Final Fantasy IV: The Novel

by Celes Chere

Based on the storylines of Final Fantasy IV DS & FFIV: The After Years, this is the story of Cecil Harvey, a dark knight whose journey for redemption draws himself, his best friend Kain and his lover Rosa into a dangerous battle for their planet.

1. Act One: The Prelude to Adventure

Final Fantasy IV: The Novel

Original Scenario and Characters: SquareEnix

Story Compilation by: Celes Chere

---

Act One: Prelude to Adventure

It was a peaceful summer day on what they called the "Blue Planet".

The sun's rays drenched the calm sapphire ocean in tandem with near-translucent twin moons lazily drifting in the mid-afternoon sky, hanging like a pair of glass beads upon the breast of a gilded duchess. Crashing waves met the white-sanded shores of a peculiar peninsula located to the southeast of Baron, an ancestral kingdom blessed by the vibrant bounties of all four of the planet's crystals and whose hallowed halls had carried the footfalls of some of the world's most powerful men. The maw-like beaches of the peninsula that made up the borders of the lone village Mysidia outstretched toward its sister city to the northwest like a dragon about to bequeath divine punishment, the remainder of the wildflower-saturated continent twisting and bending toward the east horizon like a coiling serpent.

With the much-welcomed solstice to usher in the new season, lush green earth was beginning to bloom with summer growth, and farmers would soon till the rich soil beneath to plant their crops and graze their creatures. Long days filled even the most desolate corners of the planet with resplendent light.

But it was evident to their scrutinizing stare that not all was well on the Blue Planet beneath the surface of its sun-dappled veneer.

The northernmost trade winds that inhabited the scorching deserts and the valleys pocketed in the rise of snow-kissed mountain tops carried lesser strength today than yesterday, and yesterday it had been weakened yet from the day before. Ships crossed harbors a knot slower, and children coming home for dinner from a day of adventure had less tangles for their mothers to wrestle through with a comb.

For the planet's inhabitants, who drifted from day to day same as a maiden transitioning from one sweet dream to the next, it was all no matter. Both beast and man could still fly to wherever their ambitions carried them, even without the wind's aid. Birds had wings.

And men had airships...

---

"Lord Captain! We're nearly to the Baron border!"

A young man let out a strained sigh in response, and reached up with both hands, fumbling with shaking fingers to locate the latch on the back of his heavy black battle helmet. With it on, he almost felt as if he were suffocating, both from the heat of his own sour breath being blown back against his face and from the overwhelming guilt of the treacherous sin he had just committed. The curve of the iron plates that were situated on both sides of his neck to bear the weight of the demon-like appendage that had become his trademark as a Baronian dark knight seemed to tighten menacingly against his windpipe; eager to claim the breath from his battered form that had been stolen away from so many other innocent souls just hours before.

He stopped himself from releasing the helmet just when at last his finger slid beneath the mechanism that would spring him free, silently concluding that any additional suffering he had to endure on his own part was well-deserved. Underneath the helmet, tangled masses of silver-white hair were sticking to the knight's scalp and face, a blurry curtain of ivory fallen over a darkened cerulean glare. Sweat trailed down a dirt-streaked, but otherwise flawless alabaster complexion, and his oxygen-deprived body ached from exhaustion, despite his barely having to lift a finger on the mission.

Cecil Harvey could feel the last vestiges of whatever it meant to be human slipping between his fingers like crystal dust.

"So we are," Cecil finally replied, and with that, returned his gaze to the deck of the airship they were flying back on to their motherland. The ship's crewmembers and the soldiers at his command, all men clad in shining ruby armor, were called the Red Wings. Noting their captain's particularly stormy mood just from the three little words he uttered, they turned to each other and continued their conversation in hushed whispers, not wanting Cecil to overhear them. They had abandoned their helmets and gauntlets already, letting the warm, but thankfully dry summer breeze created by the airship's propellers blow through their hair and run over their battle-strained hands.

"It troubles him, too," a newer recruit by the name of Wedge mumbled, arching a chestnut brow. "Orders may be orders, but this? This goes too far." The others around him muttered in agreement. A blonde soldier, Wedge's cousin who went by Biggs, cut his glance over to Cecil to see if he had taken notice of his men's grumblings. But Cecil remained still as a statue, his eyes glued to the floor, and Biggs felt something unpleasant bristle inside of him. He had admired Cecil for as long as they had been comrades, both in military school as students and during his time serving under Cecil in the Red Wings, which had only been a few uneventful weeks until today's disaster had unfurled. Cecil wasn't cut from your typical peacetime wannabe soldier stock – bored, restless men desperate for some action outside the ivory gates of their village or the fields of their fathers' farms – it was well-known the kingdom over that his drive and ambition stemmed solely from his loyalty to His Majesty, King Baron. A man whose demeanor who could be best described as "serious" even from a young age, it seemed only natural to Biggs, Wedge and the other company of soldiers that made up the Red Wings that Cecil should be promoted to Captain mere weeks after his twentieth birthday.

But even so, the captain isn't just some blind follower, Biggs fumed to himself. The Cecil I know would never just sit and sulk about a mission gone nuclear. So what the hell could he be possibly thinking right now? Why can't he even look at his men?

But alas, Cecil was drowning in the same murky pool of thought as everyone else onboard – no matter how hard he urged his heart and mind to forget, there was simply no way short of a miraculous case of spontaneous amnesia that Cecil could get that massacre at Mysidia out of his mind.

---

Their mission had started out simply enough – Mysidia was a village in every sense of the word, with a population that barely crested one-hundred, and had no military power to speak of. The Mysidians had never developed a taste for war or physical might, as their main export was magic. People with the ability to call upon magic, referred to as mages, flocked to Mysidia from every corner of the globe to study under the tutelage of the village's elder, a man rumored to be one of the most powerful spellcasters in the world that had become more elusive in his twilight years and spent most of his time holed up in the Tower of Prayer, the village's most central and critical landmark. Despite being sister-cities (Baron and Mysidia were connected by a mysterious cross-dimensional path named the Devil's Road that only those with the most resilient of magical stamina could cross without danger), Cecil had spent very little time there as either a civilian nor a Red Wing, and had never crossed the threshold of the hallowed tower, which was home to the Crystal of Water.

But all of that had changed for the worse just a few hours past. Cecil recalled reciting the king's talking points in his mind as he and his crew made their way down the main road that bisected the village, a limestone-etched path that took one straight to the Tower of Prayer.

Surely the Elder will understand the king's position on all of this, Cecil had thought naively. They've been allies for as long as I've even been alive. The Elder has only ever wanted to protect the crystal and all that it stands for. It's perfectly rational that its secrets should be shared among the Baronians – such knowledge is dangerous if left to one man alone, especially one as aged as he. His Highness stressed that if something should happen to Mysidia's elder, the crystal could be in unprecedented danger.

The king's parting words to Cecil echoed in his ears:

"It isn't right for such power to go unchecked, wouldn't you agree, Cecil? If they resist…you must take every measure possible to ensure your success. At any cost."

But during the Elder's prayers that very morning, the wind had whispered a warning that a new era of destruction was about to be borne upon the threshold of the tower, baptized by Mysidian blood. Cecil and his men had been met at the tower gates by a company of white and black mages, all of which were steadfast in refusing their entry. But returning to Baron without the crystal was an unacceptable course of action, and it was with a heavy heart that Cecil had ordered his men to break through, demanding that he be allowed to meet with the Elder as King Baron's envoy. The mages fell back, whimpering Teleport spells in an attempt to flee, but before the last note of the spell could leave their lips…

…The Red Wings had struck them down, and Cecil could only shake his head as they stumbled through the wailing bodies and pushed forward, climbing the flight of stairs the fallen mages had been guarding. All around him, Cecil could hear the echoes of screams and clamoring footsteps running away from them, followed by the unmistakable sound of doors slamming shut and deadbolts sliding into place. At last, they had found the hidden crystal in the rear of the tower, along with a slew of yet more mages guarding both the crystal and the Elder, who was waiting with them at the head of the pack. His jade gaze darkened as his eyes reflected the shadows of the dark knight's menacing ebony armor; as soon as Cecil's boot scratched across the mirrored tile floor of the crystal chamber, it felt as if every last particle of light had been sucked from the room.

"You know not of what you seek," the Elder said drily, and Cecil felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, despite the sweltering heat inside his helmet.

"Why do you react with such defense at sharing the crystal's secrets with your ally?" Cecil hissed. He had hardly recognized his own voice even as he spoke; a chill ravaged his spine as the words dripped from his mouth like poison.

When it was clear the Elder would not relent, Cecil had no choice but to order his crew to charge, resulting in an instant bloodbath as Baronian steel pierced torsos before the mages could even make an attempt to flee. In a flurry of sword strokes, their lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground in blood-soaked heaps, and the Elder gasped out, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he watched the light leave the eyes of his most treasured companions and students. Cecil stared up at him coldly, his heart banging erratically in his chest as he pointed his Shadowblade right at the Elder's throat; negotiation had been rendered useless. The Elder threw up his hands in defeat and stepped away from the crystal, allowing Cecil to pass over the dead bodies to grab the Crystal of Water from its shining, silver dais. The chamber erupted in a veil of piercing light as Cecil's fingers wrapped around the crystal, his terrified cerulean gaze blinking up at him from the crystal's core before the jewel faded into to a dull, cloudy blue.

