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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 2 - The Goddess War

Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star

Part 10.8 - Choir Medina

Everything was quiet, surreal. The three men stood and stared at the water's edge, each contemplating the current situation, each coming to a different conclusion. The Medina had for ages been the dividing line between nations, peoples, places. And now, here, at the shores of its startlingly clear stream, three different minds met, and diverged.

"We need to go north, to Zozo."

"Pah! We're goin' south, to Marylebone!"

"..."

The last comment was not spoken, but its gestured intent was as clear as the river: "We go east."

The three men all stood at the crossroads of east, west, north, and south, knowing there was little time to come to consensus. Smoke was still rising behind them, covering the smoldering ruins of what had once been the mighty Glastok Wood in a black fog. They couldn't see what had become of the forest they had just escaped from through the suffocating cloud, but they could hear the sound of war, singing its timeless notes of metal on metal, boots on earth, and death to come. It was the familiar crescendo of destruction that all three men knew all too well.

Lucius had been a war doctor in his time. It was another life, another person, but the haunting scenes stayed with him. He had been Doctor Atma back then, a proud Narsillian physician, and he had seen all the horrors of war as if he were a soldier himself. Blood, fire, and sorrow had been a constant companion to him back then, as he watched good men he never knew die in front him. He had learned to ignore the cries of agony early on, and had persevered as a successful field surgeon during the tumultuous years of Narsille's "global unification" days. Even for the hardened doctor, though, the horrors of Narsille's own destruction had proved too much, and he had fled from that world, utterly. The brutal scars of his mad flight had covered his body, mind and heart, and for a time he knew a twilit peace in the presence of the Star of the West. But now, war, his old companion from his other life had returned, and the present clanking sound of steel, the red-tinted smoke of the war engines, and the inevitable march of men going to their death stirred old memories in Lucius that he would rather keep buried.

Dragonetti, on the other hand, had been a real soldier, and had fought with sword and shield for his king in his younger days, now long behind him. He, too, had seen more of large-scale war, with its generals and kings far removed from the suffering of the common soldier, than he could take. After one of the many forgotten civil wars with the East had ended, he decided he would rather have his fate in his own hands, and not that of some distant king. His entire family had been butchered in that petty civil war, and he swore never to fight on anyone's terms but his own after that. Throwing down his sword and shield, he took up the bottle instead, and found comfort in his metal mistresses, Justine and Juliette. Always listening for that familiar melody of pain and loss, the Stradivari heard his lonely cries of anguish from the bottom of his bottles, and called out to him. Without hesitation, Dragonetti joined their family, bringing with him his unique brand of combat and two decades of hard-earned experience on the frontlines. They welcomed him in a way his country never had, never could. To them, he was not just a number, a body to be flung at the opposition. To them, he was a brother, and a son.

The silent Hammer, perhaps the most tormented of the group, had suffered terribly at war's greedy hands. Like Dragonetti, his family had been killed in the same civil war with the East, but when he was just a child, no older than four. Only he and his older sister, Claire, had survived the slaughter of his entire village, his entire world. While Hammer had escaped unharmed, Claire had been badly injured trying to protect him, and could not walk. Despite her infirmity, Claire quickly became the reason for Hammer's existence - sister, mother, daughter, and goddess, all in one. She was the solid pillar at the center of his life, and he carried her everywhere in his arms, acting as the legs she could no longer use. By the time he had reached twenty years old, he was a giant of a man. Claire however, had never fully recovered from the accident that crippled her, and slowly weakened as Hammer grew in strength and vitality. One day, the inevitable happened, and Claire succumbed to a long illness, dying as she had lived - in her brother's arms. Hammer never spoke again, and shortly afterwards, the Stradivari heard his silent cry. It was Dragonetti who had found him living alone in the Zozo mountains, wearing heavy stones across his chest in place of his lost Claire as some sort of penance for surviving. The two had looked into each other's eyes and saw the same ghosts, and from that day they never parted.

Now, though, the three men were faced with a new war, and had to make a decision. Any moment Bahamut's human armies would storm from Glastok Bastion, now a blackened spire in the middle of what was quickly becoming known as the Glastok Waste, and they would be overwhelmed.

"We ain't goin' east, Hammer," Dragonetti said forcefully, but not as rudely as he would have done towards Lucius. "They'll be gatherin' their forshes over there, too. We'll jush be caught in the middle."

