Chapter 1 : Spira in the Eternal Calm

A soft zephyr flowed over the Calm Lands at daybreak. The twilight of dawn was still lingering over the northern lands of Spira, under the shadow of Mount Gagazet looming megalithic in the distance. The moon was sinking and the sun rising, and all seemed at ease for the moment. A low, sultry feminine voice, familiar and somber, spoke in the realm of thought and memory.

Paine:

The Eternal Calm. Peace for Spira, and the spiral of history was to unravel and reach its end. We believed it was true, after the death of Sin. Looking back now, it was wishful thinking. The Calm lasted for a couple years, if even that long. Sin is not dead after all; it still lives in the hearts of the people. Chaos and conflict returned to Spira, this time caused by humans. And I found myself in the middle of it all, as usual…

The fields and little slopes and plateaus, covered with dew and glistening in the sun, suddenly rattled with the sounds of clanking armor and weapons. A quaint little farming village lay upon the western edge of the Calm Lands now, and beside it a trading post. Upon the hilltop to the south, marching in from the road through Macalania Woods, a force of raiders came into view. They were spied by a pair of fiery red eyes set within a fair and comely face, yet marked with grim countenance. This solemn maiden was clad in samurai armor and armed with a large broadsword. She sat upon a stone, waiting, while behind her the village clamored in panic and a deep war-horn was sounded, echoing across the far reaches of the Calm Lands. From the village there walked a tall and hugely-muscled man, girt in chain and scale armor, carrying a giant double-headed axe. His face was handsome yet stern; his deep blues eyes were filled with resolve, his head was shaved clean and he had a full blond beard.

"Lady Paine, we are ready now." He said with a deep, powerful voice. Paine gazed down upon the blade of her sword, into her own reflection. Abruptly she stood and sheathed her sword at her side.

"Good work, Brock. We'll charge them outright. Bring my lance, and bring Osprey." She said, and he turned to do as she asked.

In the next moment Paine was mounted atop her golden-white chocobo, named Osprey. The bird was armored and ready for battle, cooing and screeching with exhilaration. She held her lance in one gauntleted hand and bore a shield in the other. Twenty more chocobo knights in glistening armor were saddled and stood beside her, ready for the charge. Brock was too big to ride but he took the lead of a detachment of foot soldiers from the garrison at Gagazet, including a handful of Ronso braves and some local militia from the village itself. As they assembled a few hundred yards in front of the village, across the plains on the south side of the Calm Lands the raider horde had widened out to present a broad front, spiked with spears and bayonets on the ends of long-barreled bolt-action rifles. The weaponry and tactics of common raider bands or wild tribes was neither sophisticated nor typically well-maintained, yet some tribes were more brutal and virile in combat than others. This particular horde, called the Black Eagles, were a collection of peoples who had once lived on the coastal rifts west of Bevelle. Their homeland was an obscure and volatile region of crags and canyons beneath the mountains west of the Calm Lands, known as Sin's Wake. The land was thus called because it had been created centuries ago during an earthquake caused by Sin, which had collapsed a huge portion of the south-western Calm Lands plateau into the depths below. Life was difficult there, and it bred a tribe of vicious and fearless people who often harassed the surrounding lands and even Bevelle itself once the threat of Sin had vanished. In this coming age, populations would grow unhindered across Spira and ambitious governments or roving warlike bands would become a menace to the common people. Mountain tribes, once hidden in the high mists and forgotten by the rest of Spira, were now coming down all across the continent of Wilderia to assert their claims on the fertile lands and coastal plains where resources were plentiful and life was easier after the age of Sin.

The raiders inched closer and closer by the minute, in the form of a dark mass in the distance. Then suddenly they blasted their high-pitched, haunting brass war horns, and began to take shots at the village and the assembled defense force. Paine grimaced and cast a stern gaze at the enemy battle-array, and then she pointed her lance forward and called aloud for the attack. (Paine's battle theme is: "Freya" by The Sword)
"Knights, charge!" She cried, and the cavalry sounded a trumpet, then followed her as she urged Osprey into a determined sprint across the plains. The fluttering of feathers and stamp of clawed feet echoed across the Calm Lands, along with gunfire the screams of savage warriors under a thickening haze of gunpowder and smoke. Paine led the cavalry and they closed the gap between them and the raider horde. Gunshots and arrows began to shower about them like dark hail. Two men fell from their saddles, struck dead by the obsidian arrowheads employed by the archers of the Black Eagle tribe. An arrow shattered upon Paine's shield, and next a bullet struck her right shoulder pad. She rode on undaunted, but as they came within five hundred yards the raiders released their war dogs. The tribes often captured and trained wild Lupines or Dire Wolves, and employed them in battle to break an enemy charge or to open up enemy ranks. The blood-mad hounds came barreling toward the oncoming knights, sprinting gracefully and faster than any other creature in Spira could run. Paine tugged at Osprey's stirrups and skillfully guided the bird to avoid the oncoming danger. Hounds were incredibly fast at a dead sprint, but they needed a wide berth to turn once they had reached full speed. While Paine continued to lead the charge, three more knights were brought down by the war dogs. A Lupine's jaws could snap a chocobo's leg instantly, and their serrated teeth could even tear through plate armor. She did not look back, but kept faith that the knights were still close behind her. The distance between her and the front of the horde was narrowed.

"This is going to hurt." Paine muttered under her breath, and then she gasped for air once more as the enemy lines zoomed up to meet her. She trained the sharp, triangular head of her lance upon the figure who would most impede her breaking through the ranks, if he stood in her way; he was a tall, muscular and wiry brave, naked above the waist and with the outline of an eagle painted upon his chest in black ashes and tar. In the next instant her barbed lance delved into his chest and ran through him. Paine let go of her lance as Osprey crashed through the ranks and took her into the midst of her enemies. The rest of the chocobo knights slammed into the front of the raider horde with little success; most were killed instantly, impaled by spear or bayonet. Others were thrown from their birds as the chocobos went berserk in full panic, and raiders fell upon them with hatchets and machetes.

