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"The Corpse Brigade were a group of men who had started with bright ideals and wondrous intentions, but, like many during that dark period of history, fell easily to vices and cruelty when those beautiful ideals didn't put food on the table…"

- A Record of the War of the Lions, by Orran Durai, AU5.

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Chapter 3: The Plains Where Beasts Roam.

I leaned against my staff, peering across the plains with a hand over my eyes to avoid squinting. I was nervous, obviously. After all, we had never been deployed before, and I myself was as green as the grass we were gazing over. Dirk stood by my side, idly fiddling with his own staff, until I gave him a stern look, at which he saluted sharply and stood straight. I nodded in approval. My squadron had more than a few decent subordinates. Dirk was one of them - a summoner I'd personally beaten into the ground until he understood a simple, satisfactory, fact.

The one who ruled the battlefield was the one with the most firepower. Mages were, in almost all scenarios, barring freaks like Ramza and holy knights, the kings of the battlefield. A time mage such as myself was a frustration, and a black mage was like the devil. But a summoner?

Summoners were god. A team of five of them could completely wipe the floor with almost any combatants they ran across, barring Arithmeticians, through pure firepower alone. Summoner spells differentiated between allies and enemies if you didn't spellcrack, which wasn't something particularly common in the first place. Spellcracking in general was just dangerous - overloading mana into your casting would invariably make it uncontrollable. And a summon was already difficult to control as it was. Dirk was my pride and joy, a summoner who was learning to fly. If I had five of him, I wouldn't even bat an eye when fighting Ramza's squadron.

Too bad he wasn't very good at it. Five feet off the ground, Dirk? Really? That's just pathetic, isn't it? I can teleport higher then you can fly! Isn't that a bit embarrassing for you as a mage?

"Dirk," I said, glancing to my left. The brown haired boy's hand immediately flew up into a salute, which pleased me greatly. I had worked excessively hard to make my subordinates into the perfect soldiers (to protect me from harm), so their ability to instantly listen was a pleasure to witness. "Status report."

"Nothing but clear skies, Degurechaff," he said in reply, scratching the half grown stubble on his chin. "It's quiet on the plains today."

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. Quiet was good, but we were looking for the Corpse Brigade. I wanted to finish this as swiftly as possible so as to go back to my warm bed at the Academy, where I could continue crafting the building blocks to my safe future. But, this was an order from a superior - albeit a future superior, not a current one - and I had no way to realistically refuse the Knight Devout. Even Ramza, his brother, wouldn't have been able to turn down that order. If Ondoria Atkascha was our CEO, then Zalbaag Beoulve was the one in charge of hiring. To refuse a request from such a high level superior would be completely damning to my future career; totally unacceptable.

"Is it usually this empty here?" I asked, turning towards Ramza and Delita, who were staring out at the plains themselves. "I can hear the wind hissing through my teeth."

"No," Delita replied quietly, hand gripping his sword. "There's usually at least a few chocobos around, if not a coeurl or seven."

That was the answer I was afraid he would give.

"Where are the scouts?"

"Lily's making her way back," Ramza said, pointing to a faint spot in the distance. "But she's… moving a bit fast, isn't she?"

"I can't see her. Oy, Finn, get over here and put me on your shoulders. Your freakish height has to be good for something."

The dragoon grumbled something under his breath, but did as he was told, lifting me up and giving me a better view of de Floure as she ran. I let mana flow into my eyes, feeling a slight pulsing sensation as I did so that I proceeded to ignore as I zoomed in my vision.

She was. Lily de Floure was Ordallian by lineage, but born and bred in Ivalice. She was also a chronic slacker; Amelie Tenevere had roused the girl from bed every day since we'd joined the academy. She was one of the few truly competent people in Ramza's squadron, next to Tenevere and Delita of course. Trained in fencing since she could walk, de Floure was a devil with a rapier, in spite of her absurd talent with white magic. But I had never, in all my time with the girl, seen her move with such ridiculous speed. Was she actually sprinting? She didn't even sprint away from summons! She just cast some sort of weird guard spell and fell asleep on her feet most of the time!

"Rally the troops!" I barked, my hand splitting the air as I hopped back down to the ground. The tension that had been building was cut like a knife, Dirk and Delita scrambled to follow my orders. "Look at the figures behind her! She's not running, she's being chased!"

