And here we are...
I hope you've enjoyed yourself so far and will continue to do so! We've a long road to tread yet!

Chapter Seven

Dalmascan township, Lemahl
Year 704 of the Old Valendian Calendar

The town was right there, just down the hill. Ffamran stood among the ranks of Archadian soldiers, one hand always playing nervously along the hilt of his sword. The morning sun was low in the sky, bathing the town of Lemahl in bright, happy light. It all seemed too cheery for what was about to happen.
Lemahl was a small town, more like a village than a town. The small settlement had existed for a short time on Dalmasca's northern border. It was a quiet place, never seeing much excitement. Now it was the target of the Archadian military forces.
General Gabranth stood at the head of the army facing them, a few of his lieutenants with him. He was dressed in full armor like the rest of the army, a helmet covering his face. His voice echoed out over the gathered forces, breaking the tension in the still, morning air. Gabranth spoke in a level, cool tone, an emotionless voice Ffamran had gotten to know quite well.
"We have sent a small party down to the township, offering terms of surrender. However, given that they have not returned, we can assume that this town will need to be taken by force. It is guarded only by a small militia force, so we can assume this battle will be a swift Archadian victory. The time is now. For Archadia!"
The whole army echoed Gabranth's cry, and the sound resonated through the air. Ffamran called along with them, but his heart wasn't in it. There was a time when he would have patriotically supported the glorious cause of the Archadian Empire, but now… Lemahl was practically defenseless. They had simply chosen to battle to the death rather than be subject to Archadia. This wouldn't be a battle; it would be massacre.
"Ffamran?" GB47's voice entered his mind. "I'm scared."
"I don't blame you," was all Ffamran could say. Behind the army, a massive division of battle fighters hovered over the ground. That many airships weren't needed for this battle, so only a few would be participating in the real combat. Gabranth had made sure GB47 was one of those. He'd said something about how the Archadian government wanted their new weapon tested before a major battle. It had taken a lot for Ffamran to hold his tongue, hearing her referred to as simply a weapon. Why he suddenly felt so protective, he had no idea, but he didn't want to worry about it. Ffamran had bigger things to worry about.
"You think… everything's gonna be okay?" GB47 asked again, her voice practically quivering.
"Just calm down," Ffamran said. "Freaking out isn't going to help."
"I know… it's just…" GB47 said shakily. "What if we start fighting, and I like it? Ffamran, I'm so scared I'm just like all the others! What if… What if somewhere deep down I'm just a killer?"
"You're not," Ffamran said. "Trust me, you're not. Not you."
GB47 didn't reply. Her silence was thick with fear. After a few moments, she spoke a few last, shaky words.
"I guess… If you trust me… I'll try to remember that."
Ffamran didn't have a chance to reply, because things had started happening. Several soldiers mounted on calvary chocobos were at the front of the army, Gabranth astride his own steed at their head. Ffamran was part of the infantry behind. From the front of the army, Gabranth slid his sword out of its sheath, slowly so the morning sun caught the blade. Ffamran recognized this display as a tactic to encourage his troops. It made everything seem so picturesque, like they were going to fight for some great cause. But it wasn't so. They fought only to increase Archadia's power.
Gabranth pointed his sword towards the small, helpless town that sat below the hill, peacefully bathed in the morning sun. The general's cry rang out over the landscape.
"ATTACK!"

