Author's Notes: Yes, I am alive. Forgive me for the long wait. My high school career is DONE and now I am blissfully waiting for college. Rest assured, this fic will certainly continue into my years of education.
As always, thanks to you readers and my thanks to Desi, the greatest friend anyone could ask for.
For those who are confused, here is a brief timeline of my story and some other nonsense I should cover.
1. Hyne, the first sorceress. 2. The Mage Wars (Prologue) 3. The Sorceress War (Adel's Reign) 4. My Story
The eight GFs in the prologue are obviously the ones who created Squall and company. Guess which one is Quistis? (Pssst, she's the coolest one!)
Yes yes, the pairing. Well, I want to keep this a secret for now. I don't want to label the characters yet, we'll see how the story develops them first. But rest assured, no matter which pairing it's going to be, the transition will be smooth and understandable. Hehe…
I decided on four classes of magic, Red, White, Black and Blue. Red is associated with being a "jack of all trades but master of none" sort of thing. White is of course, healing and holy power. Black is the walking nuke, fireballs, ice comets, the works. And Blue, in which our lovely Quistis masters, is the copying of enemy powers. I'll delve deeper into Quistis' unique powers later. They are important.
And yes, if you haven't caught on, Quistis still has feelings for Squall. Why? I will explain. Trust me this won't be the typical, Quistis is in love with Squall and hates her life, sort of thing. Just be patient. I'm going to be as true to the characters as I can, but there WILL be development.
And as always, please read and review!
Chapter 7
"I'm here because I chose to be here! Destiny has nothing to do with it!" -Irvine Kinneas
There was a different air around the seven members the following morning, as if their minds and emotions were wiped clean like a slate. Instead of following their basic instincts, the seven young adults had transformed overnight into the elite professional warriors SeeD represented. What exhaustion they each experienced from the long train ride to Galbadia was covered up in a guise of perfect calmness and composure. Although Squall, Quistis and Xu were natural at hiding emotions when it came to their missions, the others managed to put up a spitting image of the infallible SeeD mercenaries. The same mercenaries who never failed a mission no matter what the cost. It seemed almost an age ago that SeeD was once regarded as a chance to auction out the best fighters to the highest bidder.
Now under Cid Kramer's new direction, SeeD would once again regain its original purpose. Normally, SeeD missions, once complete, would leave the client to negotiations after collecting the fee, unless of course the client wished for SeeD to handle such talks, another costly expenditure. For the first time in SeeD history, the Gardens would no longer be simply weapons for hire, but participating diplomats in the international community. The Gardens represented neither country nor region, but the benefit of mankind's present and future. Abstract and broad, but these were the goals Balamb Garden was willing to aim for. It may have been too idealistic for some to fathom, but after years of almost endless wars and battles, many people were willing to take a chance and believe in something positive for a change. Pragmatism was being left out of the picture for once.
The alarm clocks went off at 5 A.M. precisely. Besides the quiet murmur for an additional five minutes from Zell and a humming Selphie, the seven members knew the routine. It was practically etched in their minds in permanent marker. No matter what they may have endured on their journeys, preparation called for protocol. Efficient as machines, they each rose from their beds, washed and put on freshly ironed uniforms. Xu had vetoed the idea of wearing the more ceremonial SeeD uniforms fixed with gold embroidery; and decided that wearing the more practical and certainly more comfortable plain navy blue uniforms with gray cuffs and collars would be appropriate.
Drawing too much attention to SeeD would not be something they wanted, Xu explained, and the last thing they wanted was more attention. Already on the unwritten death list of the Galbadian Military, and not to the mention a good number of radical Estharian isolationists, SeeD was already in a bad light with many groups.
Little did the they know SeeD had perhaps saved the world from the rampaging destruction of Adel and Edea and furthermore, the time compression threat by Ultimecia. No doubt the truth about Ultimecia and SeeD was kept under strict security. To the majority of the citizens outside of the Esthar continent, the idea of falling monsters from the moon was just an old tale told to scare children.
After the Lunar Cry, most people still held onto their misguided beliefs, despite Esthar's near destruction by hordes of monsters. For some of the more isolated areas of the globe, the appearance and disappearance of Sorceress Edea was nothing more than a rumor spread by gossiping women and the traveling merchant. Since live radio broadcasts were practically dead until the Dollet satellite was brought back into commission, news traveled relatively slow to the less developed regions, especially those which lay north and south. To people in Balamb and Dollet, the recent events of invasion and occupation could be described as fearful but eventually they would go about their lives in relative peace, and the event would become just another page in a history book.