The auburn haired girl standing near Delita clasped her hands as she watched de Floure, which I could sympathize with. Tenevere had been with the girl since they were barely old enough to walk, so to see her in such danger… Even I could empathize with such a trustworthy subordinate. I put a hand on her shoulder, reaching up to grasp at it. The girl looked down at me and I smiled at her. She did not return it, but her eyes were determined.

"Keep it together Tenevere," I said, and her eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply. "There's a dozen troops after her, running straight into our own. Dirk! Start preparing. I don't give a damn if you have to crack the spell to get it ready! You too Tenevere!"

Tenevere smiled like death ran at her heels.

"It's a nice day, isn't it, Degurechaff?" she said, her hands moving to her back to remove her staff. Her dark red hair shone brightly in the light, and she gave me a grim smile as her eyes began to shine with mana. The sun was reaching its apex in the sky, the heat beat down on my leather jerkin, the metal blades at my sides feeling entirely too close to my skin. "Let's go and kill them."

The two summoners began to chant, the words in a language that was close enough to Latin to be easily confused for it. I didn't really bother with summoning in general. There were more destructive ways to maneuver around the battlefield, and I had six of them strapped to my sides.

Ramza was watching grimly, his sword already drawn and held in a death's grip. I stood next to him, staring at de Floure as she sprinted, putting in more effort than I'd ever seen her before.

"Wipe that grim look off your face Beoulve," I said to him, and his face turned down to look at me. His eyes were hard and cold, but his hand was too tense to be of value. "Look at the sun, beating down on them. They're wearing plate and chain, and we're wearing cloth and leather. Who do you think is more tired? Who do you think is feeling the aches and pains of the day running through their bodies? Us or them?"

"You're lighthearted before battle, Degurechaff," he said, that grim look never leaving his eyes. "What we were doing before was mere practice. This…"

He held his sword up, and the sun glinted off the steel, reflecting his eye in the blade.

"This is dangerous work. Noble, yes, but dangerous."

"Perhaps we'll receive hazard pay when we arrive at Eagrose," I said with a grin. "Think you can convince your brother to give us a little bonus?"

"Dycedarg didn't even pull the pursestrings for Alma, and he likes her. He'll tell us what we need to know and send us away with the clothes on our backs."

"Your family's a bit cruel, aren't they?"

"They're nobles, Degurechaff," he said with a weary look in his eyes. "They're all cruel."

"You're noble yourself, you know," I muttered, fiddling with one of the swords strapped to my sides. "Aren't you calling yourself cruel there?"

Ramza clenched his fist.

"If it is cruel to believe in a better world," he whispered, his words nearly lost to the wind, "Then I suppose I am the cruelest man in Ivalice."

I didn't have a reply to that one. Sometimes, Ramza said things that made him seem far older and wiser than his age. We stood in silence, watching as Lily de Floure ran closer and closer, until we could see her blonde hair flapping wildly as she grabbed onto her hat, sprinting as fast as she could.

"Wall!" Ramza roared, his sword held high in his hand. "Infantry, forward! Mages, prepare to release on Degurechaff's order!"

A flurry of movement started around me, as the melee fighters formed a barricade in front of myself, Tenevere, Dirk, and the other two mages in our company. While there was a small space in the line for de Floure to slip through - Ramza was a bit too kind to his subordinates, after all - this wall of flesh before me was exactly why I had decided to become a mage! Look at all the wonderful bodies between me and the enemy! Even if they were all to fall, I would still have more than enough time to flee as fast as my legs would allow. Please, my comrades, become a shield of meat between me and the enemy. I assure you, your deaths will not be forgotten, for I will remember you for a hundred years. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I focused myself for the coming engagement.

Magic is simple. I drew the well of power from deep within my body - carefully, carefully, not taking too much, not taking too little - letting the sink of magic pour a little bit of its water up through my chest and down my arm, feeling that tingling sensation as my staff greedily sucked it up, flicking through a list in my mind. I twisted it, reversing the flow into my arm and then sending it back into my staff, until the energy slowed to a crawl, a thin line of connection between me and the staff that I pointed at the enemy. They were closing in.

"Hold," I said in a calm tone, despite the danger.

