A Word from the Author: Hey, I'm back again! Which one of you actually read my side story? Hands up if you did! If your hand is down, here's the link: TIAL: A Little Drink Can't Hurt…Can It/ Thank you. Back to the story. I understand that some reviewers are alternatively sorry for Paine/ want a Sephiroth /Paine pairing. Well, sorry, I already decided from the moment I sat down at the keyboard and started typing the prologue that I wouldn't write any pairings. I don't do romance; I'm uncomfortable with it. Writing already married couples are easily but not a couple of youngsters pursuing love. Sorry if any of the readers out there mind. Now let's get the show on the road!
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FINAL FANTASY VII:
THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT
CHAPTER NINETEEN:
SCHEMES GALORE
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(Back to Esthar, the Presidential Palace)
Loki Calrior hung back, waiting as the hulking guard rapped on the door sharply with the knuckles of his fist. It opened to admit him, and Calrior stepped in, keeping a bland expression on his face, though inwardly he was dead curious about the President's summons in the middle of the night.
Skeiz was seated at his desk, glowering at the wood as though determined to burn a hole through. He affected a smile as Calrior entered, though it was clear his mind was on other matters. The smile faded quickly. Calrior folded his body into the room's only empty chair without question, fixing the President with an enquiring gaze. He was a short, slender man, with dark eyes tilted up at the corners and short brown hair with a buzz cut. He was also a SeeD who had graduated with honors last year and was the top of his class. Calrior could only assume that the President wanted him to perform some operation or whatever.
"Listen carefully," Skeiz said without preamble. He had a flat, angry expression on his face, and there was a darkening bruise under his left eye. Loki thought it best if he kept his mouth shut for the moment. "I'm promoting you to Headmaster of the Garden."
Whatever Calrior had been expecting, it wasn't this. He gaped, then regained his composure. "What about Headmistress Trepe, sir?" he asked, disbelieving his ears. Quistis had always been very capable and intelligent. Perfect for the job. What the hell was going on?
"She's a traitor," Skeiz informed him coolly, one hand unconsciously reaching up to touch his bruise. His eyes were frigid, the pale blue of the winter sky. Solid and implacable. "Only a few hours ago she physically assaulted me as well as my bodyguard and stole a Mirrormist. She was able to shake off pursuit and we assume that she is heading back to Balalmb to regroup with her friends."
"Hang on," Calrior said, blinking rapidly, "since when has Balamb been an enemy?" He cringed inwardly as he saw Skeiz's eyes flash with renewed annoyance and impatience. "Have you not been paying attention to recent events?" Skeiz asked pointedly. "Galbadia has reclaimed Coruthary as part of its state following a successful coup during the past few days. An hour ago a group of renegades from Balamb proceeded to attack the city to reclaim it for the Corutharian turncoats. Having attacked Galbadian land without provacation, President Deling has since declared war on Balamb The SeeDs have shown their true colors, man! It is time to act and see that they will never break another treaty again."
When Skeiz was animated like that, his eyes filled with fervor, shining fanatically, his hands waving around enthusiastically. Calrior's heart sank as he looked into those burning eyes. He didn't want to believe, but then why would Skeiz lie to him? Despondently he looked back into his memories, of Quistis teaching him, working with him, all the laughter and parties late into the night. He thought of her, tireless, stern, and yet gentle, and he burnt those memories to ashes and buried them.
"Do you accept your duty…Garden Master?" Skeiz asked him in an oddly gentle voice, a subtle smile playing about his lips as he watched the younger man furrow his brow in thought.
Loki Calrior looked at him, his eyes blank, his face pale but set, and said firmly, "I accept, President Mardon. Thank you for placing your trust in me, of all people."
"Your record was outstanding. I checked myself and my advisors all agreed that you were the right man for the job," Skeiz said cordially, gripping Calrior's proffered hand in a firm handshake. "Welcome to your new post. The ascension will take place tomorrow and your new uniform will be delivered to your doorstep tonight."