---

"Lord Captain!" Biggs barked, startling Cecil out of his relived nightmare. Without meaning to, Cecil glanced up, and Biggs raised his fist, each word that was spat from his lips piercing Cecil like the yard dummy at their fencing drills. "We are the Red Wings – the pride of Baron! Must we now be thieves, sent to plunder from the weak?"

"Enough!" Cecil cried, leaping to his feet and whirling around to face his crew, who all stared at their captain with wide eyes and jaws hitting the deck, with the exception of Biggs, who snorted and side-eyed Wedge, as if he expected his cousin to leap into the fray. Cecil lowered his chin and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, shame flooding his cheeks at the way he had snapped at someone he had considered one of the Red Wings' most promising new recruits.

There is nothing wrong or untrue about what they are saying…right? So why…why am I so angry right now?

"But, Lord Captain!" Wedge squeaked, not being able to stand much more of Biggs' seething glare and Cecil's dithering indifference to the treachery unfolding before their very eyes. "The Mysidians offered no resistance. And still, we cut them down…"

And once more, Cecil was stunned into silence. Did Biggs and Wedge…and all the others…think that this was the outcome he had wanted? That this was King Baron's vision of justice, and they were tasked as the executioners? But even so, Cecil's loyalty to His Majesty was unwavering; no matter what it was he was ordered to do... He had dedicated the whole of his twenty years of life to serving the king, every breath exhaled one that was inlaid with debt to the man who had once saved him from certain death.

I have to convince them that despite our heavy hearts and doubtful consciences, that all of this was truly necessary. The king would never call for bloodshed unless he knew there was no other way. His wisdom has guided Baron through an unprecedented age of greatness and prosperity – there must be an important reason we do not yet understand why he sought out the Crystal of Water – and it is not the Red Wings' place – not even mine – to question it! If I were to pay His Majesty back for his devotion to me with such flagrant faithlessness, even the penalty of death for treason would be too good for me.

"Listen to me..." Cecil began, trying to control the raspy quiver in his voice. "We did no more than our kingdom's peace and prosperity required us to. The Mysidians knew too much of the crystal and its secrets. His majesty deemed it so. We are the Red Wings of Baron! It is not our place to question the orders of our king. Understood?"

"Lord Captain..." the group murmured, simultaneously raising their hands in a half-hearted salute. Cecil bowed deeply at the waist, clenching his jaw as he swallowed back the bitter bile that had begun to rise in his throat.

This is the right thing to do…it has to be. Anything else would be…

…Mutiny.

Suddenly, one of the airship's lookouts ran up to Cecil, shoving his collapsing scope into his pocket and flailing his arms frantically.

"Lord Captain, monsters at the fore!"

Cecil lifted his gaze, raising quickly from his bow but containing his composure as he cleared his throat and reached for his blade. With his spine erect and his calculating gaze sweeping over the crew and the surrounding skies, the old Cecil had made a swift and triumphant return – the renowned dark knight of Baron whose strength had no peer, save for a solitary Dragoon who hailed from the clan Highwind…

"Everyone!" Cecil raised his sword in the air, the sun bouncing blindingly off the tempered black steel. "Battle positions, NOW!"

As the crew scrambled to their places, a flock of Float Eyes made their approach, bobbing erratically up and down at starboard like balloons whose air had been let out. They were giant, orb-shaped and slime-ridden monsters with a comically tiny pair of purple wings to hold up their girth and a large, unblinking eye set in the middle of their heads. Sprouting out of their hind end was a pair of bony legs that transitioned into white-tipped claws that could definitely leave a mark or two if left unchecked. It wasn't terribly unusual to run into flying foes anywhere in the world, but Cecil couldn't help but wonder why creatures that were normally as cowardly and docile as Float Eyes would actually make the effort to attack them – especially during the day, when the sun's light inflicted pain on their abnormally large eyeball. Deciding that this needed to end quickly, Cecil pivoted backward as a pair of Float Eyes spotted him and extended their furiously swiping claws in an effort to attack, their wings propelling them forward. He reached down, pulling a small bottle filled with a fiery red liquid out of the leather utility pouch that hung from his belt.

"Take this!" Cecil grunted, and tossed the bottle at the Float Eyes, resulting in a large explosion as the contents in the bottle set themselves off upon collision with one of the monsters in a fantastic burst of flame and smoke. The Float Eyes disintegrated into the air, a weak gust of wind sweeping their ashes away, and Cecil saw that the Red Wings had dispatched the remainder of the flock that had attacked. However, one soldier suddenly collapsed to the deck of the ship, the armor over his right leg shredded and blood draining out at an alarming rate.

"Ohh...Gods...that smarts," The man moaned, and Cecil ran over to him, kneeling at his side as he frantically tried to pop off the cork of a potion so that he could pour it over the wound.

"Are you alright?" Cecil asked, although the answer was quite obvious. The man offered a grimace in reply, gritting his teeth as the potion went to work in a flurry of stinging and itching.

"There are more coming!" Biggs cried, and Cecil gasped when he looked up and saw a gigantic, black Raven looming over himself and the injured Red Wing. Not in a great position to use his sword, Cecil instead pulled out the last bottle he had in his pouch, and tossed it at the Raven, smacking it square in the head as it exploded into a crash of thunder bolts and dazzling sparks that forced Cecil to blink away the spots that had overtaken his vision. The Raven let out a strangled cry and followed the Float Eyes' lead to an ashen hell, debris from the beast's dissolving form raining over Cecil and causing him to gag quietly into his hand as he forced himself up.

"Everyone all right?" Cecil questioned, and the entirety of the crew nodded, including the injured soldier at his feet.

"Yes sir," Wedge saluted, and Cecil noticed a deep gouge cut across his chest plate that had thankfully not made its way to his flesh.

"But all these monsters as of late…" Biggs brushed the dust off his armor, shaking his head. "It's disturbing. We're getting more calls back home to dispatch fiends that are daringly making their way out of their decrepit corners to attack villagers, and now we can't even make a short jaunt to Mysidia without being assaulted. It might have been safer yet to try to send the lot of us through the Devil's Road!"

"I wonder what it bodes," the lookout mused, and Cecil turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aye," he said quietly to himself, and glanced up at the sky, which was slowly fading from a soft blue to a spill of gentle pinks, golds, and purples. Evening was falling upon them – and Cecil couldn't help but feel his heart race in anticipation of seeing the twin moons come out tonight. They were supposed to both be full, and despite the old wives' tale that twin full moons bore an unlucky omen, there was something inside of him that yearned for the blessing of that silver light – he felt ridiculous for even thinking it, but he almost felt as if moonlight would be enough to wash away the blood that had stained hands this day.

His daydream was interrupted by Biggs, who was peering over the bow of the airship and anxiously trying to contain his grin. Ivory spires and towers were rising in the near-distance, and hanging proudly despite the lack of a steady breeze was the standard of Baron, a silver seal crossed with a curved dark blade and stalwart lance, entwined with crimson ribbons the color of blood. "We've reached the castle, m'lord!"

Cecil blinked, not noticing the way his knuckles turned bone-white as he clutched the rail of the ship. He swore he could feel a searing heat blistering the flesh beneath his tunic where he had stashed the now-lightless Crystal of Water under his chest plate, and had a momentary flash of panic when he realized he would next have to hand the stolen crystal over to His Majesty. After that, there would truly be no turning back – he was positive that once King Baron had his hands on the crystal, it would never return to its rightful home in the Tower of Prayer again – at least not in their lifetimes. After a few beats of awkward silence permeated the air, Cecil realized his men was expecting his final order to close out their mission, and made a show of coughing into his fist to mask the pain ravaging his chest.

"Well then, prepare for landing, men!"

"Aye, M'lord!"

No…there can be no turning back. This is for the best…this is for our future!

For the future of all those I want to protect…

---

"Ah, the young lord returns triumphant!"

Cecil looked up in surprise when the doors ahead of him burst open, a stately figure approaching that was wrapped in regal scarlet robes and a fluttering silk cape that would look no more elegant on a crown prince, if such a figure existed in today's Baron. The commanding tone belonged to a young man named Baigan, only a few years older than Cecil, with slicked back golden hair and a smile laced with an unsettling mix of pretension and enthusiasm that never seemed to wane, regardless of the situation. Although not a fan of outwardly expressing his own feelings, even normally unflappable Cecil felt a twinge of anxiety whenever he was forced to decipher Baigan's true intentions behind his mask-like façade.

Cecil had hardly set foot into the gatehouse of the castle when Baigan ambushed him – almost as if he had been watching for the exact moment Cecil touched down on Baron soil. As Baigan jogged across the gatehouse toward the dark knight, many badges and seals that decorated his left and right breast glimmered in the dying sunlight, declaring in no uncertain terms that he was not just another random soldier wandering about the castle. Cecil steeled himself, plastering on his own smile as he made the effort of sliding the visor of his helmet away so he could greet Baigan eye-to-eye.

"Baigan! A personal visit from the Captain of the Guard himself? To what do I owe this honor?"