Paine unsheathed her sword to the ringing sound of its keen steel, and she then mercilessly hacked from side to side at her foes, opening helmets and skulls alike, rending limbs and slashing torsos. Paine and Osprey were wholly surrounded, and they wheeled and dashed in a frenzy just to stay upright amid the horde. Paine could feel exhaustion coming upon her as she struggled to breath, and yet a lone chocobo knight came to her aid, clad in a red tunic and shining armor, with a colorful and feathered headband above her brow. It was Elma. The two of them fought together, but bullets and arrows soon harried them and both their birds went down, screeching as they sank to earth in the throws of death. Elma rolled from her saddle as she fell and came immediately to her feet, fighting with her longsword and a chain, upon the end of which hung a spiked steel ball. Paine struggled to get out from beneath Osprey's bloodied body, and when she was finally free she stood and staggered in the midst of the horde. She took hold of her broadsword with both hands, and in the stance of a warrior she made ready for pitiless combat.

Her fate seemed grim then, yet by now the rest of the force with Brock had jogged across the plains and they met the raiders in battle. There were perhaps three hundred warriors of the Black Eagle tribe on the field, and Brock led thirty soldiers, fifty-two militia fighters, and half a dozen Ronso warriors. The melee of the meeting armies was catastrophic in its sheer brutality. The Ronso were huge, mighty berserkers who fought with huge spears and heavy spiked clubs. They battered their way through the raider horde, opening up the ranks for militiamen to follow. The soldiers led by Brock were trained fighters, and many of them were already veterans of sporadic tribal warfare, against the Black Eagles in particular. Brock fought his way through the throngs of his enemies, swinging his axe in a wide arc, until finally he came to Paine's side.

"You finally made it!" She said, with some marked relief in her face.

"You charge too fast! We've got all day to deal with these savages, didn't you realize?" Brock said with a hearty laugh, and then he split the midriff of a charging brave, and kicked the writhing body out of his way.

"If this takes all day, I'm going to have a heart-attack…" Paine replied, and she swung right to block the plunging spear of an enemy.

For a long time it seemed that the battle would go ill, but then a blue Ronso warrior with a horrendous battle-lance came into the fray and rallied his brethren, and together they split the middle of the horde and drove all the way through to the other side, followed by militia and soldiers. The Ronso was none other than Kimahri. The Black Eagle horde had been broken apart, however it was arguably more dangerous to engage the tribals in single combat or small groups, for they excelled at hand-to-hand fighting. The Black Eagles split into teams and squads, and then they went truly berserk. Paine and Brock met up with Elma and together the three of them formed a team to carry on the battle. With axe, sword and chain-flail, the companions battered and hacked their way across the bloodied field. Raiders attacked them in bands of five or six with spears, maces, clubs, swords or axes. The Black Eagles were lightly armored fighters, clothed in animal hides and leather, or reptile scales and dark bird plumage. Some were bare-chested with leather armor on their legs and arms, or metal bracers and armbands. They were almost all tattooed to some extent, with the markings of their tribe or their religious and magical symbols, and with intricate black knot-work. Their hair was often long, and either braided or loose. They were built lean and wiry, for their muscles were toned and strong from rigorous training. It was always a hard battle against the Black Eagles, once they had committed to fight.

Paine took down three more enemies at the edge of her sword, and Brock killed a great warrior with his axe, while Elma fended off a Lupine with her flail and sword. Their enemies finally appeared to be dwindling, but the militia had likewise mostly fallen or fled the battle. Just when victory seemed near, a blood-chilling wail could be heard from upon the hill at the southern end of the Calm Lands. It was the battle-screech of a Medusa and her witch-women. They clamored together, with fearsome sound, much like a pack of coyotes in the night or early morning. Paine and Brock stood together then in silence, watching as the Black Eagles regrouped at the foot of the hill. They could see the figures of the witch women of the tribe, surrounding their queen.

"It's their Medusa…" Brock said, with grim foreboding.

"I know. She's the queen of the tribe, and her women practice black magic. Her warrior maidens are skilled archers and spear fighters. They also keep black birds." Paine replied.

"This day just keeps getting better…" Elma quipped, and she began to twirl her flail. As they stood upon the field, an ominous dark gray cloud came rolling overhead from the south, and the witch-women released their black birds. Large vultures came first, spewing acid at the soldiers and militia. Next came black hawks, vicious raptors with long talons and sharp beaks, who brutally attacked their targets in fell swoops. While the defensive forces were in total disarray, the Medusa came striding down from the hill with her women at her side, joined by the warriors in a second wave of attack. While the defenders were entangled in combat or harassed from above, the Medusa ordered her women to set fire to the fields and the wheat crops. Soon the Calm Lands became a nightmarish scene.

Paine could see her more clearly now; the Medusa was a tall and lithe woman, with pale skin and black hair braided into long locks. She was armed with a staff and a spiked mace, and clothed in black leather that covered her chest and a black skirt around her waist. Leather bracers and golden armbands covered her arms. Beads, amulets and magical talismans hung from her neck and covered her breasts. She strode determinedly across the plains, coming toward the three companions directly, and once she was within a hundred yards she began to dash in a remarkable sprint.

"We're in trouble now…" Elma said anxiously.

"The hell we are; let's rock their world!" Paine retorted.

"Be careful; the Medusa can paralyze you with a glance!" Brock warned them. In the next instant she was upon them and her spear women along with her. Black birds swept the field before their queen, and Paine and her companions had to duck low to avoid ravaging talons and acid projectiles. When the dark queen set upon them they were hardly ready for her. The Medusa lifted her wooden staff and cast a dark haze of illusory magic over the field. Suddenly Paine's vision was blurred, and the outlines of her enemies seemed to shift like shadows and evaded her perception.

