"Hey, ya know, Boss…"

"Thou mayest address me as Sir, my good page. Until the heathen Black Knight and his foul retinue have fallen beneath my shining steel, then I remain a most humble knight. When the Leonhart lays his sable shield at the dancing soles of Milady's nimble feet, groveling and begging for her pity, then victory shall be mine. On that glorious day, thou mayest address me as…let's see, Highness or Majesty."

Seifer sat on the cot and braced himself. "Now pull like a son-of-a-bitch. These fuckin' boots are hard as hell to take off. We need to hurry and change or we'll never get a good seat at the wine tent. I want to beat that crazy fortune teller bitch to the table by the fire."

"Yeah, but you were our Boss before you were a Sir and I just can't get used to the idea, ya know. And are you still talking about the instructor? 'Cause she doesn't strike me as the dancing type. Confusing, ya know." Rajin tugged on Seifer's mud-encrusted boot while Seifer tore off his filthy tunic.

Jousting was a dirty sport. The tent they shared was littered with clay spattered pieces of armor and clothing, empty wine bottles and various faux-historical weapons, making it difficult to gain decent leverage on the hard-packed earth. The glossy glass skeletons of Mimett Merlot skittered and clinked when Rajin bumped against them. "Man, we need to clean up in here. Ya sure won't win the tournament with your feet sliced up, ya know."

Seifer smirked. With his blonde hair and wicked feline eyes, the White Knight made the simple act of smiling seem a hell of a lot more dangerous. Had Quistis been in the tent, even she might have reconsidered his earlier proposition. "Rajin, I can win this thing with my hands tied behind my back. And yeah, she doesn't strike me as the dancing type either…but it sounded good, didn't it?"

"POMPOUS."

"Fu! How could you say such a thing? And I thought you were waiting outside while we changed. If you're not careful, you'll get an eyeful of my godlike masculinity. I'd hate to be responsible for the loss of your other eye. Beauty like this…" Standing and flexing his muscles, he gestured to his half-naked form. "… has been known to make mere mortals lose their sight with little more than a glance." He winked when she rolled her eye.

Fujin threw a towel in Seifer's face, laughing when both Seifer and Rajin reached to catch it, bumping heads together with a loud thunk. "UNIMPRESSED." Seifer chuckled in spite of the lump on his head. Leave it to Fujin to keep his roaring ego from leaping out of it's cage.

"Hey Fu, he's buying our drinks tonight, so I'll call him King or Prince or the artist formerly known as Seifer or Seifer the Almighty if he fucking wants me to. Plus, he's our Boss, ya know. We gotta support him." Rajin beamed when Seifer gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder.

Rajin pushed armor and bottles to the wall next to his cot, scraping out enough room to stretch his long legs. He decided to use the bottles for archery practice in the morning. Shattering such pretty green glass would make interesting wake-up calls for the rest of the sleeping festival. "But, ya didn't seem really excited about it earlier this week Boss, er, Sir. Why's it so important now? Did Dincht make you that damn mad, running like that?"

Fujin snorted at Rajin's ignorance. She flicked silver hair to one side and plopped next to the giant man, punching him in the shoulder. Pointing at Seifer and then bringing her arms in front of her chest, she mimed the gravity-defying movement of the corset-clad Quistis. "BIG KNOCKERS."

Glass rattled from Seifer's booming laughter. "Whatever would make you think that she has anything to do with this, Fujin? Is my thirst for glory and hunger for admiration not enough?"

Fujin raised an eyebrow over this feigned innocence. Standing with Rajin at the tilt, she noticed how Seifer's posture changed when Zell made that boorish remark about the instructor. Seifer, for all of his teasing and insults, always did have a twisted concept of chivalry. It was perfectly fine for him to torment Quistis, but for anyone else, especially someone like Zell, to make a coarse comment about her…well, that just wouldn't do. If it wasn't Seifer pulling her hair or throwing something at her, then it was just plain rude.

If Fujin was a different sort of girl, she might have said he was charming. But Fujin was not that sort of girl. Sweeping her foot behind Seifer's ankles, she brought him down to her single-eye level, grinning when he fell hard on his ass. "FOOL. FOR. BLONDES."

Rajin's deep chuckles, when combined with the loud laughter of Fujin and Seifer threatened to break every empty bottle in their tent. "Hey, that's a good one, Fu! But let's get changed and go, ya' know."

Crawling out of their festival home, they began their journey to the center of the faire, greeting patrons with bright smiles and friendly waves. When Seifer was in a good mood, the Posse was in a good mood. And Seifer was most definitely in a good mood. Even the angry glares and taunts from the supporters decked in black and green couldn't dampen his spirits. He would never let it be known by anyone other than his closest friends, but the festival was the best idea Messenger Girl ever had. Seifer loved it. The cheers and whistles of his fans, the disappointed sighs of the besotted women he ignored, the satisfying crack of Puberty Boy's ribs when Seifer found weak points in his armor…ah, it was wonderful.

