Visions of Peace

by Elessar

FF6: Devastated by the Imperial Civil War, a leaderless, divided Empire only hastens the encroaching shadows of another Dark Age. Our heroes fight to ensure peace for all peoples of the world, but can even they halt the inevitable ruin of civilization?

14. The Raging Tempest

The Fourteenth Chapter - The Raging Tempest

Edgar scrambled onto the deck.

"There you are! The Captain has been screaming for you," a young Midshipman pointed towards the bow.

Edgar grunted in acknowledgement and made his way through the crowded deck. Bells were ringing and battlestations declared, but Edgar had been busy looking over the Imperial cannons and didn't realize what was going on until a gun crew interrupted his analysis of the Empire's metallurgy.

"King Edgar," the Captain of the Tiernay greeted him. The Imperial was dressed in a dark undress coat, the long-sleeved garment swishing just above the knee as the man steadied himself. The vessel was rocking side to side with some vigour -- Edgar turned to see some dozen youths scaling the masts and unfurling the sails -- and the winds were only intensifying.

"What's going on?" Edgar growled.

"One of our sloops was spotted on the horizon. Flags flown indicated they had seen the sails of the enemy."

"They're not enemies yet!" Edgar corrected. "I gave specific orders-"

"And they're being ignored," the Captain interrupted. "The Admiral will not have us unprepared if we are engaged by your people. I asked for your presence not because I wanted to argue about tactics, but because you need to make a hard choice."

With only an hour or two more before they reached the coast, Edgar's scouting strategy had been perfect until this moment. It was critical point though. "What did they encounter?" Edgar snapped. He had no intention of engaging his own navy, but they couldn't retreat easily. That would give the Figarian Navy more time to collect reinforcements, making subsequent attempts at a stealthy landing almost impossible!

"A fleet of battleships."

Edgar turned around; Strago had just climbed back into the Tiernay. His red robes were soaked with seawater and his hair slickened back. A thick, bearded man accompanied the old lore-master, sweat-soaked white tunic telling how hard he had rowed.

"Strago!" Edgar knew his friend had decided to join one of sloops, he was going to try to use his magic to help detect faraway vessels.

Strago turned to sailor beside him and whispered a few words. As the man departed, the lore-master wiped his brow of sweat and addressed Edgar. "We got back as soon as we saw a fleet arrayed against us."

"A fleet? Impossible!" the Captain of the Tiernay narrowed his eyes. "Either this is the worst luck in the history of the Empire, or they knew we were headed in this direction. There's no possible reason for such vessels to already be together." He glared suspiciously at Edgar.

Edgar raised his hands defensively. "I haven't been in contact with anyone outside of the fleet and you know this. The answer is incompetence of course, that's what's gotten us into this mess!"

"Gentlemen!" Strago interrupted. "There are four ships of the line and some dozen smaller vessels bearing towards us, so this is certainly not the time to bicker!"

"Contact the Diodorus," Edgar ordered. There were only two battleships in the Imperial fleet, certainly not enough to engage the Figarian vessels. "We need to retreat. I want every single ship back; we'll need all of them if we're to get out of this in one piece."

The Captain of the Tiernay folded his arms. "Mister Magus, was the Figarian Fleet already in formation?"

Strago nodded grimly. "This was an ambush, simple as that."

"What kind of shape and how near the coast?" the Captain gestured and one of the younger boys aboard the vessel scurried over. "Get us some parchment," he ordered.

"I don't intend on fighting!" Edgar yelled after the boy had left.

"We may have the opportunity to cross their line of battle with our ships, considering the weather-gauge," the Captain pointed out. The Imperial fleet had its back to the wind and that meant superior speed, not to mention a slight boost to the range of their cannons. "They wouldn't expect that! It's not particularly advantageous for us to do such a thing when they're so close to the coast."

The boy returned and scribbled as Strago pointed out what he remembered. The resulting diagram of their situation was terribly drawn. Yet it was easy to make out the X's lined up ready to interpose if the Imperial fleet were to cut towards the coast.

"And what would be the point of sailing in?" Edgar glared at the Imperial sailor. "Like you said, that would drive us towards the coast," he took the opportunity to scrawl a line just above the X's representing the Figarian fleet. "We'd be hemmed in by their superior numbers and we'll give up what little advantage we have in the wind."

"You are correct, it is generally folly to do such a thing. We'll need to plan this carefully and make haste to avoid exposing ourselves to their broadsides."

Edgar frowned. "You know that's impossible. I was quite clear that Imperial ships cannot make the speed of their Figarian counterparts."

"Perhaps King Edgar, but both this ship and the Diodorus are outfitted with an elemental cannon instead of the standard chaser."

Edgar's eyes went wide. "What?" he whispered as goosebumps ran down his spine. An elemental cannon, at the front of the ship? "How could you have hidden such information from me?"

The Captain of the Tiernay gave him a toothy grin. "Imagine their surprise when fire beams rake across their ships, even if we don't carve'em in half, we'll set them aflame! Their greed to capitalize on what looks to be a tactical mistake will lead to their destruction."

Edgar swallowed back his revulsion, knowing that the Imperial was correct. "I won't allow it. It's too risky," he lied.

"You duplicity is ill-advised, Mister Figaro, you have certainly failed the choice you were given. Now the decision is no longer yours to make," the Captain of the Tiernay turned away. "The Admiral will decide our course."

Edgar rubbed his temples in frustration, well aware that the Imperial Captain had made up his mind and there was nothing he could do about it. Furthermore, he knew what the decision would be.

They were going to slaughter thousands of Figarian sailors, and it would be his fault.

---

"What the hell is going Norris?"

A trio of chocobos dug their feet into the icy ground and came to a halt. In the background, the roar of continuous explosions almost drowned out the irate Major-General.

Karen Alysworth, one of the most powerful Imperial officers due to her command of over sixty-thousand men, swore as she landed on the ground. She wore a mask of annoyance as she angrily flicked back a lock of auburn hair. The grinning mischievous old-man before her only incited a blistering scowl.

"Karen. It's always a happy moment when I see you," a recently clean-shaven Norris Ferdinand leaned against a leafless tree. He was accompanied by only one person, Terra Branford. The two magic-users were unperturbed by the female officer's wrath.

"Answer my question Colonel," Karen strolled underneath the skeletal canopy of a forest near Maley's Point. She might have been far away from her loyal minions, but the aura of authority did not weaken in the slightest. She was still as imposing as she had been the first night Terra had met her, deeper into the Province of Alfort-Broughnam and seemingly removed from the bloodbath that had been the Imperial Civil War. There were differences though: her hair was longer, the wrinkles had deepened beneath her eyes, but most noticeable were the scars that trailed down the side of her face. Terra had first-hand experience with those types of wounds; they had been caused by burns from an incredibly hot fire.

Trailing the Major-General were two familiar faces: the one-eyed Miles and unassuming Gossman. "If you haven't noticed," Karen continued, "there is a war going on! I am needed to direct our forces and I don't appreciate being pulled out of my tent to meet some upstart Magitek Knight far away from the front!"

Norris grinned. "Miles snuck through your cordon of bodyguards, I take it."

Karen reddened even more. Behind her, Miles and Gossman acknowledged their commander's theory.

"We're the best for a reason," Norris continued. "Miles, Gossman, you're dismissed for now. I need to speak with Karen," he turned away from the brown-haired General and strolled deeper into the forest. "Please, Karen, walk with me."

Terra waited until Karen grudgingly followed Norris and then did the same.

"Norris-"

"I needed a location where I could be sure we would not be overheard," Norris interrupted. There was a certain sanguine quality to his voice that was out of place with the roar of battle in the background. "My men have this area cordoned; it'll be safe to talk here."

Karen cast a sidelong glance of suspicion at Terra, who stared back unconcerned. "What is it?" the emotion bled out of her voice quickly, a professional soldier's attitude settling in instead. "Where is Colonel Eric?"

Norris pulled two folders out of his robes, each sealed by wax. He handed the documents to Karen. "Fanshaw is destroyed. The walls have fallen, her peoples slaughtered. Nothing remains there, not even the men loyal to our side," he summarized plainly.

Karen was wide-eyed in surprise. "That is impossible," she stated blankly.

"I am of the opinion that Drummond did it, and with assets numbering at least two divisions."

"What of Camiel?"

"Destroyed. We made sure," Norris stopped in the midst of the forest; they had gone deep enough. He levelled a steady look at Karen, their eyes making contact. "Drummond is dabbling in dark magic, spells that could tip the balance in his favour. My men were attacked. Not many survived. They almost got me and Terra."

Silence, or as close to silence as that war-ridden section of the world could get. Great booming sounds still echoed in the distance, rolling across the countryside similar to pressure waves. They came in bursts, each lasting several minutes before quieting for a few more.

"Horrible news," Karen remarked at last. "However, it still doesn't explain why I am here."

Norris cleared his throat. He broke eye-contact and instead looked to the north. "Karen," he began. "The magic wielded by those loyal to Drummond is my utmost priority. There is simply nothing more important than finding out what kind of an avalanche the Maverick has unleashed."