Baigan chuckled, extending his hand outward, and Cecil took it willingly, not noticing the gleam that had settled in Baigan's black eyes as he searched Cecil silently, impatiently. After a few moments, Cecil stepped back, raising one silver brow as he took note of the queer half-smile seemingly frozen on Baigan's face. Sometimes, Cecil couldn't help but liken Baigan to a mechanical doll that a child had forgotten to wind.

"You did secure Mysidia's crystal, did you not?" Baigan inquired, jumping straight to the true reason behind his welcoming Cecil home. Cecil could feel a muscle in his jaw twitch he reached in his breast plate to retrieve it.

"The crystal is ours…" Cecil began, and shook his head as he held the crystal protectively in both of his hands, feeling unnerved by the way Baigan was now eyeing him like one would an Antlion Steak dinner. Cecil thought back to how the Elder had practically given him the crystal after they had stormed the crystal chamber – if he had been even a fraction as powerful as was rumored, he could have easily obliterated Cecil right then and there. But…here he was, alive and well, and countless Mysidians were dead in his place. "But the Mysidians – they did not even raise a hand in their own defense, Baigan."

Baigan blinked, the spell that had entranced him at just the very sight of the crystal now shattered, and nearly burst out laughing, giving Cecil a playful pat on the back as he crossed to his side and began to gingerly nudge him toward the doors from which he had made his grand entrance. "All's the better, then, is it not? Only fools would dare oppose the almighty will of Baron. Come, we must not keep His Majesty waiting."

Cecil said nothing more as Baigan efficiently led Cecil through the castle proper to King Baron's throne room. They first crossed the great hall, where Cecil's eyes kept straying from their path every few moments to see if he could spot any familiar faces that he had been away from for what had seemed like forever. However, none of his friends were milling about, not that that accounted for many people – in fact, Cecil could count the number of true confidants he had on one hand, and that amount had not changed since he was a child. Letting out another inward sigh at that pathetic reminder, Cecil continued walking with Baigan until they reached the heavy pair of red oak doors that would grant them entry into the chambers of one of the most powerful monarchs that had ever graced the throne in Baron's nearly eight-hundred year history. Just as Cecil reached for the latch, Baigan held out his hand, and Cecil looked up at him confusedly.

"A moment, my lord," Baigan simpered, and made an apologetic bow before turning and walking through the entrance, deserting Cecil in the antechamber. The doors quickly slammed shut behind him, and Cecil crossed his arms, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought as he turned his attention back to the crystal still clutched in his hand. It remained lifeless, betraying no evidence of the innocent blood that had been let for Baron to secure it. Unfortunately for Cecil, he could not hear a word of what was being discussed in the room only feet away from him – all he could do was wait to be summoned like the proper little lapdog he had become.

Why…why does no one think what happened in Mysidia is strange? His Majesty had proclaimed they would see the reason in his request…but they resisted until the bitter end…

---

"Your Majesty!" Baigan exclaimed as he kneeled down before the King of Baron, touching his chin to his chest and not daring to meet the king's gaze until he was invited to rise. Baron was a stout man in his fifties, having filled out quite a bit in his elder years from the once-wiry knight he had been in his youth – the direct result of his early retirement from the military upon being forced to take the throne after the unexpected death of his father and from having unlimited access to some of the best chefs in the realm for every meal. Naturally stern dark eyes commanded the attention of anyone who sought him out, and a neatly-trimmed orange beard consumed his lower jaw and flanked his cheeks, blessing him with a natural poker face. His heavy golden crown, lined with red silk and trimmed in ermine that was once worn by his great-great-great grandfather and personally selected by him from the family vault upon his ascension, sat straight and square on his head, matching his imperial robes of red and ivory. He half-glared down at Baigan, hoisting himself higher in the throne. The slight motion was all the permission Baigan needed to continue.

"Your Majesty," Baigan started again, a slight smirk tugging his lip upward as he thought back to Cecil's moaning about the weakling Mysidians. And did Cecil even think for a moment that Baigan hadn't caught the seismic shift in the boy's attitude as soon as it had become apparent what he had come to fetch him for? You're losing your edge, Cecil…wearing your pretty little heart on your sleeve is just begging for someone to cut you down. And if I'm very lucky…that someone may just be me. "I fear our good Lord Cecil's faith in you begins to waver."

"Does it now?" Baron smirked and wordlessly gestured with his hand for Baigan to stand back up. He did so, one arm still folded across his waist in deference as he glanced up at the king's ignited features. Something had sparked to life behind his stone-like gaze that both terrified and titillated Baigan all at once. "Hmmm…Indeed. Your loyalty and worth are proven once again, Captain Baigan. But the crystal is all that matters in this act. Bring him before me."

"As you wish," Baigan smiled and bowed once more before practically waltzing to the throne room doors. With a flourish, he threw them open, conspiratorially winking at Cecil as the dark knight peered up at him disinterestedly. Suddenly, Cecil wasn't in the mood for any more of Baigan's games – he realized he had wasted his breath trying to appeal to any sensibilities that might still be knocking around in that empty skull of his.

King Baron would understand…he would mourn along with Cecil that their mission to obtain the crystal had come to tragic blows, and he would know would to do to fix it. There has to be a reason for all of this…there just has to be. All I have to do is ask. Baron will listen to me…he's never turned me away when I've needed him most.

"Lord Cecil, His Majesty bids you enter!" Baigan announced with far more enthusiasm than was necessary, and Cecil pushed past him, kneeling at the foot of Baron's throne and averting his gaze. He flinched as Baigan suddenly slammed the doors behind them, cursing under his breath at his own fragile disposition.

What the hell is wrong with me? How many times I have sought the king's wisdom and comfort in this very chamber?

"The kingdom of Baron hails your return, Cecil," Baron said stiffly. "You have brought me the crystal, I trust?"

"I have, Your Majesty," Cecil said, and Baigan materialized by his side, holding his hands out for the crystal. Cecil quickly cut his glance at Baron, who nodded in approval. Reluctantly, Cecil rose back to his feet and handed it over to Baigan. After inspecting it with wide eyes and a slightly sadistic grin, Baigan in turn handed it to King Baron.

"It is genuine, Your Majesty," Baigan declared as Baron turned it over and over again in his hands, hardly able to contain himself. His gaze filled with the image of the crystal before him as he lovingly ran his fingertips over it, tracing every last delicate crack.

"So it is. See how it shines!" He looked to Cecil, who felt his heart plummet into his stomach at the sight of the king's unbridled glee. If only Baron had known how brightly the crystal had shined in its true home within the Tower of Prayer, he would realize that what he was holding now was nothing but a piece of costume jewelry. "That will be all, Cecil. You may leave us now."

Cecil blinked and lowered his empty hand, which he had only just now realized he was still holding in front of him from when he had handed off the crystal. The screams of the Mysidians filled his ears with every beat of his heart, but instead of saying anything, he turned away and began to walk toward the throne room doors. As he reached for the latch, feeling Baigan's and Baron's eyes drill into the back of his head, he swore he could make out a faint voice beyond the screams, barely audible over the roar of his pulse. It was dim, unfamiliar, and made his blood run cold in his veins.

Is this…justice?

Cecil stiffened his spine and spun around, marching right back to the king and Baigan, who were now too busy drooling over their new prize to pay him any attention until he cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. Baron gasped and looked up, along with Baigan, whose mask had slipped, his smile melting into an annoyed glare.

"...Your Majesty!"

"Have you some other matter to discuss?" King Baron questioned between pursed lips, and Baigan defiantly put his hands on his hips.

"Our king has granted you your leave, and yet you would trouble him further?"

Hold your tongue, Baigan, Cecil wanted to hiss, but he steeled himself against his fellow officer, doing his best to pretend he was no longer in the room. "I know it is not my place to ask, Your Majesty, and I pray you can forgive my indiscretion. But what is it you aim to do? Your ways are not as they once were. My men's hearts grow heavy with misgiving."

There. He had said it – his voice growing stronger and steadier with each lament that fell from his lips – and the room had not spontaneously combusted as a result.

I cannot turn back now.

"As does yours?" Baron questioned coldly, and clutched the crystal in his hands tighter as he narrowed his eyes. Cecil felt as if those same hands were now grasping his throat, and felt something cold tighten around his windpipe as he bleated his protests. Those eyes…were they really the same as the ones that had once been filled with loving encouragement for all of Cecil's life, always pushing him to be the strongest, most confident, most capable soldier he had sensed within, even when Cecil could not see it for himself?

"No!" Cecil choked, and shook his head. "Your Majesty, no, I would never doubt…"

Baron slammed his fist on the arm of his throne, the blow powerful enough to cause the standing candelabras surrounding them to shudder in place. "Do you take me for a fool, Cecil? Do you think your treasonous whisperings escape my ears? After all I've done for you, Cecil... You wound me."

No, no, no, no… Please, you have to understand!

Baigan pressed his hand to his mouth, and it took everything Cecil had not to spin around and deck him right then and there – it was obvious where those "treasonous whisperings" had originated from. He clenched his fists, biting down so hard on his lip to keep from spewing anything foolish that he could taste blood.