Lucius calmly repeated his plan. "I have powerful allies in the north. If we follow the river north, we will meet up with them, and they can protect us."

Besides, I have things I need to discuss with Ralse and Phantom. They do not know the true extent of Doom's plans, but now I do. They think they are safe behind the barrier of the Medina, but they are not. Leviathan cannot fall before Bahamut. My plans will not be disrupted by that old snake's arrogance.

Dragonetti cursed violently. "You mush shtill be out of your gourd if you think we're goin' into the mountains wish those barbarians! I don't care who ya think ya know up there, they'll shkin ush alive. Nobody who goes into the mountains ever comes back, you know that!"

Hammer shook his head and put one large palm on Dragonetti's shoulder. He had come back from the mountains, thanks to Dragonetti.

"I know, but we're not all like you, Hammer. I'm too old for that kind o' shtuff now." Dragonetti jerked his thumb south again. "We go to Marylebone, it's the only way!"

Not one to dwell on matters overmuch, Hammer nodded in agreement, and now it was two against one.

Lucius hid his frustration under his hooded robe and scarred features, but he could see they would most likely be going south, and cursed his rotten luck at being rescued by such stubborn country bumpkins. He could not make the journey north alone, and these two would not follow him without Marylebone's consent. He knew someday things would be different, but for now, he was still just a novice Stradivari, with no influence at all.

Shrugging his shoulders with as much indifference as he could feign, Lucius consented. "Fine. We go to Marylebone. Once I tell him what I know, I'm sure he'll agree with me, and send me north," Lucius smirked under his hood. "Hopefully with more agreeable partners."

"Oho, if ya don't like our company Molitor, then feel free to go north on yer own!" Dragonetti's nostrils flared at the offense, and his fists balled unconsciously.

"I wish I could, but my body is in no shape for long walks through the mountains. Let's get out of here now, before we're trapped."

"Pathetic," Dragonetti muttered, but he nodded to Hammer, and with one quick motion Lucius's light body was in the brawny arms of Hammer once again. "Lemme just get a drink of water before we go. All this booze has made me thirsty as hell."

Lucius convulsed in Hammer's grip, reaching out one frantic, withered arm to stay Dragonetti. "Wait! Do not drink from the Medina."

"Eh? And why not?"

"All who drink from its waters are compelled to travel north, to meet the Goddess. Drink too much, and you're a slave to her will forever. Unless you want to travel to Zozo after all, I suggest you wait until we reach South Jidorik. It's waters are untainted."

Dragonetti raised one bushy eyebrow, but pulled back his hand from the deceptively blue waters. "How do you know all thish?"

Lucius waved his extended hand over the river's length. "Because I have drank from it myself, and have felt its effects. All who wish to form a pact with the residents of the Zozo mountains must drink from the Medina."

"No wonder ya want to go north, but ya seem fine ter me right now. Why ain't ya galloping off to yer goddess now?"

Lucius shrugged. "My will is strong."

"Oh, and ours ain't?" Dragonetti huffed.

"Do you want to find out?"

Dragonetti blinked, then spat into the river without replying. "Let's mosey," he said after a moment. "This place is giving me the willies now. Too quiet."

"Agreed."

The three men left the quiet Medina as they had found it. All three were terribly thirsty, but after Lucius's warning, no one drank from its waters. After several days of hard walking, they had left the Glastok region of West Jidorik behind, and were coming to the region of the continent known as South Jidorik. This realm was not claimed by either East or West, and jutted out from in between the two plains of East and West like a long, crooked finger. It was in this neutral zone, at the very tip of the finger, that they would find the Stradivari known as Marylebone.

The journey south was a long one, though, and would not be possible on foot without more provisions. Eventually the water here joined with the other rivers in the region, forming a large bay where they could drink. A small forest hugged the bay area, and the three Stradivari stopped in the small sanctuary for rest, and to figure out how to proceed.

"Wait a minute," Dragonetti said, more sober than usual. The chain of recent battles had run both his seemingly bottomless containers almost empty, and he was not happy. "My head's killin' me, but I seem ta remember this here's a chocobo forest, and I swear I smell 'em nearby. Give me sec."

Dragonetti disappeared into the heart of the small forest. Lucius and Hammer simply sat on a large fallen log and waited to see what their companion was up to. Suddenly, there was a terrific warking sound, and three large yellow birds broke from the deeper parts of the wood. Smiling his toothy grin, Dragonetti was riding one of them, and had two ropes leading to the others.