…

The battle was, as Ffamran had predicted, a slaughter. The tiny Dalmascan force crumpled easily, and the battle was over almost before it began. Even so, the defending army fought to the last man. As the final bedraggled militia soldier was cut down, Ffamran almost admired their resolve; even though they had lost, the Dalmascans fought to the last the protect their homes and their families from this great threat. It made Ffamran sick to think that he was part of that threat.
With all resistance eliminated, the Archadian army moved into the town. Clouds had moved in, and rain began to fall over the village. Bombing runs had demolished several houses, and ash was strewn about in the streets and the air. Woman and young children were standing near some of the wrecks, covered in soot and debris. It occurred to Ffamran that everyone able to fight had left their families and joined the militia. There really were so very few people left, and those who were left looked terrified out of their wits.
Ffamran could barely process the fact that they had done this. He, as a part of the Archadian army, had taken everything away from these poor, terrified people. The great army paraded through the streets, headed by Gabranth, who apparently had some destination in mind. The rain grew heavier, and the large droplets echoed off Ffamran's helmet. Such great devastation… Just like at Nabudis. No, not quite so bad, but Ffamran had been right there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was one of them that carried out this destruction, he'd fought with the great empire of Archadia and brought destruction upon these innocent people. Suddenly, Ffamran felt more helpless than he ever had.
The army continued its march through the ruins of Lemahl, but Ffamran pulled out of their ranks. He ducked into an alleyway, out of the downpour, just trying to catch his breath. How could they do this? Archadia was supposed to be a great nation, the greatest on Ivalice. To be a born and bred Archadian was the highest of privileges, or so he'd been told. And truly, Ffamran had believed it all his life. But now? Archadia, his Archadia, seemed like little more than a monster.
Ffamran pulled off his helmet and tossed in down into the mud of the alley. A sculpted helmet of black metal, the sign of great Archadia and their prestigious Judges… None of that seemed true anymore.
"Mr. Knight? I need help!"
The voice of a little girl made Ffamran almost jump. At the front of the ally in a tattered red dress stood a girl, probably only five or six years old, her blond hair tangled and full of ashy debris. Soot smeared over her tear-stained face. A survivor from the bombing runs.
"What?" Ffamran finally managed to say.
"I can't find my daddy," the little girl said. Rain dripped off the edges of her dress. "He took Grampa's sword off the wall and said he'd be back soon. But I can't find him!"
That hurt. The militia force had been entirely wiped out. No prisoners. These were real people with real lives. Ffamran knew that. He'd known it since this war began. But staring down at that pitiful little girl, it all became more starkly clear than he thought possible. Ffamran didn't want to be here. He never asked to fight. He'd have stopped it if it were possible. But he'd been there, this was his fault…
"I don't know where you father is," Ffamran finally said. "Why don't you… go home and wait for him."
The little girl shook her head, her wet, dirty hair sticking to her cheeks.
"The fire broke our house," she said simply. "Mommy's hurt and won't wake up."
Ffamran didn't want to do this anymore. It was too much, even for him.
"Go find friends or something," he said, shaking his head. "I can't help you!"
He didn't mean to shout that last part, but every bitter emotion he felt then was just boiling over. The little girl looked like she might cry again, then turned and ran off down the ruined street. Ffamran just stood there, dazed. He could barely even think. After a few moments, he pulled his sword out from its sheath and looked down at the blade. Crimson red stained its silver edges. The Archadia army had completely overwhelmed the Dalmascan militia, and the calvary had taken out most of them before the infantry even arrived. They didn't have to do much fighting. Ffamran had cut down one man, middle-aged, his sword of an old design. That girl's father? If not, someone's father, son, brother, husband. Somebody who shouldn't have died. None of it should have happened. Ffamran wanted nothing more than for this to be all a bad dream.
"Ffamran?"
This was Ross's voice. Ffamran looked up from his sword and faced his friend.
"Yes?" Ffamran said, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky as he slid his sword back into its sheath.
"General Gabranth's sent out orders," Ross said. "He says we're to gather all the surviving townsfolk and met at the village entrance."
Ffamran nodded slowly. This wasn't over yet.

The entire army stood, rank and file, at the village entrance, General Gabranth at their head. Ffamran wasn't sure why the army was there. Just to make a point? Gabranth seemed to like that. Facing them, a bedraggled group of women and children stood shaking in the rain. This all felt so wrong.
"Citizens of Lemahl," Gabranth called, his voice carrying through the rain-filled air. "This town is now under the sovereign control of the Archadian Empire. It is the first to fall in our line of conquest and will not be the last. You must remember, from now on you answer to Archadia and our Emperor Gramis Solidor."
And on and on it went. Ffamran stood in the army, listening as Gabranth told the gathered people that they were conquered and generally that life as they knew it was over. Did he need the whole army there to intimidate these poor people? Was Gabranth really that cruel? Or perhaps he was just following orders, like everyone else here. Like Ffamran. He hated thinking that, that he was "just following orders" when he fought against the people of Lemahl.
But what Gabranth said was true. This town was conquered by Archadia, and it wouldn't be the last. They would be moving on, soon. On to Nalbina Fortress. That would be a far greater battle than this.