Baron sat back in his throne, his eyes rolling to the ceiling as if he were in deep thought. "This is most unfortunate, but I can place no trust in one who offers none in return. I hereby relieve you of command of the Red Wings."

"My liege!" Cecil gasped, the reality of this new disaster he had once again brought upon himself crashing over his head. He dared not blink away the worrying stars that had exploded in his vision, should it indicate to Baron even a whiff of defiance.

The next thing Cecil knew, he was flanked by a pair of navy-uniformed guards – Baigan's men – who had been keeping watch quietly in the back of the room, stationed near the billowing folds of the burgundy velvet drapes that were drawn over the picture windows and obscuring the evening's sunset. Cecil had been so distraught by what was unfolding before him that he had totally forgotten he, Baigan and the king were not alone – he had gotten so used to the guards' presence whenever he had business with the king that they had become just another ornament in the throne room – until now. Each guard roughly grabbed an arm, dragging Cecil away from the king and Baigan toward the exit of the throne room.

"Your Majesty!" Cecil protested, and the king stood up, tossing a thin-banded, golden ring with a glimmering ruby inset toward Cecil's struggling body. Cecil just barely managed to catch it in his teeth, as the guards still did not release his arms. The ruby glimmered dangerously against Cecil's slightly crooked right canine, and he watched wordlessly as the king deigned to take a few steps closer.

"Despite your treachery, you still hold some use for me. You will go now of the Valley of Mist instead of your next mission with the Red Wings. There is a task I would have you do. A phantom creature haunts the borders of that land – the Eidolon of Mist. You will slay it, and deliver this ring to the village that lies beyond – they will know its meaning. Be gone at first light on the morrow."

"Ugh...I..." Cecil struggled harder against the guard's grip when suddenly the throne room doors flew open, and a new figure marched his way swiftly into the room, sweeping past Cecil and posturing himself directly in the path of the king. He was clad in brilliantly-polished emerald-green armor, woven with flexible latex that left little to imagine of his lithe form but provided the perfect balance of agility and protection in battle. Perched upon his head was a matching helmet that was the shape of a dragon's maw, with peering topaz yellow eyes set atop it. His face was made visible underneath, an elegantly sculpted jaw framing shining blue eyes and a slender nose with the tip upturned just a few degrees shy of straight, thanks to an accident where his face met the wrong end of a sparring partner's lance long ago. His thin, pale pink lips were pressed together in anger so deeply that they disappeared on his face, and a spill of corn silk hair from his ponytail bounced down his back with each stomp, the length just barely brushing the small of his back.

"Your Majesty!" the man exclaimed, and Baron glared up at him irritably – the towering figure had at least six inches on him, and it would have been a comical sight if Cecil's life as he knew it wasn't flashing before his eyes. "I beg you, my liege, reconsider! You know Cecil would not betray you!"

Cecil could only stare, his jaw on the floor, as he took in his would-be savior. The king finally seemed to collect himself, taking a step back and shaking his head. "Ah, Kain Highwind. I was not aware this matter concerned you. But as you seem so eager to protect your friend, let your spear accompany his blade on the road to Mist."

"Your Majesty-!" Cecil mumbled against the ring, but Baron turned his back upon both of them, raising his hand for what would be the last time.

"I've no more words. Take the ring and begone, while my mood is yet fair!"

Moments later, he was tossed out of the throne room with one violent shove from the guards, gasping for air as he fell flat on his face and nearly swallowed the ring whole, managing to catch it in the back of his throat just in a nick of time and spitting it out spitefully. Kain went flying out behind him a few moments later, stumbling backwards as the throne room doors slammed shut and were locked immediately after with a deafening "click". Cecil unleashed a frustrated moan as he pushed himself up by his elbows, snatching up the spit-covered ring. Kain shook his head, regaining his senses as he looked over at his friend, obvious pity flooding his features. Slowly, he walked to Cecil's side, kneeling down next to him and slipping an arm around his shoulder.

"Kain, forgive me," Cecil groaned. "I did not mean to draw you into this."

Kain offered a half-smile. "What's to forgive? We'll slay this Eidolon of his and all will be forgotten. You'll be commanding the Red Wings again before you know it."

Cecil lowered his head, his throat tightening up again. He wasn't sure how much Kain had overheard, but surely he understood even just from what he had witnessed that fixing things would not be as easy as that. Kain hadn't seen the way Baron had looked at him so hatefully when he had questioned the purpose of their kingdom obtaining the crystal – like Cecil was the biggest disappointment on the face of the planet – a living, breathing reminder of what years of the king's good faith and dedication to raising the nation's most powerful dark knight had gotten him…

…Nothing but a sniveling, broken coward.

And now, for my very best friend to be wrapped up in this drama…it's unforgivable.

"Kain..."

Kain sighed and dropped his arm back to his side. He knew a lost cause when he saw one – he could read Cecil like a book, after all. "You must be tired from Mysidia, no? Leave the preparations for Mist to me and get yourself some rest."

At that moment, a few loud shouts came from the next room over from where they had been ensconced in the antechamber. Cecil was sure the voices were originating from a corner where a table was usually transformed into a makeshift bar after every Red Wings mission, and was surely occupied by his crew – well, make that his former crew – looking to drown the brutal success of their little fetch quest with a kingdom's worth of ale. Normally, their homecoming celebrations were just that – celebrations – but Cecil had the feeling that tonight, a lot of people just wanted to forget today had ever happened. And once they heard about Cecil being stripped of his post…

"Kain! Have you chased down Cecil yet? Get your arses in here!"

"Maybe I should get some rest," Cecil mumbled, sitting up. All of a sudden, he had a throbbing headache, and wondered if he was having an aneurism. It would be a small mercy, he supposed.

"Come on then, off to bed," Kain stood up, grabbing Cecil by the arm and hauling him up before Cecil could protest. Cecil pocketed the ring, hesitating in the antechamber's threshold as he watched Kain walk off to where the group of Red Wings were sitting, drinking, and drunkenly cheering as he plopped down with them. Even though Kain wasn't a Red Wing, he had shared the same comradery with Baron's elite air force as if he were one of their own for as long as Cecil could remember, and the very thought of it had always filled his chest with a melting warmth that often rendered him speechless. Kain was, without a doubt, the closest thing to family that Cecil had ever had, so it seemed only natural that their brotherhood would extend to the battlefield as well, even if they were technically in rivaling factions of Baron's many armies.

Even though we haven't spoken in days, somehow Kain knew I was in danger tonight, and came for me, Cecil thought, tilting his head. I should tell him what happened before we leave tomorrow…he should know the truth about the villainy I've exacted – he may not be so quick to assist me in Mist if realizes the monster I've become. He snuck up behind Kain and tapped his shoulder as a Red Wing slid a drink from across the table, half of it sloshing out everywhere. Kain looked up at Cecil and laughed a little.

"That was a quick nap, princess."

But when Cecil didn't laugh back, the playful light flickered from Kain's eyes, and he watched as Cecil's gaze darted over to an empty table.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," Kain nodded, grabbing his drink. They absconded to the table, well out of earshot as the Red Wings Kain had abandoned broke out into a ditty Cecil didn't recognize. This happened a lot – he wasn't one to get out much to enjoy the bounties of Baron's popular culture (not that there was much of it to speak of). Cecil mechanically reached over, snatching Kain's mug and tossing half of it back in one gulp.

"Hey..." Kain pretended to glare, and shook his head as he rested his cheek on his hand. "Well...I guess that WILL help you go to sleep faster tonight..." Cecil nodded some as he set down the nearly-empty mug and sighed, resting his face in his hands. Kain leaned back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over at the knee. "What is it?"

"This is all my doing. Forgive me."

Kain rolled his eyes, leaning in closer. "I told you, there's nothing to forgive. What's wrong? It isn't like you to act like this."

"How much did you hear when you were eavesdropping?" Cecil asked shakily, and Kain shrugged, deciding to gloss over Cecil's choice of words for what he had felt was a perfectly innocent stopover.

"Enough to know that the king overreacted to what was a perfectly rational question. I too, am curious about what his intentions are for the Crystal of Water. When I heard that's what you lot were off doing today, I nearly fell over. But obviously, you were successful. I can't understand why the king is mad about that."

Cecil decided he needed the rest of Kain's ale to finish his thoughts. After guzzling the remainder down, it was like a dam inside of him had burst – everything about what had happened in Mysidia came spilling out, including how he had tried to talk his men down from the trauma they had inflicted, even though he had felt the same exact way. When he got to the part about Baigan's nonchalant reaction to the Mysidians giving in to the Red Wings' violence, Cecil could feel his despair giving in to rage.

"That was when I knew I had to say something to His Highness. I didn't want to be a hypocrite with my men any longer…but now look at what I've done. I'm no longer a Red Wing, and His Highness thinks I'm a traitor – I'm no longer in the position to do anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Cecil…"

Cecil clenched his jaw, cutting Kain off. "I did not train in the way of the dark sword so I could steal from innocents, Kain. I trained because His Majesty asked it of me."

Kain was taken aback – he had never seen his best friend speak with such distain with the king's name in his mouth. "You mustn't blame yourself for the orders you were given. Our king had his reason, I'm sure of it. Once things calm down, I'm sure he'll bring you back into the fold…he has to. You're…very special to him, Cecil. Surely you understand that, right?"