"Hah! Told ya! These here chocobos should get us to Marylebone's place in a jiffy. I don't think I could take another day without booze."

With their new steeds, the men quickly made the trek further south, and in less than a day they had arrived at the southernmost tip of the continent. Rising up on rolling green hills was an enormous palatial manor in the middle of a carefully manicured field. It was a villa fit for a king's royal summer retreat, with four large towers, one at each corner of the four wings of the square manor. In each tower's belfry hung a single massive bronze bell. There was a large open space with a stage at the center of the manor, like a town square. Statues of all kinds stood along the ramparts of the four long wings of the manor like gargoyles, some beautiful, some hideous, all crafted with the exquisite care of the Western artisans.

Long rows of blooming flowers lit up the fields around the manor in a thousand different colors, and a well-cared for stone road led up the hill to the oaken double doors. The lapping of the calm waters around the tiny peninsular fingertip and the rustling of countless flower petals could be heard and smelled on the warm breeze that floated over the entire area. This far south, the air was pleasantly warm all year round, and the earth, sea and sky exploded with verdant greens and cerulean blues.

Dragonetti and Hammer did not seem impressed, but Lucius was deeply moved by what he saw and felt. This was the vision of Jidorik he had imagined when Maria had described her homeland to him. This was where he had wanted to go when he left the cold, artificial world of Narsille behind. He would have preferred to have Maria at his side as he entered this paradise, but the Stradivari were his only family and friends now, as unpleasant as they could sometimes be.

"What is this place?" Lucius asked softly, not wanting to dispel the dream-like quality of the world around him.

"Manse von Muir," Dragonetti said simply. "Just be quiet and let me do the talking, ya hear?"

Lucius had no desire to talk at the moment, and grunted his assent.

It was a short trip up the stone road on chocobos, and soon the men found themselves at the hand-carved wooden doors, each one twenty feet tall and ten feet wide. Two women in light armor guarded the doors, long spears in hand.

"Who goes there?" Both women crossed their spears over the doors, barring any attempt at passage.

"Jack Squire, here to see Prince von Muir. These are my friends, my brothers." Dragonetti sounded very different talking to the women, almost noble himself. He put a strange emphasis on the word 'brothers' that made the two woman instantly relax and lower their weapons.

"You may enter, but please be patient. The Prince is currently meeting with several very important visitors from afar." The woman was polite as she said this, but there was a strange look of fear in both women's eyes that none of the men could decipher.

"C'mon," Dragonetti said, ushering them into the hamlet-sized Manse von Muir. "If my nose is right, I know who we're waiting for."

Continuing through the archway that carved its way through the north wing of the manor like a tunnel, they reached the sunlit open expanse situated at the center of the building complex. There was a stable to their left where they dismounted their chocobos. As soon as they reached the stables, Dragonetti let out a soft "Aha!" and pointed to an object at the end of the stable that left Lucius feeling like he had truly stepped into another world.

"Hello, Sable," Dragonetti cooed happily, stepping up to the large, black creature standing obediently in place without any rope or bridle to keep it tethered. "Haven't seen you in ages, and you're as magnificent as ever."

Hammer followed Dragonetti up to the creature, a giant black chocobo twice the size of their yellow ones, and patted it on the beak with an unusually serene look on his face. There was a rare smile on his lips as he ruffled the jet black feathers under the bird's beak. The regal beast stood by and puffed its breast with pride, allowing the men to admire its grandeur freely.

Lucius stood where he was, lost in his dream. Black chocobos were almost a myth, and he had certainly never seen or heard of any in or around Narsille, or any of the war torn regions he had visited in his tour of duty. He had heard stories, of course, but they were believed to be endangered, if not extinct in this day and age. Despite seeing wonders and horrors straight out of legend both in Narsille and Jidorik ever since the Espers had appeared, nothing had affected him quite like this proud animal quietly standing alone from the rest of the world in the secluded majesty of Manse von Muir.

"Can it fly?" Lucius finally managed in a small voice, familiar with the fairy tales of the flying black chocobo.

Dragonetti laughed a full, rich laugh and caressed the bird's finely trimmed and decorated wings, far longer and wider than the stubby appendages of the common yellow chocobo. "Like a bird, hah!"

Lucius studied the bird while his two companions greeted it warmly. He noticed it had no saddle or bridle like a typical domesticated chocobo, but did have several large sacks hanging from it, as well as all manner of jewelry and dressings. It looked like some foreign dignitary, adorned with all the finery of the highest positions of nobility. There was no doubt that this was a queen among chocobos. "Who's is it?" Lucius asked, wondering if it belonged to the so-called Prince that apparently lived in this wonderland.