Inwardly Loki wondered how Skeiz had known that he would agree. He thanked the President again and was dismissed. Quistis' apparent betrayal bothered him more than he cared to admit, and it was a relief to get out of the stuffy palace –for some reason he felt as though the walls were closing in on him back there- and muse his new job over. There was a feeling of what he could only describe as wrongness, mostly because he couldn't ever imagine Quistis turning her back on Esthar unless something had made her do so. He briefly entertained the possibility of her doing so because, after all, she was a Balamb in nationality and almost immediately dismissed it. Quistis had always struck him as a person who would do whatever was right, even if it involved turning against her own country.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away somberly. Nonetheless, he was bound by his duty and his orders. His heart felt heavy. Would he trust himself to do the right thing when the time came?
He visualized himself and Quistis standing locked in combat. He disarmed her, sending her whip flying, and he aimed a gun at her and started to pull the trigger…
Would he do it? Or would he pause for a crucial second?
He honestly didn't know. And he hoped, fervently, that he would never, ever have to find out.
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Kiros slung a single backpack over his shoulder that contained all he owned in the world, or at least everything that meant something to him. He had abandoned the heavy robes of the Estharians and just wore a black sweatshirt and gray slacks. His katars, long unused but still lovingly polished and in excellent condition, adorned his belt. He stepped from his quarters, observing that he wasn't the only one to do so. Others hurried out, carrying their possessions. Skeiz seemed to be firing practically every single member of the Advisory Committee right down to Maintenance. Paranoia, Kiros thought, was one of the many unlikable drawbacks of a dictator.
He walked out of the palace, almost certainly for the last time, walking past a lean-shouldered man with slanted dark eyes who brooded quietly nearby. He looked a little familiar, bt Kiros did not stop to start a conversation. The faster he was leaving Esthar, the better. He had heard about Quistis' grand escape, and the remembrance brought a smile to his lips. He wished her well.
But first he owed an obligation to an old friend. He walked down a few streets towards a plain, undecorated structure made of plain white marble that stood at the entrance of the State Park. Simple, like Laguna himself, who had lived his life without unnecessary ornament or luxury. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember, and the marble was yellowed and chipped off from years of exposure to the elements. But still it stood strong.
It was a towering obelisk, with an air of certain majesty about it. There was a great arch, like a bridge, that soared from behind the monolith to hang suspended and incomplete, in the air. Despite that, there was a sense of wholeness and well-being about it, and no wonder, for it guarded the Presidents of Esthar. Or rather, their ashes, after they were cremated.
Kiros, stopping silently in front of it, read the inscription etched into the front. The writing was old and worn but readable enough. He had read it many times before, finding peace it what it said:
Ascend the bridge
Into the day fair
To eternity it does reach
For you souls light as air
Duty done, forgotten
Rest awaiting, granted.
Rest in peace. For you the day will brighten.
This is for all the seeds of hope you have planted.
We will remember you.
"I'll remember you, Laguna," Kiros said softly, passion in his voice. He saluted to his former comrade, then walked away. Towards the space port where a plane was waiting to bring him to Fisherman's Horizon.
He did not intend to return.
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(In Galbadia. More specifically, underneath the Presidential Residence.)
Ivan Kinneas awoke, his head throbbing. Feeling as though a hundred sledgehammers were pounding on the inside of his skull simultaneously, he instantly regretted opening his eyes and closed them as bright light stabbed into them, fresh pain blooming to agonizing life in his head.
"Ugh," he said quite succinctly.
"He's up!" an unfamiliar voice called, making Ivan wince. He wondered where he was; he could feel hard, cold stone beneath his cheek, and heavy iron against his wrists and ankles, rough and icy on his skin. His mouth tasted of metal; he ran his tongue over his teeth and discovered a split lip that stung horribly. His whole body was sore as though it had taken a thorough pummeling. He also realized that he was hungry and thirsty. When was the last time he had eaten? He glanced automatically at his watch, but the glass plating was cracked and the LCD screen was blank. No help there.
Footsteps pounded towards him, making Ivan's head hurt. In a rational part of his mind that still functioned, red Klaxon alarms started screaming. However, still dizzy from whatever had felled him, he was unable to focus until the feet had come to a stop in front of the iron bars.