The men drew closer still. I could see the panic in our precious comrade's eyes now as she sprinted, and the bloodlust in the eyes of the men behind her.

"Hold!"

Lily burst through a series of rocks, and I grinned like the devil.

My mana poured from the staff like a sieve, as I built a box made of time around those rocks. The flow of time would almost seem to freeze for a person passing through, and as the first of their men burst through it, I could see his confusion and horror as his body slowed to a crawl.

"LOOSE!"

I let out a burst of laughter as our enemies were trapped behind my screen of time, watching with shining eyes when Tenevere's titan of fire with a head shaped like a devil burst into existence. The flames in its eyes sent sparks flying while it plastered the ground with waves of fire.

This was exactly why I never bothered with summoning. While destructive, who is going to be focused in this fight, exactly? While my time box is assuredly annoying, it's not incredibly dangerous; it can be avoided, it can be moved out of, and it wears off. That god of the battlefield we call 'Espers' can't be outlasted, they simply destroy. I could already see the fury and hate in the eyes of our enemies, as they sent glares like daggers towards Dirk and Tenevere. Kufufu, aren't I smart? Even though it was thanks to my box that they could even be hit, all their hatred and anger isn't directed towards me, but towards others!

Time magic really was the best. Because it was unassuming, nobody would ever pay attention to me! Like any good HR manager, my support would allow my comrades to succeed and excel, securing me a promotion to a respectable and safe position. I hummed a little tune as I let the mana flow again, preparing a carpet of time for Ramza and the infantry to rush down to meet the enemy.

Ramza looked at me, and I raised an eyebrow in response. I waved him off with my free hand, I was practically drenched in mana, and to control time required far more precision than waving around an idiotic sword. He let out a bark of laughter, pulling a spear off his back in his free hand as he held it high.

"Well? What are you lot standing here for? Degurechaff prepared for us such a brilliant road - let's make good use of it!"

And they were off, their speed increasing rapidly as they charged down my carpet of time, and I let out a sigh of relief. With that, my part in the battle was, for the most part, done. It was unlikely that any of the enemy could make it past Delita and Finn, let alone Ramza. While Tenevere and Dirk would have to keep casting, I had a much more difficult job-

-Doing absolutely nothing, of course! Having already laid down the path to victory and boxed in the enemy, I could sit back, relax, and watch everyone else do the heavy lifting now! I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a bright, wide smile before glancing at the summoners besides me. Both were concentrating deeply - I didn't want to interrupt them, not when Ramza and the infantry were so close to the enemy already, so I supposed the proper thing to do would be to wait around aimlessly, having accomplished the tasks assigned to me by the superior known as the 'battlefield' with ease. While some would feel uncomfortable doing nothing while others fought for their lives, those people are fools. If you have competent subordinates and competent coworkers, when your tasks for the day are completed, obviously you are allowed a refreshing break while they accomplish their own. As my box of time wouldn't fade before the battle ending, there was really nothing left for me to do but sit back and watch everyone else do the dirty work.

Go forth, my wonderful comrades. Slay our enemies before they can even process the concept that those fine sorcerers back here are the monsters they must slay before all else.

As bandits, they should have understood the basic principles of the free market - that their services are only valuable if someone desires to purchase them. The economics behind being a criminal are nonsensical; at the point where one is good enough to make a living off of crime, then one would become a known criminal; such as the Corpse Brigade themselves. Criminals, naturally, do not desire to be known far and wide. This is something that is useful for a band of mercenaries, or a group of knight cadets, as they will invariably acquire more, better paying work for their efforts. But banditry?

I get that it's a medieval world, so fundamentally banditry and knighthood are the same thing, but you're being way too obvious about which side of the game you're playing on! You're a black company with terrible PR, why would anyone ever want to hire you as contractors?!

"I'll gut you, you damned mages!"

The bloodthirsty words sliced through my reverie like a knife through butter, and my eyes flicked to the side, where a cadre of squires and thieves had broken through our infantry. Ramza, what the devil are you doing over there? You let four people through! Are you off your game today or something?! I've thrown eight men at you before and you cut through them as if they weren't even there!

Reaching to one of the swords at my side, I tried to flick the blade out of its sheath with my thumb. Wait a minute, where's the sword? Why's it so long anyways?! Do you really need a sword that's twice your height in the first place, you stupid samurai!?

