- II -
They sat across from one another, a campfire separating them, as they laid back and relaxed deep inside the tunnel of Korroloka. Hicks stared deeply into the monk's eyes as he played a slow tune on her lute, as if he were searching deep within her soul for something. She, on the other hand, stared with a very confused and somewhat disturbed expression upon her.
"…How did you know?" She asked, lying on her side with her head propped up by her hand.
Never ceasing his playing, he looked upon her. "Your gestures." He replied.
In return, she gave a confused look.
"Your gestures, Phacia." He repeated. "Everything that you do… simple tasks, such as the way you play your instrument with such vigor, or the way you carry yourself, all give away your true self."
"I see." She replied, silently contemplating her own movements.
"However, your precision in combat is far more … 'advanced' … than any mortal should ever be upon his or her own skills." He laid the lute to the side, reclining himself on a rock. "Tell me, child. Do you see the enemy's next move before it happens? Can you see it in your mind so instinctively that you react without thought?"
Phacia nodded silently. Why did she trust this man so much? What was it about him that drew her toward him so much?
"I see." He replied, obviously contemplating something deep within his own mind. "…This ability is, without a doubt, the result of a very concentrated amount of training under the influence of the Dark Arts."
The monk raised up, her face stricken with great surprise. "How do you-"
"Do not ask such foolish questions, child." He interrupted. "Search your own heart, your own feelings… View me as if you were observing my soul as you do my physical features… and there, you shall find your answer."
Phacia did as she was told. She closed her eyes, picturing the impish man before her, and suddenly, it all unraveled before her.
"You…" She began, her voice sturdy with calmness and concentration. "…You are a fellow user of the Dark Arts, but…" Her eyes opened. "…I have been in the presence of a Shadow Lord before… Why do you not carry the taint of darkness upon your soul, such as I?"
Hicks's eyes averted to the left. "…My abilities were stripped from my very soul. Over twenty years of training - gone in an instant." His eyes were filled with much pain. "Surely you have heard of the Dark Queen, Ephraim."
Phacia nodded. "Of course… She advanced through the ranks of the San d'Orian army and took control of the throne in less than two months."
"Correct." Hicks replied, a sudden anger engulfing his eyes. "A vile and hateful woman, driven by her own selfish and sinister desires. She, too, carries the taint of the Dark Arts, although, her power is much more immense than yours. Although I once rivaled her power, she has absorbed what great amount I possessed. Now…" He said, with a sigh. "…I am left with nothing. As you can see, there is only so much an individual with my stature can accomplish in the heat of battle. I am worthless in nearly every way."
For the longest, Phacia stared toward the Lieutenant, contemplating his deep and moving words. "…Is this why you ran away from your duty?"
"I am of no use whatsoever to my country. I am doing them a favor by relieving myself of my own duties." The pain in his eyes was quite evident, although Phacia acted as if she didn't notice it. "Enough of me." He stated, his attitude clicking back into its usual cold self. "Tell me - how did you come to possess your powers?"
Phacia cleared her throat. It had been so long since she had spoken of this last. "It began when I was very young - around the age of four, or five." She focused her vision forward into space as she viewed her past in her own mind as she spoke. "My family migrated to Jeuno when I was only an infant, and we settled ourselves in a small Jeunonian village very close to what is now Rolanberry Fields. I loved my parents very much, but… I was kidnapped at an early age. His name was Lu Keng - a powerful warrior from the Far East. He always dressed himself in tightly wrapped black garbs, and never displayed his face; he covered it with an oriental mask of a fanged demon." She could see the man in her mind as if he were directly in front of her. One did not forget the features of such a figure as Lu Keng so easily. "I was devastated by my loss, but I was quickly weaned, just as all the children that he kidnapped were."
"How many students did he take on?" Hicks asked, deeply curious as to the tale that she told.
"There were many candidates - approximately fifteen - but only one student." She replied grimly. "He trained us to be ruthless, merciless killing machines. We were trained to carry out his will, no matter what the cost. We very quickly lost any mortal emotion whatsoever, and therefore, killing was nothing more than a task by which we carried out nearly each and every day. If he pointed, we killed. If he told us to take our own lives, we slit our necks. We were trained to have the utmost respect for him. To us, he was a god."
"Yes." Hicks replied. "My master was a similar case. I suppose all masters of the Dark Arts follow this example."
Phacia nodded. "However, there came a time when he chose to narrow down his pupils to one single apprentice. One single being to be chosen as his successor." She gulped, shaking her head. "He made us tear ourselves apart, the very people that we had stood beside for nearly ten years. However, it was his will, and without hesitation, we killed each other like a pack of rabid dogs. I was the only one left standing. From that moment on, he took me in far more personally than any of his candidates; he treated me as more of a daughter than a student." She looked down towards Hicks, once again making eye contact. "However, I soon came to find that the Dark Arts were sworn to absolute secrecy. This was a code that was absolutely forbidden to be broken, and any violators would immediately be liberated by any and all Shadow Lords that were fortunate enough to sense the concentration of the violator's power. You see, the intention of the Dark Arts is to hide in silence for as long as possible while their numbers grow. Once their numbers become large enough, they will stage a worldwide uprising, and will govern Vana'diel on their own terms."