Black boots, smelling and looking expensive. Trimmed with fur, leather. He looked up to see long navy blue pants, pressed and without a single crease in the cloth, well-made. His eyes traveled up further to see a cream-colored jacket over an immaculate white shirt. And wearing the outfit was…
Ivan was suddenly and unfortunately very much awake.
"Oh my god," he breathed, unconsciously.
Edigier Deling smiled lazily at his captive, safe and smug behind the bars that walled Ivan off from the rest of the world. Standing beside him and looking just as out of place a her companion was a woman, a stranger. Beautiful, in a sharp, sharky kind of way, resplendent in an black dinner dress that exposed more than it hid. Violet hair, somehow looking natural on her, golden eyes that snapped with intelligence.
Ivan did not like her.
"You bastard," he snarled, his memories coming back in a rush. He was leading a small group of cadets out to practice their aim on real, moving targets outdoors. Snow, pure and white, blinding their eyes. He had never seen the ambush until it had taken place in a whir of sound and movement. Screams, cadets wild with terror, emptying their cartridges blindly, some lying motionless on the snow in a pool of bright crimson, stark and vivid against the endless white. He was urging them to keep their heads, picking off the hit squad. A bullet, clipping his ribs, spinning him around; his opponent, raising the gun; a blinding pain on his head, then cool darkness.
Edigier was calm. Too calm. "That's not a nice thing to say to your host."
The woman at his side smiled very slightly, and when she noticed him noticing, tossed her magnificent mane of hair and smirked tauntingly at him.
"Don't play games!" Ivan was white with rage. He bolted upright, hurling himself at the bars as though they would give way under his weight. Of course they didn't, and he collided painfully with the hard metal. He clutched at the bars, driven by murderous anger, and yelled, "Just what have you done to my students?"
Edigier laughed. It was a soft tenor, and under any other circumstances it would have been pleasant, but now it grated against Ivan's nerves like a chainsaw with several broken teeth. He clenched his fists in helpless fury and stared with impotent hatred at the man and woman that stood so close. Tauntingly close, yet impossibly out of his reach.
"My men apparently left them for dead," Edigier finally said with a shrug. "They were ordered to go though any resistance to get you and once they did they departed. So, don't worry about it, Kinneas. At this point there are greater things to worry about."
Ivan glowered and said nothing. Edigier continued mockingly, "Come on, you are an intelligent young man, you would have guessed by now. You have, haven't you?" When Ivan remained stubbornly silent, the woman made a sharp gesture with her closed fist in Ivan's direction. The effect was akin to an extremely big and colorful firework exploding in Ivan's already battered skull. He let out a shriek and dropped to his knees, his face pressed against the icy, unforgiving bars. His lip broke again and blood wetted his chin.
"So like your parents," Edigier went on with an air of causality as though nothing had happened. "Such a pity. All those misconceptions of honor and mercy clouding your true potential, boy. Like your students. They died to try saving you, you know. Now, more of them would have been alive if it wasn't for their senseless heroics."
"Shut up," Ivan rasped, wiping away the blood from his mouth. He would have said more cutting and extremely uncomplimentary things about the President, but then another burst of pain sent him flat and rigid on the floor. He gasped wetly as something shattered inside him. It felt like needles were stabbing him in the side as he rolled over, shaking.
"Heal him, Adele," Edigier said, still sounding amused. "We need him whole, not broken."
The deceptively beautiful serpent in human form smiled disturbingly and extended her hand through the bars. Ivan jerked away, eyeing her distrustfully, but a choking hold on his throat, brought about by another movement of her hand, brought him up short. She laid her hand on his chest and closed her eyes in concentration. A moment later a tingling started on his chest and flowed outward. The woman's mental hold abruptly loosened and he went tumbling to the ground, feeling much more rejuvenated than before.
The action only confirmed his worst fears. They wanted him alive.
