelines. We're going to be showing off our muscle, we need an audience outside of our own, and if anything does go wrong, we have a failsafe in them. "
The shorter of the two, Duke Fitzer, nodded sheepishly.
"Yes, yes.. I understand. But, I'm a little concerned. Leonheart has close ties to Esthar, to Loire. If he discovers we've abducted Odine -- "
Bretham stopped in mid stride, hands set behind him as he faced the figurehead of the Dollet Monarchy, a stoic expression still worn.
"They'll be too distracted to even notice anything besides what we show them, Duke. "
"Distracted? By what, Bretham? "
"By the ball, of course. Did you forget? You wanted a ball to show off your mansion. What better way to entertain SeeD, than to hold a ball the night before we demonstrate our Military might by crushing the exiles. "