Ironically, Esthar which had originally closed its borders to the world in order to shield itself from the further warfare and strife with other nations had suffered the greatest casualties. Tens of thousands of people were dead, and an even greater number pronounced as missing. The capital city had been reduced to near shambles and without the swift actions by President Loire, Esthar may have well fallen into chaos. Now in the midst of the aftermath and recovery of Esthar, the detached nation would either have the chance to realize the problems of other countries and treat them as problems of their own or continue to cut itself off from foreign involvement.
Why did she take this job? Why?
The maid named Gabriella from the previous night winced as she made her usual trip in the morning to check up on rooms. Every morning and every night, her duty was to kiss butt and smooth out everyone's problem by offering more soap and towels. Her honey auburn curls bounced as she waited patiently, albeit reluctantly, for the elevator to reach the upper floor. She was considered pretty, with a round face that reminded a person of a porcelain doll and hazel eyes under long lashes. But today, she felt anything but attractive. In fact, she felt like the scum at the bottom of toilets she was paid to clean. Banging her head against the brass elevator door, her fist clutched her black dress as Gabriella mentally swore to burn off every inch of the frilly white lace. Hyne, she was a medical student, not some airhead maid. This demeaning garment should be put to the torch! If there was even an ounce of more lace, she would have screamed. She banged her head again for good measure.
To think, she once had the insane notion that room service was a fascinating concept. That was until she took this job to help pay for school. It was only fascinating when she was on the receiving end that is. The days just got weirder and she could feel her sanity slipping away. Why would anyone call for room service at three in the morning for a plate of ribs and extra lotion? A question was answered at noon when the room's former occupants had checked out, leaving an eighteen year-old girl in a practical state of an epileptic seizure as she was forced to clean the morally corrupt bedroom. She used to think she had seen it all in the world of hotel cleaning until she stumbled upon the food war between a frothing blonde man and a cowboy. Rubbing her sore hands and aching back from all that cleaning, she inched her way around the corner.
Half expecting a food splattered display again, she was relieved to find the once ketchup stained carpet was as she left it the previous night. Vigorously scrubbed and dried but otherwise clean. Had it been any other customer, she would not hesitate to call the manager but after once glance at their uniforms, she knew the SeeD soldiers were here for the peace conference. And she certainly did not want to offend soldiers. Especially those which tried to choke each other with relish and hotdog buns. As she fearfully knocked on the doorway, she mentally prepared to sputter out the customary good morning, shove a handful of towels and flee before any more damage could be done. Hand scrubbing Dollet rugs was not in her job description.
Just as she was about to sigh in relief and move onto the next room, the door swung open to reveal the tall coppery haired man who was involved in the food fiasco last night. She involuntarily winced for a fraction of a second, but realized her mouth dropped as she realized that without the face smeared in mustard, this man was handsome.
Not handsome, but drop dead gorgeous.
His attire was the same uniform, but his head lacked the hat and the dangling hair glimmered slightly in the light, evidence of a recent shower. Taking in the pale skin that contrasted with the reddish infusion in his brunette ponytail and his towering physique, she began to fantasize visions of rippling muscles and a toned body worthy of worship. As he grinned with a mouth of too perfect teeth and watched her with twinkling bluish violet eyes, she realized she had been staring for a bit too long. Working her jaw loose, she was half surprised that she could speak without saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth.
"G-good morning to you sir. I hope you slept well," Gabriella stammered out, clinging onto the stack of white cotton towels with desperation to prevent the urge to snatch the man in front of her. After all, not molesting customers was also, not in the job description.
"I would have slept better if I had someone to warm my bed," he replied with a leering grin.
Gabriella nearly fainted on the spot.
"If you're in need of anything, the Galbadian Hotel would be more than willing to accommodate any of your needs. Please do not hesitate to let us know," she continued, fighting the rising blush in her cheeks, although the accommodations she was thinking about had nothing to do with wake up calls or making beds.
His grins just grew wider as he shifted his weight to lean against the doorframe. Gabriella felt her breath hitch and somewhere in the recess of her brain, remembered to dab her drooling mouth.
"So Gabriella," he addressed, taking note of the name tag pinned on the black and white dress. "Are you free later or do you need help spreading bed sheets?"
She would have given him an answer if her mouth had been working. Let alone her brain.