The sound of explosions began again.

"I know what has befallen you. I know why you're dug-in and incapable of advancing past the Grand Peaks... barely able to hang onto Maley's Point as is," Norris continued.

"Really, Colonel?" Karen frowned. "So you've spent a few hours listening to several thousand artillery pieces -- mostly ship-borne cannons all taken out of mothball status but mortars and howitzers aplenty -- burning through the entire Imperial stockpile of gunpowder at a rate that would put Palazzo to shame, and now you're an expert in this warfare? That you would understand what it's like to be unable to sleep because of those damn cannons thundering every odd-minute? Do you know what's it's like out there? The field between two armies littered with as many corpses as spent munitions? Do you know what it's like to order thousands to scale an unassailable position because of political concerns, knowing that none will survive but all the same being given a direct-"

"Karen," Norris interrupted. He put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Karen slapped Norris' hand aside. "The New Order has managed to rally veterans into its forces, in addition to training additional conscripts. This means that Anson Tilton has managed to sway the commoners to his side."

Terra nodded to herself and Norris grunted a reluctant acknowledgement. Terra had spent much of her time in the last week learning everything she could about the politics of the civil war. Anson Tilton, the pretender to the throne, had been the main topic as she questioned Anthony, Miles and Gossman whenever they were free.

"It's not just that, Norris. The refugee problem seems restricted to only the battle-scared regions of the Core. Despite the bloody approaches to Vector in the first month, not as much damage had been done as we expected. This makes the fight for our homeland just that much more difficult."

"I know all this Karen, it's outlined in my report," Norris responded.

"Fine! Ignore the obvious questions! It's not like blind loyalty has ever gotten us in trouble!" Karen's outburst caught both Terra and Norris off-guard.

"Listen-" Norris began weakly.

"Just explain what the hell you want from me," Karen growled.

Norris sighed. He turned to Terra.

"Miss Alysworth," Terra finally broke her silence. "Norris fears the shroud of magic; it was a crucial part of the ambush which cost us dearly. I agree with his sentiment. It's important -- extremely important -- that we figure out what the Maverick intends and work towards countering his latest magical advance with our own."

"Which is why I want you to give me a direct order," Norris continued. "To research this new threat and come up with countermeasures, you'll send me directly to Tzen."

"What?" Karen exclaimed. "Wait a minute," she raised her hands. "Assuming I believe a word about how dangerous this new magic is, you want me to send you far away from our army so that we're deprived of your magical expertise if this threat materializes? Into the waiting arms of some so-called ally that has betrayed us in the past?"

Norris and Terra exchanged looks of concern.

"All of which still doesn't answer the question as to why I'm issuing this order. This is something General Lilienthal should be made aware of, not to mention the fact that he has thousands upon thousands of magical tomes back in Albrook, a safe and friendly city for you to be in, Norris," Karen folded her arms and glared at the old man in suspicion. "You're lying to me."

"General Meras has long since had an interest in the current happenings of the Magitek Knights, unlike our own General," Norris raised an eyebrow for effect. "Her information would be much more up-to-date on what the labs had been researching prior to the Long Night. In addition... Terra?" Norris nudged the half-Esper.

Terra cleared her throat. "I have already seen much of the Remiel's collection and can compare it to General Meras' library. Hers is more extensive and would likely be a better place to start," she lied.

Karen nodded. "Right. Sure, I'll believe this. What I still don't understand is why-" her dark eyes locked on Norris fiercely, "-you're going to all this trouble to get around General Lilienthal."

"I didn't-"

Karen held up a hand. "Norris, I know you said you dragged me out here for secrecy's sake. I'm sure you have a good speech on how important it is that no one overhears anything about Fanshaw or this Shroud of Magic. But I've known you for a long time. You sent a man like Miles to sneak into my tent, risking death in the process, to deliver a note sealed with spell that we use for our most secret correspondences. That's not normal, to say the least, and I can't see you ordering it unless you had great need... like avoiding the possibility of encountering our General."

Terra frowned. She glanced over at the old Magitek Knight suspiciously. While she had played her part as he requested -- his proposition had been a good one and it was merely a few white lies she was telling -- Karen was right. Norris was being overly cautious for some strange reason.

Norris straightened. "I couldn't take the chance of General Lilienthal ignoring my analysis and ordering me to assist on the front." He gestured north, where the sounds of cannonade had started again. "Do you really think I can make a difference? It's a battle that can't be won just with another mage, but if the General sees me, he'll try to have me to do just that. It's a waste, Karen."

Terra was impressed. Norris was a good liar.

But he was clearly not good enough to fool either of them. "You're full of it, Norris," Karen levelled a finger in his face. "But I don't care enough to pry into all your secrets," she lowered her hand. "This is one hell of a favour, and I will collect your debts one day. You will debrief me when you get back from Tzen, Colonel Ferdinand."

Norris smiled. "Of course, and Karen-"

The female General had half-turned away, clearly intending to leave.

"-be careful."

Karen pressed her lips together in a weak smile. She left without another word.

---

Terra followed Norris through the forest. They had made camp deep into the woods, the path they had taken around the enemy entrenchments had led them further south than strictly necessary. But it had been safer to stray, rather than take the optimal route.

Locke and Sherwood were back at their 'camp', if the small collection of tents could be considered that. The men Norris had sent to escort Karen would bring back more supplies though, enough for their small team to make the trip to Tzen.

The thought of that brought a smile to Terra's face. Seeing Relm again would be a joy. She had worried over Strago's granddaughter for a long time now, though she had been powerless to do anything about it. But finally she was going back, and with Danielle's allies in tow. Not to mention she was sure that Farin wouldn't lift a finger to harm them. In fact, he would probably help.

Surrounded by new-found friends, everything was working out for the better.

Even Locke's spirit had been lifted by this news. The burden of Relm's imprisonment had probably been as heavy on his shoulders as hers, but that was finally ending. He also seemed to be getting over his death and resurrection. Locke and Sherwood had been teamed up since the events at Gwendolen Ford and they almost looked like friends.

Which was good, since Terra hadn't expected Sherwood to speak with anyone! The archer had certainly given her the cold-shoulder, especially since Clarkson was gone. Terra sighed deeply at that memory, wishing that she had been strong enough to save his life as well. She should have fought back earlier and ended the threat before the situation had gotten so desperate. He had been the friendliest of all of Norris' men. His loss had affected everyone...

Her eyes drifted to the grey-haired old man.

"Norris."

The elder Magitek Knight idly scratched at his smooth chin. "What is it Terra?"

"When you made the offer to help you solve this mysterious Shroud, I accepted it without question."

Norris grinned. "Well it was rather in your favour. At the very least, you'll be surrounded by good friends again."

Terra narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"You and General Starson were quite sociable with each other," Norris hinted vaguely. "Being friends with someone as well-connected as him is a mighty benefit."

"Friends," Terra echoed under her breath. "Well that's not a lie," she evasively responded.

"So what's the problem?" Norris asked with bigger smile.

"Karen was right. There's no reason for you to be concerned Remiel might send you uselessly to the front. While there might be some truth in the statement, I'm sure something else is on your mind," Terra reasoned.

Norris sighed. "Karen's rubbing off on you."

Terra folded her arms. "And you're avoiding giving me a real answer. I want the truth, Norris. You're definitely afraid of Remiel for some reason, and you had me lie to bolster your tall tale. So what's going on here?" She glared at the Magitek Knight suspiciously. "If you don't tell me the truth, I'll go back to Karen and tell her everything. I'm sure she'll be really interested when she realizes how deeply you deceived her."

Norris sighed louder. He stopped in the middle of the forest, looking around in paranoia while his face was plastered with reluctance. When he was sure they were alone and no one else was in earshot, he gestured for the grey-haired half-Esper to get close.

"Fine," he growled under his breath. "You want to know why I'm avoiding General Lilienthal?"

Terra nodded briskly.

"Let me tell you now that I would never disobey an order he gives me. I wouldn't even entertain the thought of lying to him. That said, I'm not above leaving out the truth."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Terra asked, still suspicious.

"Before I left Albrook, the General left me orders," Norris's face lost anything resembling kindness. "Certainly you could guess. I was to keep an eye on you, and the moment you became a threat..." he trailed off, a hard look on his face.

Terra was impassive. "Oh," she offered indifferently.

"I don't intend on killing someone who has risked her life to save those that I care about," Norris straightened indignantly. "But General Lilienthal would not feel the same. If I told him what I witnessed at Gwendolen Ford, he'll give an order that I would regret. Then shortly after, you would be dead."

Terra raised an eyebrow. "Really," she answered.

"Perhaps not immediately," Norris said, clearly upset by her self-confidence. "But there are tens of thousands in the army. Eventually they'll wear you down."

"Well then," Terra began to head back towards camp. She had wanted to talk to Remiel and see the look on his face after digesting all that she had done for Norris and his men. But it mattered less and less. "I guess you did this for my sake."