Hicks nodded. "I came to understand that there were only three Shadow Lords of my master's time. He mentioned your master, actually. The other, in fact, was Ephraim's. I believe she slaughtered him at the near closing of her training, therefore explaining her outburst. The Dark Arts, however strong they may be, feed on your soul, more and more so as you use it. Overuse of the Dark Arts normally results in insanity. Hence, her recent actions." Hicks sighed. "She must be stopped, at all costs."
"I abandoned my power long ago. Although merciless, I soon began to find guilt in my actions. I began to see the fear and horror in my victim's eyes, and when that happened, my conscience began to get the best of me." She explained with a sigh. "I ran from him, as far as I possibly could. It has been nearly six years since I have been in his dark presence, and never once do I regret my resignation from his service."
"Phacia, you must know that you pose a very high influence upon this war." The two soldier's eyes met as they locked into each other's gaze. "Your actions will hinder the outcome, one way or another."
She sighed. "I could never return to the life I have lived. It is far too painful for me to relive. Surely, you of all people, could understand this."
"That is a decision that you must make, Phacia. You must decide whether it is important enough or not to either hide in the shadows because of your own fears, or rise to the challenge and bring an end to this, although foolish, but devastating and humanity-threatening war." Hicks's eyes never left contact with the monk's.
"No, I…" She stuttered. "I am far too weak. My training was hardly close to being completed when I decided to flee. I could never stand to Ephraim; she is far too powerful for one with a stature as low as mine." She raised herself up, standing to her feet, and turned her back to Hicks. "I just… can't."
"No; that is untrue, Phacia. You could be trained… I could complete the training that your superior began, and together, we could defeat her. You are the sole surviving carrier of the Dark Arts that can make a positive difference in this war. Do you understand that?"
Phacia remained silent.
"There is no other individual upon this planet, aside from Ephraim, that possesses the power that you do. It can be nurtured and can, with time, grow to its full potential." Suddenly, his voice became harsh and demanding. "You must do this, Phacia. You know as well as I that it is your destiny to use these talents that have been so graciously handed to you by the hand of fate. Search yourself; surely you too can see this."
Phacia turned around, facing Hicks once again. "How could you possibly think so much of someone that you barely know?"
"Because, I see so much of myself within you. In my younger years, I faced many of the same challenges as you did, and this may be my last chance to find redemption for the sins that I can never repay in full." He cleared his throat, his eyes narrow with concentration. "I believe in you because I see the potential within your heart. I believe in you because I see the mold of a young woman that can be changed into a miraculous warrior destined to change this world for the better, given that she begins to believe in her own potential." Phacia turned to face him.
Could this be her destiny?
Was this what she was born to accomplish?
"Take my hand, Phacia." He demanded, raising out his small arm towards her. "Together, we will bring an end to this war. We will lead Vana'diel to peace."
She opened her mouth, but she found it difficult to speak. "I…" He heart raced; could this be it? Would this decision change her life? "I…"
"…I will…"
And, with those two words…
It began…
----
Silver Tear stared towards the red horizon atop the balcony of his personal corridors within the Bastokan Metalworks. His eyes deep with sorrow and distress, he sighed.
"Silver…" The voice of Rini whispered from behind him. He turned to see her leaning up against the doorway of the balcony. She wore a white evening gown with golden trim, sewn from the finest eastern silk, draped gracefully over her small figure. "Speak to me. What is on your mind?"
He shook his head, looking to the right of himself, avoiding eye contact. "…Many things, Rini. The war, my possession of this damned pearl, the Lieutenant's disappearance…" he turned towards her, making eye contact. "…you…"
Her eyes grew wide with surprise. "Silver…" She stated as she walked towards him, her bare feet padding upon the stone balcony floor. "…The war has postponed the activity between you and I, and I truly apologize for overlooking your feelings in the way that I have…" She began to caress the side of his face, looking up towards him. "…but, at the time, there were far more pressing matters at hand. I didn't have time to think of whether or not I even shared these feelings…"
Silver never made contact with her eyes. He simply closed them, basking in the warmth of her touch. How he longed for this feeling - this desire.
"…Silver…"
He opened his eyes, and stared down into her face.
"…Kiss me."