"Irvine! Stop hitting on the hotel staff and get ready. Now!" cracked a voice behind her. Gabriella snapped out of the trance and turned to face the shoulder length black haired woman with her head poking out of the door. She would have looked attractive if not for the scowl which deepened immensely, as if she always saw something distasteful that others did not.
Xu made eye contact with the maid for a second and her face softened only a fraction but her tone held an icy fringe to it. A tone cold enough for the air to plunge a few degrees.
"I'm sorry if this lecherous pig is bothering you. It won't happen again," Xu gritted out the last part, no doubt directing at the man named Irvine. As the door closed harder than necessary, Gabriella returned her attention to the still smirking man.
Chuckling under his breath, Irvine took the pile of towels from Gabriella, making the slightest contact with brushing hands. Beaming another all too lethal smile, he tipped his head in thanks and closed the door.
Shaking off the mesmerizing gaze, Gabriella's usual bleak outlook on her job took a turn for the better. Perhaps if she could see other men like this more often, then she could learn to actually enjoy her job. Letting her imagination wander, Gabriella pushed the cart down the hallway, swearing she would never wash her eyes again. Why did she take this job? Now she had a legitimate reason.
The group met down in the hotel's lounge, and even in the heart of a metropolitan city like this, only a handful of tables were occupied. It was probable that the news of the peace conference discouraged travelers. Arranging themselves around the plush crimson cushions, the waitress took their orders, but not before Irvine attempted his usual routine of charms. Elite SeeD members or not, some things just wouldn't change.
Seated around the circular table, directly in front of them lay the stage where the infamous piano sat in the open. This was in fact, the very same table Laguna and company had been when their unlikely hero managed enough guts and manhood to confront his musically talented crush. But despite all the old memories rushing through them, there was a task at hand. Xu sat in the center, wedged between Squall and Quistis. She passed out several papers to the group, but kept several to herself, speaking quietly with her best friend and the former commander. Zell, freshly shaven and a half a bottle of gel later, managed to control his usual unruly spikes. Although Zell hated waiting, as patience was not one of his many virtues, and practicing martial arts in the hotel would not be looked kindly upon, Zell managed to sit up straight in his seat and focus on the importance of the mission. Completing several mental exercises helped him calm his agitated nerves and his growling stomach. What did they mean hotdogs weren't served for breakfast?
Selphie flicked her curled hair absently as she read the agenda in front of her, making notes with flowerily script. Who would have thought perhaps the most gifted healer in known history would have just passed her eighteenth birthday. But age was a deceitful method to determine character, and Selphie was no exception. The perky brunette may retain her immature moments of teenage love and gossip but to her closest friends, there was a much darker version beneath the smiling face. No matter how gifted she was in healing, Selphie had no qualms about fighting when necessary. Nor did she ever regret killing those who opposed her. Swinging her massive nunchaku in battle, Selphie hewed bone and flesh alike, before obliterating enemies with her magic. Second to only Rinoa herself, the girl was also an immensely powerful mage. As deadly to her enemies as she was compassionate to her friends, Selphie was an enigma disguised in a sprightly facade.
Rinoa thanked the waitress as their food arrived while the others were absorbed for preparation. Her hair still in a neat pony tail, she sipped her tea while casually glancing at the papers Xu handed out. Technically, she wasn't a SeeD but years of underground work with the Timber Owls had certainly honed her ability to plan. While Xu, Quistis and Squall would be the main negotiators, Rinoa and the others would offer a more ritual position to represent the strength and unity of Balamb's elite soldiers.
The papers she held were a compilation of notes and summaries. Brief and vague goals from every constituent, names of representatives from the numerous countries attending, profiles of some of the top leaders and the basic SeeD protocol for conferences. As part of her assignment, Rinoa she quickly learned all the necessary gestures and rules of Balamb Garden, from the standard salute to the SeeD pledge. Whether she was a SeeD or not, the least she could do was act like one.
She looked up from a particular interesting profile on the Senator Trask just in time to see Irvine whistling under his breath after a couple of young ladies walked down the stairs into the lounge area. Hiding a creeping desire to laugh, Rinoa knew Irvine wasn't that much of a man slut. Of course, he couldn't deny his eyes the pleasure of watching young women, but he was not going to screw up his relationship with Selphie anytime soon. His last shred of decency and his love for his shins kept him in line.
Selphie scribbled a few choice words, jotting down information she would more than likely add to her online diary. Smoothing out her skirt, Selphie arranged the yellow bow on her collar and continued to ignore Irvine's antics. Nibbling on a slice of blueberry muffin, she made a mental note to add Irvine's most embarrassing moments on her site as soon as possible.