Norris followed her, one pace behind but unable to catch up due to her briskness. "Farin Starson is your friend," he repeated. "The Brigadier can easily keep you safe behind an army similar in size to the one my general commands... and once you're back in Tzen, not even House Lilienthal can touch you. Remiel wouldn't dare upset General Meras, the alliance we have is too tenuous to risk over such a matter. The treaty we signed thanks to your diplomatic mission is far more important than any single person's life."

He seemed smaller, Terra thought, and more sympathetic. Normally, his gaze was filled with strength and experience. However, he looked pained.

"I guess you probably believe people like General Lilienthal are cold-hearted, that they'll ignore the suffering of millions to further their own cause. But nothing is ever so simple. Remiel does what he does because he desires a secure, peaceful future. Power begets responsibility... more power only leads to more responsibility; House Lilienthal has long since been a foundation of the Empire and if were it to weaken..."

Norris took a deep breath, exasperated. "Remiel is not much different from you and me. He is fallible, he delegates authority because he does not know everything, but that doesn't mean there won't be bad decisions. I will not stand aside idly and allow my General to issue an order that -- not only causes me personal grief -- but could destroy our chances of ending this war."

Terra wet her lips. What did Norris mean, that her death could cause the war to spiral out of control? Certainly he didn't believe that she meant so much to Danielle or Farin!

"And without cooperation amongst our leaders, the Empire will continue to descend into chaos. Without strong, decisive leadership, Fanshaw will not be the last city to be slaughtered."

The wizened old Magitek Knight's eyes were downcast, sadness on his face. After weeks of travelling with Norris Ferdinand, Terra finally saw the man beneath the comical facade. He was just a tired old soldier fighting against everyone, even his own people if necessary, in order to secure peace in the world.

She respected that.

"The Civil War has to end. We must all make sacrifices... too many have been lost already," Norris whispered.

Terra nodded. She brushed back a thick lock of grey hair, standing tall in her white-wolf mantle. "Don't worry Norris, we will end the war. It doesn't matter how big Anson Tilton's armies are, or what kind of arcane magic Maverick Drummond has at his command. We'll save everyone's lives."

Norris stared back, stunned silent for a moment, and then burst out laughing. He patted her on the back and pulled her into a half-hug. "That's the spirit!"

---

Upon the bridge of the Tiernay, Edgar brooded with his hands clasped behind his back. As expected, the Admiral of the fleet had agreed with the Captain of the Tiernay. They were now sailing full-speed towards the coast, with the Figarian ships of the line hurrying to cut them off.

The Imperials had given the impression they were trying to sail ahead, forcing the Figarian elements to either engage disadvantageously with their bow, or to swing around and run the Empire against the coast. While it had been clear to Edgar that they had nothing to gain by attacking from the inside, his former countrymen clearly did not believe the same. Stories of the ruthless invaders had been spread far and wide and instead of accepting either possibility, the Figarian Captains pushed their ships to the limit to ensure none would ever shell their coastal cities ever again.

As expected, the Tiernay and Diodorus could not keep pace and now Edgar could see the broadsides of Figarian vessels. The rest of the Imperial fleet was lagging even further behind but neither battleship could delay. They were already outnumbered; a hopeless battle were not for the elemental cannons.

Flares could be seen from the closest ships, accompanied by the roar of detonating gunpowder. The sea exploded as cannonballs bashed into her, a spray of muted-grey seawater marking each projectile.

But those were no warning shots.

The hull of the Tiernay ruptured in a dozen places, smoke obscuring all vision as a shower of deadly wooden splinters shredded unlucky sailors. The bridge of the Tiernay was beyond the bulk of the devastation, but this was little comfort to Edgar as one of the top masts toppled and crushed several sailors just in front of him.

"This is insanity!" Edgar shouted over the roar of cannon fire. The entire vessel groaned and the bow was covered with smoke. Men screamed in pain as they fell over, great chunks of wood embedded through their limbs and chest, while their friends manned the cannons.

"All hands return fire!"

If the battleship was shaking before, now it was tearing itself apart. Fifty cannons from three decks fired nigh-simultaneously, rocking the entire vessel even as Figarian ammunition tore into her sides. Sailors manning the cannons died almost whimsically, two gun-crews were totally unharmed though some thirty men around them had splattered to the floor in many pieces. More men ran to fill the place of the dead, seemingly unconcerned that they were next to die.

"Lieutenant, get those sails unfurled! I want every bit of speed that can be coaxed out of her! Helmsman, stay the course! We're only seconds from range!"

Cannon fire detonated within the masts, tearing a hole through the mainsail and sending a number of men tumbling. Several fell into the churning waters around the mighty ship of the line, while the unlucky ones slammed onto the deck below and never moved again.

"So this is naval warfare?" Strago growled from a crouch beside Edgar. "I dare say this is nastier business than airship to airship combat!"

A shower of splinters punctuated that statement, the hand railings protecting the bridge exploding as a cannonball smashed through.

"At least on an airship, the enemy's weapons don't turn the very vessel itself into fragmentation munitions!" Strago shouted over the roar as his hands waved wildly. Sparkles of light danced from his hands.

Edgar pulled himself onto the wildly swaying railings, a splash of salty mist stinging his eye as yet more cannon fire passed overhead.

"Captain! The Diodorus, she's trailing!"

The Captain of the Tiernay brought a bronze canister to his eye, simultaneously pulling it into the form of a scope. Edgar balanced himself and joined the officer on the quarterdeck.

"Damn!" the Imperial swore. He collapsed the telescope angrily. "She's crippled!"

Of the four double-decker ships of the line that the Figarian Navy sent, two were pounding away at the dying Imperial vessel. Masts toppled and smoke enveloped the mighty warship, hundreds of guns firing every five seconds with a thundering roar.

"Lieutenant! Get that elemental in place! We'll have to save the Admiral."

A quick salute and one of the many dark coated men ran towards the stern of the vessel, braving the storm of gunfire as he weaved and ducked. Edgar almost fell over as the ship lurched sickeningly, cannon fire smashing into the hull just as the huge vessel broke over the crest of a wave. "We're all going to die!" he declared.

"Get out of my way! Marines!" the Captain pushed Edgar aside, but no soldiers came to restrain the estranged king. The deck was littered with bodies and the only noise heard over the continual roar of gunpowder blasts were the pained screams of the dying. What order remained on the deck were of those brave souls that crewed the cannons, still numerous despite the heavy loss of life.

Edgar dashed down the stairs and onto the main deck, shoving his way to the stern. He could not allow that elemental cannon to fire; those were still his people! He had responsibilities, and above all else he had a Kingdom that he had sworn to defend.

The most deadly weapon in the Imperial arsenal was at the front of the vessel, the Lieutenant directing a number of men assigned to a network of pulleys. It was a dangerous task as huge pieces of machinery swung from side to side, dangling from half-torn rigging, all amidst cannon fire as blast after blast of deadly ammunition smashed into the hull and rigging. Smoke and dust was making it hard to breath and the decks were slick with blood and seawater.

Another explosion, this time near the stern. The sudden shockwave knocked Edgar flat on his back. His ears were ringing in pain and his head spun. With effort, he forced himself to stand and nearly toppled as the ship lurched again.

The pulley system had been destroyed, rigging crippled and several men crushed beneath the cannon apparatus. Edgar tried to focus, gritting his teeth as dizziness threatened to take him once more.

The roar of thirty cannons, a full Figarian broadside, fired into the Tiernay. Most flew overhead or landed in the turbulent sea, but several struck the hull. Edgar screamed as he fell down, his head cushioned by the backside of a sailor. The estranged King of Figaro's eyes watered when he saw the splinter, nearly the size of his forearm, sticking out of leg.

"Dammit!" Edgar twisted his head and tried to get off the Imperial man he had fallen on. He barely suppressed a groan when he realized the body was missing its head.

Edgar knew he couldn't stand, not with that giant spear stuck deep within his thigh. He didn't even know how long it would take to heal, but knowing he had no choice made things easier. Both hands gripped around the wooden shaft tightly and with a roar of pain, Edgar attempted to pull the splinter out of his body. Blood squirted around his broken skin, but the thing was too deep and every motion only tore into his flesh more so. Tears ran down his cheeks as he pulled again.

"Curse you boy!"

Edgar glanced up to see Strago, his form flailing as the ship lurched under the strength of another broadside. Their surrounded battleship was firing back with gusto, both the port and starboard sides were obscured with dark smoke from the gundecks below. Yet the old man somehow managed to hop over the slick trails of blood and land beside Edgar.

"Let me fix you up instead of crippling yourself ever more!" Strago's hands sparkled with blue light.

"No need..." Edgar groaned, barely capable of smiling considering all the pain he was in, "... to use magic for everything."

A grin, even in this situation. "Shut your mouth lad and let me handle this."

Edgar's vision swam with white shapes. "Strago, you must get a new coat after this. It's so bloody..."

"I said quiet! Let me work here."

