AN:Well, I have to admit that not much happens in this chapter, but it is essential if we want to get to the more interesting bits. Argh... why do I bother even saying that? No-one's reading this story anyway... are they?
Cloister Two
In Beclem's opinion, one of the nicest things about the Island nation of Besaid was the fresh sea breeze which consistently blew in to cool the rest of the island down. He stood on the beach for a while, simply savouring it for now. Once he returned to Youth League headquarters he would only have the strange combination of damp, dust and oil that seemed to hang around the base as a lingering stench.
The Besaid Aurochs had all gathered on the beach to bid him farewell. Like himself, the Besaid Aurochs were all members of the Youth League, and Beclem's sole reason for being on the island had been to train them as soldiers, but now that the leader of the Youth League, Nooj had disappeared, he had been called back to headquarters in case he was needed more somewhere else, something that was quite a strong possibility at the moment. Spira was going through so many changes.
Wakka and Lulu weren't there though; they were too busy now as parents. He heard a small chattering behind him, and found that Lady Yuna too had come to bid him farewell. He didn't know why she bothered. She travelled around so much that she would undoubtedly see him back at the Youth League headquarters some time or other.
He could hear the ex-Summoner's footsteps behind him as she approached the dock on which he stood and braced himself for what could be a tense conversation.
"Has Wakka settled on a name for his kid?" he asked Yuna before she could even announce her presence.
"No, not yet," she answered, by now used to Beclem's straight-forward way of talking.
His hand automatically travelled to the sphere in his pocket. Wakka still hadn't thought of a name for his child. Beclem still hadn't decided whether or not he should give up one of his last memories of Chappu. Maybe, just maybe though the sphere would inspire Wakka enough.
"Never could make up his mind," Beclem commented, and he began walking closer to the ship that would take him back to youth League headquarters.
Still, doubt nudged at the back of his mind. Hadn't he promised Chappu? His hand tightened around the sphere. Perhaps it was finally time to let this particular memory go.
"I have something here," Beclem told Yuna. "I'd like you to give it to him."
He turned around and placed the sphere in Yuna's hands.
"It's a memory of a war buddy," he explained, knowing Yuna would know who he was talking about. "I'd give it to him myself, but… you understand." He wouldn't be able to explain everything to Wakka now; not after they had managed to create such a gap between them.
"All aboard!" the ship's captain called. "We'll be settin' sail shortly!"
"See he gets it," Beclem told Yuna.
At that moment the ball the Besaid Aurochs had been practising with sailed across the beach to hit Beclem in the back. Whether it was deliberate or an accident, Beclem didn't know. He stared down at the ball, which had come to rest at his feet for a moment.
He had a feeling that the Aurochs didn't know what he was capable of. Maybe they thought he was all bark and no bite. It they did it would be his own fault, he realised. He had never practised with them, or shown them his own skills. Beclem came to the decision that he should leave them something to remember.
He kicked the ball into the air, and jumped up with it, twisting and turning in the air until he was upside down and his foot would just reach the height that the ball would almost come to rest at for a couple of seconds. His foot and the ball connected, and the ball flew across the beach, slamming into the stomach of Keepa, the largest of the Besaid Aurochs, causing him to fall to the ground. Beclem flipped a couple more times in midair, before coming to land perfectly on his feet.
The Besaid Aurochs and Yuna all turned as one to stare at Beclem. It wasn't the best he could do, Beclem thought. If they were all gaping like this then they truly had underestimated him.
"Woah," Keepa exclaimed as he got to his feet.
"Practise harder," Beclem said as he walked off.
"Hey!" Keepa called out, stopping Beclem in his tracks. He turned around to find that the Besaid Aurochs had started to run after him.
"Next time we meet," an Auroch by the name of Jassu said, "let's blitz, ya?"
"Yeah!" the one named Datto added. "Show us that shot again some time!"
Beclem didn't know whether or not to happy about the Besaid Islanders' invitation. It seemed to be an Islander trait to be so fond of the sport of blitzball. Chappu had more than once suggested Beclem try and enter the sport professionally; a suggestion which Beclem almost always ignored. There were better ways to use physical prowess and talent than in sport.
"Slackers to the very end," Beclem commented as he boarded the ship, not even bothering to look back at the people who were enthusiastically waving him farewell.
Isaaru tried to concentrate, but it was difficult when he had several people asking him radically different questions about three or four different topics at the same time.
