Note: Sorry for the long time between updates. I just suck lately with the whole time management thing.

Before I begin this chapter, I would very much like for everyone to go to my profile and take a peek at the wonderful sketch of Quistis in her renfaire costume by the very talented Aurenare. I'm still fucking floored that a she's taken the time from her studies to do this fantastic picture and I just wanted to show a bit of appreciation.

Did you look yet?

You can't read the rest of the fic until you do.

Isn't it great? Told you so! Did you see her eyes? Absolutely wicked, eh? And her skirt? Doesn't she look fucking awesome?!?!

I can't say thank you enough, Miss Aurenare! You fucking rule!

Okay, now that you've looked, you may continue...

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"What the hell is going on here?"

Selphie watched the security officers scratch their heads as they considered their problem. They had been directed to separate the Leonhart fans to one side of the arena and the Almasy fans to the other, but the stands on the eastern side were already filled with hundreds of black-clad supporters and there were more lining up for seats. The Almasy fans were gathered in one small section of the bleachers, but they were soon going to be surrounded by Leonhart's fans, both old and new.

Glitter fell to the ground as she shook her fingers in the face of a portly officer. "Who told you to assign seats? I want names so I can know who to kill when I..."

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss! 'Twas the king himself what ordered this, miss!"

"The King? He's here?" Selphie jumped up and tried to see over the guard's shoulders. She loved the King, but she didn't realize that he was a fan of historical reenactments. If she had known, she would have offered him a pair of wings to match hers. She had all of his concerts on dvd and she knew that he loved glitter and sequins as much as she did. How exciting!

"Ooooh, and here I am with no panties to throw! Damn! I told Irvie that I might need those, but nooo, he says that I look better without them, so I left 'em in my tent. Ooooh, the King! I wonder if he'll sing that song about ..."

"Beggin yer pardon, miss! Not that king, miss! Not the one what done his last royal act on the throne, miss!"

Selphie tapped her wand on her teeth. Of course. That king had been dead for years. He must have meant Cid. Still, she couldn't help but be disappointed. Sighing loudly, she uncurled her lip and muttered, "Right. Long live the king and all that shit..."

"Right miss! Long live the king!"

"But I'm still in charge of this faire, damn it!"

"Right miss! But the king told us that we were to mind the crowd so there weren't any more fights. Ye olde riot control, I believe is what he called it, miss!"

"You mean he left the wine tent long enough to tell you? He's been drunk since this thing started. You honestly mean he staggered over here and..?"

"Beggin' yer pardon miss! The orders came by way of royal decree."

Selphie snatched the decree from the hands of the guard and scanned the words written on...holy cow. Yep, Cid had the medieval king thing down to an art. His royal decree was sloppily scrawled on the back of a label from a bottle of wine. Selphie tried to decipher the sprawling words of their drunken king, turning the label to the side to compensate for what must have been a very slack hand holding a very wobbly pen.

By order of His Illustrious Majesty, Cid I, a tax shall be issued to the merchants on all sales of mead, beer, liquor, and wine. If the merchants are unable to make their tribute, His Majesty has graciously decided that they shall be forgiven, provided they bring all wares to His Majesty for sampling before being sold to the commoners. His Majesty shall be merciful to these faithful merchants, as long as they don't charge me for another bottle of wine. I told that cheap bastard that I was the king, damn it, and he needed to give it to me free anyway, but he ...

Selphie noticed that the label was crumpled a bit and the handwriting smudged, almost as if Cid had tried to grip the paper as someone tore it out of his hands. The remainder of the decree was much neater, written in a flowing feminine script.

To ensure the safety of his kingdom and his loyal subjects, His Majesty hath decreed that the houses of Leonhart shall view their lord from the eastern side of the arena, while the houses of Almasy shall view their lord from the west. His Majesty shall strike down with a furious anger any that dares to disturb the peace of his kingdom with petty quarrels...

Selphie rolled her eyes. Why couldn't the queen mind her own business? Sure, Edea wanted to keep the peace and make sure that nobody was hurt in another fight, but that wasn't going to make any money. When people fought, they got hot and sweaty, which made them thirsty, which made them buy more booze. It was simple economics! How did she expect them to be able to renovate the library at Garden if they didn't make any money at the faire? Stupid pacifists and their stupid peaceful hippie habits...

