Scene 3: A Touch of Destiny
With a low groan Cecil awoke. Sunlight shining through the stain-glass window burned his eyes and he lifted a hand to shield his face. Stretching, the dark knight let out another groan, hand stealing to his side. The pain had diminished significantly, and were it not for a slight scar one would never have believed he'd sustained an injury at all.
Outside bubbled a city alive in the merriment of business, commerce, arcane activity and with the lives of Mysidia's citizens. A pair of mages adorned in black robes exchanged scrolls. A white wizardess called out to her apprentice. Through the window Cecil could see it all, along with the beautiful tapestry of foilage and roots pushing their way up cobblestone streets.
His gaze swept around his room. It became very apparent that he was in a room in the Hall of Prayers; if the religious paintings on the walls didn't make it apparent, the half a dozen eccelestial ornaments on the oak dresser did. On a chair lay his clothes, cleaned and pressed. His armor and sword were no where to be found, however.
He supposed that was more than fair, all things considered.
For being the most hated man in the entire city, Cecil couldn't understand why he was afforded the lap of luxury. His pillow was made of soft chocobo feathers; the sheets on his bed were made of some sort of fabric from faraway Damcyan. The entire room was opulence, and as far as he could tell, he was afforded the highest in medical care, what with the near non-existence of his wound.
Somehow, someway, their kindness made him feel all the worse.
Cecil hurriedily dresssed, feeling somewhat naked without his armor and vulnerable without his blade. Stepping around the room in his socks, the dark knight contemplated his next move. Escape? With an entire city of high-classed mages alerted to and angered by his presence just outside his door? But waiting in this polite prison was setting his nerves to fraying. What were they going to do with him in the end?
Mired in thoughts, Cecil half-jerked as a knock came upon his door. Knowing naught else what to do the dark knight told them to enter. In came a young white mage, a single red braid slung over a shoulder. Her hands held a tray of food, the kind that one has at noontime. Noontime? Had he slept half the day away?
The tray teetered in her hands so the dark knight stepped over to take it from her. The moment his hands touched the tray she gave a yelp and dropped it. An odd assortment of colors stained the carpet where the food now made its home. Giving another squeal, the white mage retreated back out the door.
"W---wait!" he called. "I'm sorry! Come back. I'm not going to hurt you!"
Someone did enter just then but it was not the white mage. Instead a mage with volumious ebony robes stood glowering at him. The look he gave Cecil could cut through adamanite. He dropped the dark knight's boots at his feet, bare inches from the pile of food splattered on the carpet. "Put them on and follow me." As if an afterthought the mage added. "And don't try any funny business. You so much as look at me wrong and...Puff! You're gone."
Wordlessly Cecil threw the boots on and followed the mage out the door and into the corridor. All through the journey through the Hall of Prayer the former Lord Captain sensed and saw the stares. Hateful, but also fearful. What were they afraid of? A lone man without so much as a piece of armor to shield him or a kitchen knife to fight with? But Cecil supposed that they didn't know that, perhaps thinking this a prelude to a wanton display of bloody destruction.
The kind of display Baron was fast becoming known for.
And he was their Angel of Death.
His head lowered, his hands hung harmlessly, Cecil was determined to appear innocous as the black mage continued to lead him through the corridors. Eventually he stopped, gesturing the dark knight forward. "The Elder would have a word with you."
Cecil's heart caught in his throat as he gazed upon the dooor. It was the one to Mysidia's Crystal Room. The same room were he had struck down the Elder and stolen the Water Crystal himself. Had the Elder wanted him to see the scene of the crime? Still, whatever Lukhan had in mind, the dark knight knew he'd earned. With no other recourse, Cecil placed his hands upon the door.
Inside the room beamed with the luminensce of a thousand unseen lights. That light bounced off the crystalline floor, which reflected the dark knight's form. It also reflected the form of the altar, conspicous with its lack of a crystal. A hand rested upon that pedastal which belonged to the Elder who stood with his back to Cecil. No one spoke for many long moments. Thinking that the Elder wanted him to speak first the dark knight cleared his throat but Lukhan opend his mouth first.
"You are Cecil, Lord Captain of the Red Wings of Baron. Why have you returned to this city?"
Lowering his head as he lowered his voice Cecil said, "I was Lord Captain until very recently. What I did before I did because I did not have the courage to disobey the orders of my king."
Lukhan slowly turned around, beard not quite concealing the frown upon his face. "You've come to apologize then? Words do not heal wounds, dark knight, nor do they restore life's flame to those you have doused."