Cecil lowered his head, clasping the empty glass tighter.

"You know…I envy you, Kain."

---

Courtyard, Baron, Five Years Ago

Kain collapsed in a huff, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he pulled off his leather helmet and tossed it so hard that it bounced across the yard like a rogue bowling ball. He jumped in surprise when he heard a protesting yelp, pushing the curtain of damp hair out of his face and spotting Cecil a few feet away, gingerly massaging his shin before bending over and snatching the helmet off the ground, a half-grimace drawn across his face. Kain said nothing as Cecil paused, watching the rest of the trainees slump off the field, his stare a pair of depthless, mysterious pools that Kain knew meant his friend was thinking rather intensely about something. Sometimes that was a thing that Cecil just did – fall into random trances of thought and snap awake like the princess in a fairy tale, unaware of any time that had passed or who had been shouting to get his attention. Finally, Cecil made his approach, tucking the helmet in the crook of his left arm and extending his right hand. Kain grabbed hold with his left, his skin imprinted with the grooves from clutching the handle of his lance, and landed on his feet with one graceful leap, his fingers drifting away from Cecil's.

"Cecil... So you saw me."

He was genuinely surprised Cecil was here – he had begged off Kain's proposed sparring match earlier to play errand boy for the Red Wings, all at His Majesty's insistence. If the rumors that swirled in the yard and the barracks were true, it would seem that Cecil was being personally groomed by the king himself to fill a position in what was rapidly becoming Baron's most elite military force, although he was still too green to take his initiation trial, according to the captain – so Cecil needed as much visibility as possible, and hanging around with a bunch of Dragoon cadets wasn't going to help his cause. Kain was simultaneously thrilled and disappointed that Cecil had ended up tracking him down – part of him mourned that their diverging paths meant that they were spending less time together, but it didn't mean he wanted Cecil to witness getting his behind thoroughly handed to him by the senior Dragoon who had deigned to spar with him. It was more fun – and easier for his ego – when Cecil was his only rival.

"What I saw the openings you left," Cecil smiled slightly. "How do you expect to lead the Dragoons if you cannot even guard your own flank?"

"Heh. My father's blood is in me. I will lead the Dragoons!" Kain grabbed the helmet from Cecil, blowing his hair out of his face before pulling it back on. "Have no fear of that."

"You're certainly headstrong enough," the younger boy conceded, the light suddenly flooding back into his gaze as he noticed Kain flick his wrist slightly in the direction of his abandoned lance. Seconds later, their weapons erupted in a scream of steel that echoed across the courtyard – Cecil had withdrawn his school-issued, battered broadsword and parried Kain's stealth attack with milliseconds to spare. Kain burst out laughing, leaping back with an impossible height and putting several yards between them as he sank into a readied stance. Cecil grinned, lifting his sword as his feet sank in the soft, supple grass beneath.

"No more holding back, Cecil," Kain announced. "I'll fight to win this time!"

---

Current Day

"What?" Kain laughed a little and leaned in closer, making sure he heard correctly. The din of the chamber was getting louder around them – now several Dragoons had wandered in to join the Red Wings, wondering where the party was at. "You envy me? Cecil Harvey, Captain of the Red Wings, the most powerful dark knight in all of Baron, and the King's...uhh...normally right-hand man? You envy a lowly Dragoon like me?"

"Indeed," Cecil nodded seriously. Although, best to make that ex-Captain, now… He thought back to that otherwise forgettable day in the courtyard when he had watched Kain suffer one of his most humiliating defeats yet, but had still passionately believed in himself as if nothing had happened. At the time, Cecil thought his friend perhaps suffered from a major case of delusion, but had realized later on that for Kain, there was simply no other acceptable path through this life – that was the same confidence Kain had always tried to instill in him as well, with decidedly mixed results.

"You followed your father's footsteps of becoming a Dragoon instead of becoming a dark knight like me. You resisted the King's desires for your own dreams...and then you went on to surpass even those, becoming one of the youngest commanders of the Dragoons in the kingdom's history."

Kain sighed, drumming his fingers across the table. As proud as he was of his accomplishments, they were still a bittersweet reminder of how exactly he had come to be the man he was today – if his father had still been alive, he certainly wouldn't be in the position he was in now – it would have never been vacated in the first place. Maybe if Richard Highwind was still commander of the Dragoons, they would be Baron's most elite force…not the Red Wings. After all, the Dragoons had been the warriors to perfect the art of fighting in the air – the Red Wings needed clumsy, gargantuan machines to achieve that.

…Why am I thinking about something like that now, when Cecil is clearly in so much pain before me?

Kain tried to swallow back the acerbic taste that had flooded his mouth. "Life is certainly not as perfect as it may seem, Cecil. True, I command the Dragoons, but I am still not nearly as strong nor as brave as my father... Not to mention there is the fact that King Baron will always see me as the man who rejected his orders to train by the dark sword. I've never been trusted by him like he has trusted you – you're the charity case gone right. Me? Not so much."

"But the look on his face when I questioned obtaining the Crystal of Water, and when you stormed inside to defend me…" Cecil shook his head. "It was like he completely forgot that he raised the two of us like his own sons. He was…a totally different man."

Everything Cecil was saying was unfortunately, quite correct, but Kain didn't want to dwell on it any longer – more so, he didn't want Cecil to dwell on it, lest he be driven to do something drastic. Getting demoted out of the Red Wings was enough excitement for one day – there would only be so much Kain could do if Cecil found himself in any more trouble.

Cecil... You are my brother in all but name…if something should ever happen to you…I feel as if the world as I know it would end.

"Don't overthink things, Cecil. You need to keep your wits about you. Or do you mean to send me off against the Eidolon alone?"

"What?" Cecil blinked, lifting his chin. "O-Of course not!"

That's right… His Majesty called the Eidolon a "phantom creature". What manner of enemy will we be facing this time? But I suppose any adversary is better than defenseless mages…

"We leave early on the morrow," Kain pushed his fingertips together, raising one brow. "Best get some sleep. My offer to make the preparations for our mission still stands."

"Thank you," Cecil smiled sadly and stood up from his chair, although his brief sway when all of the ale he had pounded down made the mad rush up to his brain did not go unnoticed by Kain, who couldn't help but smirk.

"You're still such a lightweight when it comes to alcohol," the dragoon mused. "Need an escort to your bedchamber?"

"Hardly," Cecil lied, taking a long, deep breath through his nostrils before turning on his heel and raising his hand as he began his retreat. "Good night."

The residents of Baron Castle, of which there were many besides the core infantry units that were expected to live on the premises in case a state of emergency were declared, were typically stationed in either the western or eastern towers. It used to be that the western tower contained the suites belonging to the royal family, but the turn of Baron's seventh century had not been kind to the royal progeny, with the main branch of the family producing few surviving heirs and the extended cousins and hangers-on dying out or immigrating to other countries. As it stood today, the man Cecil and Kain looked to as an adoptive father was the last heir of the main Baronian bloodline, and his own parents had died young, along with a younger sister who had died in infancy. It had been the late King Baron's decision to downscale the royal suites and use the space to foster their growing military and magical presence, a vision his son was able to fully execute just a few years later when the first airship was given life in a dustbowl of a field that later transformed into Baron's state of the art shipyard.

And with airships came the need for an air force to pilot them, and thus the Red Wings were born. King Baron constructed his own personal residence in a smaller, more enveloped tower that was rumored to only be reachable from the throne room and a secret passage in one of the sub-basements, leaving the majority of the western tower in the hands of the newly-formed Red Wings. It was where Cecil was granted his personal chamber upon being appointed Captain, on the very top floor. It was a luxury he did not take for granted, and even though he had been settled in for nearly a year now, he still sometimes felt like a journeyman overstaying his welcome at a particularly plush inn.

As he crossed the keep and slipped into the corridor that he felt would be least occupied at this time of night that would take him to the tower, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to what had transpired that day in Mysidia, and could feel his heartbeat slow just at the thought of the way the blood of the Red Wings' victims soaked into the glimmering mirror floor of the crystal chamber, pooling at Cecil's feet like a melted ruby. He recalled the precise turn of his wrist as he pressed the tip of his dark blade to the Elder's throat, hardly recognizing the looming figure drenched in black, twisting horns extending from his helmet and the light extinguished from his eyes, that filled his mind when he forced himself to remember. A dull throb of pain twisted in his chest, and Cecil gasped for breath, pausing at the bottom of the stairwell that would take him to the western yard and set him in sight of his destination.

I just don't understand any of it...

...If I were truly the righteous knight that I was raised to become in the king's image, then why did I let Baron order me to commit such a horrible sin in Mysidia? How did I convince myself it was the right thing to do to threaten the Elder's life, and to steal the lives of his companions?

He pulled out the ring King Baron had ordered him to deliver to Mist, holding it up to the candlelight flickering from the sconce above. Although simple, there was something unspeakably elegant about the ring's design, and Cecil only noticed in the candlelight that inside the ruby was an etching of Baron's seal. It looked like the kind of piece a young prince or queen would wear, and Cecil wondered if it had once belonged to one of the king's relatives.