Edgar chuckled and cried out again as pain tore up his spine. He inadvertently twitched and bit down on his tongue, leading to further cursing at the torment.

The roar of cannon fire seemed to grow stronger. Rhythmic blasts reverberated through the massive vessel at least twice every breath, Edgar counted. His mind was clearing up though, even as the blue sparkles started to run up and down the length of his sprawled out body. "Damn, where's that Lieutenant? He's going to kill my people," Edgar growled. His neck twisted around trying to find the stern of the ship.

Even disorientated and slightly delusional, Edgar kept enough control over his mental facilities to find the front of the Tiernay. It was there that cadavers were being cleared away. The Captain's back faced him, his dark coat and red trim a beacon amongst the rabble as the officer shouted orders. The Lieutenant was staring at Edgar though, lifeless eyes conveying the horror of being crushed by the barrel of an elemental cannon.

"Mister Jenkins! Hard astern!" the Captain shouted over the noise of cannons firing every moment. "Boatswain, let's show them the power of the Imperial Navy!"

"Glory to the Empire, sir!"

Edgar could barely stand on his own, but that didn't stop him from trying. Strago let loose a string of curses as the younger of the pair put his weight upon the old man's shoulders. "Captain, don't you-!"

Too late. The entire front of the Tiernay suddenly lit with deadly red light as a column of fire, easily the size of a man, shot forth from the barrel. Edgar's eyes were blinded by a crimson haze and he adjusted to the illumination, for certainly the cannon did not stop firing! A massive beam lanced over the water, eminence reflected beneath, and tore into the closest Figarian vessel.

Fire was a deadly thing, one of the principle enemies aboard any ship. Even if it had not been an Imperial Magitek cannon, properly wielded to that of a land-based Armor and capable of tearing through all known substances, the inferno alone would have engulfed the Figarian battleship. Yet as her hull caught aflame, a blaze that hungrily devoured the wooden hull and fragile sails above, the blast itself tore through the ship's keel. Eight hundred sailors screamed in unison as the first-rate collapsed inward, feeding the fury of the fires as the turbulent sea claimed its prize.

The Tiernay swung about and with it, the lance of flaming devastation that had destroyed one of Figaro's greatest vessels. It caught another in its path, this time setting ablaze the sails first. Masts swung over and fell, killing the hundreds that swarmed over the decks trying to load cannonballs to sink their deadly enemy. Then the sea lifted the Figarian battleship and elemental plasma burned through the wooden hull.

Edgar's face was as red as the beam. "You murdering bastards! Damn you Imperials!" he screamed as he was pulled away from the railing, away from the sight of his people dying.

The cannon stopped firing, its barrel red hot and glowing like the inside of a furnace. The Captain of the Tiernay smiled slyly -- readjusting his triangular hat in the process -- as the boatswain beside him lifted his fist in the air. "For the Empire!"

"Glory to the Empire!" echoed those sailors alive on deck.

Edgar hopped on one foot, balanced precariously against the railings as he tried not to bump into the corpses that littered the Tiernay's deck. He couldn't let this go any further. So many lives had been lost already.

"Edgar! You are trying my patience. I can't mend a broken bone in addition to your torn muscular structure," Strago grabbed Edgar by the shoulder.

"You don't understand! This is my fault, Strago!" he shouted with wild eyes. "I killed those people out there, they're dying because-"

"Calm down!" Strago shouted back. "You can do nothing until I mend your leg, and then you can go out there and try to stop the Imperials from saving our lives; maybe they won't toss you overboard if you're capable of swimming!"

Edgar cried out as bright blue lines lanced from Strago's fingertips and swirled around his broken leg, cutting off his immediate retort. He was fully-aware what the Imperial Captain was trying to do, but the situation was caused by their arrogance. They should have retreated as he had originally planned, outrunning the Figarian coastal patrol and finding berth much further north.

Now they were fully embroiled in a battle to the death.

The Tiernay shuddered again as enemy cannon fire blasted into her hull, but this time there was something different in the way she lurched. Both Strago and Edgar knew something had changed, but Strago remained silent and dutifully saw to the mending of Edgar's leg.

The battleship tipped over again, this time dangerously low to the waves. Both men got a good face-full of the salty ocean. Strago said nothing, but Edgar knew something was terribly amiss.

"Where is she?"

"I don't see her! She's hitting us below the waterline!"

"We're taking water on all gundecks!"

"Silence!" the thundering voice of the Captain. "Boatswain, ensure that the powder is not ruined! Helmsman, back astern! Mister Magus!" the Imperial officer dashed over to the two Returners. Dried blood matted the skin around his left eye, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.

"I'm busy trying to heal this man," Strago growled at their impatience and the constant interruptions.

"We're being attacked Mister Magus, and there's nothing on the horizon! I need to know if it's some dark magic out there."

Strago frowned. He looked around their vessel skeptically. "We're surrounded by smoke from the cannons! Of course you can't see anything out there, even if it is a clear day!"

The Captain's lips twisted in a sneer. "Damn your impudence! I am no inexperienced swine! They're crippling us and we can't fire back at what we can't see. Is that magic out there or not?"

The Tiernay was still sailing with nearly all her sails unfurled, so she quickly broke out of the cloud of dense fog and smoke that had surrounded the vessel during combat. Underneath the clear sky, it was easily seen that no one was firing on them. The remaining Figarian battleships were behind them -- the Tiernay had broken through the line and had attained the coast -- and they were firing upon the Diodorus. Further out to sea, the rest of the Imperial fleet was exchanging fire with the curtain of Figarian ships, now closing their trap and crushing the invader with their superior numbers.

Yet as their ship lurched again and the sound of rushing water could be heard below decks, Strago reluctantly stopped healing Edgar's wound and stretched out his mind. He searched for something -- anything! -- that could have been magically masking their attackers.

Edgar, on the other hand, pulled himself up. "Below the waterline, you say?" he echoed.

"Aye, and the men are growing restless. I need results now, Mister Magus!"

Strago opened his eyes. "There's nothing magical out there-" he growled, "-save the aura about those crippled hulks you carved in half with that infernal weapon."

"That's impossible," the Captain turned around. "Helmsman, I said hard astern!" he shouted. "Mister Jenkins, get that topsail back up before we topple over!"

"She's sluggish sir!" came the Helmsman's reply. "Too low to the water!"

Edgar swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Could be it be reefs?"

"Don't take us for fools," the Captain snapped. "Our seamanship is far better than that!"

"Sir, all decks are flooding!" the boatswain's head popped up from below. "I don't think we can contain the damage!"

The Captain scowled. "Get it contained or you'll be swimming home! Mister Jenkins, forget the sails and get those holes fixed now! Take all the men you need!"

"Aye sir!"

Edgar watched as the Imperial sailors hastily began repairs with anything they had on hand, including the spare sails. The Tiernay lurched again though and with a shudder, Edgar came to an epiphany.

It was impossible. It should have been impossible!

"Dammit! What the hell is that!" even the Captain had lost it now, frustration clear on his face. He screamed more orders and almost tore men away from the cannons to repair to their vessel, they could not go into battle in such a condition. Then he turned and saw the look on Edgar's face. "Figaro! You know what's going on!" he crossed the distance and grabbed Edgar by the throat. "I can see it on your face!" he accused.

"Let go of him," Strago pulled the Captain away from Edgar with surprising, almost-inhuman strength. "This is not the time to finger the blame on anyone, least of all-"

"Strago, I know what it is," Edgar interrupted in a half-whisper. His eyes were wide in surprise, shivers still travelling down his spine as he realized what this meant.

"What is it? You conniving little snot," the Captain growled. His hand was close to his sword now.

"Sir! Vessels from the coast are gaining on us!"

The Captain did not pay attention to the Helmsman though, keeping his deadly scowl set on Edgar. "Explain yourself before I have you executed, you deceiving swine!"

Edgar glared back at the Captain, despite the obvious pain from standing on a broken leg. "The ships are underwater," he growled.

Strago's mouth dropped, and the Captain of the Tiernay was not much better at hiding his surprise. "What?" was his pathetic response.

"Those vessels are attacking from beneath!" Edgar pointed below them.

"I've had enough of your insults!" the Captain's face was a mask of fury. "That's impossible and everyone knows it!"

"How is it possible?" Strago asked in a whisper. He knew Edgar wouldn't lie. "There's no magic involved or I would've sensed it!"

"They must've solved the issue with repressurizing under-"

"Marines!" the Captain shouted. This time, armed men appeared with swords readied. "If there is no duplicity here, why did you not brief us of this threat, Figaro?"

Edgar scowled. "There was no threat! At least, not when I was still back home," he added. "If you didn't realize, I've been away from my kingdom for a long time, otherwise this journey would have been unnecessary! The Submergence Project has been active for over a decade, a feat of reverse-engineering that became more and more complicated with each passing year. The more we learned of the ancient devices within my castle, the more we realized how truly impossible it would be to match the level of technology in the relics from the ancient war."

"Enough of your lies! Marines, prepare to execute him," the Captain growled.