Shame overcame Cecil's face as he recalled the memory. Mages battered and broken. Buildings burning. All because of him and his inability to refuse a order he knew he ought not follow. His head lifted when he heard the Elder continue.
"But I do see a glimmer of light in you I did not see before. I will hear your words."
Here was his moment, a possible turning point in this disaster. He would make the most of it.
Breathing deeply, Cecil said, "I seek to stop a man who has taken control of Baron. His name is Goblez. I was on my way to rescue a friend he took captive when Leviathan struck our ship." His voice barely above a whisper he added, "I do not know what became of my companions."
Those last few words shattered the wintry shroud around the Elder. His own voice was soft. "That was no doubt part of the ordeal ordained for you. As long as you lean upon the dark sword for strength, you have no hope of defeating the evil you face." Like a man peering into a globe--or crystal--Lukhan circled him, eyes seeming to pierce him. "You hunt a monster but in doing so you become one yourself. Slowly but surely the darkness will taint your soul as well, until nothing else remains."
Head dropping again, the dark knight felt defeat settle on his shoulders. What choice had he but to bear the dark sword? He had no other powers. As it was he was like an imp up against the myth-creature the Monster of Babil. Take away the sword and he was beyond helpless. A hand fell upon his shoulder and he looked up again.
"Do not fret, young Cecil." That hand lifted his chin up, raising the dark knight's gaze to lock with the Elder's. "I know you have your own purpose in this world, as do all creatures of the Blue Planet. I will find your life's path and do my best to set you upon it." Before Cecil could do anything to stop him, Lukhan placed his hand on his forehead.
Like he plunged into a waterfall the dark knight felt himself falling, spinning into a sea of memories. The king knighting him. The queen, his adoptive mother, dying. He and Kain sparring. Edward playing his lute. Cid working on the Enterprise. Rydia bouncing around as she played with Whyt. Tellah mumbling. Yang telling him about martial arts techinques. Rosa smiling as he held her...
...a sword, bright as starlight, in his hand...
There were words on the hilt, but Cecil couldn't make them out.
When he was dragged up from the waves of rememberance, the dark knight pulled sharply away from Lukhan. Many of those memories were deeply personal and he resented having them laid bear for the Elder to pick through and scruntize. Yes he'd committed sins on this man and his people but what purpose could there possibly be in invading his mind like that?
"I don't believe it."
Cecil's angry words dropped back down his throat as he gazed upon the Elder's glazed expression. Lukhan looked at Cecil in a peculiar way and the dark knight couldn't figure out whether it was a boon or not. Circling the dark knight, Lukhan suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion or a decision or something for he snapped his fingers and yelled out, "Midia, get the book."
And then he promptly left the room with no preamble or explaination.
"W--wait..." Cecil stepped out of the room. In the connecting corridor the Elder was literally hurling himself down it, crazily searching for something. Several other mages buzzed around him, also hunting for what Cecil guessed was the same something. A book he surmised from Lukhan's last few words, that, and the tomes they were rapidly reviewing and then tossing aside.
After about twenty minutes (in which no one answered his questions) one of the mages lifted a large blue-binded black book and presented it to the Elder. Gingerly he lifted it, one eye apprasing the dark knight. That look made Cecil distinctly uncomfortable. Flipping it open Lukhan ran a finger along a page, no doubt scanning faded lines of text. When the finger stopped, he spoke.
"If you truly wish to cleanse yourself of darkness you must go to..." His eyes reread a few words. "....Mount. Ordeals. It's in the east. Desinty awaits you there."
Jerking like a salmon on a line, Cecil protested, "But my friend is in danger!"
The Elder's gray eyes softened. "This friend means much to you, doesn't she?" Not once had Cecil mentioned that his friend was a female and yet Lukhan correctly guessed that. "But you must not let fear drive you to haste. The fate that hangs on your shoulders is far greater than you know."
Somehow Cecil knew he was being herded into some sort of experiment or religious fanactisim. Yet for the life of him the dark knight couldn't react fast enough to side-step it.
"First, you must ascend the mountain and trade your dark sword for one of light." Eyes cemented to the pages, Lukhan spoke as if the words came from some great deity. "Should the hallowed light deem you worthy you will be made a...a paladin--a warrior of virtue." His voice was hushed at those words. He then snapped the book shut. "But know this will be no easy feat. Many are the men who have scaled that mountain and not one has returned."