While the others began eating their breakfast, Xu hardly even touched her scrambled eggs and toast. Pouring a third mug of black coffee, Xu didn't bother to add sugar or cream to it. Diluting coffee defeated the whole purpose. Quistis sipped her coffee with just enough milk and sugar so that the liquid was a smooth russet color. Squall was like Xu, they both liked their morning shots straight up.
"We'll be working with the reps from Trabia and Galbadia, but I doubt we're going to agree on anything more than the color of the sky," Xu mentioned doubtfully. "Trabia demands massive reparations for the missile attacks and also a public apology from the Galbadian government. Not to the mention the complete ban of missile silos on Galbadian soil."
The last demand was a farfetched goal, even for the current events. Galbadia was always armed to the tooth when it came to warfare and since the Sorceress War by Adel, the government continued to pour money and resources into the most advanced weaponry. Building an army during wartime was expensive as it is. Keeping it together during peace was even more so. Galbadia was not about to throw away the world's largest military because of the little demands of little Trabia.
Quistis regarded the news with a nod and placed her mug back on the saucer. Coffee breath wasn't exactly the most flattering thing to have in the morning.
"And what about Galbadian Garden? Don't tell me they want to demolish the military as well? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you," said Quistis.
Galbadian Garden provided the military a steady supply of graduates. Although there were a number of military academies in the empire, Garden tended to produce some of the finest and most dedicated warriors. If the military was disbanded, Garden would lose a major funding source, as well as a large number of SeeD cadets who planned on joining the military after their training.
Xu offered her best friend a wry smile before plunging back into the report. That's why she loved Quistis; the woman could be no nonsense as she.
"Not exactly, but Headmaster Martine is in fact asking the Galbadian government to recognize Garden as a separate entity. Since the last occupation, Garden wants to continue relations with the military, but with fewer…constraints," replied Xu as she finished off her drink. "Garden wants to seek its own source for funding and provide its students the chance to stay with Garden instead of joining the military. No more Galbadian soldiers stationed in the Garden and less quotas from the army."
"So basically, Martine decided that being Galbadia's puppet is harming his Garden's reputation," Squall said, his piercing grey eyes faced Quistis and Xu. "He's not exactly the most negotiable person now. He probably found some backbone."
Xu nodded, pushing away her mug to prevent the temptations of drinking another cup although she did stare longingly at the steaming pot. Quistis felt Squall's gaze on her and she was reminded once again, how greatly he had changed in the past year. Those fathomless grey orbs with the strength of cold steel almost turned the air frigid. Quistis had seen grown men and women shrink back from Squall, as if his looks alone dissuaded any attempt of interaction. To anyone else, Squall Leonhart was expressionless, distant and untouchable. A lone wolf that could not be approached without experiencing a cold dismissal. But she knew better and Squall Leonhart was far from that.
It was true, Squall had matured far too quickly for his age. During the stage of his life which typically involved leisure and friends, he shut himself out from the world and focused completely on his training. He avoided study groups for exams and during mandatory group projects, Squall always completed his share of the work, no more, no less. No word of encouragement was ever uttered from him and none was expected in return. His classmates discovered early Squall wasn't exactly rude; he basically wanted space to himself. It was no surprise to anyone that Squall was one of the only four students to pass the Dollet liberation mission.
The silent warrior received high marks for every aspect of the mission, from leadership to weaponry and it was widely known that Squall was one of Quistis' best students. While other cadets struggled during written exams or field work, Squall was the kind of person who just waded right through every obstacle. Not once did he complain about an assignment or injury, he just did what had to be done. No questions asked. No explanation given.
But now, the secluded teenager had someone who crumbled his barriers. Barriers to block out the fear of losing those closest to him. Bit by bit, Rinoa eroded Squall's loneliness until he was laid bare and vulnerable. Confronting his forgotten past and coming to terms with himself, it was as if the sorceress angel breathed warmth into the coldest crevices of Squall's memories. Like a thawing winter, Squall emerged from the desolation he once built around him. The process was slow, and there still remained a significant block around him, but the change was unavoidable.
Those unnerving eyes, unmoving to the world around him now glimmered with a faint light. A light Quistis once desperately wanted to see for herself. It was too late now and she, more than anyone else, knew it to be true. She accepted the world as it came to her. If there was anything that she knew for certain, what couldn't be changed must be endured. Years of experience had taught her that.