"It's the king's will, miss! I wanted to knock a few heads meself, but I have to do as I'm told, miss!"

She sighed and handed the decree back to the guard. So much for getting those last few gil on the faire's final day. Even Seifer's fans now seemed to realize that they were simply too few in number to challenge the might of the Black Knight and his followers. With so many of Irvie's fans supporting Squall, it seemed that the only way there would be a brawl would be if Seifer won the joust. Judging from his previous performance and well aware that a very, very, very drunk Toothless Pete was the one to shoe Seifer's horse again, that just wasn't going to happen.

Hmm...unless...

"Carry on, good sir! I have many fairy duties to see to, sprinkling dew on mushrooms and whatnot, so I'll leave you to it!"

Speeding off in the direction of the forge, Selphie left the guard to try to puzzle out how he was going to seat the rest of Leonhart's fans.

Somewhere to his left, he heard the indignant bellows of a handful of Almasy supporters when they discovered that they were being forced to sit in designated areas apart from the rest of the crowd. The Leonhart faithful were quick to start jeering the fans in white, flipping their middle fingers to the sky and shouting the praises of their hero. A scuffle broke out and the guards had to drag some of the unwilling spectators to their assigned seats.

Hoo boy. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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Fujin sat on a barrel and admired the way Raijin's big hands moved over the expansive withers of Seifer's white horse. For all his size and clumsiness, he had a peculiar sort of grace around simpler creatures that she almost envied. She smiled as Raijin soothingly clicked his tongue and carefully combed out snarls from the shining mane. Such gentle hands....

She really was very fond of him, even though he needed a bit of training in the bedroom.

Moving from one white flank to the next, Raijin tried to brush as quickly as possible so he could do a final equipment check before lunch. Fujin wanted to help him, since it would have been easier and much faster to prepare for the joust if two people could have brushed the massive horse, but there was no way in hell that she was getting close to that monster again. The damned ugly animal hated her, so she was happy to let Raijin tend to the beast.

The horse shook his head and snickered, gloating over the fact that Fujin wouldn't approach him.

Fujin narrowed her eye. She still owed the fucker for the horseshoe shaped bruise on her ass. Once the joust was over, she planned on selling the bastard to a dog food factory for a hefty profit.

Raijin stopped in mid-stroke when he heard heavy footsteps enter the stables. "Hey Boss! Where ya been? We've looked all night for ya! Now it's the big morning and..."

Seifer looked up from his study of the hay-strewn stable floor and noticed his posse for the first time. "Hmm? Morning? Already?"

"Uh, yeah boss, er...sir! Newly broke, ya know! The cock just crowed and...umm...yeah, it's morning!" Leaning over to Fujin, Raijin whispered, "That is what I'm supposed to say, right?"

"SUFFICIENT."

Both looked at their boss with some concern. "Hey sir? Did ya not find your lady?"

Seifer chuckled. "Aye, mine own loyal page, I found her and I am all the more sorrowful for it!"

Raijin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I met her real early this morning and she seemed more pissed than sorrowful, ya know. Does this have somethin' to do with her takin' that ribbon back or...OW! What'd I do, Fu?"

"TONGUE."

"What?"

"BITE IT."

"Oh." It seemed that Raijin might do just that until Fujin kicked his shin. "Oh, you mean be quiet. Gotcha."

Exasperated, Fujin turned to Seifer and crossed her arms. He had damn well better have one hell of a good reason for staying out all night and worrying her. "WELL?"

Trying to avoid Fujin's questions when she was in an inquisitive mood did almost as much good as dragging Zell out of the Balamb cafeteria on all-you-can-eat hot dog nights. Both tended to scream loudly, dig in their heels, and grab sensitive, squishy bits with their teeth.

Sighing rather dramatically, Seifer raised one hand and entered full-on knight-with-a-broken-heart mode. "Alas, this humble knight shall sing no more of battles won or hardships overcome, for my lady cares naught for great deeds or daring heroics. She hath been mightily deceived by jeering shadows and even now is weeping upon..."