"Sable is a she, not an it, newbie," Dragonetti said. "And she's the pride n' joy of one of the Stradivari's highest-ranking members, Servais. If she's here, then he must be here as well." Dragonetti stroked his forked beard thoughtfully, then continued. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not, though. Servais doesn't usually just pop in to say hello, if ya know what I mean."

"Hello, Dragonetti."

As if on cue, a man strode out from one of the many doors leading into the open square from the housing area. He was a middle-aged man, but extremely healthy looking, and wearing crimson-dyed, tight-fitting riding gear. He was deeply tanned and had a thick head of close-cut white hair with a pair of riding goggles snuggly resting around his head, above his eyes. He walked with a smile and a swagger, and Lucius knew instantly that this man was Servais, the Stradivari owner of the black chocobo.

The one thing Lucius noticed immediately about the man was the intimidating array of equipment he had clinging to his person. On his back was strapped a large, silver double-barreled hunting rifle, in his leather belt were two pairs of dark golden, cross-shaped hunting daggers, hanging from his right side was a series of differently sized bells, all attached together like sleigh bells, and hanging from his left side was an impressive black hunting horn, sparkling like obsidian in the sunlight. Unless Lucius was much mistaken, the instrument was carved from the horn of a monstrous beast called a behemoth, a fearsome creature almost as rare and legendary as the black chocobo.

Dragonetti jumped and whirled around in surprise at the crisp voice that had called out to him. "As quiet as ever, eh Servais?"

"And as drunk as ever, eh Dragonetti?" the man replied, smiles on both faces.

"Only way t'be," Dragonetti said automatically, but then frowned. "Not quite as much as I'd like at the moment, though. Any chance I can get a refill for my ladies while we're here?"

"Of course," Servais said pleasantly, stepping up to Hammer and patting him warmly on his beefy shoulder. "I'm sure the Prince wouldn't mind a short trip to his private stores. But I suggest you meet with him first and pay your respects. I'm just leaving now after a very interesting meeting. My guests are still in the dining hall, enjoying his company. I think you might want to meet them, all of you," for the first time Servais looked at Lucius, his piercingly black eyes narrowing as he looked at the scarred, robed, man. "Molitor, I presume?"

Lucius tried to act his usual collected self, but the man before him disarmed him with that knowing gaze and confident swagger. Servais was definitely no ordinary man, or Stradivari, for that matter. "Uh...y-yes," he stammered, sounding like a fool to his own ears.

Servais just smiled his hypnotizing smile, showing a row of bright white, perfect teeth. "A pleasure to meet you. I've heard much about our newest family member from the north. I'm sure Marylebone will be very interested in what you have to say."

Servais approached Lucius and extended his hand to shake. Lucius took the hand and shook it, still slightly confused on what to make of this man. There was no doubt, this was a man of pure, iron will. Perhaps even greater than his own...

"That's a nasty scar on your hand, Molitor," Servais said, his keen eyesight spotting the nearly circular arc that traced its knotted path around the back of Lucius's extended hand. "It looks like a talon wound from a very large predator bird. A Marchosias? Vasegiatta? Perhaps even a Galypdes?"

Lucius had no idea what any of the strange names Servais used referred to, but the man was right that it had been a very large predator indeed that had wounded him.

"An Esper did that to me. The rest, I did to myself." Lucius said quietly, old memories burning painfully at the back of his eyes.

Servais said nothing, but his eyes darted back from where he had come from, then came back to rest on Lucius again. "I see...well we all have our pasts to deal with here. Just remember, you're never alone in the Stradivari, brother."

"I will," Lucius said, a rare spasm of camaraderie rising in his chest despite his best efforts. He did not want to admit it, but he respected this man. Even liked him, as much as his worn out heart could ever like anyone.

"Good!" Servais said abruptly, letting go of Lucius's hand. "Now then, I need to be off. It's been a wild ride down here, and I need to return to Cremona and report to Solomon. Take care, brothers."

All three men watched as Servais skillfully leaped onto the broad back of his fabulous steed. Taking the behemoth horn from his side, he let out a loud blast like the bellow of the behemoth itself. Sable warked loudly along with the horn, and raised its powerful wings. With a sharp downward thrust, the pair rose into the sky like a rocket, briefly blinding the trio on the ground with a cyclone of dust, grass, and black feathers. When the cloud settled, there was no sign of Servais and Sable, but the song of his hunting horn could still be heard echoing across the countryside, mingled with the chocobo's distinctive warble.