"Somehow I doubt the military is going to be let such a valuable source of soldiers slip away so easily," Quistis commented, swirling her drink with a tiny spoon. "Is General Caraway still in command or has the government found a replacement?"
At the sound of her father's name, Rinoa stiffened for a moment, but her eyes hardened and she pretended not to have heard. It was strange that the most active leader of the Timber resistance group was the daughter of the Galbadia's top general.
"Yes, he's still head general. He'll certainly be there today but I'm not sure what his stance on the demilitarization will be," Xu said, biting slightly on the butt of her pen. "He may agree to the demands by Esthar, Dollet and the Gardens by reducing the size of the general army but he's also facing enormous pressure from Galbadia's population. Since Edea's hold over the empire has broken, they're all clamoring for more defense and security." She shook her head and reached for her empty mug and sighed. "Either way, he's going to come under a lot of fire for the next few days."
Squall leaned back against his chair and folded his arms, nodding sagely. Quistis was suddenly reminded of their 'commander' in his deep thinking mode. She almost chortled in her coffee. Not wanting to stain her uniform or look like a giggling school girl, Quistis distracted herself by asking a question.
"What are the goals of the other countries Xu?" Quistis coughed in her fist, smoothing her face into perfect serenity. Thank Hyne she perfected that look. She had used it many times during lectures and staff meetings.
Arching her brow, Xu gave her friend a quizzical look that suggested the blonde seek mental help but flipped through the stack of papers anyway.
"Well, aside from the military grievances, the demands are expected. Dollet wants other nations to build radio satellites as a way to redevelop global communications. Balamb is requesting some fishing rights and looking to develop trade. Winhil wants to break off from the empire, but since it's so small, there shouldn't be any problems with that. Let's see, the Shumi Village is offering masonry services to damages, Esthar is agreeing to open up to exports…Fisherman's Horizon is of course, demanding isolation but the mayor there seems to be encouraging immigration. Something about a complete pacifist region." At that last note, Xu snorted, and thumbed through more papers.
Breaking off from Esthar, Fisherman's Horizon was the polar opposite of Esthar during the Sorceress War. The mayor called for diplomacy while the rest of the country howled for war. Setting up a nonviolence community Fisherman's Horizon, commonly known as FH, was a place where people could escape and find peace. Even with the attack by troops, the people still held on their pacifist ways. It was no wonder Xu regarded FH with disdain. Having grown up in a military academy, Xu believed pacifism was a foolish notion that was more idealistic than practical. In war, complete pacifism meant a country was ripe for the picking. It was an open invitation to invasion.
"Cid's orders are a little vague. Did he tell you anything else Squall?" Xu asked while rearranging a few folders. After several cups of caffeine, Xu was looking more alert than she usually was. There really was no need for secrecy but she leaned in a fraction, lowering her voice while eyeing the other patrons seated elsewhere. "I somehow don't believe the Headmaster wants us to play counselor." A faint trace of disbelief crossed Xu's face, and even as the most experienced diplomat here; Cid's orders must sound ridiculous.
Squall shrugged and coming from a man who normally ignored you, the change was welcome. "Cid wants us to establish our new disposition as a peace keeping organization. He also wants every constituent to receive fair treatment. That's about it."
"So he does want us to play counselor," Xu half sighed, taking a savage bite out of a piece of toast.
"Hm. Wh-"
"Whatever!"
A pair of heads turned to stare at Quistis with her latest outburst. Xu with a piece of bread in her mouth rolled her eyes, but in a friendly way. Squall's brow furrowed even deeper but said nothing. Unabashed, Quistis cleared her throat and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
"Sorry," she apologized and had the decency to blush. "Old habits die hard."
Somewhere in the background, Irvine whistled at the waitress who returned with their bill and he was greeted with a well-placed kick from an anonymous brunette.
"Isn't that the truth," Squall commented nonchalantly.
This time Quistis openly chuckled.
After breakfast, a limousine arrived at exactly eight in front of the hotel. The sleek car was accompanied by two motorcyclists as escort, each man carrying a submachine gun on their hips and the standard blue Galbadian uniform. Dark helmets covered their faces except for their mouths and they poised as if they expected an attack any second. With the exception of a few curious onlookers, the seven SeeDs piled in the black vehicle without little more than a glance from the morning traffic. They each situated themselves in the spacious seats, their identities veiled behind bulletproof tinted windows. Selphie hummed something under her breath but for the most part, the fifteen minute drive was silent. They all had a responsibility to meet.