And then, there was that costume.

When he saw her in the blazing scarlet velvet, with the low-cut lace at her bosom that hugged her figure just so, he nearly plummeted from the broad back of his horse. She never looked like that in class. And then her hair…Seifer wanted to shake the hand of the demon that possessed her long enough to convince her to wear it down instead of in that fucking clip. When she bent over to flip him off, the sun burning through those golden strands lit her eyes with an absolutely unholy brilliance. He felt like a goddess had just descended from the skies and told him to fuck off. Quistis was always a beautiful girl, but her chilly good looks combined with that costume…Huzzah, indeed.

If she hadn't been such a bitch, he would have thrown her across the back of his horse and carried her into the sunset. Or at least to his tent. Or a secluded woody glen. Anywhere really. But no. The one time he wanted to defend his dear instructor, the one moment when he felt passion's sweet fire sear his heart, she had to extinguish that flame with her typical icy bitchiness. Now he didn't know if he wanted to fuck her or punch her lights out. Damn, she could be confusing as hell.

Trading jokes and lewd songs, they wandered through the crowd, stopping at intervals when giggling girls sighed at the handsome, if somewhat distracted, knight and his loyal entourage. Rajin, lost in conversation with a bouncy redhead that answered his 'ya knows' with eager cries of 'totally', had to run to catch up when Seifer and Fujin continued without him.

The trio cackled at Fujin's artful mimicry, especially when she perfectly imitated Rajin's dim-witted love interest, the high stepping flight of Zell and the rather deep-throated way he wolfed down hot dogs. Monosyllabic speech patterns didn't matter when one could use their face and body with such skill and impersonate with such precision. Their merry laughter followed them through the faire as they wound their way to the food and beverage tents, eager to crush a cup of wine.

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"Oh you should have seen him, Rin. He was all charming and shiny and he had that smile on his face. You know…the one where his eyes get all sparkly and he looks like he knows what you look like without your clothes. And the things he said! Oh mercy! I'm telling ya, if I wasn't with Irvy and he didn't have it so bad for Quisty, I would have jumped off the balcony and climbed him like a tree. Any other woman would have passed out cold, but not our girl. Not Quisty. She was all mean and snooty. Poor, poor Seifer."

"Selphie, if you say 'Poor Seifer' one more time, I'm going to pluck your little fairy wings and make you eat them. He was nothing but the iron-armored personification of arrogance." Quistis pulled harder on what passed for her dress's neckline, hoping to cover a portion of what was exposed. Selphie Tilmitt would never again be allowed to pick out the costumes. Never again. Why couldn't she have picked out something elegant and tasteful, like she did for Rinoa? The deep blue fabric and delicate embroidery on Rinoa's dress was perfectly suited for her dark hair and eyes. And she had a neckline…that was actually located close to her throat, not hanging off her boobs.

Ya gotta let yourself go every once in a while, Quisty. Gotta get outta that classroom, let it all hang out. Trust me, you look great. You look like umm, a, a perfectly respectable fifteenth-century business woman! What? No, you don't look like a two gil strumpet. You'd score at least ten. Hoo Hoo! Now get outta here. I'll meet you at the joust.

Quistis gave up when she noticed that Trepies at tables near and far were watching every bouncing adjustment with something beyond mere lustful idolatry. Business woman indeed. She hated to imagine the type of business that considered half a bodice and some whalebone scaffolding the fifteenth-century equivalent of a pantsuit. She swore to kill Selphie after the festival. "And Seifer certainly doesn't need to hear you complimenting him like that. He's cocky enough as it is."

Selphie wiggled her eyebrows in a very nudge, nudge, wink, wink sort of manner. "Oh come on, Quisty! I saw you blush when he called you 'milady'. You'd be a bigger fool than Zell to not wrap your legs…"

"Hey! I heard that!" Zell, bells jingling, raised his head from his tankard and sprayed droplets of mead over the table. "And if it wasn't for that big-ass horse, I would've kicked his ass!"

"Silence fool! Or I'll run to the wine tent and fetch the White Knight to carve thine tongue from the foul pit of your mouth. Or is it thine mouth? Anyway, aren't you supposed to say 'prithee' before you speak? Don't go getting out of character with all of these people around."

Zell's bells drooped. "But, you-you're not saying prithee or thou or anything like that, Selphie."