"I can't see anything!" Elma cried out, and Brock was swinging his axe in front of himself to fend off attacks that he could not see. Paine could just barely see a dark outline where the queen stood, and then she saw her form like a black shadow standing tall before her. She saw the blazing green eyes of the Medusa and watched as they turned upon Elma, and a focused beam shot out from them and into Elma's eyes, to the effect that she immediately fainted and collapsed on the ground. Paine saw a fluttering shadow approaching her then, and she put up her guard. For an instant one of the spear maidens appeared out of the veil of haze and illusion, just long enough to thrust a spear at Paine. Immediately Paine dodge the spearhead and swung back in retaliation, but caught nothing but air. The Black Eagle maiden then vanished back into the haze as a shadowy figure once more. As Paine stood in shock, she could feel her blood seeping from an open wound on her leg, even through she had dodged the attack. Then she saw yet another maiden slip out of the veil to assault Brock. As Paine watched she saw the spear miss Brock as well, and yet after it withdrew a slit opened in his armor over his thigh and he began to bleed. Then she saw the shadow of the spear where the wound had opened on her comrade.

"Aim for their shadows! It's part of her magic!" Paine ordered, and just as she spoke her assailant came again. This time Paine swung at her enemy's shadow and she heard the sound of her blade slicing flesh, and blood spurted onto the grass followed by a feminine wail of torment. Paine, seeing that she was correct, then seized the initiative and charged at the tall shadow of the Medusa, and cleaved at it, spilling a generous splash of blood. There was a horrific scream from the Medusa then, and suddenly the haze faded away and the illusion was broken. The Medusa lunged backward defensively, and her spear maidens stepped in front of her at the ready. The dark queen's vivid green eyes began to burn then, with a magical light, and she peered directly at Paine, who instinctively lifted up her blade to shield herself. The beams from the Medusa's eyes shot onto the surface of the blade and then sporadically glared back at her and the spear maidens. The two maidens flinched and dropped their spears to cover their eyes, but the Medusa herself shrieked in dismay and stood frozen for that instant, and as soon as her eyes were lifted Paine rushed in for the kill and decapitated the Medusa with a lightning-quick swipe of her sword. The dark queen's body collapsed and her head rolled along the grassy field until it came to rest in a pool of blood.

Paine was immediately relieved, but at the sight of their queen's fall there was a spine-freezing din of shrieking and screaming from the women as well as sorrowful moaning from the men of the Black Eagle tribe. They all began to flee then, and the two spear maidens retreated, one of them snatching up their queen's staff while the other grabbed her head, and these items they carried away from the field. Upon the hilltop, while the others of the tribe fled down the road through Macalania, there stood a lone priestess in black robes who lifted up her staff with a screech. As the sound echoed across the plateau and over its western edge, shortly thereafter came a giant black Zu, a bird so huge that its wings blotted out the sun. The fiend-bird flew over the Calm Lands and glided down to the hilltop, whereupon it lowered its head and allowed the priestess to mount upon its neck. Once she was seated, the Zu took flight again, gliding low across the plains and sweeping up a strong wind that gusted over Paine and her companions. The great bird plunged over the edge of the plateau and down into the rifts and shadowy canyons of Sin's Wake.

Paine stood dignified and strong, beholding her enemies vanquished and fleeing, crooning in despair the songs of mourning and defeat, their hounds howling in fear and running with their tails between their legs, and the black birds flew away over the edge of the Calm Lands, now falling quiet yet again. Slowly, a gentle rain began to fall from the dark clouds that had come over the plateau and the fires were soon extinguished. As the rain drops pattered upon her armor, now that the enemy horde was out of sight, Paine dropped to her knees and sat on the bloodied ground, breathing heavily. Brock and Kimahri came to her side then, and sat with her. A priest from the village came with nurses to render aid to the wounded, and to revive Elma. The remaining soldiers began to search the field for survivors, whether friend or foe. Brock let out a deep sigh.

"Well, Lady Paine, it's done. Another battle was won." He said wearily.

"You fought well, Brock. You too, Kimahri. Sir Auron would be proud of you." Paine said, but as she spoke she soon grew faint and collapsed onto her back. She heard Brock and Kimahri calling for aid before she blacked out completely.

Paine next found herself in a dream, arising in a fertile green field full of flowers with brilliant gold pollen drops and white cotton seeds floating through the air. She looked over herself to find her wounds gone and her body clothed in a white linen dress. She could hear laughter and the delight of women and children, whereupon she rose quickly to her feet and sought them out. She was within a glade surrounded by a majestic forest. As she went along through the fields, she soon came upon a limestone path. She followed this route across the glade, and it led her to a shrine in a separate grove of the forest, comprised of weeping willow trees. In the center of this grove there was a stone pedestal, and a gleaming sword sunk into it halfway up the blade. Paine stepped furtively toward this sword, glancing around her, yet seeing no one. She placed her hands upon the sword and tugged at the handle, but it would not budge. Suddenly she heard a voice, but she was not frightened; it was a soft, feminine voice, almost musical in tone.

"Why do you tire yourself at this contest?" the voice asked her.

"Because I need to win!" Paine replied firmly.

"Is that what you really need?" The voice asked, curiously, almost sympathetically. Paine struggled on to free the sword, but she soon grew tired and fell over, and then faded from the dream world.

When Paine awoke she was lying on a cot in the bunkhouse of the village, used by the knights of Bevelle for their station there in the Calm Lands, and also for those passing through on the way to Fort Spearhead on the other side of Mount Gagazet, overlooking the ruins of Zanarkand. Paine leaned up and rested on her elbows so that she could observe the scene within the bunkhouse. All the beds were filled with wounded soldiers and militiamen. Nurses and priests of New Yevon were tending to them, giving what assistance they could; since the fighting broke out across Spira three years earlier, all kinds of herbs, potions and medicine were in short supply.

Paine looked to her right and saw her armor resting by the hearth and a small fire crackling within it, heating a black kettle of soup. She sat up and leaned over to reach for a bowl and the wooden spoon to ladle out a portion of soup for herself. The wound on her leg was bandaged but still burned, and she tried not to move it. She sat on the cot slurping warm soup for a while, without speaking or glancing up at her surroundings. Finally she heard a familiar deep voice and realized someone was speaking to her.