Fujin slapped Seifer in the back of the head. "TRANSLATION."

"Ow, damn it!" Seifer rubbed his head and glared at his squire. Just because Fu didn't appreciate the intricacies of the spoken word didn't mean that she had to go smacking the people that did enjoy a good speech. "Trepe. That fucking stuck up bitch. I swear she's a witch. I've tried to hate her, but it just isn't working."

"AND?" Fujin knew all of this. He had been a pathetic poetic lump ever since he first spied Quistis in the stands.

"Anyway, she came by the tent last night and thought she saw us fucking on my cot. Now she won't even let me near her."

Fujin's jaw dropped. "ME?"

"Aye, madame."

"YOU?"

"I speak the truth, dear companion. 'Twere otherwise, I would not be here lamenting the fate of ..."

Having heard enough, Fujin spun on her heel and quickly exited the stables, leaving Seifer to wax poetic about his lady and her misplaced fury to his faithful groomsman.

Damn it all to the depths of the abyss. She had been accused of a lot of things in her time, but screwing the boss? Was Trepe that damn stupid?

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"Well, that oughtta do it."

Irvine looked over his work and nodded in satisfaction. It had taken him the better part of three hours to polish Squall's boots to a mirror shine and he was enjoying the result. Grinning, he glanced to his left and saw Squall practicing with his sword. "You're gonna look great on that field today, Squall. I've got these boots so damn shiny that I can see myself in 'em. And let me tell you, it sure is a sight. I'm looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself, so don't be too offended if I take some of the eyes off you this afternoon."

Parrying invisible thrusts and dodging imaginary blows, Squall ignored his new page and his prideful boasts. With only a few hours left until the final competition, he had to fit in as much practice as possible. Seifer would no doubt be doing the same, so Squall fought through his hangover and attacked his practice dummy once more. Then again.

Then again.

Then he staggered a bit and prayed that the mead-induced nausea would pass before the hour came to wage war against his hated rival, and then he attacked again.

Rinoa sat on her skirts and clapped whenever Squall's dancing blade flirted with the chipped and scarred bark of the unfortunate tree. He was just so handsome in his inky armor, so dashing and magnificent that she didn't want to leave his side, even though he ignored her through his morning practice session...that happened to be dragging into the early afternoon. "You look great honey! That meanie white knight won't stand a chance against you!"

Squall's eyes narrowed as he considered what steps Seifer might be taking to prepare for the upcoming battle. At Irvine's insistence that the horse needed at least a few hours of rest, he had given up his mock jousts and returned to his swordplay. Would Seifer be doing the same? Or would he be plotting a way to cheat? It seemed like the sort of thing that he would do...

Step, thrust, parry, step, thrust, parry...

Rinoa smoothed her hair and waited patiently for Squall to notice her. A part of her was a little offended that he was taking the tournament so seriously, but it was all for her. Rinoa liked being the center of attention. "Hey honey? Once the faire is over and we're back at Garden, I was thinking that we could go out and try that new sushi place that opened up on the corner of Fifth and Ivy. Or maybe we could..."

Squall flicked his hair out of his eyes and attacked the poor mutilated tree once more, shaving off a substantial six inches of bark from the trunk.

Rinoa's beautiful brown eyes darkened. Her knight was ignoring her again because he was too wrapped up in his damned faire. "Squall...Squall Leonhart! Answer me this very instant!"

Blowing a huge breath through his nostrils, Squall finally turned to his lady and asked, "What? I'm trying to practice so I can beat Seifer this afternoon. I'm sure that he's doing the same and I need to be ready for anything he might throw at me. Seifer is..."

Irvine calmly dropped the boots and picked up his green hat once Rinoa's face turned that singular shade of affronted crimson. True, he liked fireworks, but he also liked living a bit too much to hang around and witness the volcano blowing her top. It was high time he found Selphie anyway. He needed to relax a bit before the competition. Squall and Rinoa were some of his closest friends, but they were so damned high-strung sometimes.