"There were no ships capable of diving underwater!" Edgar screamed in frustration. "It should have been impossible! How was I supposed to know that during my absence, the project would advance from a physical impossibility to functional prototypes usable in combat! It's a miracle by any standard of engineering, and if you had half the brain of those who designed your damned elemental cannons, then you would understand I'm telling the truth!"

Perhaps the Imperial Captain did believe him and that the barred steel would be retracted, but such matters became bunk with the sudden roar of cannon fire. Forgotten by ranking officers in the midst of heated debate and ignored by the common sailor, Figarian vessels opened fire with over fifty guns. The two frigates sailing from the coast were tiny little things in comparison, certainly they would not have stood a chance against the Imperial battleship in any other situation. However, the Tiernay was already teetering on the verge of collapse -- the damage to its keel was almost irreparable even docked -- and its officers had been embroiled in conflict.

An explosion of smoke and splinters caught the arguing men. Edgar instinctively pulled Strago to the ground as cannonballs sailed over their head and crippled the mighty ship. The hull began to fracture and seams along the deck burst open. Both the foremast and the mainmast toppled and from above, sails came crashing down.

Edgar's eyes snapped closed, awaiting the gruesome death of being crushed beneath thousands of pounds of mast, rigging and sails. When the end did not come though, he opened his eyes.

Strago's hands were pointed into the sky, barely holding back a beam that nearly fell upon them. The great pillar had already buckled, snapping under pressure and crashing onto the deck with a quaking rumble. Amidst the dust and debris, Edgar noted apprehensively that Strago was barely capable of defending himself. He scrunched closer to the lore-master as the mighty mage groaned and willed the huge wooden columns aside, singly accomplishing with magic an action that would have taken twenty men.

The roar of cannon fire continued unabated and the screams of the dying below deck were accompanied by the steady splash of the rising waterline. The great Imperial battleship was dying.

"We have to get out of here, Edgar!" Strago growled. He stood dizzily, beads of sweat running down his face.

"Strago, you're-"

"Yes! I am weary from saving both our lives," Strago cast a quick look at the Imperial officers crushed by the falling masts. "And if we stay any longer, then my efforts are futile!"

"I'm injured and you look like you need a day of rest, not to mention we're still far from the coast!"

"Better than staying here lad, on a sinking ship to be picked up as Imperials!"

Edgar gritted his teeth. Strago was right, as usual.

He was helped to his feet by the old man. In the distance, fire could be seen devouring both the Diodorus and one of the Figarian ships. Their broadsides were almost touching, planks bridging the gap as men stormed across with blades drawn. Even further out, the Imperial fleet was scattering. Wreckage was everywhere, and what few ships remained retreated as best they could despite the curtain of Figarian frigates.

"If we get out of this one alive, it'll make for quite the tale, wouldn't you say so Strago?" Edgar gasped as the two men grabbed at anything that seemed buoyant on the deck. Water was now clearly visible in the decks below as they searched for what supplies they could. Imperial sailors were already jumping ship at this point, others loaded a boat with supplies in hopes of escaping.

Strago grinned. "I look forward to telling Relm how her grandfather escaped the fury of two hundred guns and dozens of frigates!"

The two men dove into the water.

---

Cyan stormed into the Imperial camp, hiding the dark mood that he was in. The days since his battle abreast Imperial soldiers had been spent in introspection and deliberation, debating on the proper, honourable course of action. He had avoided seeing Relm during that time. While he wanted to be with Strago's granddaughter, he knew that isolating himself from her wardens was necessary.

The Imperial supply camp was bustling with activity. The Third Battle of Reddenhurst had been won, after all, and the victors were celebrating. Cyan strolled through the newly-repaired gates, putting on a forced smile as he held up his silver medallion.

"Sir Cyan! You have no need to show that here!" an aged, scarred one-armed soldier strolled through a curtain of guards. The four silver bars of a Colonel could be seen upon his chest.

Calling out Cyan's name had the opposite effect than it might have just a week ago. Soldiers all around hollered and cheered his name, several braving the scowl of their Colonel to thank the Knight personally. Cyan was uncomfortable, he had not wanted to draw attention and yet here he was...

"This way," the Colonel gestured as they finally made it out of the crowd.

"There's no need to escort me," Cyan remarked.

"Yes, well you're a wanted man," the Colonel answered. "General Starson was here only a day ago. He left this with me, a token of his gratitude."

It was a small, finely made wooden box with the Imperial Emblem etched into a circular metal plate at the top. The Colonel opened it and the faint scent of cinnamon wafted through the winter air. Within was a five-pointed silver star housed in dark felt, a ribbon of black and red neatly folded behind. "This medal is for you, though normally they're given with a bit more ceremony."

Cyan swallowed. "Thank you," he found himself saying, taking the box and snapping it closed.

"That's not all. The 29th Company wanted me to convey their thanks. Those supplies were theirs and you'll keep them going for quite a bit longer now. They wanted me to extend a share of their prize to you, and that means there's a barrel of rum with your name on it. It's the good stuff from Albrook too."

Cyan did not want that. He had fought to save the lives of the inexperienced children, not for Magitek pilots and their blood-won alcohol.

The Colonel smiled. "I knew of your reputation before General Starson escorted you here, but I had no idea what a great man you are. Now I can tell my children that I presented Sir Cyan his medal instead of the Major-General. It is quite an honour." He saluted with his only arm, but it was a strong gesture and Cyan respectfully returned with a salute of his own. With that, the Colonel left Cyan alone.

Cyan slipped the box into his pack and continued to walk the familiar path. The rookies here were still bustling with good cheer and Cyan could hear everything they said.

"-how General Starson charged alone to save-"

"-spect for General Layton, may his soul rest-"

"-ost blasted us to pieces if it wasn't for Brigadier Falkland and-"

"-those treacherous scum! I only wish I could have seen Rendar's face before the General crushed-"

"-ldgrave escorted the Crimson Armor to the top of the Gaston Cliffs!"

Cyan stopped. He turned towards the man that had last spoken. The soldier was huddled with three of his friends, each carrying crates in the direction of the mountain tunnels. "My dearest apologizes, but what didst thou say?"

The kid's mouth dropped open, "Sir Cyan!" he cried as his friends went wide-eyed. "Guys, it's the Knight of Doma!"

"The Relentless?" one asked, though he was immediately punched by his friends.

Cyan ignored the sycophantic praise that they began to shower him with. "Please, I was curious as to what occurred upon the Gaston Cliffs."

One of the kids, his face full of freckles, beamed. "General Meras, sir!"

"Yeah," the eldest-looking of the four added. "I was with the 223rd that night, positioned on the west wing. We were getting hammered for most of the time; beams of fire blazed down from the heavens and turned the gap into a raging inferno. Then just before dawn, we saw a fight break out up on the cliffs... let me tell you, no one expected that. The Gaston Cliffs are unassailable along the northern and eastern faces, so getting up there would have required going through the bulk of the New Order's army. But by the time the sun rose, the Armors up top were firing on the enemy!"

"I heard they came through Anthony's Pass!" another cried.

"Don't be stupid! You can't get frontliners through that mountain passage, even wagons are hard-pressed to make the journey!" the eldest retorted.

"Well that's what I heard! Four dozen frontliners through the mountains to strike those bastards from the rear."

"There has to be some truth in the rumour; did you hear that Captain Waldgrave was amongst the General's handpicked pilots? I mean, no surprise there. His piloting was incredible in the forest. But still!"

Waldgrave. Cyan's eyes went wide. That was what they were talking about originally, and that's what had truly caught his attention. "Didst thou mention Waldgrave?"

"Captain Godric Waldgrave," the freckled kid repeated. "He was Major Cassidy's second when we went up to the Tzen Mountains a couple months ago."

"That's Brigadier Cassidy now," the eldest corrected. "Maybe Major-General with a victory like this! Can you believe I used to run errands for him? I knew he was a strategic genius even then!" he declared proudly.

Cyan backed up a step. So it seemed that Godric was here. Did he give up chasing Sabin? Or...

"Anyhow, sir! General Meras and several dozen of the best frontliners in the army crushed those bastards on the cliffs. They came in from the rear and then turned on the New Order's forces with everything they had. You should have seen how quickly those cowards turned tail once our General was here!" the freckled kid declared full of enthusiasm.

The four soldiers shared a laugh. "Did you see how none of the beams touched her? The Crimson Armor of our lady General is unstoppable!"

"To Vector we go!"

"Glory to the Empire!"

Cyan mumbled his thanks and quickly strolled past. He tried to remember what Siana had told them of Godric Waldgrave. He remembered talk about the Captain being stubborn and easy to mislead; that had been the reasoning behind Sabin's journey to the west. If Godric was here though, did that mean he had given up? Certainly there was no chance that Sabin had been captured... or worse. No! It was impossible!

So concerned was he over his close friend's situation that Cyan nearly walked into the cottage door. He looked around in surprise, he had arrived so quickly! And even stranger, he thought as he opened the door, only Irving was in the room... and asleep?