"What do you think the Al Bhed's reaction to that would be?" one of the people that seemed to have appointed themselves as Isaaru's advisor asked.
"Are we talking about the persecution of the Guado or our relationship with the Youth League?" Isaaru asked, having lost track of the conversation's direction for what must have been the tenth time that hour.
"The Guado, my Lord," Dorian answered. Isaaru had already established that out of all the Yevonites that surrounded him, Dorian was the most eager to please. Perhaps he was a little too eager. Isaaru could sense a burning ambition beneath the man's kind eyes and reassuring words, and had a feeling that if there was any chance for power, then Dorian would leap at it, no matter what it involved.
"There have been some concerns that the Al Bhed may see our interference in the Guado persecutions as an unfair treatment which they themselves did not receive," Dorian explained.
"Hasn't it always been the way to leave Guado problems to the Guado?" Isaaru asked, wishing that people would stop asking him to make decisions of such importance.
He had never been able to make decisions effectively. Perhaps the decision to lead Bevelle had been a bad one.
"Lord Isaaru," Dorian put in again, while the rest of the Yevonites bickered and talked amongst themselves. "If I may, it seems that people are more concerned with our relationship with the Youth League. Perhaps we should focus our efforts on building a stronger foundation with them."
Isaaru nodded. "That seems like a good idea. Thank you Dorian."
"Lord Isaaru," a woman at the back of the group called. "We still need to commission someone to build the statue of Lady Yuna for the temple."
"For Yevon's sake!" Isaaru exploded; finding this question to be the straw that broke the camel's back. "I can't solve all your problems!"
The room fell silent.
"I need some time to myself for a bit," Isaaru said, confident for the first time that afternoon that the other people in the room were actually listening to him. "If anyone had anything urgent to talk to me about, they can find me in my room. Dorian?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"I'm sure you're quite capable of sorting out a few of these problems. I'll leave you in charge of determining what our priorities should be for now."
"It will be done my Lord."
Dorian bowed a little too deeply. Isaaru returned a smaller version of the gesture, and walked off in the direction of his rooms.
He felt a little uneasy leaving Dorian in charge of things, but despite his resolve and determination to fix Bevelle's problems, all he wanted right now was some peace and quiet.
Perhaps it was just something that lingered in the air in Bevelle, but Isaaru found himself suddenly in the grip of a strange, unexplainable melancholia.
The headquarters of the Youth League were currently the closest thing Beclem had to a home, but they certainly didn't feel like one. He wasn't sure what home he could really claim, his family home having been destroyed when he was only a child, along with his parents, and any home he had been able to claim since then had only been temporary, like the Youth League headquarters were now.
Still, there had been greetings and welcomes from several people here; those people that were the closest thing he had to family, and the room in which he stayed almost had the feeling of home to it.
His life settled into a comfortable routine for the next couple of weeks. There were mountains of paperwork gathering around the Youth League, and it seemed it had fallen to him to take care of it all. It was a safe and completely boring life.
He occasionally found himself wishing that he was back on Besaid Island, but always forced himself to shake that particular thought away. He had, unsurprisingly, seen Yuna once or twice when she dropped by the headquarters. Chappu's sphere seemed to have come in handy, because only a few minutes after Wakka had watched it, he had chosen a name for his son; Vidina.
The choice of name made Beclem smile. It was a name that Chappu would have undoubtedly loved. The tale of Summoner Vidina had always been Chappu's favourite, mainly because he had been named after Vidina's only guardian, also of the name Chappu. Beclem wondered if the choice of name hadn't deliberately been a small sort of tribute to Wakka's younger brother.
One day Beclem would undoubtedly meet the child, but it wasn't a day he was looking forward to. He was afraid that Vidina would have just a little too much of Chappu in him.
The days continued to pass.
Dorian was quickly proving himself to be as good an ally as Isaaru could have hoped, and also as power-hungry as he had feared. Isaaru allowed this for the time being though, and found that many of Bevelle's problems were lessening.
His own inner demons however, were growing for no reason that he could discover, no matter how much soul searching he did. He wished he could blame it on something, if only the atmosphere in Bevelle, but he couldn't find anything to blame it on apart from himself. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that the only thing it could be was a character flaw.
He had found his purpose, hadn't he? That meant that he should be all smiles and happiness now, and when he was around most people, that's all they saw; smiles and polite happiness. Lord Isaaru smiled; Lord Isaaru must be all right.
Maroda was not fooled though, although Isaaru was fairly sure his brother didn't know exactly how deep his depression was beginning to grow.