As he crept away to relative safety, he heard the first sparks from the explosion as Princess Heartilly spilled her anger onto her knight. "If I hear you say 'Seifer' one more flippin' time, I'm going to take that lance of yours and shove it so far up your..."

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"What do you mean, you're not going to sit with me?"

Xu shrugged. "I told you. I have no desire to watch a couple of idiots wave their lances around and wait for the cheers."

"But, if you don't sit with me, then I'll have to sit with Selphie again!"

Xu held up her gloved hand and began ticking items off on her fingers. "The rack needs to be cleaned and the hinges on the pillory could use some oil. I need to sharpen the spikes in the Iron Maiden, then I have to mop the floor, wash the windows, plus I thought I might try adding some varnish to the wood on the scaffold."

The thought of her precious oaken scaffold shining in the noonday sunlight nearly brought a tear to Xu's hooded eye. Did the executioners of olden days feel the same pride that she felt when they maintained their equipment? Did they feel the same joy when they could hear nothing but screams and pleas thanks to squeak-free machinery?

"Varnish? Are you kidding me?"

Part of her was disappointed in the blonde at her campfire. Xu truly felt that since Quistis was so fond of her whip that she would be eager to hang out with her best friend in the torture chamber. They could make it a girls' night and share some drinks and popcorn as they maimed some infidels. Good times. Xu figured that torture and cruelty would be right up Q's alley, but her indifference to the finer points of mutilation and execution were mind-boggling. It was almost as if she didn't even appreciate the miracles lemon-scented wax could perform on a weather-beaten hangman's platform.

"You'd be amazed at how much difference a good sealant makes when you're trying to hang someone in the rain, Q. Have you ever tried to string someone up by his gullet when you're worried about how the humidity is going to affect the life of your scaffold? Let me tell you, it's hard to enjoy torture when you keep checking the boards under your feet for cracks and signs of wear."

Quistis groaned. She could tell Xu a thing or two about torture...

"But Selphie will try to make me cheer for Seifer and I don't want to deal with that this afternoon."

"Then don't go."

"What?"

Xu threw her axe on her shoulder and fixed Quistis with a concerned look, which was ignored due to the fact that her eyes couldn't be seen under her hood. "Q, if you don't want to go to the joust, then sit here and wait for the faire to end. Or you could go to one of the smaller stages and catch one of the musicians or the jugglers."

"But I..."

Sighing, Xu squeezed Quistis on the shoulder and grabbed her lunch of leftover turkey. "Look Q. If you think Seifer is a lying twat that will screw anything that moves, then you'll sit here and wait for me until we can pack up and get back to Garden. Since you're so bent on going to the joust and seeing him, I can't help but think that you still believe that he might be the knight you want him to be."

Quistis pouted her lips and leaned closer to the fire. Something about that scene at Seifer's camp had bothered her all night. "He's still a complete asshole, Xu."

"Heh, yeah, he's an asshole, but he seemed awfully worried about you yesterday. Since he takes playing knight so seriously, I just have trouble wrapping my mind around him porking his squire. Just seems fucked up."

Yes Xu, but you didn't see them bumping and grinding while they...

Come to think of it, I didn't actually see them doing anything of the sort. It almost looked like Fujin was trying to make him drink cough syrup or something like that.

Yes dear, but why on earth would she be on top of the lad? Hmm? Got an explanation for that one?

Xu lifted her hood to better see Quistis' troubled face. "Q? You alright? You look kind of...distracted."

"Hmm? Oh, we're fine...I mean, I'm fine. I was just thinking..."

Unconvinced, but afraid to be late for her shift at the dungeon, Xu checked on Quistis once more, then headed to work. Oh, so much to do, so much to do...

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Note: I swear this is part of the last chapter, but I just don't like how I've written the joust. I'm happy with the resolution, but the final Seifer vs. Squall bit lacks something. Ah well. I'll post what I have so far...

I'm determined to finish this damn fic this week.

And yes, Selphie strikes me as an Elvis Presley fan. I can't explain it, but it's a vibe I've had since I first started playing this game. Can't you just see her strutting around in sequins and bell bottoms? I can! Makes perfect sense in my noggin.