Whatever. I gave up on pulling the damn thing out of its sheath, instead choosing to treat it like a coffee cup that I could fill with mana. This stupidly elegant weapon was from a more civilized age; the ripples that ran up and down the sword were delicate and fine, like water flowing through a river. I didn't really care how it looked, though; the entire point of swords were to be used.

I couldn't move faster than light, but I drenched my body in mana once more, and vanished for a moment, reappearing in the center of the four men.

"Legendary sword that kills freely," I whispered, a taint of red bursting from the sheathe. The sword began to shake with pressure as I spoke, words of power that it didn't truly know sending it into a frenzy. "Ashura."

A flash of red burst above my head, as the quartet attacking were carved by the unseen blades of the far east, the sword creating dozens of slashes that greedily carved their blood from their bodies without a care. It was fortunate that this power could somehow differentiate between friend and foe, and a high-pitched burst of laughter exited my lungs as my enemies fell around me. It was just so simple, in the end, that was my problem with it; this world glorified combat to such a ridiculous extent that it was impossible to avoid. But the tools that they had available to them were patently absurd - and with the high of mana running through my body how could I not enjoy myself? I was jumped up like I'd drank fifteen cups of coffee, I couldn't help but laugh.

The energy from the weapon reaching a fever pitch before it shattered in its sheath. I dropped the hilt to the ground, automatically shuffling the now useless sheathe to my back, another one moving up in its place. This was the only bad part of iaido - how damnably expensive it could be. While it was fine for students; after all, I hadn't purchased a single one of the katanas strapped to my person, I had briefly glanced at the catalogue when I'd entered the armory, and my eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets. 8000 gil for a single sword?! I could outfit an entire person with 8000 gil! If their effects weren't so useful I would have never bothered, but martial prowess had nothing to do with the energies of the far east. A magician could utilize them with far more competency, even if he or she had little to no melee skill whatsoever.

It was my last resort, after all - an explosion of magical power that could tear through enemies that had the audacity to move past the front lines. The bodies at my feet proved that it was the right decision to practice.

"Why are you looking at me Dirk, Tenevere? Focus your spells! Do you want Heiral and Beoulve to steal all the glory for themselves?"

The two summoners had been shamelessly slacking off and watching what I was up to when we were approached, as if they had time to slack off. Unlike me, their spells were incredibly destructive, and if they had such time to observe what I was up doing, then they had time to cast. Dirk turned away, his eyes flickering with lightning as began to cast, while Tenevere stammered out an apology before turning away herself. I approved, going back to watching the battle wrap up with a bright smile. Having such competent coworkers was so nice!

Ramza hefted a blood-covered spear in the air with a roar, and shouts of joy intermixed with cries of despair. The battle was over, and I didn't even have a scratch on me. Hopefully all future interactions with the enemy will be exactly like this!

The infantry walked back towards us, and my magic dissipated, my carpet and box vanishing as if they were never really 'there'. Not that they were in the first place; time magic was invisible to the eye after all. If one could detect magic, they might be able to see it, but it's not as if that was a common skill picked up by infantry. Sure, Ramza could do it, but what couldn't that idiot prodigy do?

"So," Delita said with a bloody grin, as he approached, his hand-and-a-half sword resting on his shoulder, "What are your thoughts on actual combat, Degurechaff?"

"I was surprised."

"Surprised?" He cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes staring into my blue. "At what?"

"How easy it was." There was a flash of emotion in his eyes I couldn't decipher as Ramza let out a shaky breath.

"As was I," he murmured, looking at the blood covering his blade. The red splattering his spear dripped down the wooden shaft, his blue shirt looking more maroon than anything else. "Men are truly fragile, are they not?"

Neither of us had any reply to that. I grunted, tapping my staff to the ground.

"None of that now, Beoulve," I said, and his eyes looked away from the sword towards me. "There are still men out there. Pick one to interrogate."

"And the rest?"

"Are they not bandits who were after our lives? Who gives a damn what happens to them?"

I smiled, and Delita's eyes grew sharp.

"Leave them for the crows."

xxx

Tanya is just misunderstood, I don't understand why people think she's such a maniac - Ramza probably