Mere hours ago Cecil was surrounded by mages lusting for his blood. Here, now, he was being asked to accomplish some sort of magical miracle borne for men of honor. But he was entirely without honor. He was a man with not the strength to turn on his disreputable country until he'd already committed unspeakable crimes. All to become a paladin.
Cecil himself had heard of paladins. He knew of none personally, of course, and most, including himself, believed the holy warriors to be a myth. Knights of impeccable honor, highest level of swordmanship skills and wielding spells of lower-leveled white mages. There had even been a story of one who lived long ago who wielded a sword born out of light...
...same as the one he'd envisioned in his trance.
The dark knight shivered.
"Will you accept this quest?"
Him? A paladin? The very idea was ludricrious. But then the dark knight recalled a certain memory, the one were he was hunched over, beaten, unable to protect Rosa because he had naught the power to do so. Kain had easily defeated him within minutes and he was only a henchmen of Goblez. To even have a chance against the warlord Cecil would need a formidable power and the power of a paladin was definitely that.
"I will," he heard himself say.
The Elder beamed. "Good. But you will have little chance with that dark sword alone. I shall provide two mages to assist you in your quest." Clapping his hands twice, Lukhan shouted, "Palom! Porom!"
Though Cecil knew not what to expect he suppose he anticipated something a bit different when he gazed up a young woman who stepped into the hall, a white mage by her invory robes. She was barely past puberty, long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. There was an air of maturity and intelligence about her. "Do you need something, Elder?"
Lukhan glanced over her shoulder. "Where is Palom?"
A frown spoiled the visage of the young woman. "Oh that brother of mine!"
As if magically summoned or on cue a flash of light sprang to life next to the young white mage. Out of it emerged a young black mage, and it was clear to Cecil within an instant that they were twins. Same color of hair, same round face, same brown eyes. But while the young woman's eyes were polite the black mage's eyes were mischevious and mirthful. One of those eyes squinted and the other appraised Cecil.
"So you're that flithy dark knight from Baron?" His lips pursed. "I'm only helping out because he told me to. You'd better be thankful!"
When the meaning behind those words registered Cecil gapped, "These two?"
Was this some kind of joke?
The Elder seemed to perceive his concerns for he said, "Yes. Palom and Porom are twins and while they are young and still in their apprenticeship I can vouch for their abilities."
A lazy grin flashed across the boy's face. "What he means is that I'm Mysidia's most esteemed magical prodigy. You're lucky to have me along."
"Palom!" The Elder shouted, his voice aligning the boy's spine. "This is as much for your training as it is for him."
Now it was Cecil's turn to look around his crystal-blue eyes aglaze. The twins greeted him (the white mage bonking her brother on the head to remind him to do so) but the dark knight barely paid attention. His gaze locked on that of the Elder's. Lukhan had a new expression on his own face, one that seemed to know a lot more than it was telling.
"Go now. The trials of the mountain await. I will have provisions prepared for your journey and your armor and sword will be returned to you, Cecil." He was talking over the dark knight who remained expressionless and motionless. "Palom, Porom, I trust you not to fail me in this task." Once again the Elder's hand drifted to Cecil's shoulder. "You too, must not fail. This is your destiny."
"I won't," was all the dark knight could get past the lump in his throat.
After that Cecil was escorted back to his room by the same mage that escorted him out of it. True to his word, the Elder had his sword and armor on the chair. There was no getting out of it now, the dark knight supposed. Cecil lifted that sword and let it rest lightly on his palm. His mind fluttered back to the moment in his trance holding the blade of light. Then the memories wandered to Rosa.
Her lips, soft and sweet as rose petals, met his. He devoured them hungrily, lovingly, longing to savour this moment forever. Between his routine training and her spellcasting lessons the two had barely scrapped together a moment to be...together.
Rosa had introduced him to her mother, Joanna. The woman had not come over to Cecil's side easily--her husband, Rosa's father, had perished in the line of duty as a dark knight--but with gentle prodding and overkill on kind words and deeds Cecil had won her over. Joanna had insisted that her daughter not suffer the same fate, that Cecil would always be by Rosa's side, protect her and came home alive himself.
The memory faded as Cecil returned to the present. He didn't believe for a second that he had what it took to be accepted by the holiest light on the Blue Planet. Paladinhood was for a greater man than he, one whose soul wasn't stained beyond recognition. It was a suicide mission, and the Elder must have known that. That was why he was being sent on it--slaying him here would offend their pacisifist nature, but perishing on some quest? Tragic, but things like that happened all the time.
What choice did he have?