This is the kind of gift you would give in recognition of an agreement or treaty, Cecil thought. Maybe King Baron is hunting the phantom creature as a favor – with all the increase in monstrous activity, is it terrorizing the villagers? Those from Mist were an elusive people, and though not much was known about them outside their borders, Cecil remembered enough from school to piece together a mental dossier. Mist, not much unlike Mysidia, was a region steeped in magic – but they held sanctuary for no crystals, and was not a popular spot for any self-respecting mage's pilgrimage to greatness. Rather than being specialists in white or black magic, the people of Mist were rumored to be Summoners – people who had the ability to call upon monsters from another plane of existence and interact with them like they would another human. Cecil, nor anyone in his circle (as far as he knew), had ever actually met one of these alleged Summoners – not much of a surprise since the people of Mist kept to themselves and rarely ventured in the world outside their valley. But in return, that had always meant that Baron had peaceful neighbors and relations in the north, a boon since the rest of their country was bordered by the sea.

At least taking the ring to Mist will be a bit gentler on my conscience...no murdering necessary to deliver a piece of jewelry...

"Cecil!"

Cecil heard hurried footsteps from above and turned around, shoving the ring back inside his pouch. Sprinting down the steps was a young woman, with lengthy golden hair tumbling down her shoulders and a crystal headband resting against her forehead. She had wide-set, soft brown eyes framed with thick blonde lashes, and a complexion with the consistency of whipped cream. Bow-shaped mauve lips were curled into a slight smile that always made the benefactor of such radiance feel as if he or she was bathing in liquid sunlight. She was dressed in an ankle-length, simple pink sheath gown, with trailing sleeves that dangled past her waist and a square neckline that was the framework for her swan-like neck. Even when she stopped on the step above Cecil, granting her some temporary height in her pink satin flats, he was still a head taller than her. She tilted her head a bit as she took him in, and her crystal earrings that matched her tiara jingled softly.

Rosa… Cecil thought to himself, his breath catching in his throat. How is it possible that she grows yet more beautiful everyday…? Gods, I missed her so much.

But when their eyes fell upon each other, he felt a sharp guilt of pang spasm from within. If she knew what we had to do on our mission…if she knew about the blood on my hands…Would she be giving me that tender gaze? He suddenly felt as if he were going to be sick, and forced himself to look away. He wasn't ready to have this conversation with her yet – with Kain, it had been different – he knew and understood the intricacies and dangers that came with being part of Baron's military might, had practically been reared in its chaos by Cecil's side. But Rosa…she was just a normal girl from a good family that had fallen into his life quite by accident – she hadn't signed up for any of this.

If she had noticed his sudden change of heart about seeing her, she didn't act on the hint. "Thank goodness you are alright," she smiled wider instead, reaching out to give him a hug. As her arms wrapped around his waist, her fingers gingerly tracing down his spine, Cecil felt another head rush (was it from that damned ale, or something else?), but couldn't bring himself to reciprocate, suddenly feeling as if his arms weighed a ton a piece. His mind spinning, it hardly registered for him when Rosa finally gave up and stepped back, her feelings hurt. "The orders for Mysidia came so suddenly – I was so worried."

That's right…I left without even telling her, Cecil mentally cursed himself. At the time, it had seemed like it didn't matter – he had a job, after all, and it wasn't like Rosa was just sitting around waiting for him day-in and day-out – she was one of Baron's most promising white magic students and had a lot of accountabilities of her own for their kingdom. There were plenty of stretches of time where they would go without seeing each other for weeks, and it was only a week ago that they had celebrated her nineteenth birthday together. But all of that that was before, well, everything that had happened, and now suddenly, every single slight he had ever bequeathed her, unwillingly or not, seemed to surface in a spotlight in his mind and point to a pattern of behavior that Cecil feared was becoming more and more apparent about just the kind of person he really was.

He was such a damned liar, pretending he was the same healthy, sane man standing before her now that last week had attempted to break into the castle kitchens to make her a birthday cake and watch her fall asleep on their favorite overlook after a night of foolery with Kain, lightning bolts zipping down his spine each time he swore she would breathe out his name in her sleep.

I've always feared that my becoming a dark knight would drive something between us, Rosa…would make me too dangerous for me to keep you by my side anymore, even though I longed to become someone you could be proud of, someone whom you would find honor in courting – not just some blessed nobody that was born under the lucky star that brought me into King Baron's fold.

And now…it would seem my fears were more so a premonition…

He snapped out of his self-flagellation when he saw the utter despair that had taken over her gaze, realizing that he had yet to actually say anything to her since she had come upon him.

"We're fine. Small wonder, considering we fought mages who did not fight back."

His tone had taken on more of a chill than he had intended, and Rosa bit down on her lower lip, trying to decipher the meaning behind his strange behavior. Racking her brain to figure out what it possibly was that she could have done to offend him, she finally heaved a sigh and reached out, touching his arm. Cecil flinched unintentionally, and Rosa yanked her hand back as if she had been burned. He wanted to immediately grab hold of her and beg for her forgiveness, bury his lips in her hair ask for them to start over…but there was no magic in the world that could turn back the clock on any of the day's horrors, including the fresh one unfurling before his eyes.

How long until she finds out that the king has stripped me of my post, and what I had to do to get that crystal?

Rosa crossed her arms, releasing her lip from between her teeth, now glossy and swollen from where she had been nervously gnawing it. "Cecil…I'll visit you in your tower later, okay?"

Before he could formally refuse her self-invite, she quickly turned and ran back up the stairs, stifling a sob behind her hand so that he wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Once she was gone, Cecil covered his face and let out a moan, kicking the door open that would take him to the western yard and walking outside into the open area of the castle. He wasn't entirely sure he understood what just happened, but he surely knew it was all his fault.

Let her come tonight, he thought, glaring at the ground as he shuffled forward. I don't want her to hear of my transgressions from anyone else…it has to be me. It's the least I can do for her.

And then…I have to end this charade between us. For her sake…

Born and raised in Baron Village, Rosa carried with her an impressive pedigree by Baronian standards. Her mother, Joanna, was a retired white mage-turned society lady, and her father was the late Dragoon, Damien Farrell. At a young age, Rosa had been brought into Baron Castle as a prodigy in the healing arts, proving herself to be a powerful ingénue in the field of white magic. She had grown up in the castle with both Cecil and Kain, though it was her relationship with Kain that initially brought her to Cecil. Having both come from Dragoon families, she and Kain's friendship was all but fated – Cecil was the unexpected epiphany that would turn the course of her life her mother had mapped out for her forever.

The "plan", which Rosa had always jokingly bemoaned to Cecil, was that Joanna would raise a proper white mage to follow in her footsteps and marry her off into a wealthy family (and if that family happened to also have ties to the noble Dragoon legacy, all's the better) so that Rosa could settle into life comfortably and avoid the tragedies her mother had endured on the battlefield. Joanna had fought by Damien's side even in peacetime, and it was a horrible accident that he had been slain on what was a routine scouting mission to expand Baron's territory, and she had not been able to save him. Worse yet, Joanna was unknowingly pregnant with Rosa at the time of Damien's death, and her pain was revived all over again when she discovered the pregnancy for herself. With the Dragoons (unfairly, some people felt, especially those in older society families) being overlooked for more dangerous work that was now going to the Red Wings, yet still considered a prestigious branch of the military, it was Joanna's dream that Rosa inherit all of the trappings of a normal life that she was never able to realize as a widowed mother, and banked her hopes that Rosa's natural talent in white magic would get her running with the right circles to get herself a nice Dragoon boy like her father had been (or gil-lined pocket equivalent) and live out the rest of her life in peaceful luxury.

But Rosa had her own ideas about her fate – and in her dreams, all roads to happiness lead to only one person – Cecil Harvey. Much to her mother's chagrin, what had gone unspoken between the two of them since they were children and still continued to this day was a quiet affection that had bloomed into young love seemingly overnight – the kind of love that everyone just knew was there just by one glance at the two of them together.

Despite the romantic tension rising desperately between the two of them with each passing day, Cecil felt as if he should still formally court his love, as it was the proper thing to do. Rosa's mother did not approve of their match at all, which was the main driver for him trying to navigate the minefield of courting – though there were other reasons, fears that Cecil held in a hidden heart that gave him doubt about getting too close to his childhood flame – and they all came down to repeating history.

For all of Baron's military strength, it seemed to be the destiny of a dark knight to die in battle, even in peacetime. To tap into the true strength of the darkness that Baron's knights wielded that made them incomparable soldiers, the body itself was eventually broken down, sacrificed bit by bit to give way to true strength through suffering. His Majesty had assured Cecil that such consequences were only borne upon those who did not have the discipline and respect for the dark arts – that he knew Cecil could temper and overcome the weakness that had taken so many others and become a true dark knight – after all, the king himself had trained as a dark knight when he was Cecil's age. But even Cecil was not entirely convinced the king's faith was being placed in the right person. A small part of him still held on to the very real fear that not many dark knights survived long enough to watch their own children grow, and more than anything else in the world, Cecil didn't want to bring that kind of conflict into Rosa's life – he actually agreed with her mother about keeping Rosa off of a battlefield, not that Joanna found much comfort in that.