"Amazing," Lucius said without thinking.

Dragonetti smiled and nodded, his eyes still straining to follow where the two had gone. "Damn straight."

Lucius started, and quickly recovered himself. "Well then, what now?"

"Now, we meet the Prince, and figure out what to do with you," Dragonetti said, his gaze returning to earth.

Still slightly dazed by Servais and Sable, Lucius obediently followed Dragonetti and Hammer across the open space, towards the manor's southern wing on the other side. The scale of the structure was truly immense, and Lucius almost forgot he was inside the central square of a single large building, and not strolling down the center of a small village. There were servants, gardeners, butlers, maids, and a hundred other people of the manse running about on their duties, but what caught Lucius's eye was the wide wooden stage at the very center of the open expanse.

"Why is there a stage there?" Lucius asked.

"The Prince is a well-known patron of the arts," Dragonetti said. "He's a bit of a playwright himself, and likes to perform plays here. If you look, you'll see two actors on the stage right now, practicing something or other. They're both Stradivari, by the way."

Lucius started, and trained his eyes on the stage. There were in fact a young man and woman, dressed up and yelling out lines. Lucius shuddered as he saw the man wearing golden armor and the woman dressed in a beautiful white gown with a blue ribbon in her blond hair. They looked terribly familiar...

"Oh my hero, so far away now..."

"For the rest of my life, I'll keep you near..."

The two voices rang out over the open space, intertwining with each other in a passionate embrace that mirrored the man and woman dancing together on the stage. Lucius was dumbstruck, transported to another world as he listened to those voices, and remembered happier times, before his heart and soul had been crushed.

"Pretty, ain't it?" Dragonetti's very unmusical voice intruded. "That there's Ruby and Red Diamond, the star actors in all of the plays here. This one sounds like an opera."

"A dream opera," Lucius said, entranced.

"Heh, anyways, we need to keep moving. The dining hall is just ahead."

Lucius forced himself to stop listening to the musical voices of the two performers, especially the woman, Ruby. "Right," he said sadly.

There were only a few scattered couriers and servants in the dining hall when Lucius, Dragonetti, and Hammer arrived. At the far end of the hall, almost out of sight from their distant vantage point was the head of the table where the slender figure of a man sat, still eating. Standing next to him was another warrior maiden, and seated at the two end seats beside the head of the table were a strangely mismatched pair of guests. One of them was a tiny girl with overflowing brown hair hanging down to the floor, her little legs kicking back and forth impatiently. On the opposite end to her, taking up several sturdy chairs, sat a giant of man...no it was far too large to be a man at all...it could only be...

"Dune!" Lucius roared out violently. "Dune Karn!"

Dragonetti jumped at the unexpected outburst from the usually composed Lucius. "Molitor, what the hell? You know that thing?"

Lucius strode down the dining hall as fast as his legs could carry him, almost running. He stumbled twice, pushed several chairs out of the way rudely, and knocked one unlucky servant down as he marched straight towards the giant, his wide eyes never once blinking, or leaving the giant's surprised face.

"Hey, wait, ya can't just..." Dragonetti sputtered, trying to keep up with the surprisingly rapid step of his incensed companion.

"Dune Karn!" Lucius repeated when he reached the end of the table, unable to say anything else at the moment. "You...you...!"

The woman that had been stationed next to the man at the head of the table quickly leaped between Lucius and the giant, her spear threatening to pierce his heart if he took one step closer.

"Venus, enough!" the sleepy-looking young man at the head of the table shouted with the tone of undeniable command. The woman instantly stepped back, and even Lucius seemed to come back to his senses and step back, blinking as if he just realized where he was.

"Master Squire, who is this man?" the man said to Dragonetti in a quieter voice, but with the same stern note of command. He stood up from his chair, giving a specific hand signal to dismiss everyone in the room. Couriers, servants, patrons, anyone who was not a part of the current group of guests exited the room as politely and rapidly as they could. As soon as the thick doors shut, the man sat back in his seat. "Now, then. Dragonetti, explain yourself."

"I am sorry, Marylebone, sir," Dragonetti said humbly, "I have no idea what's gotten into Molitor."