…

The army made camp outside the town for that night, and Gabranth sent a small group to help resettle the townsfolk. Perhaps he wasn't so cruel after all.
The general had said that because this border town was so poorly defended, the Dalmascan military must be consolidating their forces at Nalbina. Therefore, they could expect the battle there to be a hard one. As such, the Archadia army would wait at Lemahl for reinforcements to arrive from Archadia. For the request to be sent and the forces to arrive would take a little less than a week, Gabranth had said. In the meanwhile, all there was to do was wait and train. It would almost be like at the military encampment, only they knew what they were in for, now. Ffamran knew what it was like to be a soldier. To kill innocents, when he was "only following orders."
The night after the battle, Ffamran had a hard time getting to sleep. He had his reoccurring dream again, back when he was twelve-years old, finding the intruder in Draklor, the pulse of power that had killed that man. Ffamran woke after that part and couldn't fall back asleep. Instead, he sat up in his makeshift bed and pulled out the wrench his father had given him, eight years ago. It was dark in the tents, but the little silver tool caught the scarce light; the words Ffamran Bunansa flashed back at him. He'd wondered a lot about the things his father said that morning. Why a wrench of all things as the prized family memento? And his powers… Ffamran had wanted many times to asked about them, about Dr. Cid's theory that this power was hereditary, but then he'd get too scared and put it off for later. Now, even if he did make it back to Archades, Ffamran wouldn't dare raise the subject. So many lost chances…
Ffamran slid the little wrench back into his pocket and thought about going back to sleep. He wasn't sure he could. The previous day's memories still haunted him, all the death in Lemahl. The faces of those terrified people as Gabranth told them their freedom was over floating in his mind, chasing away sleep. It all made Ffamran worries over his powers and family seemed petty.
After a moment, Ffamran decided to reach out to GB47. He figured she needed to talk, especially after how scared she'd been before the battle. He could reach GB47 from much farther away than other airships, but not from an infinite distance, he'd found. Ffamran could feel a connection between them now, something that was ever-present, a sort of cord in his mind that he could pull on and instantly contact her. That such a thing existed didn't make any sort of logical sense, but, well, he'd figure it out someday.
"GB47? Are you alright?"
"Ffamran? Oh, yeah. I'm… okay." She really didn't sound it. "What about you? I can tell you're not."
Ffamran let out a sigh. "I don't think any of us are."
"Oh… Oh, Ffamran, I can't take this!" GB47 sudden cried. "All this killing… I had to just watch as houses burned, listening to the screams as people burned, too. I could do anything to stop it… I couldn't do anything at all! This is why they made me, isn't it? Just to kill, just some weapon… I… I can't take this! Why does this all have to happen?" GB47's voice shook, like she was crying. She was anything but a killer. Anyone could tell that wasn't her nature. Ffamran certainly could.
"It's not your fault," he said. "You didn't ask to be here, did you?"
"No…" GB47 whimpered out. "But I… This is what I am."
"No it's not," Ffamran said firmly. "If you were just a killer, then you wouldn't be so upset now."
"But I…" GB47 said, "I don't have a choice, Ffamran! I'm an airship! We're not like you humans! None of us asked to be what we are, not Ifrit or any of the others. We just are and can't change. What if… what if one day what I am takes over? But I'm so different from all the others… I don't even know what that is!"
"GB47…" Ffamran struggle to find the words to comfort her. "You are different from the others. I don't know why, or what you are, but… I think maybe you do have a choice."
"You… think so?" GB47 asked. Her voice held the barest semblance of hope.
"Yes, GB47. I think so."