"Cyan!" Relm cried. "Where have you been!" she exclaimed in a voice half-ecstatic and half-irritated.

Cyan put a finger to his lips, and the two embraced each other. "Quiet, dear one," he whispered with an eye on the unmoving soldier. "We're leaving," he said gravely.

Relm grinned. She nodded quietly.

"Is there anything you need here?" Cyan whispered as he put her down carefully.

Relm shook her head, her shoulder-length blond hair bouncing from side-to-side.

The two walked out of the cottage and into the snow. Cyan breathed a sigh of relief as they strolled along the old path. He could not believe his luck, that one warden was gone and the other asleep. All those days spent in deliberation convincing himself to break a promise sworn on Elayne and Owain, yet whimsical fate had made all that irrelevant. He pulled at Relm's hand and quickened his pace.

Strago's granddaughter had been looking around the cottage with a frown. "You didn't have to kill anyone, did you?" a look of worry was on her face.

"No," Cyan answered. He was touched by her concern.

She brightened immediately. "So, where are we going?" Relm asked, her excitement was almost palpable. "Grandpa and Edgar have both sailed away, haven't they?"

Cyan nodded. "That they have."

"And what about Terra and Locke?"

"I do not know," Cyan said with a sigh. "But we are not going to search for them in the midst of war."

"So where are we going then?"

"Indeed, where are you going to go?"

Cyan spun around, the sword at his hip growing heavier as he turned to face the innocent, boyish face of Paisley. The Lieutenant was looking at them curiously, his short brown hair peeking out underneath a snow-covered helmet. A grey cloak was wrapped around the soldier, twin short swords peeking out beneath the material.

"Paisy!" Relm cried out in surprise.

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow. "Hullo there Relm!" he said with a grin.

"Paisley," Cyan said slowly. The smile on Cyan's face had vanished when he saw the Imperial. He let go of Relm's hand, took a deep breath and glared at her true jailor.

"Nice to see you again Cyan, I was wondering where you went after Third Reddenhurst. Did you know that even General Starson stopped by to see you? A Major-General now, probably busy leading campaigns to free this area from the grasp of the New Order, and he came in person to thank you for your actions!" Paisley didn't look at all concerned that Relm was outside and Irving nowhere in sight.

But he was moving closer, and Cyan tensed for the expected bloodshed. His hand floated a whisper above the hilt of his sword. Step after step, crunch after crunch in the snow. It had been what Cyan had feared for so long, but there was no going back now.

He would break his word. There was no choice.

And as Paisley's arm moved, Cyan went for his sword... only to find Relm's hand on top of his.

Cyan's breath caught in his throat and time seemed to stand still as his eyes shot towards the child that meant so much. Relm frowned at him, disappointment clear on her face as she shook her head.

The moment passed. Surprise faded away in an instant and Cyan replaced it with an emotionless mask.

"I didn't thank you for saving my life," Paisley looked embarrassed. "Sure everyone cheered for you a bunch of times, but it's just not the same."

Cyan looked down at the outstretched hand, stunned speechless. He took it reluctantly with his left, so that his right would still be free and ready.

The two men shook. "Thank you, Cyan. You don't know what that means to me," Paisley backed up slightly with a faint smile across his face. "Anyhow, you didn't answer my question. Where are you going? And more importantly, do you need a chocobo?"

Cyan blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If you're going far, you'll want a mount," Paisley gestured east. "The stables are in that direction, I don't think you were given a tour of the base, otherwise you would already be headed that way. I'd accompany and guide you there -- after all, General Starson gave me specific orders to make your trip as pleasant as possible -- but I have a meeting that I'm probably late for... and I guess Irving was rude enough to abandon you."

"Yes..." Cyan answered slowly, still surprised at all that was being revealed to him. "I suppose I will need a chocobo."

"You can get travel supplies over there as well, just tell them I sent you if they don't recognize you by face. I'll be honest, pretty much everyone here knows your name and what you look like, but we're getting some transfers from the main force so they might not be up to speed. And Cyan," Paisley pointed at the Knight's feet. "You'll probably want new boots too, those look pretty worn and we're only halfway through the winter. Ask the guys packing your mount, they'll be glad to show you the way."

Cyan continued to stare blankly.

"Have a safe trip, Relm, Sir Cyan," Paisley saluted, his fist bouncing off his chest as he did so, and walked away.

---

They rode along the main roads, long since secured by Danielle Meras' victorious forces. Cyan was deep in his thoughts, though the comforting warmth of Relm against his back reminded him to ride at a slower pace.

Paisley had been right. The entire Imperial base had gone out of their way to do his will. He had new boots now, as well as a strong chocobo to bear him back to the north. Supplies were plentiful and they were of high quality too, nothing like the horrid canned foods they had eaten when trekking through the Tzen Mountains. Both he and Relm had been given new cloaks, of a thicker variety and plenty warmer. Near the end of all the gift-giving, he had to decline the option of an escort, as ludicrous as the idea was!

Cyan could understand that he had saved quite a few rookies with his actions, but he didn't understand how the entire base could be thanking him for winning a small skirmish. Surely there were other heroes that day!

"You were going to kill Paisy, weren't you?" Relm gripped him tightly from behind, her head resting against his back.

Cyan frowned. He had no defensible answer.

Her tone was soft though, nothing resembling an accusation. "He's been nothing but nice to me, but I think I understand."

They rode in silence for a moment longer. Cyan closed his eyes in frustration, shamed at what he put her through. She had seen things no child should have seen. The world was becoming a horrible place...

Cyan turned around. He had heard the rapid thumping of approaching chocobos and in the distance, he saw three birds dashing towards him. Yellow against a field of powdered snow, they were catching up at an impressive rate.

"The New Order?" Relm whispered.

"I'm not sure," Cyan's hand hovered over his sword while he waited for the riders. His heart raced despite being told that the area was secured; it would not be the first time the Imperials were wrong. He felt something poking into his back; Relm was pulling out a dagger. "Put that away!" he whispered quickly.

She frowned, her lip quivering as she looked ready to criticize him.

"Ready a spell instead," Cyan had no time to explain how her easily noticeable blade might be their downfall.

The riders took only a more few seconds before they galloped to a halt. A spray of snow accompanied their quick stop, settling down quickly to reveal a familiar flat haircut. Two stars were proudly displayed beside the red and black Imperial Emblem, immense plate armor protecting an equally large warrior. Cyan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi Farin!" Relm waved.

"Hello again, Relm," the soldier smiled at her before turning his attention to the Knight of Doma. "Cyan Garamonde," Farin nodded respectfully.

"Farin Starson," Cyan greeted the General. The two men beside him looked familiar; Cyan probably rode with them from the capital of Tzen but didn't know their names.

"I heard you had just left for the north, so I rode as quickly as I could."

"I received the medal," Cyan said gruffly. "A superfluous gesture, I must say, though I did not decline it."

Farin smiled. "That was not my idea and certainly it wasn't Danielle's. The newly-promoted General Cassidy took the initiative. I told him you wouldn't care for it, but he disagreed. I'm glad to see that I was right about you."

"What is this about Farin? Obviously you didn't ride so hard to chat about your peers," he glared at the Imperial officer.

"I'm sure the entire base has lavished their praise on you, so I won't bother showering you with thanks for your actions. I was pleasantly surprised by what you did, not just cutting off the head of the attack force but destroying their coherency with impressive Magitek piloting, I didn't realize you could drive one of those machines," Farin started.

Cyan's eyes widened. So it had been that.

"I think Danielle was wrong," Farin continued. "You're an honourable man, killing off the treacherous scum who went the distance to murder young and defenceless rookies. I admire what you did. You put your life at risk for people that weren't even countrymen... but I'm sure you don't care what I think."

"The gesture is appreciated," Cyan offered diplomatically. "I heard you did much of the same."

Farin's grin grew. "I suppose after a while, repeated valour is expected rather than praised. However, this is growing longsome. There are traitors to hunt down and people to save from the New Order."

Cyan nodded, he understood Farin's purpose. His hand reached into his cloak and with a quick flick of the wrist, a silver medallion flew through the air.

Farin caught it with one hand. "That's not what I'm here for," he said. He tossed it back. "And you should keep it. Think of it as a gift from me and if you must, as a necessity to travel through our lands."

Cyan pocketed the medallion once more.

"I came here for one purpose, and that's to keep a promise," Farin led his chocobo around to Cyan's backside, smiling at Relm in the process.

"And what is that, Farin?"

"I promised Terra that I would keep Relm safe," Farin sternly said. "I almost failed when the New Order broke through our armies and I swear that won't happen again. You'll be safe as long as you stay in this province, so I pass on a share of responsibility to you, Cyan Garamonde."

Cyan looked down at Relm, his heart warming when she looked back at him. "I would never let anything happen to her."

Farin nodded. He spurred his chocobo back the way he came. "Good, knowing that you're guarding her makes keeping my promise just that much easier."