"I'm sorry…" she said, gazing up to see Brock looking down at her with his handsome grin.

"Is that stuff good? You know what's in it, right?" He asked with a brimming smile. Paine merely shrugged in contentment.

"I'm too hungry to care, and by the way it tastes great." She answered.

"I see. Mind if I join you?" He asked gently. Paine made a friendly smile and budged to one side of the cot, making a seat for him.

"Of course not. Just so long as you promise not to talk about missions until I've finished." She said.

"It's a deal then." Brock agreed, and he procured another bowl of soup and sat beside her on the cot. He sipped from it in silence for a moment, and then spoke.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"A little bit heavy to be honest, and a bit cold, but this is warming me up. I have to admit I rarely appreciated my food in the past. Now, it's more precious than a treasure." She proffered in a quiet voice.

"Indeed." Brock rumbled with a nod. They continued to eat in silence, occasionally sharing fervid glances with each other, until the clanking of armored boots approached and they saw a knight commander standing before them. They knew him already; his name was Beclem.

"That was some battle you fought, Lady Paine. I have to admit I am a bit envious of the reputation you've gained in Bevelle. They are thinking of making you a captain of the city's defenses." He reported to her, in somewhat of a gruff voice, but that was typical of him.

"I should be so lucky, Sir Beclem. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" She asked him pointedly. He chuckled sourly before speaking.

"Well I was just passing through on my way to Fort Spearhead. I have been reassigned to managing the negotiations between the Ronso and the Guado, and the other tribes seeking claim to the ruins of Zanarkand. I have a feeling it may be an exciting assignment, given those groups' feelings towards each other." He informed them.

"I'm certain that you'll only improve the conversation between them." Paine commented, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. He was not deaf to it.

"Yes, well much as I'd love to chat about politics, there is something more pressing that I need to speak with you about, concerning some of the prisoners of war that your men collected after the battle. You see, the council in Bevelle has declared that the threat of the Black Eagle tribe must be neutralized by any means necessary. I heard reports that you decapitated their Queen Medusa, did you not?" He inquired.

"I seem to recall something like that." Paine replied shortly.

"Did you really? Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Bold fighting on your part, but it's truly a pity that you did not collect her head. We have obtained information from one of the captives. You need to hear what he has to say on the matter." Beclem said, with an air of authority. Paine's expression quickly became serious.

"Very well. Where is he being held?" She asked.

"Meet me outside in the village center when you're ready, Lady Paine. Cheers." Beclem said, and saluted her before he turned to leave the bunkhouse.

"Whisked away from our unfinished meal in an officious manner… I have to say, military life doesn't seem to agree with my stomach." Brock remarked irritably.

"It's alright; I lost my appetite when he walked in." Paine said, and she groaned softly as she stood up from the cot and dropped her bowl on the hearth. Brock immediately stood and walked close beside her. He knew better than to ask if she was alright or in need of assistance, but he still openly showed his compassion. Paine did not limp however, but walked steadily out of the bunkhouse and into the village scene outside, whereupon she saw the prisoners quartered and chained to posts under heavy watch by a squad of soldiers. Beclem stood before one of them, an older warrior with gray hair and beard, and faded black tattoos across his wounded and bruised body. His head was sunken downward, but Beclem grabbed him by the hair and lifted his face upward.

"Tell the lady what you said to me earlier about the Medusa's head." Beclem demanded sharply. The prisoner had already been broken, by the look of him, and so he spoke freely, although in a trembling voice.

"My people perform a ritual when the old queen is killed. We must select the new queen and transfer Medusa's magic to her. She has to swallow the eyes of the old queen before she can take the throne of our people and learn our most secret dark spells." He said.

"Normally, when the queen is past her prime a young challenger will step up and duel her to the death, then undergo the ritual of succession. Now you have forced their hand, but if we prevent this ritual, or else kill or capture the new queen, then the Black Eagle tribe will be devastated. We must organize a task force for this mission immediately." Beclem decided. Suddenly the old warrior clanked his chains and released a hoarse laugh. He spoke in a malicious voice.

"You fool! With the entire army of Bevelle, you could never reach the inner sanctum of our tribe. You'll never make it through Sin's Wake alive, ha-ha!" The prisoner said, and he continued to chuckle fiendishly. Beclem grimaced in fury and pulled out his dagger, which he then plunged into the prisoner's chest up to the hilt. Beclem then pulled his dagger out and wiped it clean with a rag before sheathing it.

"Your mission is clear then, Lady Paine?" Beclem said unceremoniously.

"You mean my suicide mission, right? He was telling the truth about Sin's Wake… we would need an army to cross it. We would need Crusaders." Paine replied solemnly.

"Very well then, I'll send word of your request to the council. In the meantime make yourself ready to depart." Beclem said with an irritated sigh, and then he marched away to rejoin his mounted knights, sending one of them back to Bevelle and taking the rest northward to Mount Gagazet. Paine stood gazing emptily into the distance of the plains where ashen fields of burnt crops now laid. She heard someone speaking to her again.

"Lady Paine, what should we do with the other prisoners?" A young militiaman asked her. "The soldiers will be leaving soon, and they can't take all these wounded prisoners with them. Most of them were only captured because they can't walk."

Paine turned to look at the twenty-odd prisoners chained and kneeling around her. She saw a young warrior maiden glaring at her, who quickly looked downward as soon as Paine noticed. Paine stepped over to the girl and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up.

"Are you ready to repent, and receive the light of the Fayth, and live by the example of saintly men who died for the Calm?" Paine asked the girl. The tribal maiden spat in her face and laughed maniacally. Paine shoved the girl's head back down and wiped her own face, then turned to the young militia recruit.

