Author's notes: This came out faster than I planned, now I'm feeling tired. And I really couldn't think of a name for the village. Also, Wardes has always looked suspicious as hell to me.

To Hymn of Ragnarok: This is all your fault. Could you now tell me what you mean with 'dry'? I got no idea what you mean. I appreciate constructive criticism, but it's just cruel to leave me hanging like that. And there is much exposition because it's the first chapters, so I'm going to rant a lot about the setting and stuff. That goes double for this chapter, but with the setting explained I can take it easy and focus on the story.

To Cataquack Warrior: Changed the summary a little, so it fits for a longer story. I do have some long term things planned.

To everyone: Thanks for the reviews, it feels nice to be appreciated! Now, read and review!

End notes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thinking

"Speaking"

Spells, or scene

Chapter 2

The Robin Hood maneuver

Baron's Rest trading post and inn

Marche sighed and leaned back on his chair. A few days had passed since the battle in the clearing and his sudden arrival in this world. His wounds had healed easily with a Cure spell and he had been almost in top condition when the night had come and the twin moons rose to the sky. There had been no pursuers, just as Marche had planned, although the next day he was sure he had seen the icedrake patrolling the sky. Or maybe 'patrol' was too strong word. Marche was sure that they wouldn't be as stupid as to think that they could spot him from the sky when he was inside a forest, so he had adopted an idea that the group had dispatched the rider, Tabitha, to deliver a message to their superiors about the failed mission and his description so that whatever city guard or whatever equivalent they had was ready to pounce on him when he stepped in from a city gate. So when Marche had finally found his way out of the forest, he had decided to stay away from settlements and gather information in disguise. He had stuffed his black Judge coat in an improvised rucksack created from the green cloak, leaving Marche with a white tunic with a broad red stripe going horizontally over the upper body and continuing on the sleeves, an Onlyone. In Ivalice it was said that if you had an Onlyone, you would need no other shirt because the cloth was so sturdy it would never wear or tear. Richer ninjas and thieves actually used them in place of armor. Marche had also hid his Terre rod so that his mage abilities were not so obvious. Actually Marche's outfit looked very similar to the one that the swordsman wore the other day. By following the road, Marche had eventually reached the Baron's rest, a moderate sized trading post with an inn and a few craftsmen. The traders and craftsman were surprisingly loose lipped and Marche had learned a lot.

The country was called Tristain and its neighbors were called Albion, Gallia and Germania. Albion didn't ring any bells, but Germania was obviously reference to Germany and Marche swore he had heard about Gallia in his history lessons, although he didn't remember where. The world was known as Halkeginia. In Tristain, system of government was monarchy and the current ruler was someone called Princess Henrietta. Nobles were the ruling class and they were all mages. Or more correctly, one had to be a mage to be a noble. Some sort of divine rule set by the local messiah figure. This made most of the nobles think that they were oh-so-much better than the 'commoners'. Seriously, the situation was almost as bad as it was in Ivalice! The nobles were unquestioned authority, they could essentially treat the commoners as they wanted and the only thing holding them back appeared to the need to look good in the eyes of the other bluebloods. Nobles could be dishonored by their families or by the royalty if they misused their positions. Such was apparently the case of Fouquet of the Crumbling Dirt, the master thief whose name would soon be associated with Marche. Nobody knew who this Fouquet was before his criminal career, but there were some wild theories considering his identity ranging from a bastard child of the previous king to a young nobleman whose commoner lover committed suicide after her family's properties were confiscated in some noble's political scheme. Fouquet apparently stole only from nobles and left solid walls turned into dirt as her trademark. Sometimes there were even short insulting messages. All in all, he sounded like Marche's kind of guy, if he wasn't forced to take the backlash of Fouquet's heists, he would buy the guy a drink or something.

Another interesting point –at least for Marche– was that the group that had come after him, was not exactly a common occurrence here in Tristain. Such things were usually taken care by the military organizations, mainly the Griffin Knights, Manticore Knights or Wind Dragon Corps. Sometimes the Princess sent her own guard, the Royal Musketeers to take care of things, although they were supposed to be some sort of spec ops division that obeyed only the Princess. They apparently used muskets, which caused Marche to ponder the rocket launchers origins, but he left it at that. The curious thing about the musketeers was that they were all commoners, as if the Princess didn't trust the nobles. Anyway, Marche had her pegged as his target. The situation was close enough to the last incident with a grimoire and she was like Mewt: a young ruler with no challengers to her authority in a world that had some resemblance to the real world. Marche was sure that if he dug around a little he would find that she had an ancient grimoire stashed in somewhere. It might be just a coincidence, but it was the only lead Marche had.