The Major-General and his two escorts galloped away, a spray of snow marking their passage back towards the war zone known as the Imperial Core. As they left, Cyan thought about Farin Starson. He thought about the promise the Imperial General had made, to Terra no less... this day was full of surprises.

But enough about the Empire. "Relm, where did you obtain that weapon?" Cyan asked with a frown.

"Paisy let me keep it. He thought I could use the protection," Relm replied.

Cyan frowned. "You don't even know how to use it," he pointed out. "You could hurt yourself."

Relm frowned back. "I know how to use it," she grumbled as she pulled the dagger closer.

Cyan was about to point out what he had seen of her aptitude when suddenly, he felt a clear sense of purpose. He was saddened though, because it was depressing to know the world had become so dark. Yet it was the proper thing to do, he knew it deep in his heart. Tradition be damned, this was about protecting life.

"So where are we going? You still haven't answered me," Relm pointed out. "We could have asked Farin to bring us to Terra and Locke, but you didn't even bother."

Cyan nodded. "We're going somewhere safer than that, dear one."

"And where's that?"

Cyan smiled. "North. Away from the war."

"That doesn't answer anything!"

With a chuckle, the Knight of Doma spurred his chocobo into action. Cyan Garamonde and Relm Arrowny rode away from the Core of the Empire, their backs protected by the armies of General Danielle Meras, and into the safety offered by the Province of Tzen. It was the safest option; their friends might have still been in danger, but they could be trusted to take care of themselves.

---

Time was meaningless really. Day or night did not matter when one had been underground as long as she had. It was all just a fading memory now: the feeling of the warm sunlight beating against her face, the refreshing ocean breeze with just the slightest hint of salt, and the salivating smell of roasted Vais Gumes.

But she still hung onto those dreamlike images. It had been real, no matter what they said. She would not forget! In the damp, tiny little hole that she had been placed in, memories like that were all that kept her going.

Her head lolled to the side.

Light had flooded into the room, illuminating a space that neither tall enough to stand upright nor wide enough to lie down. One was eternally cramped against a roughly hewn wall that was moist with some sort of disgustingly sticky, putrid green growth. But the sudden burst of white light blinded her and she scrunched even closer against the sides of her revolting prison.

Pupils slowly contracted, a tall bulky shape was framed in light.

Again. They came for her again, as they always did. Nothing she said or did had ever found her reprieve from the horrors. She knew better than to stay pressed against the walls.

The shape collapsed to the ground. Another -- taller, bulkier, more imposing -- took its place.

"Siana?"

She felt a surge of strength at the sound of that word. It seemed familiar for some reason. In the haze that was her mind, she tried to recall why that combination of sounds would trigger such a feeling. It had been so long since she had heard it though, and as she tried to grasp the implications, it slipped away like a leaf in the breeze.

"For the love of all that's holy, Siana!"

It reached for her from the light. She flinched, preparing for the inevitable strike. Had she misbehaved? She had tried so hard to do as they asked! Were they going to send her to the pit? It had been so dark there! Nothing had ever been so cold -- so suffocating! -- to simply be near. Her eyes snapped shut and she trembled in anticipation. She whimpered fearfully and instantly regretted the action; her punishment would only be prolonged by her cries.

An arm had reached behind her and pulled her into the bright light. Another supported her just beneath the knees. She felt something warm against her side. This was new; different... none had ever treated her this way. The blows were always quick to come, never had they bothered with... sympathy? That was the word, was it not?

Her eyes opened slowly, almost fearfully. She was afraid that it was all just a dream, that if she looked at the face of her saviour, it would all fade away.

Pale orange-yellow light reflected off his hairless scalp. He had a wide chin, and if she focused really hard, she could make out azure eyes that were filled with passion. It was difficult to focus though, she was bouncing up and down in his arms, and there was a dizziness that refused to stop spinning the world.

Suddenly, she was incredibly cold. It seemed to burn her exposed skin, and there was a lot more of that than she had imagined. Her cry of pain was instinctive and again she cursed herself for her weakness. Would she be punished? Were they treating her kindly just to build up her hopes and then dash them to pieces?

Soft warmth covered her. Smooth, silky sheets quickly took to the heat of her body and sheltered her. She sighed in relief as the cold was scared away, then cried out in surprise when she was laid atop some sort of wooden plank.

"We're getting out of here, alright Siana? You stay with me!" his voice was so emotionally-charged that she almost believed that this was no trick; that this was no dream. Certainly never had her visions assaulted her with both pain and joy, just all of one and none of the other. Then he looked her in the eyes and she saw no duplicity in them.

She nodded briskly.

The sound of his footsteps faded away. Dimly, she could hear a conversation exchanged. She focused, making out the voices to her right.

"-do to her you bastard? What did you do in the name of the Patrician?"

Silence followed and she wondered if the voices had simply been too hushed for her to overhear. Then finally! It was the same voice that had saved her, though with none of the warmth. "-to give an answer? Fine!"

A sickening crunch followed. She flinched and nearly hit her head against the wooden board she had been leaning against. Then there was a gruesome snap and accompanying thud. Footsteps approached her again, growing louder with every closing thump. There was some sort of creaking sound, and then he spoke to her.

"Sorry about that, I didn't want to do it but he left me no choice. Now we're getting out of here."

Still huddled within protective sheets, she glared at the bald man in suspicion. Was he going to do the same to her?

"He was one of your guards; thought he might know something useful. Stop worrying, it'll be fine."

There was something about the way he said those words that invoked feelings of trust and worry at the same time. She frowned at the internal conflict, finally deciding to stick with the former. She gave him a nod and attempted to smile.

He walked away swiftly and moments later, when the wooden planks she was sitting on began to rumble, she realized that she was in a wagon of sorts. She heard the soft squawk of a chocobo and sat up, rearranging the silken sheets to cover herself fully. The crisp night air was a refreshing change.

"Thank you," she rasped in a dry crackled voice that sounded nothing like her.

He turned back, a relieved smile on his face. In one hand, he held the reins to the lone chocobo pulling the wagon. The other was a thumbs-up signal.

"You'll be fine, Siana."

---

She woke up under the glare of the sunlight streaming through partially broken panes of glass. A smile touched her face as she basked in the warmth of the winter sun. Siana Deardon wrapped the silken sheets tightly around her, then looked at her abode.

"Sabin?" she asked.

Rest on a real bed, fresh air, and the mouth-watering smell of stew all helped clear the haze in her mind. Siana felt better with every passing second. She flinched when her bare feet hit the cold wooden planks of the cabin. It was a small room that she was in, and considering how everything from pots and pans to jackets and boots seemed to be heaped in a single corner, she was pretty sure that was all there was to the hovel. There was a small table -- barely capable of serving a single person -- and an even smaller furnace in the corner. The blackened heater was broken though; pipes leading outside were snapped.

A fresh change of clothes lay on top of the table. They were as clean as Siana could expect and herbs had been rubbed all over to cover the smell of livestock.

Outside, a thin layer of powder from the overnight snowfall lay upon the ground. Footsteps led to a campfire safely away from the wooden cabin, and in a pot there was stew being kept warm by glowing coals. Siana picked up a bowl and spoon that had been left out, hastily washed it with a fistful of snow, and then feasted. Her long imprisonment might have lowered her standards but she knew poor rations when she tasted them, and this was much superior to the meals-in-a-can of the army. She wolfed down an entire bowl and was helping herself to seconds before she heard quiet muttering from behind the cabin.

Siana put down the bowl with much reluctance and glared suspiciously in the direction of the noise. Carefully making her way through the thick, partially-trodden snow -- for one thing her boots did not fit. For another, she had only a dull knife that had been left in the coals of the campfire -- the muttering became audible.

"-four pillars to protect, a fifth to complete the link-"

"Sabin?" Siana queried as she strolled around the corner of the cabin. He was drawing on the wall, a lump of coal leaving marks against the bumps of the wooden logs. "What are you doing?" she asked as she took a step back. There were a number of strange geometric patterns on the back of the cabin, as circular as one could make considering the wall was not flat, and they intertwined intricately in a mass of triangular shapes near the centre.

Sabin turned around and smiled. "Glad you remembered my name," he said with a smile.

Siana cleared her throat self-consciously. "I was just tired last night. My memory is fine," she replied with a questioning eye on the piece of coal he gripped tightly. "Thank you for the breakfast as well, it was delicious. I didn't know you were a cook, or how you even found all the ingredients."

Sabin turned back to the cabin and with deft strokes, completed the complex symmetry in the geometric shapes. "You've been asleep for two days," he explained. "Since then, I found this abandoned cabin, caught a rabbit with a trap and made some stew. It's funny, snaring the rabbit was more difficult than finding shelter"

"Where are we?" Siana asked, surprised at how long she slept but unwilling to show it. "I don't recognize anything, though I didn't expect to..."

Sabin backed away from the cabin wall. He closed one eye and then turned his head sideways. Judging that the pattern was correct, he tossed the piece of coal into a mostly undisturbed field of snow. "I'll be honest. I'm not exactly sure where we are either."