"Throw them all over the edge." Paine answered him bitterly, and then she walked through the village to the end of the path where her private tent was assembled. She pulled up the flap and went in to her dwelling. She had been living in this tent, in various changing locales, for the past eight months. For a relatively sizeable enclosure, it rolled up nice and tidy and was easy to carry attached to a saddle. Now that Osprey was dead, however, she would have to arrange transportation for them when it came time to move on to another battle encampment. She looked at the map and the globe sitting upon the table she had placed in the front partition of the tent, which she used for her war-room, to discuss strategies with Brock and other lieutenants who occasionally joined them in the field. Since she had been in the Calm Lands for some time now, she had acquired a few items for her tent, including a large wash basin and a nicer bedroll and blankets, which although comfortable, would be too bulky to carry when she relocated. The one item which she kept with her wherever she went in her travels was the modified and encrypted commsphere that Shinra had designed for her before the Gullwings all parted ways.

After Shinra had pioneered and released it, commsphere technology was immediately adopted by governments and institutions, and whoever could afford it. However, in the chaos of the past three years, tribals would often destroy the broadcast towers in order to prevent military communications, and the Al-Bhed had developed frequency scramblers to deaden any devices in their field of operations before they launched assaults, and so without shielding and encryption the devices became more or less useless. Shinra devised a new prototype, which he gave to the girls before they split up to start their new lives. These three commspheres contained data for accessing an encrypted channel that no other commspheres could read. This gave the former Gullwing-girls a private channel to communicate and keep in touch with each other, if they so desired. The question now, was whether or not they all desired it.

Paine went into the back partition of her tent and lit a kerosene lamp and few candles to beat back the darkness. She sat down on the rug that was her floor, and gazed upon her shrine to Auron, who had been sainted by New Yevon, though it turned more than a few heads to hear that they should choose to do so, considering his exchanges with the old Yevon. However, he was a popular hero among the common people and beloved by many who served in the final war against Sin, and so they could hardly neglect the political advantages of his legacy and iconography. She kept a portrait of him, along with a jug of wine to give offerings in his memory. She often poured these libations into a small copper cup in front of his picture, lit a red candle, and burned incense. She did so tonight, and sat contemplating on his virtues: strength, fortitude, integrity, wisdom. Indeed, she found his virtues inspiring. Yet when she felt that she nearly understood the spirit of the man, suddenly she was disturbed. A sound, unlike the usual tranquil murmur of the village, caught her attention. As she focused on it, she realized it was the faint screams of the prisoners, being thrown over the western edge of the plateau.

With her meditation broken she sat irritably, waiting for it to be over, and when all was quiet again she crawled across the rug and sat in front of the small table whereupon she had placed the commsphere. Paine gazed down at the perfectly rounded blue sphere, and the golden ring that comprised its control panel. She turned a tiny golden knob and the sphere clicked on, projecting a shimmering blue light. Also on the control panel were five little blue bulbs, representing the five standard channels in use when the device was made, though it could also be tuned to other frequencies by use of a small wheel on the panel. Each bulb would light up when traffic was coming across its particular channel. The fifth bulb on the end, was the secret encrypted channel, only available to the three Gullwing girls. It flickered on with blue light. Paine rested her finger upon the dial for the five primary channels.

There's no way I can tell them what I did today. Do they really want to hear from me? I don't have the time, I need sleep…

She decided against it, and instead turned the knob to shut the commsphere off. She crawled to her bedroll and curled up inside it, and soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep, only disturbed by the occasional instinctive jerk of her muscles, now a habit due to her many battles and traumas.

Paine awoke the next morning, and heard Brock calling to her from the front partition of her tent.

"Paine, we need to meet the councilors in Bevelle. They received word of your request, but we need to convince them of the need for sending an army to Sin's Wake. Paine? Are you awake?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm moving." Paine answered, and she rolled out of bed to get dressed and ready for the long day ahead. Once dressed she pulled on her boots and then hurried outside to review the situation. The village was bustling with activity; farmers and elderly people were out in front of the trading post, bickering with the soldiers who had freshly arrived to retrieve Paine and Brock, and the rest of their men.

"Our crops have been burned! We don't have enough food for the rest of the year!" One of the farmers shouted.

"Bevelle needs to do something about this!" An old woman crowed. The lieutenant in charge was raising his hands and motioning for them to be quiet. Paine recognized him; it was Clasko, the boy dropout from the Youth League, more than three years ago. He was different now; he was slightly bulkier, he had a military haircut, and the left side of his face was marked by a long scar. He spoke with a more confident tone as well.

"We have brought two-hundred pounds of rice with us in the supply wagon. That is all we can spare at the moment. More rations may be delivered in the future, but for now we need to leave on mission." He explained.

"Without our harvest, it won't be enough!" an old grandfather exclaimed.

"That's all I have with me, take it or leave it. I know the soldiers at Fort Spearhead would gladly have it, if you won't." Clasko replied sternly.

"Those soldiers will never survive the winter without our harvest! What are we to do?" Another farmer asked aloud.

"If you can't harvest, then hunt! If you can't reap wheat, then fish out of the sea, or the lake. Forage, find and save. That's all we can do now. I have my orders, now take the grain or be silent!" Clasko shouted. The people moaned quietly and said no more. Several soldiers grabbed the fifty-pound bags of rice out of the wagon, and laid them on the ground at the villagers' feet. Then Clasko spotted Paine, and he marched toward her.

"Lady Paine, I am pleased to meet you again after all this time. It's been nine years, hasn't it?" He said, and he shook her hand.

"It seems like longer, but I think you're right. You look like a brand new person, Clasko. It's good to see you… but I'm curious, what are you doing back in the service?" Paine asked.