And that lead to Marche's current predicament. He was, essentially planning a raid to the royal palace. Again. But this time, he had no clan at his back. No Babus to stop the guards, no Cid to chase away the possible equivalent of Llednar Twem. And that scared him. He still had nightmares about the red clad knight, even though he saw with his own eyes how he turned to stone and crumbled when his Omega was overwhelmed by Marche's Ultima Shot reinforced with Turbo-MP. Marche had learned the whole technique just for that purpose and he hadn't used it after that. It ate almost all his MP at once and the damage reflected it. Llednars crumbled remains in the crater in Ambervale were testimony to that. That Marche still feared him was a proof of how disturbing Llednar was. He was the avatar of Mewt's negative emotions after all; his whole presence screamed bloody murder and "obey me or die". Oh, and he was essentially created to stop Marche from erasing the Ivalice, by any means possible. Marche really hoped there wasn't anyone like that in Halkeginia. Anyway, Marche needed allies if he hoped to succeed. But where could I find them? This place has no clan system and I doubt I could just hire some mercenaries. Especially without money, Marche thought and fiddled his coin pouch. He had sold a few of his potions when he arrived, but the money was mostly gone already. Marche really had no idea about the local currency, so he didn't know if he was being scammed, but there was little he could do. I suppose I could try to gain allies from the locals. It worked well during the Clan Wars Marche planned, grinning with the memories. The clans back in Ivalice were practically all about the turfs. Sure, missions were how the clans funded themselves, but turfs were the thing that gave clans respect and privileges. Merchants gave special deals for the clans in charge of the area and the citizens gave gifts or did favors, especially if the clans treated people who lived in their turf well. Marche's clan, the Alodia was a prime example of that. Marche had never learned how exactly the people living around the Bervenia Palace kept it secret from the queen and her men that the very person they were tearing the country apart to find was in charge of the turf on which the palace stood. It had been the source of many jokes back in the days.

Marche thought over his situation for one last time and sighed with resignation. He'd have to proceed with the 'Robin Hood maneuver.' He was already mistaken for a famous criminal so he should use it for his advantage and gain the support of the commoners by robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. Commoners were everywhere, so once Marche had them on his side he'd have an excellent information network and it would be only a matter of time when he would find people who could help him. Marche emptied the tankard of watered down beer he had bought to help him think and walked to his room in the back of the inn. There is supposed to be a little village nearby with a summer manor of some minor noble. Probably as good place to start as any, Marche reasoned as he packed his scarce belongings in a freshly bought brown leather bag and left for the road. He had paid in advance for one more day, but he felt it would serve no purpose to linger around any longer. He stopped briefly to notice that there was a new wanted poster for Fouquet of the Crumbling Dirt nailed on the wall of the trading post. The last one didn't have a description and it looked like the bounty had gone up too. Hmm… Three thousand gold coins and a title of 'chevalier' whatever that is. Sounds like french, Marche thougth as he inspected the poster. The describtion was fairly short, just saying he had blond hair, ridiculous hairstyle and blue eyes, wore green cloak and black clothes and that he was at least a triangle level mage with earth as his main and wind and water as his sub elements. Marche had learned that 'triangle level' translated to 'above average' in the local mage community and it meant that one could stack three elements to a spell. The elements were earth, fire, water, air and the lost void element. The element mages generally had one element they specialized in and could perform some simple spells of the other elements, thought the sub elements were mainly to modify their main element spells, for example a whirlwind could be generated as a pure wind spell but if the mage added a water element with the wind it would create an ice spell. Generally this would mean that the element mages had superior control over their spells when compared to Marche. Skilled fire mages could use their magic to not only throw fireballs, but also skewer their enemies with fire spears, create walls of fire between them and their enemies or just conjure a mighty pillar of fire to incinerate everything on the area. Marche's control on the other hand was on the level of creating fireballs of different sizes. He couldn't create anything complex. But the color magic still had a cutting edge when compared to the local element magic. Human color mages could learn both offensive Black and defensive White magic. It was actually required if one wanted to learn Blue magic or Phantasm skills. Marche glanced imperceptibly around if anyone was connecting him to the posters description and when no-one seemed to be paying attention he walked away.