"Yes, but I'm a fucking demonic wood fairy that will tear your balls off and attach 'em to your cap if you keep interrupting, Mr. Motley Fool. Demonic wood fairies don't use the same words as fools. You get to say marry, i'faith, n'uncle, and prithee. And you caper. Capering is damn near a requisite skill for fools, you know. Now, drink your mead so you can caper and frolic properly and let me finish talking to Quisty and Rin."

Rolling her eyes, Selphie turned back to the elegantly garbed ladies sitting side by side. Well…as close to side by side as their wide skirts would allow. And okay, only one was elegantly garbed. But they were ladies, damn it. Even if Quistis looked more like a lady of the night than the other kind. "Like I was saying, Toothless Pete whipped out his flask and handed it to me, but he didn't tell me how strong it was. I took a big ol' swig and then I started hallucinating about a naked gnome with a HUGE…"

Rinoa tapped Selphie on the arm. "No, Selphie. You were trying to tell me about Seifer and Quistis."

"Oh! Right! Sorry Princess! Anyway, Seifer looked hot as hell in that armor, and Quisty didn't even give him the time of day. Or knight! Ahahahahahaaa!!!" Selphie rolled off the bench, adding a couple of bent wires to the damaged set of wings on her back. Rinoa giggled when Selphie's curly sequined shoes flew above her head. Yep, the demonic wood fairy couldn't hold her booze. Loud snores sounded from the floor, a series of deep nasal grunts that should have originated from a troll or a hobgoblin, not a cute little fairy.

"Don't listen to her, Rinoa. She's obviously still feeling the intoxicating effects of the illicit liquor she obtained from the metallurgist." Quistis queasily eyed the mead in front of her. She would much rather have a nice merlot, but she couldn't head to the wine tents and risk running into Seifer. "And where is her boyfriend during all of this? And yours? I've not seen either of them all day."

"Oh, they've been practicing most of the day. Irvine is really getting into these competitions and you know Squall…if anybody is better than him at anything drives him crazy. So, they've been practicing for hours and hours." She leaned closer to Quistis. "You know, Selphie's right. I saw Seifer yesterday when he almost beat Squall, and he really does look good in that armor. You can admit it, I won't tell anyone."

"Oh God, not you too. Just because he drops that awful trench coat and starts quoting the Bard, I'm supposed to swoon? What is with everyone tonight?"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt you to just play along and have a little fun, would it? And there are worse things than Seifer crawling around this festival. Have you seen the Snake Charmer yet?"

Quistis sighed. "Snake charming is nothing more than the serpent detecting vibrations from the con artist's flute, Rinoa. You see, members of the family Elapidae are extraordinarily sensitive to fluctuations in…"

Rinoa shuddered. "No, dear. This was definitely NOT a regular snake he had in his basket. And I wouldn't bring anything that vibrates close to this pervert. But at least he's not as bad as Two Ton Tawanda and the Trapeze Twins. They did tricks that made Irvine blush. Why, they used a feather and a bottle of…"

"Really, Rinoa, I get the picture."

"So, see what I mean when I say that Seifer isn't all that bad? He's actually quite the gentleman."

"To you, maybe. The bastard can't stand me and believe me, the feeling is mutual. I've had nothing but harassment and ridicule from him for years."

"Well, you're not exactly nice to him, are you? It was you who always favored Squall in class, wasn't it? And it was you again that fussed at him for cutting Squall's face, wasn't it? He ended up with a pretty nasty scar from that fight as well, Quistis. Did you scream at Squall for hurting Seifer?" Rinoa smirked at Quistis' discomfort. "And the poor lad just wants to joust for his lady, even though she is cruel to him. Tsk. Tsk."

"Oh, poor lad, my ass. He gives as good as he gets, Princess." Xu fell to the bench next to Quistis, mead in one hand and wine in the other. "Here, Q. I know you can't stand this shit, so I brought you some wine. And what happened to the elf? Isn't she supposed to be flitting from tree to tree, spreading magic pixie dust and bullshit?"

"Jeez, Xu. How long was the line?" Quistis took the wine and drank deeply, holding her breath so she could swallow faster. Forget being ladylike. She wanted to get drunk. Stupid Rinoa and her damned touchy-feely emotional self, making Quistis feel all guilty over Seifer, of all people.

"Oh, the mead line was short, but I walked over to the wine tent to get your merlot. And your favorite chess piece was having a high old time over there, laughing and boasting, as usual." Xu shook her head, ashamed of herself. "He did look good in that doublet, though. I'll give him that much. But if any of you breathes a word of this, I'll strangle both of you."

"See, Quisty? Even Xu says so, and she hates him more than any person alive."