"Well, the short version is that my chocobos were all confiscated by Bevelle, once the fighting broke out between them and the Youth League, and then the Al-Bhed, the Black Eagles, the Free Blades, and all the rest of course. They needed more mounted knights, and I understand their situation. Besides, as a former member of the Youth League, they didn't feel inclined to respect my rights. They told me I could take an oath and enlist, or else go to a prison camp and work in the mines. Obviously, I figured it would be better to at least see the sun and moon and have some fresh air, so I joined. Now, the way I look at it, I might as well be useful to someone, and if I'm going to do this I should do it well." Clasko explained. Paine gazed at him with a hint of sympathy, but she merely nodded and said nothing. Clasko then got to official matters. "I've been sent to load up your campsite and transport you back to Bevelle. You'll be garrisoned there, and given full officer's accommodations. I've heard rumors that the council wants to make you a captain of the Bevelle Defense Force. Everyone there already knows about your victory here and your appointment to lead the army into Sin's Wake. Congratulations, Lady Paine, you'll soon become a living legend. We should depart soon. Pack your things and I'll have my men load them for you." Clasko offered.

"Thank you, Clasko. I'll see to it." Paine replied, and then she went back to her tent. The soldiers brought a large wooden chest from the wagon, and left it in the front partition of her tent, so that she could pack her things inside it. Paine wrapped a cloth around the portrait of Saint Auron and placed in the chest, along with the ritual items of the altar. She folded and packed her clothes and towels, rolled up her blankets and bedding, packed her extra weapons and side-arms. Then she picked up the blue commsphere and took it to the chest, only to see Brock standing there in the front partition of the tent, holding her armor that he had brought from the bunkhouse.

"Thank you, Brock." She said, still holding the sphere.

"You'll probably be given new armor when we reach Bevelle, but I thought you might want to keep this." He said softly.

"Perhaps so." She replied, and then placed the commsphere in the chest, on top of a blanket. Brock glanced down at the blue sphere, and then up at Paine.

"Have you heard from them recently? Your old friends…" He began to ask, but Paine cut him off.

"I haven't." She said sharply.

"I see. Please forgive me, Lady Paine…" He apologized.

"It's alright. It's not your fault. I should have spoken to them before now, but I haven't had the nerve." Paine confessed. Brock laid her armor down in the chest and placed a giant hand gently on her shoulder.

"I understand the gap between our lives and theirs, but you need to have friends. You need to have roots. The life of a vagabond soldier is not meant to last." Brock advised her.

"Why do you care?" Paine asked pointedly.

"I care about you. I care about your happiness, and I wish you cared a little more about life too. Should I not care?" Brock said, with a bruised expression.

"We're in the wrong circumstances for such delicate care." Paine said darkly.

"The circumstances have never been right, and they never will be. A brave man doesn't care, he follows his heart anyway." Brock replied, and his eyes were alive with the light of a noble spirit. Paine's blazing eyes dampened then, as she looked upon him.

"A brave man, or a fool?" She asked ruefully.

"Both, perhaps." Brock surmised. Paine placed her hand on his arm, and for a moment they lingered in silence, until they heard the plated boots and rattling spurs of approaching soldiers. They relinquished their hold on each other then, as the flap of the tent lifted and the men came in to retrieve the loaded chest.

"Are you finished packing, my Lady?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Yes, I am. We're ready to leave now." Paine answered, and she strode out of the tent and through the village to the wagons that awaited them, pulled by pairs of chocobos. Brock and the soldiers carried her chest to the back of the wagon and loaded it, then they got in the wagon at the back of the caravan. Clasko mounted his chocobo and led the three wagons around in a wide loop, and then they got on the word dirt pathway leading southward to Macalania and Bevelle. It was nearly midday by the time the caravan had departed, and as they crossed the battlefield of the previous day they saw a crowd of villagers standing in the field beside the road. They had collected up their own dead, as well as the fallen raiders, and wrapped their bodies in linen and laid them in wicker caskets, lined with garlands of flowers. The fallen villagers and soldiers were wrapped in white, while the fallen raiders were wrapped in black. There were hundreds of caskets filled with these concealed bodies. The weapons left on the field were imbedded in one mound, to serve as a monument to the battle.

A priestess from Bevelle was there, standing between the people and the dead. She was one of the Yevonite practitioners specially trained in the art of sending the dead, through dance and the recital of hymns. She was a pale girl, with long flowing golden hair. Her hips and legs were covered by a purple skirt, emblazoned with white patterning, and a garland of large, bright red blossoms was wrapped around her supple waist. Her belly was bare and her bosom was covered by a dark burgundy top. Around her neck was a collar strung with golden coins that cascaded down over her chest and clinked as she moved. Gold bands were on her upper arms and bracelets strung with gold coins were on her wrists and around her ankles. A halo of many flowers encircled her head, resting above her brows. She held a white wand in her right hand and stood ready to perform the sending. Three more Yevon acolytes in dark blue robes sat with drums, chimes and a flute, to play for the dead.

Right when the caravan had passed beside this congregation the priestess began to sing the Hymn of the Fayth in a haunting, high angelic voice. All the people in the congregation immediately knelt down onto the ground in reverence. Clasko stopped his chocobo immediately and raised his hand, ordering the caravan to halt. He rode slowly back to the wagon where Paine sat and apologized to her.

"Forgive me, Lady Paine, but we should respect the sending ceremony, and try not to disturb the dead. Rumor has it the Black Eagle tribe believes that their fallen braves will be reborn as ferocious hounds and Lupines. If it's true, then we do not want them coming back to Spira. We should ensure a proper sending to the Farplane for all who died in battle." Clasko explained in a low, hushed voice. Paine looked at him and nodded in acceptance, and then she turned to watch the sending. Typically, sendings were performed at dusk, and preferably the same day that the dead had passed. If time was not permitting of this, however, they could be sent as soon as possible, but not later than seven days after death. Now as the priestess finished the hymn, the Calm Lands were surrounded by pristine white clouds in a bright cerulean sky. She stepped up onto the mound overlooking the ranks of the dead, and with graceful fluidity of body she began the sacred dance, evoking the sending through the rhythm of her movements and the skilled twirling of her wand. As her body whirled and waved elegantly back and forth, it almost appeared that she could float, as if she might be able to stride among the clouds themselves. This battlefield arrayed before her was quite an impressive feat for one priestess to send, but she performed flawlessly, and sure enough the pyre flies began to disperse from each and every casket, both near and far. A magnificent yet eerie scene unfolded, as was the case with every sending, and the field glowed with ethereal light even in broad day. The acolytes kept pulse with drums and chimes, and a chilling sound issued from the flute.