In an instant, they both found themselves locked in a passionate kiss. It continued until Rini broke away to retrieve her breath. "I… I was afraid I would lose you…" She whispered to herself. "And…I still am…"
The thief held her close to himself, resting her chin upon her shoulder. "You'll never lose me, Rini… I'll never allow myself to leave you…never…"
She leaned her head backwards, allowing him to kiss her tender neck. "I didn't realise…how much that I truly missed you until you left for Windurst… I swore to myself that if I never saw you again, then I would have missed so much…" She whispered, grasping onto his firm shoulders. "…Never in my life have I been certain of such feelings as I am with you… When I'm with you, when you're by my side…"
"…the world fades away." Silver finished.
As they locked themselves in another passionate embrace, Silver lifted the Red Mage off of her feet, and carried her into his quarters.
----
Along the dirty and somewhat destroyed streets of Bastok, an elvaan paladin, equipped with white armor that could easily be spotted from afar, strode. His hair was blonde, medium length, well-kept and pampered. He wore it down, over his shoulders and parted slightly to the right. The people of Bastok looked upon him with obvious hate, for every time he walked past them, they would either turn their heads, or mutter obscene phrases under their breaths. It was stressful, no doubt, but his Elvaan pride refused to allow him to be upset by these matters. He had been forced to live this way for nearly a year now, but still, the fact that the people here truly hated him never seemed to grow old within his mind.
Deciding to try and make the best of things, he walked toward a fruit stand with a gentle and noble smile. "Greetings, citizen." He began, offering a polite bow. "I desire to buy a piece of-"
"We don't serve your kind, Elvaan scum!" The merchant hissed in reply. "Go to your own damn country, where your 'uppity' behavior is tolerated!"
"Well, I never." He huffed in reply. "Honesty, sir. What wrong have I done towards you or your kind?" His voice was both hurt and firm. "Every day, I walk these streets, and every day, I receive the same cruel looks. In any of these days have I caused you harm? Please, sir - inform me of my wrongdoings, so that I may correct them!" The Elvaan turned around, looking towards the crowd that began to form around him. The merchant then noticed the rather large Bastokan insignia sewn into the red cape that was draped over the Paladin's armor. "I speak to each and every one of you, as well, citizens! I beg of you - inform me of my treacheries!"
He began to look around, turning in circles as he viewed the many faces, full of hate and disdain, that surrounded him.
"…Have you all nothing to say? Have you nothing against me?" He asked, his voice raised and troubled. The crowd, once again, remained silent. "If that be true, then why do you all hate me so? I serve your country with the utmost pride for both the country I serve and the morals that country stands for, yet you despise me for my height, or the shape of my ears?"
"I happen to like the shape of those ears!" Yelled a most familiar voice from amongst the crowd. He immediately looked around for the source of the voice, and sure enough, the source was soon found.
A mithra began to shove her way through the crowd, pushing people left and right, yelling blasphemies with each person that dared be in her path. Finally, she broke away from the circle, and made her way over to the Paladin in the middle of the circle. She wore a blue and black robe, finely decorated with golden tassels and lace. On her head was an overly large brown scarecrow hat, torn in the middle of the point so that it stylishly fell backwards. "Well, well, well… if it isn't Dakan!" She said with a smile. She then turned around to face the crowd. "…and YOU suns'a bitches should be ashamed of yourselves!"
The crowd was appalled.
"Honestly!" She yelled. "Did you know that this man nearly gave his life trying to protect the freedom that keeps you good-for-nothings alive each and every day!" They grew eerily silent. "And all you can do to thank him is whisper about him behind his back, calling him 'Elvaan scum', and making fun of the way his ears look? Which I adore, by the way…" She said, muttering the last line to herself. "You are all pathetic! Now, break it up before I'm forced to take physical actions for your treacheries!" She said with a maniacal laugh, allowing fire to consume her right hand as she held it before her.
Needless to say, the crowd dispersed quite swiftly.
"Emira." Dakan said, with a smile.
The mithra turned around with a toothy smile. "…The one and only!"
----
Early the next morning, Silver awoke with a sleeping Rini by his side. He smiled at her innocent and peaceful smile, and he slowly caressed the outline of her lips. Careful not to disturb her, he crept out of the bed and dressed himself in his old thief attire: a green and brown vest, metal choker, green, baggy shorts with many pouches on the belt, and light slippers - all of which he hadn't worn in many years, yet, fit just as comfortably as the last time he had worn them. He then draped a thick brown cloak over himself and walked out to the balcony.
"Rini…" he whispered. "Forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I know that you would never condone such an absence." He stated, climbing on top of the railing of the balcony. "There's no way we stand a chance against Ephraim and her growing army without the Lieutenant. I must find him." He explained, sighing. "…and when I do…"
"…I'll return…"
With that being said, he leapt off of the balcony, grappling himself with a hook to the ground below, where he would then silently leave the nation of Bastok in search of the one that would lead them to victory.
"…Hicks…"
"…So help me, Altana…"
"…I'll find you…"