A few days ago, Tristan academy of Magic

"So the thief forfeited the staff and escaped?" asked headmaster Osmond of the Tristan academy of Magic while looking over the mostly exhausted team of students and a familiar.

"Yes headmaster. After Saito made him drop the Staff, he casted a sleep spell on everyone but me and Tabitha and escaped into the forest. I tried to hit him when he ran, but he evaded and hit me with unknown wind spell" explained Louise. Out of everyone who had gone after the thief, she looked to be the one with the least damage. She didn't even appear to be tired.

"Really? What kind of spell?" Osmond asked curiously.

"He conjured two glowing triangles that flew around and zapped me before disappearing. After that I couldn't cast magic at all and he disappeared into the forest" Louise spoke and sent a glare towards Kirche who snickered at her words.

"Hmm. With all due respect miss Valliere, your spells… Aren't always successful", Osmond said trying to be polite.

"I don't mean that!" Louise yelled in indignation, and then looked shocked at her outburst before continuing sheepishly, "I mean… There weren't even explosion. It was as if I had no more willpower."

"Is that so?" Osmond said and stroked his beard thoughtfully before answering, "Interesting. There are some wind spells that use electricity to affect mages casting ability. They aren't so common, because generally it's more useful to eliminate the target with a lightning bolt than to just incapacitate them momentarily." He then nodded to Louise and talked to the whole group.

"Anyway, the thief might have escaped but you got the Staff of Destruction back, which means you completed the mission. I'm sure Fouquet will now think twice before trying something like that again. I thank you all in behalf of the Tristan academy of Magic and I have requested the imperial court to reward you with the title of chevalier and since Tabitha already has the title, I requested that she will be given the Elven medallion. Even if you didn't catch the thief, I'm sure you will get these rewards, for you did regain the artifact" Osmond announced and three faces brightened with pride, although only Kirche noticed it from Tabitha.

"Headmaster Osmond… What about Saito and miss Longueville? If she hadn't distracted Fouquet or he disarmed him you could be reading ransom demands now", asked Louise, glancing at the two at the back of the room.

"I'm afraid I can do nothing for him since he is a familiar and not a noble, but miss Longueville will gain a noticeable bonus on her usual wage for this." Osmond said a bit apologetically.

"It's fine. I don't need anything." Saito said with a nod and Longueville presented her heartfelt thanks and left after hugging Saito as a reward for saving her life. This caused every other male in the room to stare at him jealously and Louise in indignation.

"I almost forgot, Tonight's Ball of Frigg will resume as planned since we have gotten back the Staff of Destruction" Osmond said and gathered everyone's attention.

"That's right. Let's forget about Fouquet and dance all night long!" Kirche cheered.

"The main attraction of the ball will be you three. So go get ready and dress up!" Osmond smiled at them when they left the room with the exception of Saito who told Louise he'd come over in a minute.

A little village on the edge of the forest

Marche arrived to the village just when the sun started to set and everything was dyed red. To Marche's eyes, it looked a bit ominous and he was considering that maybe he should start from the bottom and take care of some stray monsters or something first. After all, he was still rusty from his few year break from magic. He had regained a lot of his spells already, but he was still uncertain if he could pull off successfully something big. And he probably would need something big if he were to pillage a noble's manor, even if said noble was away at the moment. Marche still walked into the village and looked for an inn. He would need a meal and information first. Even if the trading post was fairly near the village, the information might still be inaccurate or old. After a bit of searching Marche found himself in a small quiet tavern with a few people gossiping. He bought himself a drink and sat alone at a table, close enough to hear what the people were talking about.

"…tell you it is Wardes the Lighting himself! What's he doing in a small village such as this?" said one of the men, sounding agitated.

"Relax. They say he is the best that the nobility has to offer, he's probably here because of the mayors experiments. You'll see, when he finds whatever's causing those noises at night he'll fry the whole manor" said the other, sounding reassured.