Cecil knew if he ever told Rosa the truth – that he held a part of himself back from her so that in the end, she wouldn't suffer like her mother had, she would be devastated – maybe even grow to resent him. Worse yet, she would think that he did not love her…even though it was painfully the opposite.

But things are different now. It's no longer just about overcoming the trials of a dark knight – if blood was shed today over an inconsequential shiny rock, it means a line has been crossed, and the stakes raised. It's the difference between Rosa being with a man who was just trying to find his place in this world to be good enough for her, and Rosa being with a man who is…

…a murderer in the king's name.

Cecil was momentarily surprised to realize he had already reached the tower, having nearly smacked into the door that would hide him away for the evening. Just as he was about to unlock the latch, his name was called again – this time from an overlook stationed above the courtyard that also provided a fantastic view into the shipyard, where the Red Wings fleet was being put to bed for the night after a crew of mechanics tightened their bolts and polished the red oak bodies into a shine that rivaled garnet in a jeweler's case. He turned toward the overlook, not able to help but smile as he watched the figure bounce away, disappearing through the trap door that would take him into the courtyard. Sure enough, a few moments later, an older gentleman with a wild orange beard and hair, a stout, short figure, and bug-like goggles fastened around his eyes emerged, waving at Cecil frantically with pink rubber-gloved hands – he must have been up to something messy before spotting the boy. Cecil waved back in acknowledgment, indicating he wasn't going anywhere, and the man pushed the goggles up to his forehead, wiping his sweaty brow which only resulted in black grease from the gloves being streaked over his skin. The man then itched his bulbous nose, nostrils flaring and his razor-sharp blue eyes narrowing. That made Cecil's smile fade instantly – he was going three for three in unhappy reunions, it seemed.

"Well, well! Look who's home!" the man said in a gruff grunt, although that wasn't too far off from his normal tone. "Rosa's been worried sick about you, you know! Make that girl cry and you'll have me to answer to, you hear?" Cecil widened his eyes, and the man sighed, wiping his brow again. Cecil hadn't really noticed until he watched someone else sweating buckets, but it certainly was hot tonight. He'd have to sleep with the window open for sure, or risk suffocation.

"Cid," Cecil sighed, shaking his head. Little did the old man know that there were probably going to be a ton of waterworks tonight – and he wasn't just accounting for Rosa. He supposed it was a small favor that he would be out of the castle by dawn tomorrow as to not allow Cid to actually follow through on his threat. "I was only gone for a day. I reckon you were more worried than she was."

Cid's ruddy cheeks bloomed an even brighter red, and he coughed mightily into his arm. Time for a change of subject.

"Speaking of girls, how're my babies? Didn't burn out any engines, did you? You and them goons of yours need to treat those ships with more respect! Hey...why the long face?" He stopped when he realized Cecil hadn't breathed one word in response to any of his questions, and put his hands on his hips. "Something the matter?"

"Cid…I…um…" Cecil muttered, closing his eyes in order to draw upon his last reserves of mental strength. It was easier to explain what had happened to Cid Pollendina, the head engineer at the castle and the man who had actually given birth to Baron's airship legacy, but only slightly. Cid had pretty much played babysitter to Cecil, Kain, and Rosa while they were in the castle together, and was like a second father to the three of them. He had a daughter of his own that lived back in the village who was a few years older than Kain, the eldest of their group, but never had Cid made them feel any less family than his natural-born. Before Cecil knew it, the words, events and chaotic emotions of the day were all pouring out of his mouth, and by the time he was finished, Cid looked as if he could be knocked over with a feather. He grunted something vulgar under his breath, his face red and angry, and then came the hollering.

"What!? And he's sending you to hunt the Eidolon instead? But what'll happen to the Red Wings without you? I tell you, something's gotten into His Majesty. He's ordered me to build a new ship, you know – a more maneuverable one, with more firepower. What's he thinking? I'm not building these things for him to wage war!"

"Kain says I'm overthinking all of this," Cecil frowned. "And that it will all blow over once we're back from Mist."

"Boy, I love Kain dearly, but you know what they say about blondes, right? Sometimes they're not firing on all cylinders. There's talk among the townspeople, too, you know. Everyone's worried about where Baron's headed. And now the king's sending you away from us!"

Cecil hadn't thought of it that way – that His Majesty was sending him away on purpose. He had secretly thought that he was just being humiliated by not only getting demoted, but being made a delivery boy. When Cid put it like that…it made his insides twist into countless knots. Cid was always up on the latest town gossip, since he shuttled himself between the village and the castle every day. Cecil could only imagine what was being said about him right now, and felt the blood begin to drain from his face.

Cid had begun to pace back and forth, stroking his beard furiously. "Mist, eh? Well, you take care of yourself. S'pose I don't need to worry about you, though, do I?"

"I'll be fine," Cecil shook his head. "Mist isn't far – I'll probably be back by day's end."

Cid scratched his head, taking a long look up at the darkening sky. "I'd best be on my way, too. That daughter of mine is going to wring my neck if I spend another night here working without checking in at home!"

"Tell Amelia I said 'Hello'," Cecil murmured, and Cid paused mid-step, looking up at Cecil as if he wanted to say something. After a few beats, he finally shook his head, flashed one more of his blinding grins (the man had teeth the size of paperweights – no wonder he had such a loud mouth), and raised his hand.

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"Let's get a drink at the pub," Cecil offered, waving back as Cid dashed off.

Maybe there will be something to celebrate tomorrow…that's what I'm going to hope for, anyway.

Finally, Cecil crossed the threshold of the tower, climbing set after set of tiring stairs and suddenly feeling very much sober. He couldn't wait to peel off his armor, crawl between his sheets, and surrender himself to at least six hours of not replaying every second of this damned day on auto-repeat. As he approached the hall that took him to his chambers, he accidentally bumped into one of the castle maids he knew rotated in and out of service for his bedchamber and some of the others on the same floor. She was carrying a bundle of blankets, and looked up at Cecil from behind the stack.

"I've turned your bed, my lord. They told me you would be departing again on the morrow. Rest well tonight."

"Thank you," Cecil dipped his head slightly and slipped past her, not able to help wondering who "they" was. Had the king already made the proclamation that Cecil was persona non grata? Or was Baigan going around gleefully making his departure arrangements to anyone who would listen? Cecil and Baigan had never been what anyone would call good friends, but Cecil had thought at least that as fellow officers, there had been an inkling of mutual respect between them.

Maybe it turns out I don't know anything I thought I knew.

Cecil slammed his door behind him, removing his helmet and setting it down on a small wooden nightstand. He shook his head, silky and sweat-matted hair falling out and landing just at his shoulders – he figured there was no point in running a comb through it tonight. After completely undressing and changing into rich silk pajama pants that were a gift from Rosa a few years ago for graduating from school, he slipped between his cool, crisp sheets, and laid down, the silver moonlight from the twin full moons that had risen illuminating his chamber from the small window beside his bed. The window had already been cracked open sometime while he was away, airing out the normally stale, metallic scent his stone-tiled, cave-like chambers took on when nobody was around for long stretches of time.

The world was completely silent save for the ticking of his clock that hung above his bed – Cecil knew that there were still people working and talking outside, but you could never hear them from his room – it was truly as if he were deposited into his own secret dimension. Sighing and turning over onto his side, he struggled to come up with a way to block the constant stream of worrying thoughts from his mind so that he could just give in to his aching limbs and pass out.

Your Majesty...what's become of you?

Where is the noble knight?

The man who took me in as an orphan and raised me as his own?

The strong, just king I once knew?

Is a crystal worth all this? Robbing a peaceful people of what's theirs by right? What need could be so great? King's orders or no, there's no forgiving what we've done…that's the only thing I know to be true in my heart anymore.

Suddenly, Cecil heard his door push open, and footsteps rush to his bed. However, he didn't move an inch, keeping his back toward the intruder. He could tell by the lightness of the stride that it could only be one person – he could be struck blind for the remainder of his days and be able to tell when she entered a room just by the way his heart fluttered in his chest. Was it time already to destroy both of their lives?

The clock ticked on, unassuming.

"Cecil?" he felt his bed sink in where Rosa sat next to him, felt her hair tickling his bare arm as she leaned over to steal a glance at his face. "Won't you tell me what happened? First you're sent off to Mysidia, and now to hunt some beast again so soon? Did something happen in Mysidia?"

"No, it's nothing," he grunted, closing his eyes. Oh god, he couldn't possibly tell her, could he? What the hell had he been thinking? Rosa blinked, reaching over for his hand. When he didn't yank it away, she took that as a promising sign to keep prodding.

"Cecil…" Rosa spoke in a softer tone now, and once again, Cecil felt a longing pang that he had to shove away deep, deep inside of him. "If nothing happened, then why won't you look at me?"

Tell her, you coward. And look her in the eyes when you do it.

Like a zombie rising from the dead, Cecil pushed himself up stiffly against his pillows, wincing at the devastation etched in Rosa's eyes and in the curves of her mouth, dipped into a pensive frown. "I – in Mysidia, we...we stole a crystal from people who had done no wrong."

"…What? So the rumors are true, then? Baron now possesses the Crystal of Water?"