Edigier voice the dark thoughts that had been gathering in Ivan's mind like storm clouds. "Your parents wouldn't want to attack Deling City while their darling son is in this very city languishing in a cell, huh? After all, a stray missile might just go awry and end up killing you. Or an accident could happen…"
Ivan closed his eyes in dread, a chill creeping over him.
Edigier smiled at him. "Just think about it, Kinneas. And don't try to escape. You don't need to, anyway. Even as we speak a bunch of your devoted friends are no doubt already making arrangements to come and rescue you so that the attack on my city can take place. I'm counting on it, in fact." He exchanged a look with Adele, whose smile vanished, her eyes darkening over some unbidden memory.
"Just sit tight, Kinneas, and wait for your friends to come to you. Farewell. I have business to attend to and no time for the likes of you," Edigier declared, sneering. He strutted off with the golden-eyed woman whom Ivan now suspected must be a sorceress. Just then, Ivan's stomach gurgled loud enough to be heard three blocks away, causing Edigier to snicker. The youth's face flushed red and he glared reproachfully at his rebellious stomach.
"Guard," Edigier called, and in response a man in a gray uniform appeared, a gun in his belt. "Get the young man some food. I don't want him to starve to death."
"Stow it," Ivan growled, hating Edigier as he had never hated anyone before.
Edigier just gave him an irritating smirk and left for good. Ivan sat alone in his dingy little cell, chained and restrained, weaponless and GF-less as well, because he couldn't contact Ifrit no matter how hard he tried. Which reduced any spells he had to uselessness, since he couldn't cast magic without the Guardian's help. The odds didn't look good.
He thought of his parents, he thought of Galbadia taking over the world with an insane man as its leader, he thought of everyone being too afraid to launch an attack on Deling City in case he himself got killed, and he invented new and imaginative ways to cuss.
If he and everyone else somehow got out of this in one piece, he thought miserably to himself, hunching over and picking at his unappetizing looking lunch, or dinner, he couldn't tell, because he couldn't figure out the time in a cell without windows, it would be a bloody miracle.
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Edigier and Adele strolled through the dungeon towards the surface, followed closely by the President's bodyguard, Tierna, trailing watchfully behind, a slim, silent shadow, and a deadly efficient as well. The two of them were confident, and why not? The threat of Coruthary had been eliminated by the Galbadian army; Esthar had been wrested from that weak fool, Loire, by a man every bit as power-hungry as Edigier himself; and in Trabia the Tilmitts still struggled to come to terms with sacrificing their own son for the good of the world. The Guardians, made useless and helpless by the Sting. Having a sorceress on the Galbadians' side didn't hurt either.
"Everything's going as planned," Edigier said with no small amount of satisfaction. "Thanks to you, my dear," he added, with a nod at Adele. The sorceress accepted his gratitude with a smile, but in truth she was preoccupied, her mind firmly focused on her son. It had been a shock to see him standing there, alive and healthy, younger but otherwise very much the skilled General he had been upon another world. She had been displeased to find the taint of the Lifestream of him, bathing him in a favoring glow. She shuddered delicately at the thought of her son as a warrior of the Planet. Not to mention that meant that she would have to fight him. In truth Adele did love him in her own way, and was severely disappointed in him for letting her down.
She turned her attention back to Edigier. "Do you feel that we still need those two prisoners then?" she asked mildly, as though she was chatting about buying flowers. "We do not really have need for the traitor within Balamb any longer."
Edigier flashed her a quick smile. "I think it would be best if we waited until Balamb is finally within our hands before we do so. Perhaps we might even reveal his identity to his friends. It might do well to create chaos and turmoil within the Garden which might work to our advantage."
By that time they had reached the end of the passage, and the President typed in his secret pass-code into the console, pressed his thumb into the reader. Silently the wall swiveled on oiled hinges, opening into his private bedroom. Tierna slipped ahead of them to check the surroundings for danger, before flashing the 'all clear' sign.
"Good, we're back just in time," the President commented. With Tierna and Adele, he headed towards the meeting hall. Tycho Assanio was already there, looking extremely pleased about something, and rose when his leader entered, sitting down only when Edigier had made himself comfortable at the head of the table.