Traffic parted away from the three vehicles, and pedestrians scurried off the streets as the limo and its escorts drove towards the palace. Soldiers were literally placed at every corner of the city and in some areas, setting up check points, searching random cars and keeping a wary eye on any suspicious activity. In some areas of the city, security even out numbered visitors. The government was certainly spared no expense for protection. As they arrived at the Presidential Palace, the massive steel gates opened out to the limo with the motorcyclists veering off back into the roads. Elite Galbadian officers in crimson uniforms with their bulky shoulder pads snapped orders to their troops, directing soldiers to guard every possible entrance.
Several of the nearby streets were completely closed off to public transport, making today absolute misery for city buses and taxis. And not surprisingly, protesters were situated only a few streets from the palace itself. Since President Deling's untimely death, or for those who knew the truth, murder, citizens' pent up anger at their blundering leader exploded like a water balloon. With the unpopular president dead, the people clamored for the abolishment of censorship, hefty taxes and demanded the right to assembly. Having been denied basic civil rights for years, Galbadia's empire began to shake from within. The military continued to rule with an iron fist, but even an iron grip could not hold on forever. People would slip through the military's fingers and have a greater reason to retaliate. The military had sowed the seeds of tyranny and now were reaping a near revolution.
As soon as the car came to a stop, guards opened the doors and the SeeDs all stepped outside where they were immediately escorted by a handful of troops into the massive building. The Presidential Palace was a fitting name for such a flamboyant home. Like everything else in Galbadian City, the palace was built to enhance the city's image and with little regard to anything else. Wide columns adorned the front entrance with stone carvings of mythological beings etched into the palace. The former President Deling had spent millions of gil to redesign the palace, and the cost were so extravagant, citizens wondered which method their corrupted leader utilized to embezzle such a vast sum.
However, the classical beauty carved on marble and alabaster could only conceal the home of perhaps the most sullied politician. Suspicions of rigged elections and bribery had already darkened Deling's career. Only his control over the army kept the empire in rank and file. When Deling died, very few mourned his death.
Spare vegetation appeared in the surrounding area, giving off a representation of a fortress rather than home to the head of state. Above the palace was the balcony where Edea once stood as she all but announced to the Galbadia her intentions of conquering the world. The memories of that battle were still unnerving to remember. Squall had nearly died, taking an ice spear through the chest. Bleeding profusely, he had fell from the battle only to awaken in a filthy prison miles into the desert along with his entire team. No matter how much security was placed, no one truly felt any safer. The sooner the peace conference was over, the sooner they could leave this place.
Squall, Quistis and Xu marched by as if they knew the blueprint to the palace. None of them spared even so much as a twitch of the eye at anything or anyone but like any well trained SeeD, they were silently observing their surroundings with keen perception. Gritting his teeth to the point he could almost hear his molars crack, Zell made himself relax his tensing muscles and was reminded again, that the Galbadian troops were not the enemy anymore. For now at least. The irascible blonde still never forgave the occupation of his hometown.
Selphie was expressionless, which meant she too was mentally snarling at the scene around her. She had lost many friends after the missile attack and their names cried out for justice. Satisfaction would be hers by the end of this summit. Whether Galbadia's army dismantled or the empire reduced to a potato patch, Trabia's victims would have amends. Selphie would see to it.
Rinoa, normally seen beaming and laughing could barely conceal her open contempt for the sheer number of Galbadian military personnel in such a closed proximity. To her, every man who wore the visor helmet was a mindless roach. A roach that needed to be squashed and wiped clean from existence. Determination and willpower kept the young woman from doing anything more than seething glares.
Irvine had fallen silent, even when several attractive reporters walked by, he actually said nothing. Galbadia was his home, but even natives could be ashamed of their country.
Passing through several metal detectors and searched by inspectors, they passed hallway after hallway, walls decorated with portraits of former presidents and statespersons. Women in exotic silks and plunging necklines smiled with gems the size of grapes which adorned every finger and ear. Men stood in boasting gestures with military uniforms decked with more medals and stars than the eye could count. Chairs and desks from across the globe and older than history books sat polished and ready for use, just as another attempt to boost Galbadia's already arrogant history. Government officials, aids and reporters passed the marching SeeDs without so much more than a glance. Gaudy chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the deep red carpets into a color that was disturbingly similar to blood. Indeed, no one felt safe here at all. As they reached the double mahogany doors, seven of Garden's finest strode in, heads held high and prepared to protect the peace they had nearly died for.