"Well, the mages didn't just hand it to us in a welcome basket. They resisted, but didn't raise their hands to fight us back. The Red Wings…by my orders…did what was necessary to break through. The king demanded we return with the crystal at any cost…and that price was paid. Dearly, among many of their ranks." Rosa drew a sharp breath and clutched Cecil's hand. He turned away, gazing out the window – the moonlight, filtered through gossamer periwinkle curtains, made the white in Cecil's hair erupt in a riot of platinum blue highlights, and transformed his eyes into the same dazzling cerulean as the crystals themselves. Rosa feared the pounding of her heart could be heard through the castle walls. She knew that the Cecil before her was the same boy she had known for practically her whole life, but seeing him tonight, like this…his mysterious beauty that had always vexed him and enthralled her served only to make him only more vulnerable.

She knew he would probably die of embarrassment if she alluded to such, and kept her lips pressed together.

Cecil closed his eyes, lifting the hand that held hers and pressing it over his chest. She could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart, reverberating hollowly between their palms. "Even though I knew what we were doing was wrong, I never stopped myself from issuing the order to attack. I even threatened the Elder's life with my own blade – it was like the fury of battle had taken possession of my senses." He winced as the twisting pain returned to his chest, and Rosa gasped, her other hand fluttering to his cheek. Despite the ethereal pale of his skin, she could feel him running a fever.

"I've worn this darkened armor for so long now. There's no mote of light left in me. Not even in my heart."

"You're a good man, Cecil," Rosa breathed, leaning in closer and pushing away his hair. "I can't pretend to understand everything that happened to you, but…they were the king's orders, and the lives of your men were in your hands. Had you disobeyed, what would have happened to all of them?" His eyes opened into two exhausted slits, and as hard as he searched, he still couldn't find the disgust he was hoping would register in her features after he had made his confession.

"With the king's current state of mind, it's not unlikely that we would have been branded a rebellion, and tried for treason upon touching down on Baronian soil," Cecil muttered. "But is that really any excuse? I'm a coward. A coward who cannot even defy orders he knows he ought not follow."

There is no moonlit redemption for me…the heavens themselves could not cleanse my sins. Why, why can't she understand?

Rosa narrowed her eyes. "Cecil of the Red Wings is many things. But he is no coward. Not the Cecil who I love..."

Don't say it…don't say that you love me, even after all of this!

"Do you understand what you are saying, Rosa?" Cecil asked tersely, and she blinked, her fingers slowly trailing down his jawline. She didn't want to let him go, but feared he might smack her hand away at any moment.

"Cecil, I…"

"You deserve so much more than what I could ever offer," Cecil whispered. "Let me go, Rosa…and move on with your life. I don't know what's going to happen after I return from Mist – if the king will ever forgive my transgressions – if I can ever forgive my transgressions. A goddess like you has the entire world laid at her feet – you don't need someone like me holding you back from greatness. If my loyalty wavers so for the man who raised me like his own, what's to say what I won't do to hurt you?" He lowered his head, jaw clenched. What will I be capable of when the darkness fully absorbs my heart?

"W-What…?" Rosa's eyes began to water, and she stood up, taking a couple hesitant steps backward. "You can't be serious."

"Don't I look serious?" Cecil seethed, throwing back the sheets and rising from the bed. His sinewy frame blocked the moonlight pouring into the window, submerging the bedchamber in darkness. Rosa blinked and reached up, flicking away her tears in defiance. Cecil's stomach flip-flopped, and he could already feel his resistance start to crumble all over again.

"A-All you are doing in Mist tomorrow is slaying the Eidolon, right? I-If anything were to happen to you, I couldn't..."

Cecil gave a slight nod. "Kain will be with me. I'll be fine. It's late. You should get some rest."

So I'm being dismissed, Rosa thought, biting down on her lip. Is this really it?

"Be careful," she squeaked, trying to restrain herself from screaming.

This is for the best, no matter how much it hurts, Cecil thought, his lungs feeling as if they were about to burst. Rosa turned on her heel to leave, a pair of rose gold bangles that were hanging from her wrist letting out a mournful chime. Before he could stop himself, he reached for her, his fingertips brushing over her arm with the lightness of a feather just as she slipped away. She turned, gazing up at him, and he was shocked to see that the tears she had banished had suddenly made a breakthrough, spilling over her cheeks and turning her eyes as pink as a rabbit's. With a half-stride forward, Cecil closed the distance between their bodies, his hand still hovering awkwardly over her arm.

"Cecil…" She could now feel his breath on her lips as he tilted his head, only inches away. She closed her eyes, praying that with true love's kiss, the spell would be broken, and she'd be awoken from this horrible nightmare, just like in the fairy tales she had read as a child.

Cecil closed his eyes, his every muscle aching with the effort to resist pulling Rosa against him and beg her to stay with him tonight. But his chest twisted in agony once again, and the Cecil he didn't recognize – the one who had willingly turned his blade against an ally and became complicit in bloodshed – whispered in his heart of hearts that if he didn't do something now, that Rosa would be next.

Rosa…someday…you'll understand why this had to end. And I pray that you'll forgive me...even if it takes one-hundred years.

"Be well," Cecil murmured, kissing the top of her forehead over her crystal headband and gently nudging her back on her way out the door. A strangled wail escaped Rosa's throat as her eyes snapped open, and Cecil watched in pained silence as the realization hit the both of them that they would never meet like this again. She spun around, bolting out the door and slamming it so hard behind her that the clock above his bed rattled off of its hinges and crashed to the floor.

Cecil sank back down onto his bed, his mind spinning as he cradled his head in his hands. The pain in his chest had finally subsided, and he could feel a sticky patina of perspiration breaking out all over his body. A placid summer breeze suddenly burst through the window, sending his curtains into a fluttering fit and drowning his body in chills where the dying wind met sweat.

I'm sorry, Rosa. But I know what I've become.

---

The next morning, thanks to Hurricane Rosa's destruction of his clock, Cecil found himself running late and practically raced down to the entryway of Baron Castle to meet up with Kain, mowing down everyone in his path. He was grateful that at the very least, no one stopped him to chat about Mysidia, or any other insidious rumors that might have already been going around. And per usual, Kain was punctual, resting against a pillar and making a point of laughing obnoxiously when Cecil nearly fell to his knees before him, gasping for air.

"S-Sorry…" Cecil huffed. "Long night. No sleep. Clock broken."

"Oh, did Rosa come to visit?" Kain winked, and Cecil could feel the blood draining from his face – thank the gods he already had his helmet on. He didn't want to get into what had happened with Kain – in fact, he was sure Rosa would be happy to fill him in later once they got back from Mist, considering that the two of them were thick as thieves. Cecil had never actually ended any kind of relationship with someone before, but had learned as a result of the many hearts Kain had broken over the years that apparently the "best" part of a break-up was getting to disparage the offending party to anyone who would listen.

I shan't deny Rosa that pleasure, at least, Cecil inwardly groaned. Let her tell Kain what happened.

Kain assumed that Cecil's silence was confirmation of much more elicit behavior, and pushed himself off of the pillar, hauling Cecil to his feet.

"Shall we, then, Cecil?"

Cecil nodded, rolling his neck a few times until he felt a satisfying crack. "I'll be counting on you, my friend."

Kain flashed him a brilliant smile, resting his hand upon his narrow waist. "Then you've nothing to fear."

Cecil couldn't help but laugh at Kain's brazen confidence – sure, they weren't doing what amounted to much more than a pest extermination, but he supposed it was very Kain-like to put 150% into any mission. Plus, it was so rare nowadays that the two of them actually got to go on the road together – King Baron had inadvertently given them a gift in his hurry to punish their interrogation about the crystal. Cecil took the lead, proceeding ahead and signaling for the guards on the morning shift in the gatehouse to churn open the grand double doors that granted them access to the world beyond. Kain explained that their first stop would be Baron Village so that they could pick up the supplies he had ordered, see if they could gather any information about this "Phantom Creature" that they were to slay, and then from there, they would take the northern trade road to Mist Cave, the gateway to their final destination.

As Kain segued into everything Cecil had missed the night before, including an all-stakes drinking contest that pitted Dragoon against Red Wing that landed both contestants in the infirmary, Cecil found his concentration failing him, and glanced back at the castle, whose ivory walls and crimson-slatted towers were shining like the gates of paradise. From the outside looking in, nobody would be able to grasp the chaos that is pullulating within, he thought sadly. His gaze drifted toward the eastern-most tower, where Rosa was probably just waking up with her fellow mages, getting ready to attend to her studies.

Usually, she would wake Cecil for missions like this that she knew about ahead of time, but this morning, she hadn't come.

---

And so the dark knight Cecil, stripped of his command of the Red Wings, set out for the distant Valley of the Mist. Together with Kain, commander of the Dragoons, he would pursue a faceless quarry – and a chance for redemption.

The advent of the airship had marked the realization of mankind's most ancient dream. But man is a creature seldom sated, and he was quick to dream anew.

With the unparalleled might of the Red Wings, Baron's military soon reigned supreme. Why, then, does its king now seek the crystals?

And why have fearsome monsters suddenly begun to overrun the once calm land?

If the crystals know, they share no answers – only their pure and silent light.