The others filed in one by one minutes later, and Edigier declared the meeting open. He indicated for them to give him their reports, and Feder did so with distinct pride and arrogance as he recounted the losses of the SeeDs in Coruthary. However, Edigier was not pleased when Feder revealed that survivors had gotten away.
"How the devil did you allow that to happen?" Edigier snarled angrily. The other man flinched but quickly regained his composure. "I'm sorry, sir," he said hastily. "Apparently a team of SeeDs managed to blow up the doors and escape. My men were in pursuit but were ambushed by another enemy squad which had stayed outside and had not been caught in the trap. My soldiers were all decimated, so details are sketchy."
Adele, standing at Edigier's side, smiled with pride, the hood hiding it from the others' view. None of these amateurs could ever stand up against Sephiroth. Her Sephiroth.
"I pay you not to make mistakes like that," the President snapped at him. Feder grimaced, probably already imagining how he would die. But Edigier merely turned away and called upon Istarl, as usual half-hidden in his fedora and coat. The scientist spoke in a monotone, with absolutely no inflection at all. "I regret to report that the subject of Phase 013 is dead. Her body was found some way from the city."
Edigier frowned, a bad omen. Istarl went on, "I suspect she awoke prematurely before they could return to Balamb and the SeeDs killed her before she could cause any more damage. Unfortunately I have been able to determine that after Avine's death her powers went to one of the SeeDs, so in essence they have been able to retrieve their sorceress from us after all. However, what the new sorceress has received has been magnified by the cells kindly donated by the lady here—" For a moment his eyes flicked towards Adele. "Magnified and changed. I suspect that it would be possible for you to possess the girl if you manage to win in a battle of wills. So we successfully have been able to plant a time bomb in the Garden."
"That is good, then," Edigier shrugged. "In that case, Adele, it would be good if you followed my troops to lead the assault on Balamb Garden." The sorceress nodded in acquiescence.
"As Tycho wil be able to testify, the Sting worked and was able to render enemies helpless," Istarl said, causing Assanio to beam proudly. "It literally draws all magic from the area in a continuous cycle, and if the Guardians had appeared, their power would have been drained away the moment they appeared on this plane. Since Guardians are composed of powerful magic, coming to their comrades' rescue would have threatened their very existence."
"The prototypes of the Rays are also in good working condition," Tycho took up the topic where the scientist had left off. "If I could have permission from the President to mass-produce them in our factories instead of other more conventional weapons…"
"Go ahead," Edigier said with approval. He then turned to Kenji Miaren expectantly. The others, recalling Kenji's outburst the last time the five had come together, held their breaths.
"Fine, I admit I was wrong," the thin man readily admitted. "Your plans, if I say so myself, are very cunning. Worthy of a Deling." He smiled self-deprecatingly. Anyway, the city's defenses are stronger than ever before, what with the Sting protecting us from magic-users. Once those Rays come out, the fighters don't stand a chance against us. I calculate that about a quarter of Balamb's most experienced SeeDs and cadets have been disposed of. This was supposed to be their grad exam, so their best cadets must have been out here fighting. Our armies outnumber them by four to one. I think we really stand a good chance of winning this war, sir."
"Thank you for the assessment, Kenji," Edigir said cheerfully, willing to be forgiving. They talked about the upcoming assault after that, arguing over how many soldiers could they spare without leaving the city defenseless, the cost of weaponry, and so on. It was a couple of hours later when the meeting was adjourned. The four members of the Central Party left first, satisfied and secure in the knowledge of their superiority.
Edigier stayed behind, having seen from Adele's subtle hand motions that she wanted to speak with him in private. He was in a good mood, so he granted her request. She perched on the edge of the table, the lovely face that she permitted only him and Tierna to see tense and troubled.
"Speak," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"You believe that a rescue party will arrive in search of the Kinneas boy. I have one boon to ask of you. I am sure that within the group will be a boy with silver hair. His name is Sephiroth, and he is my son. I ask of you that you spare his life and deliver him to me instead."