"You sure? I heard that the mayors a square class water mage. Not many can take on something that powerful" said the first voice and Marche was suddenly very glad he had stopped to gather information. Square class meant strong as hell. And water mages were famous for their ability to tamper with the human body. Usually they were healers but they made more than decent poisoners too. Marche had a small pouch of cureall, but he didn't want to waste it. Constant casting of Esuna would also be a liability. All in all, it would probably be unwise to try and steal from this particular noble. At this time, at least.

"Of course! Lord Wardes is the captain of the Griffin knights and a square class wind mage! They say that out of all mages, wind mages are the most deadly in combat!" The other one boasted and Marche started to plot a tactical retreat. Two high level mages, such a bad luck. And the other one is in military! I have to get out, he's probably seen my wanted poster and he sounds like a guy who won't be fooled by disguise as shoddy as this, Marche almost panicked and cursed that he hadn't changed his hairstyle. It would have been so easy to just tie it on a ponytail or something. It would be suspicious of him to do so now. Marche took a sip from his drink and left the half-full tankard on the table, making a beeline for the door. Just when he got to it, the door was opened and in stepped the most suspicious looking man Marche had ever seen. He wore a large feathered hat on his head and had a long hair and a beard. The hair sprawled out from under the hat, hiding a part of the man's face. He was dressed in a long elaborate jacket that Marche likened to a trench coat. Add in the rapier hanging from his belt and the man would've been right at home as a villain in some movie taking place in renaissance French. Or maybe more correctly, in a video game Marche thought and stepped aside, allowing the man to walk past him. He nodded to Marche in thanks, his gaze lingering at Marche a bit longer than he was comfortable with. The gasps of awe he heard from the tavern patrons confirmed his suspicions. This guy is Wardes, Marche thought and tried to keep his cool as he walked out. He could feel Wardes staring at his back. Immediately after Marche turned past a corner, he started to run. If Wardes attacked him in the village not only would it gather the attention of the powerful mayor, but would probably also cause the villagers to attack him in order to support the man they revered. If Marche defended himself, he would make enemies out of the locals and that would destroy the plan.

Just when Marche was about to get out of the village, he heard a screech and something crashed in front of him. Marche's hand shot out to his saber and he cast the Dragon Force on himself. This close to the village edge, he could incapacitate the mage and disappear into the forest again. To Marche's surprise, in front of him was not Wardes but a masked man riding a winged beast Marche recognized as a griffin. Is this guy part of the Griffin Knights? Marche thought. Of course the captain of the knights had knights with him. Marche shot out his sabre, ready to blast the nameless knight with a spell, when the knight raised his hands, leaving the wand at his waist.

"Stop! I'm not your enemy!" He said with a strong voice.

"Riding a griffin while the captain of the Griffin knights is in town?" Marche spat at him, but did not release the spell.

"Just because I have a griffin does not mean I'm a knight."

"Hmph, true enough. Speak then, but I'm in a bit of a hurry" Marche said and spared a glance behind him. No guard in sight.

"Yes, the captain of the Griffin knights is an intelligent man and has help you won't be able to lose him while on foot, even if you hide in the forest. But you are lucky. He is just passing through this village for he has urgent business somewhere else, he won't have time to pursuit you if you take the skies." The man explained.

"You offering a ride?" Marche asked. He swore he could hear people coming closer.

"Yes, but there are conditions, Mister Fouquet of the Crumbling Dirt" the man said and even though he wore a mask, Marche was sure he was grinning.

"I'm not Fouquet" Marche said nonchalantly and slapped himself mentally. If what the guy said was true, he needed the ride.

"Please, don't underestimate the information network of my employer's mister Fouquet. They might decide you are not worth the trouble" the man spoke, but Marche could tell he was not serious. He merely wanted to see him squirm.

"Sorry. What conditions?" Marche asked and licked his lips nervously.

"We are in need of talented mages and a triangle such as yourself would be just what we need" the man said and was about to continue, but just then Marche heard running sound and he looked back to see Wardes running towards him, pulling his rapier out.

"Deal. Make room please!" Marche said and jumped aboard, just behind the masked man, who then commanded the griffin to get into air. A lightning bolt cut through the air, but the agile beast dodged it effortlessly. Marche sheathed his saber and grabbed the man with his free hand.

"What's the name of our employer?" Marche asked as the beast rose higher where the spells wouldn't reach. Marche barely heard his answer through the sound of large wings slapping the wind.

"We are the Reconquista."