Siana frowned, at the weird patterns on the cabin wall and at Sabin's ignorance. "What do you mean you don't know where we are? How did you find me then?"

The light-hearted smile on Sabin's face vanished in a blink of the eye. "You really don't want to know that," he answered in a regretful tone.

The former Imperial pilot took a deep breath of cold winter air. The last time she had been free -- it felt like eons now -- it had been fall and winter was many weeks away. They had been approaching Pierpoint in a very nice carriage with an equally nice driver by the name of Heller. And Sabin had hair, she added mentally. Now it was the deep of winter though, they were lost in the middle of the highlands and Sabin was still holding out on irrelevant secrets. There were plenty of sayings that came to mind, though she was sufficiently thankful that most seemed ridiculously rude. "You went through the same as me," she stated blankly.

A grunt of acknowledgement.

"Then you should know it would put me at ease knowing that you punished the bastards that did this to us," Siana growled. The thought of all she had been through had invoked bloodlust that she once controlled. A Magitek Pilot could not give into base emotions.

Sabin sighed. He rotated his arms, stretching them out. Only now did Siana realize his hands were heavily bandaged; even the fingers were wrapped beneath layers of cloth. "They won't disturb us ever again," he said at last. "Maybe another time, right now, I think it's best to forget the past."

Siana nodded in agreement. "That would be nice," she mumbled as her fingers gingerly touched the scar that ran down her right arm from shoulder to wrist. Her eyes returned to the geometric patterns upon the wall. The outermost shape was a pentagram whose inner lines twisted but still symmetrical, forming multiple smaller pentagrams as well as triangles.

"To ward us," Sabin answered her unspoken question.

"From?"

"Magic," Sabin replied. "Is there any stew left?"

Siana was still staring at the alleged magical ward. A confused scowl was upon her face. "That will protect us from magic?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Sabin called out, already out of sight. Siana could hear him scooping stew out of the pot, his spoon kept hitting the side and made clanging noises.

Siana sighed loudly. She cast one last look of unsettlement at the complex mass of geometry, cursed the vile art that was magic, and then headed back to claim seconds of the stew before it was too late.

---

Terra strolled into the farmhouse crackling with magical power, her wolf mantle slightly-open and silken scarf draped over her shoulder. Long grey hair flowed freely behind her, she rather liked the feeling. Beside her was Anthony, the youngest of Norris' handpicked forces and capable medic. Instead of a bow, he had drawn a short sword.

Old wooden planks creaking announced the pair's arrival. The abandoned house was only a single floor, and perhaps it had been a comfortable dwelling at some point in time. But after being raided, having windows broken and cupboards stripped bare, it was little more than another mystery. The furnishings that were useless as firewood were overturned, and a thin layer of snow and ice had built up almost everywhere.

Anthony gave her a questioning look and Terra shook her head. She was sure nothing was nearby, magical or not, and Anthony was satisfied. The soldier trusted her. She had gotten quite good at scanning their surroundings, even if their ambushers were spell-hidden.

Locke stepped through a hole in the brick that had once divided the living space from barn. His eyes shifted from side to side, never pausing on the pair in front of him. He looked unprepared, but Terra knew better. The bow strapped to his back was there to mislead. Around his wrists were two miniature crossbows, loaded and quite lethal.

Terra didn't know when he had gotten those, probably when Miles and Gossman had returned from the army camp with fresh supplies. However, she knew Locke had become quite capable with them. Their journey to Tzen had been extremely dangerous, the New Order was everywhere and they had been attacked twice in two days. Neither had been an ambush, Terra had sensed both approaching squads just in time. Norris had helped Terra annihilate the first. The second, Sherwood and Locke eliminated in the midst of a sleeping village without any noise.

"This is the fifth one," Norris' voice came from behind them. The wizened old man gestured back outside. "There's obviously a pattern."

"Colonel, the house is secure. I'll join Sherwood outside," Locke announced.

Norris held up a hand. "No, search the house again for clues. Terra, help him. Anthony, you're with me. We'll do a sweep of the area and reconvene in ten minutes." He made eye-contact with Terra, and then headed back outside with Anthony trailing.

Terra frowned at Norris' intrusion, even if it was well-meant and perhaps necessary from his point of view. With a grumble, she decided to address Locke, who was already walking back towards the barn. "Locke," she called out.

Locke had a serious but kind expression. "We don't have much time. Norris is right; another abandoned house this deep in the Imperial heartland is no small matter that could be ignored. If we find any clue on who-"

Terra nodded. "I know Locke, I..." she sighed, unsure of how to proceed. But she could still remember the day before. Locke had snuck behind the squad of Imperial soldiers and downed four of them in a blink of an eye. It had been so efficient, so cold. He had tipped the points of his bolts with a deadly poison. Terra had known about the yellow gauze because she had seen both Sherwood and Anthony apply it to their own arrows. It was a horrible weapon that would cause one's muscles to seize up, sometimes immobilizing them so excessively that they were unable to breathe.

She had never expected Locke to use something so vicious.

"I just wanted to know if you're alright," Terra continued.

Locke raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong with me," he said. A smile came to his face. "In fact, you could say that I feel better than I have in a long time."

Albrook. His attitude was the same as it had been in that city, shortly after the Messis Luna and when he had asked Donnach to help him with his archery. "Good," Terra was nonplussed by that connection. "I was worried that the spells I cast might have some sort of strange effect on you," she lied. If she was sure of anything, it was in her magic.

Locke frowned, but quickly hid it. "I haven't thanked you for that, have I?"

"You don't have to," Terra replied. She blinked away the tingling feeling in her eyes. "You've helped me more times than I can count, ever since you saved me in the caves of Narshe. You've always been there for me, even when I wasn't there for myself."

"Terra..."

She smiled back, interrupting him before they embarrassed each other anymore. "I should be thanking you, for everything."

Locke gazed down at his feet. He mumbled something under his breath that Terra didn't hear, except something about 'gave'. She was about to ask about the poison when he interrupted her.

"You're too kind," he answered at last with a soft smile. "I've gotten us into some pretty nasty situations, like when we were caught by Danielle Meras. And I haven't always been there for you, maybe I was getting close and personal to a pine tree, maybe I was dealing with some crazy girl, or maybe I was busy swimming in a pool of my own blood."

He might have been smiling, but Terra could see the pain in his eyes. No amount of magical power could ever erase the events of that day; it would be a constant burden upon his soul. Shivers still ran down her spine when she thought about Gwendolen Ford. The image of that curved blade twisting in his broken body... she knew no matter what she had done afterwards, it hadn't been enough. She might have brought him back from the dead, but that didn't change the fact that he had died.

Died trying to save her.

"Locke, you can't expect-"

Locke held up his hand. "I know I can't," he interrupted. "Just know this Terra: no matter what happens, no matter who stands between us, I will do my best to protect you. I promise you that."

Terra felt warmer than usual. Her gloved hand instinctively hovered over her breast and a smile spread across her face. "Locke... that's..." words faltered as she thought about the poison on his crossbow bolts. "I've noticed you are working closely with Anthony and Sherwood," she noted quietly.

"They've been quite helpful," Locke looked full of determination. He brushed at the brown leather armor beneath his white-washed cloak. "I'll do whatever is necessary to protect you. Sherwood has been in the army for a long time, he knows a lot about handling Magitek Knights that I knew nothing of. We came to some conclusions and I filled him in on some tricks that he didn't know. Anthony also knows his stuff, especially about herbs and what-not. You should see what medicines he can concoct out of winter growth."

"Locke..." Terra whispered. She blinked twice, confused. She swore she saw something small and golden glint near his chest, but knew he didn't wear any jewellery.

"Yes?"

Terra realized that he was still waiting for her to speak and instead she was staring at his chest. Her gaze averted, she quickly collected her thoughts and stowed them away. "It's nothing. I guess I'm still not used to you in that armor," she lied. "It still doesn't look right on you."

Locke shrugged. "It does the job," he waved aside her concern.

Terra frowned deeper. Though she had covered with a quick lie, that wasn't the reaction she had expected. "Listen Locke-"

"Anything?"

The two Returners turned around, shocked out of their private moment by the appearance of Norris. The old Magitek Knight had stuck his head through one of the broken windows, a questioning look on his face.

"No, as usual, we didn't find anything," Terra lied quickly.

Norris nodded gruffly. "Well we did. We need to make a detour."

"A detour?" Locke echoed. "What did you find?"

"Several hundred dead soldiers that way," Norris answered. He pulled his head out of the window and pointed to his right: westward. "We need to move out, and quickly."

"Where are we going?" Terra asked suspiciously. She had been hoping to see Relm before the end of the week. They had left Strago's granddaughter under Imperial guard for long enough, it was beyond negligence now and Terra did not want to delay any more.

But Norris was deadly serious. "We're going to Vector," he said in an icy tone.

Shivers ran down Terra's spine. "The Imperial Capital? Why?"

Norris didn't bother hiding the worry on his face.

"I fear the worse."