"What is it?" Maroda asked one day, seemingly out of the blue. Isaaru realised that his mask must have slipped.
"What do you mean?" he said, making sure a soft smile had returned to his face.
"Something's wrong, and don't pretend it isn't," Maroda said.
"I don't know what you mean," Isaaru said, stubbornly hiding the truth. What could he say? He himself didn't know what was happening inside of him.
With no warning, Maroda grabbed Isaaru's wrist and pushed up the long ceremonial sleeves of his robe to reveal the lower half of his arm. He inspected it for a moment, the look on his face telling everyone that cared to look that he was very serious about this. After a few seconds his inspection seemed to be complete, and he let Isaaru's arm fall back to his side.
"Don't worry," Isaaru said. "I haven't…"
"I know," Maroda said, shaking his head. "I was just checking. You know, the last time had me really scared."
"I know," Isaaru assured his younger brother.
"You're acting like you did back then, is all," Maroda said, trying to explain his actions. "You can't die, all right?"
"Why not?" Isaaru said, before he could stop the words from slipping out his mouth.
"Why not!" Maroda screamed. "These people need you Isaaru! Pacce and I need you! What are we going to do if you die! Think about that, all right?"
"Calm down," Isaaru muttered. "I haven't done anything, so can you stop worrying about me so much."
"Fine," Maroda said, finally letting go of Isaaru's hand. "Just don't all right? If you ever feel like doing it, just don't. You may not have defeated Sin, but you've still got a purpose in life, all right?"
"All right."
Beclem was beginning to get used to the dull monotony of his life. He would get up in the morning, have breakfast in his small tent, get ready for work, fill out the Youth League's paperwork all day, stopping for an hour's lunch, and then patrol the area for a couple of hours in an effort to get stronger, before having dinner and then retiring for the evening. It was safe; it was boring; it was everything he didn't want in life.
So it was, to say the least, a pleasant surprise when Commander Lucil, the Youth League's current leader entered his office, with her right hand man, or in this case woman, Elma in tow.
"You must be sick of paperwork," Elma, a dark woman the same age as Beclem commented.
"That would be an understatement," Beclem replied.
"Good," Lucil said, flicking a strand of her long red hair back off her shoulder as she spoke. "Because we've got a new assignment for you."
Beclem wished that the two women could see his disinterest, but unfortunately his mask was in the way.
"As you know," Lucil went on to explain. "We're trying to establish stronger ties with New Yevon. Because of this, we've decided to send a representative to Bevelle, to co-ordinate with the leaders of New Yevon, and report back to us on all important events."
"What happened to Maroda?" Beclem asked. "I heard he was sent there on reconnaissance."
Lucil and Elma glanced at one another, silently asking and answering one another's questions in a way only the closest of friends could, before Lucil explained.
"He's apparently neglected his duties as a member of the Youth League and is now captain of the Bevelle guard."
"I heard the new Praetor is his brother," Elma added.
"Lord Isaaru?" Beclem questioned, having heard of the ex-Summoner through his younger brother.
"That's the rumour at least," Lucil answered, shaking her head.
"You want me to go and establish diplomatic relations with an ex-Summoner?" Beclem asked, clearly sceptical.
"We know you don't like Summoners Beclem, but please try and be civil," Lucil said.
"We thought you'd be glad to get out of your office," Elma added.
"Fine," Beclem gave in. "I'll do it, but only because I'm sick of paperwork."
Isaaru looked out of his balcony at the residents of Bevelle, wondering if any of them felt as lost as he did right at that moment. He walked back inside, and sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the mountains of paperwork that seemed to grow every time he turned away from it.
A glint of silver caught his eye, and he found himself mesmerized by the knife for opening letters that lay on his desk. It called to him, and for a moment he wondered if it would be quite sharp enough to end his pain forever.
He picked it up, and ran one finger along the blade. The tip drew a little blood and he flinched, not expecting it to be quite that sharp. He watched in morbid fascination as a single drop of blood pooled on the end of his finger.
A knock on the door startled Isaaru out of his reverie, and he quickly returned the blade to its place on his desk, wiping the blood away with a handkerchief.
"Come in," he called, just as the handkerchief fell into a rubbish bin under his desk.
Maroda entered; a panicked look on his face.
"Isaaru," he called. "I'm not sure what the hell it is, but Lady Yuna, Pacce and the Kinderguardians have just discovered something in the halls of Bevelle Palace. They're calling it Via Infinito."