Paine had witnessed many sendings in her life, but they were never less profound; each was deeply stirring and indeed frightening in its own right. The metaphysics of Spira were as dramatic and awe-inspiring as they were mysterious and horrifying.

To me, the Farplane always seemed like a dismal and lonely place. Beautiful, I suppose, but wretched as well. I think I would rather come back, as the valiant braves do, in the body of a graceful, strong hound. I would run the hills and plains without fear, and without regret.

The Yevonite priestess skipped and flew across the mound, between the spears and swords of the dead, never catching a snag or a scrape from them. Then she spun in place like a whirlwind at the summit of the mound, and the sun beamed its rays upon her through an opening in the clouds. She came to a stop and stood resolute and still, holding her wand skyward, and the sun glinted from it like magic flame. The drums and chimes sounded in a clamor and then were silent. With the sending complete, only a few faint whimpers and moans could be heard from the congregation, and the soft whine of the pyre flies fleeing the remains of the fallen. These pyre flies drifted up into the sky and dissipated, and finally it was over.

The caravan lingered still, and then the group of Yevonites came walking toward Clasko and Paine. The young priestess was leading them and her deeply serene blue eyes fell on Paine with great compassion and ardency. She spoke in her fine voice, without a trace of anxiety or fear.

"Lady Paine, I am honored to meet you at last. My name is Sari. I know that you are wounded and still weary from battle; permit me to aid you in any way that I can, for I am knowledgeable in the arts of herbal medicine and potions. I also have a healer's touch. I would only ask that you let my band accompany you to Bevelle, for our own safety on the road." She said.

"Certainly you may travel with us, and I will protect you from harm as best I can. However I am less useful, with my wound. You should stay close to Clasko; he will know how best to keep you safe." Paine suggested. Clasko brightened up with a proud smile.

"Indeed, Lady Paine is correct. I shall protect you from all dangers until we reach Bevelle, young maiden. You have my solemn pledge on that." Clasko said confidently. The young priestess smiled and bowed courteously in acceptance of his offer.

"Very well, Sir Clasko, we shall be glad to join you. Still, Lady Paine, you may call on me once we reach Bevelle, and I shall treat your wound." Sari offered, and she bowed once more before walking with her acolytes to the front of the caravan where Clasko would lead them. Paine looked to Clasko with a contented and slightly mischievous grin.

"How you've changed, Clasko. You're a new man after all." She said.

"You're right about that, my Lady, have no doubt." Clasko agreed.

"How did you do it?" Paine asked him.

"Well, I wasn't born brave like you, my Lady. I was born again through suffering, when I realized that my spirit is bigger than what meets the eye, or any notions I had of myself before. Then I realized that this life is only fleeting, and there's no need to be timid. No matter what lies ahead or behind, this moment is only that… a moment in time, as if it were a drop flowing by in a river. Who can distinguish it from the raging waters? And why try?" Clasko said profoundly.

"You're wiser now too…" Paine said. Clasko simply nodded, and rode his chocobo to the front of the caravan again, speaking gaily with Sari along the way to Bevelle. The road through the edge of the remnants of Macalania Woods was free from peril, at least so far as the caravan was concerned. A few fiends showed their faces from the brush, but did not approach. Macalania itself was swiftly dying; at the outset of its blight no one was sure of the cause, though many surmised it was due to the disappearance of the Fayth at Macalania Temple. A team of scholars from Bevelle had taken up the task of investigating the libraries and labyrinths of the old Temple, but once the widespread warfare and migrations began across Spira, no attention could be spared from the council to request regular reports on the matter. In fact there was little interest within the council of Bevelle, in terms of saving the forest, but rather in harvesting its resources while they remained. Logging companies and saw mills sprang up to collect the dead trees before they rotted. As the caravan passed through the lingering trees, they could hear the sounds of chopping axes faintly pounding in the distance, and the occasional distant roar of machina saws.

Paine sat in silence as she gazed upon the fading trees, many of which were bare like skeletons. She listened to the sounds of the birds and buzzing insects. The brush and vine flowers were still thriving and blossoming, but the backbone of their existence was crumbling, and the winds were beginning to brush it dry. She heard the conversation of Clasko and Sari ahead of her, at the front of the caravan.

"I remember playing in the woods as a young girl, when I escaped from the orphanage from time to time. It makes me sad to see them in such horrible shape now." Sari lamented with a sigh.

"In the woods alone, when you were just a girl?" Clasko said, bewildered.

"Yes. I was so utterly bored and terrified at the orphanage in Bevelle. Nuns have an absolutely refined system for stunting and oppressing the children unfortunate enough to be surrendered to them. My parents died in a tsunami caused by Sin on the coast north of Luca, before the Calm. My whole village was washed away, so I was sent to Bevelle. I was a terribly rebellious child, until the nuns finally tamed me at age thirteen. It was good that they did, or I likely would never have found the discipline and propriety to become a priestess of Yevon. Dancing helped me through it; it was my only outlet, my only form of expression… until I learned massage and the healing arts."

"It seems you've come a long way for one so young. It's good that you made it into the priesthood; your talents are needed now. I wish they weren't, but… it seems we were careless with the Eternal Calm. Regardless, I'm glad that younger people like you have risen to the occasion so boldly." Clasko commended her warmly. Sari smiled and gazed at the ground sheepishly.

"You make it sound as though I'm a hero. Actually, I'm much simpler than that; I'm just going through life like everyone else, doing what I can to get by in the world." Sari admitted humbly.

"That's all anyone does." Clasko said with a shrug. "By the way, I agree that it is tragic, to watch the slow disappearance of the woods. I remember the council giving orders to investigate Macalania, but unfortunately there is little time for it now. I would see these woods revived, if it were in my power. Too many memories dwell here. We can't afford to lose them."