Edigier was astonished, surprised. Whatever he had been expecting, it definitely wasn't this. "Are you going soft, Adele?"
She whirred on him, her hair flying out with such force that the strands struck him on the face. Her face was angry, her fey beauty intensified by her fury. "He is a powerful sorcerer, for he is of my blood. He is the only one who could challenge me, and have a hope of winning."
"All the more reason to kill him," Edigier remarked candidly.
Her eyes blazed with amber fire through the curtain of her long hair. "No! In the past, I have been able to control him as I did Avine and he did all I bid gladly. If we can sway him to our side, he will be invaluable to our cause. And…" here her voice softened almost imperceptibly, "and he is my son."
"And what will you do if we reisists?" Edigier demanded, annoyed by Adele's sudden and unwelcome display of sentimentality.
Adele looked straight into his eyes and he saw there in the molten pools of her eyes the ruthlessness and cruelty he appreciated so much because they were equally reflected in him. Her answer was brutally frank and to the point.
"Then I will kill him, of course. Blood can only get you so far."
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Author's Ending Note: Big apologies for the delay! I was too lazy to write anything until yesterday. Anyway, sorry if the chapter is too short (short according to my new standards of writing) 'cos the purpose of the chappie was to tie up a few loose ends and fill in some plot holes. Next chapter will be longer, I promise, involving more action, and Seph will make a comeback. Look out for it! Bye.
Travithian Axile signing off
Thanks to:
TheWyldeWestWind: (Agrees whole-heartedly) Sorry, no Sephiroth and Paine, read my Word form above if you haven't already to find out the reason why. Can't torture poor Sephiroth more than I have already. Oh yeah, I need to write an apology letter to Seph for writing that TIAL side story thing. (smirks)
Anasazi Darkmoon: I keep my promises. Thanks again!
tetraflash777: Darn. It was supposed to create a feeling of suspense, like, readers are saying, hey, there's something the author hasn't told us, what, what, WHAT! Well, I'll just have to work on my cliffies.
Zack M. Strith: Glad everyone feels that way, because I certainly don't.
Quela: It's my favorite too. I've been planning that event ever since I started that story and was dying to write it for ages and was SO glad when the opportunity finally sprang up. Expect more wing goodness in future.
emerald drake: Cool, thanks for the awesome support!
Billy: I warned ya at the start of the chapter! Don't worry, that IS the only scene where I went into serious detail. You can read the rest without fear of throwing up. Please reassure your mom that I felt badly about writing that part too, and I'm not a sick, bloodthirsty person.
Narcissistic Fruitcake: What are you confused about? Is it my plotline? If so, can I help you?
Dark Feruil: You sound really enthusiastic, glad to know the fans are still rooting for me…YES!
Thanks to the reviewers of TIAL: A Little Drink Can't Hurt…Can It?
Hikari-Remix: Of course I would do it. I couldn't help it, ha ha ha! I couldn't resist! Who could? Especially when it concerns Seph.
sephirothlord76667: However, contrary to what I wrote above, I must now confess that I was extremely ashamed of myself after I posted it! I dreamt of horrified fans chasing me with loads of pointy objects and Sephiroth after me with the Masamune. I was pleasantly surprised to have such popular response. Yeah, I knew it would never happen. But I wrote it anyway. So there.
Mako Red Eyes: Yeah, I suppose it's good to have Seph break out of his shell once in a while. Though like s-lord said, it is quite unlikely, huh?
Cendrillo: 'Wonderfully crazy'…quite an accurate description, actually. I'm glad it got a few laughs, though.
Quela: Why, thanks! (beams) Incidentally, it was your review that made me decide to write the Chronicles, 'cos when you said it was nice to see Seph's past since TIAL was rather vague about it, I thought, why not? So a big thank you for the inspiration!
Jazze-Al-Bhed-Girl: I often wonder why Sephiroth fans have the strange tendency to enjoy seeing him suffer while we often profess our love and devotion for him. Just a thought. Anyway, I like Rufus too. Must be the evilness and the hair. Have you read the Chronicles yet? Rufus is in it, and gets one whole chapter to himself. Hee.