"Hey! I hate him too! Even more than Xu! Oops!" Zell's cap rang as his head turned from side to side, searching for the evil fairy. "I mean… Prithee, methinks yon White Knight is but a blackguard and scoundrel, his ivory armor doth little to cloak a heart as black as pitch. The lady doth well to scorn his advances, for none but a fool could dote on such a churlish beast. Wait, no. That's not right. I mean, i'faith, the rogue means to surmount milady's defenses with his mighty blade and invayde her pristine palace. No, wait... I'm so confused. Could somebody translate for me?"

"Actually, that's very good Zell. That's exactly what the conceited ape said to me, only he wasn't nearly as polite as you."

Zell's bells jingled louder at Quistis' praise. "Yeah, take that, Selphie! Selphie? Where are you? I mean, whither flutters thou, o' wing'd spirit o' the forest? Hast thou found a sweet honey'd flower hanging heavy with twilight's dew? O' Fey Nymph? Hello?" Hearing a deep snore, Zell looked down to the crumpled wings of the drunken Selphie. "Holy shit. She's drunk as hell."

"Methinks our fearless fairy leader now finds her fucking head hangs heavy with too much mead. Methinks it unfortunate for her…" Xu reached in her bag and found a black permanent marker. Wiggling the marker and grinning broadly, she leaned o'er Quistis to study the intoxicated pixie. "…for I have a magic wand with her name on it. Now, should I draw a big ol' cock on her cheek or her forehead?"

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"So, Squall. It's getting kind of dark. You reckon we might oughtta turn in and see what the ladies are doing?" Irvine leaned on his bow, watching Squall miss another shot in the darkness under the trees. "These torches only make so much light, you know. And I'm hungry. Let's get some grub."

"Just a few more shots." Squall squinted, trying to focus on the target. The autumn night was just too damned early. Hazy fog filtering through the groves and clearings dimmed the remaining light even further, cutting his practice to a measly seven hours. "I only have a few more arrows, then we'll call it a day."

"Alright, whatever you say." Irvine leaned on a mossy stump and rolled a cigarette, inhaling the sweet smoke of the gryshal greens and blowing it out in leisurely rings. He watched the burgundy leaves fall, drifting and twisting on the slight breeze that brought the smells of campfires and hot food to his nostrils. He was hungry now, but after the smoke break, he knew that he would be absolutely ravenous. "Squall, really. I think we need to head back and find some grub. I could really go for a couple of those turkey legs and some muscadine wine. Maybe some chips and salsa too. And marshmallows. And some graham crackers and little chocolate bars. We'll make some smores, man! And some bread. And an apple. And some peanut butter."

Squall sniffed. "Irvine! Are you smoking that shit again?"

"What? It's not like I'm doing it in front of Rinoa! I know she doesn't approve, so I made sure she won't find out. Don't worry so much. Damn man, you could probably stand to take a hit yourself. You really need to relax, sometimes."

Squall shook his head. It was no wonder the cowboy was always so laid back. Hell, he probably needed it, just to tolerate Selphie's hyperactivity. "Fine, Kinneas. But you make damn sure that Rinoa doesn't find your stash. She'd freak out."

"Eh, don't worry about your lil' darlin'. She'll never know. That's part of the reason I stayed out here with you today. I just didn't realize that you wanted to practice so damned much."

Squall stopped in mid-nock, dropping the bow to his side. His arms and shoulders hurt. Maybe seven hours of archery was enough. He hoped that his over-worked muscles would recover in time for the events scheduled for tomorrow. He wasn't going to let Almasy get in another performance like he did yesterday. "I just really want to win that tournament. It would make Rinoa so happy, even if it is just one of Selphie's crazy schemes."

"Easy now. That's my girl you're talking about there, Sir Black Knight." Irvine grinned, eyes hidden by his deep green hat. "And her wild schemes just about got you beaten yesterday, didn't they? If it hadn't been for that drunk old coot and that lucky horseshoe, you might have got your ass whooped. I didn't realize that Almasy would take playing knight so seriously."

Squall almost chuckled. Seifer Almasy not be serious when it came to playing knights and castles? Yeah, right.

"Are you kidding me, Irvine? This has always been his favorite game."

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Note: If anybody has ever read any Terry Pratchett, then they'll see that Zell's role is directly inspired by the Fool in Wyrd Sisters. And way, way back in my Shakespeare reading days, I always loved that line in Romeo and Juliet--something like, "If you be not of the house of Montague, come and crush a cup of wine." Those may not be the exact words, but I'm pretty sure that at least the 'crush a cup of wine' part is correct. Good stuff. And Irvine and the guys from Half-Baked would get on perfectly. I always thought that he was a little too laid-back in the game. More mischief soon. Had to get the whole character introduction section finished.