Paine:

No, we can't afford to lose them. These woods are precious to many people; to many people who are precious to me.

"Someday, perhaps we shall. It should be soon though; if the blight doesn't claim these woods, the loggers will." Sari said woefully.

"Yes… the demand for materials has increased greatly now, and I understand their reasons. People want to build and grow, and that's to be expected. We never had time to think of Spira before, while Sin lived. Now we have to learn to live with her, and take care of her." Clasko supposed. Sari looked up at him with an appreciative smile.

"Yes, I think so too!" She agreed. They continued to chat as they went along down the road. Paine gazed into the distant horizon over the road, and saw the towers of Bevelle looming above the trees and landscape. They would surely arrive late in the afternoon. For now she retreated within herself, and contemplated what she must do when she reached the sanctum and reported to the council.

The caravan reached the Highbridge of Bevelle as the sun was slowly beginning to sink into the hours of dusk. The burnished red theme of Bevelle took an exquisite hue at sunset. Paine hadn't seen the city in several months, and now she could not help but feel a deep sense of appreciation and security once within its limits. Despite occasional attempts at infiltration or even direct assault, Bevelle still remained the safest place in Spira, from outside threats at least. Once inside, particularly in certain quarters of the city recently flooded with migrants, the matter was entirely different. Gangs and cartels were beginning to seize footholds in the city, and they often asserted their claims violently. In spite of this creeping threat, however, Bevelle overall was still a place of law, order and peace. The Holy City was a bastion of hope, knowledge and civilization upon the face of Spira. Returning to Bevelle had a restorative effect upon Paine's optimism, along with her sense of duty and purpose as a warrior.

The caravan rolled down the length of the Highbridge, and once they entered the first city square of Bevelle they came to a stop. Paine and Brock climbed down out of the wagons, and the soldiers managed the relocation of their belongings into the barracks beneath the Tower of Yevon. Clasko dismounted from his chocobo and bid farewell to Sari while laying a kiss upon her delicate hand.

"Those two seemed to get along rather well…" Brock said with a grin. Paine gazed aside to see him standing there by her.

"It looks that way, I suppose. Clasko does have a certain magnetism about him now; he's not a timid boy anymore." She remarked with fascination.

"Spira is not a place to be timid anymore. I didn't know him before, but it's good to see bold men at work in the world." Brock said.

"Indeed. We have our own work to do now. I'll see you in the morning, Brock. I'm going to the barracks, then I'll meet with the council as soon as they'll receive me." Paine said.

"Goodnight, my Lady. Rest well." He replied with a good-natured tone, and then he strolled off through the plaza. Paine went into the barracks and retired to her old room. She had a few hours, perhaps, before she would receive summons from the council of Bevelle. She was still weary from fighting and from the ride back from the Calm Lands. Her bed was already made for her, and her chest and belongings had been placed at the foot of the bed or along the wall. She opened her chest, and took out a small heartwood box with a shiny finish. There were three spheres that Paine kept in this box. One of them was a recording from Yuna's wedding, before it had been so rudely interrupted by raiders. One was of the day that Brock had received his knighthood ceremony. The last was a campfire scene on Besaid, the night of Tidus' proposal to Yuna, and their original wedding ceremony in the Besaid temple as well. She took out the recording of Brock's knighting, and gazed into the surface of the reddish glowing sphere.

In the recording, Brock was striding into the temple of Bevelle, down the lines of the knights and soldiers, who raised their hands to salute him as he passed them. He was clad in shining, polished armor, and wore a red cloak. For the purpose of the ceremony, he wore a sword on his belt. He went down the red carpet in the center of the temple, while priests and priestesses sang the Hymn of the Fayth. The recorder followed him as he walked up to the pedestal to meet Maester Reylan. Once he reached the pedestal, Brock knelt on the floor before the altar where the Maester had prepared offerings and the tools of his ritual. Maester Reylan took a chalice from the altar and dipped his thumb in it, and then swiped his thumb across Brock's forehead, leaving a drop of holy water over his brow. Then the Maester took a jeweled ceremonial sword in both hands, and raised the blade upward in the air.

"Brock Boru, squire of Yevon, do you come before us today seeking the mantle of a knight?" Maester Reylan asked, in a loud ceremonious voice.

"I do, my lord and Maester!" Brock replied loudly and confidently.

"Do you solemnly swear, to uphold the tenets of Yevon, to protect her congregation, and to protect the holy city of Bevelle, with all your might and with your very life itself?" The Maester asked.

"I solemnly swear, that I will." Brock answered.

"Do you swear to maintain the virtues of a knight; to be mighty, and fit for battle, to be brave and morally sincere, to be disciplined and obedient to your lords and commanders?" Reylan asked.

"I swear that I shall." Brock replied. Maester Reylan then lowered the sword blade and rested it upon Brock's right shoulder.
"Then by the light of the Fayth and the will of Yevon, I hereby confer upon you the title and powers of knight of Yevon, and name you a guardian of Bevelle. Rise now, a knight!" The Maester said, and Brock stood to his feet with the cheers of his comrades praising him uproariously. Brock drew his sword and saluted his comrades with it, and then proudly strode down the hall and out of the temple. The recorder followed him out into the street, and recorded him shaking hands with friends and comrades, laughing and singing with cheer.

"How does it feel to be a knight of Yevon?" A female voice asked him. It was Paine herself. She was the one who recorded this sphere.

"It suits me well, my Lady! Truly, this is a great day!" Brock said, smiling widely.

"I'm glad you've finally made it, Brock. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more. Let's celebrate over some drinks and a good meal, shall we?"

"Indeed, Lady Paine, there is no one I'd rather share this day with!" Brock said to her, with a warm gleam in his eye.

The sphere darkened then. Paine laid on her bed while she held it in her grasp. She gazed emptily into space, and soon drifted away in deep sleep.