"This man is Molitor?" The young man shifted in his seat to study the trembling, but now silent Lucius. The man was small, barely twenty, and looked like a spoiled prince with his fancy purple and gold costume, velvet cape and jaunty feathered cap. But his eyes were steel, and his hand was on a long, deadly rapier tucked into the side of his expansive chair. "Well, if you are Molitor, speak up!"

"I am," Lucius said, struggling to find his voice after the scene he had caused. The little girl and the giant simply sat in their seats without a word, waiting to see what was going on. If either of them recognized Lucius, they did not show it.

"And why did you barge in here and nearly assault my guest here? Do you know him?"

"I do."

"You called him Dune, Dune Karn? Are you sure you know who this is?"

"That monster is an Esper, a servant of the enemy. He was once a man named Dune Karn, but now he is a murderer, a slave to the vile gods plaguing our lands. He cannot be trusted!" Lucius said all this in a single breath, his scarred hand pointing a shaking finger directly at the giant sitting only a few feet from him. "He is a monster!" He said again, after he had regained his breath and his composure.

"Well, do you know this man, Maduin?"

The giant remained seated, peering at the hooded, ragged creature accusing him. It was true, all true. There was nothing this man had claimed that Maduin hadn't once believed himself, but who was this specter, pointing its withered finger at him with such hate?

"I...do not know this man..." Maduin said uncertainly. There was something familiar about the man, but it was beyond him.

Lucius took a step closer and threw back his hood, revealing the horrifically mangled face, the shockingly white hair hanging in dank clumps, and the malicious grin of a madman. "Look at me, Dune! Have you forgotten Narsille? Have you forgotten what you did there? Have you forgotten me?"

"I don't know..." Maduin said again, but he thought maybe he did.

"Maydune, that man sounds scary...make him go away," the little girl said plaintively from her chair. Her blank eyes stared off at some point behind the man, not quite focused on anything.

"Who's this, Dune? Another victim? Another Maria?" Lucius spat.

"Enough, Molitor!" Marylebone said, rising. "You are acting in a way most unbecoming a Stradivari. Maduin and Elphis are honored guests here, with vital news on the state of things in the north. Servais has vouched for both of them as exemplary individuals, worthy of our trust and aid. Who are you to make such accusations against them?"

The mention of the unassailable character of Servais hit Lucius like a bullet. He visibly shook himself free of whatever demons were raging inside his mind, and put his hood back over his head, covering his face. He lowered his hand and turned away from the table.

"This monster is responsible for the destruction of my home, my life, my happiness. I was once Doctor Lucius Atma, and he was once Dune Karn. Narsille fell because of him. I fell because of him."

"Atma...?" Maduin said, shocked. "You're Doctor Atma? What has happened to you? Why are you here?"

Lucius Atma laughed unpleasantly, covering his mouth with his hand to try and stifle his emotions. "Why are any of us here, now? I intend to save the human race from monsters like you. Espers. What are you doing here? Which dark god are you serving?"

Now Maduin stood up, towering over everyone in the room, even Hammer. "I serve no master! I am free from the chains of the gods, and follow my heart."

"Maydune, I'm scared...," the girl said from her seat, biting her lip.

"Don't worry Elphis, everything's fine," Maduin said calmly, but with his eyes looking straight down at Atma's ragged form. "This is just another adult being stupid."

The girl hiccupped in a weak attempt at laughter. "Hee, okay..."

"Stupid, you say?" Atma said. "We'll see who's stupid in the end, Dune...or is Maduin now? No matter, I have urgent news on the Dragon King. He's poised to attack the East at any moment, and as soon as the first town falls, it will be the end for both East and West Jidorik. Can you stop him, Dune?"

"The Dragon King? You mean Draco?" Maduin said, tensing. "I have come to stop him, return him to his senses if possible. I have to believe the Espers can be saved, or there is no hope for this world."

"There is no hope for you, Dune, or for Draco. It will be us humans who bring peace back to this world. Your kind has no place here, Esper."

"Enough." Marylebone said, still standing at the head of the table, watching the exchange between the two men carefully. "I've heard enough. Dragonetti, show Molitor to his room. Obviously there is much to discuss, but everyone has had a long journey here, and I am sure we could all use a rest. We'll reconvene tomorrow, and perhaps with a little more civility, hm?"

"But Bahamut...!" Atma began, but was silenced with a wave of Marylebone's ring-studded hand.

"I said enough. I hear your words, Molitor. I will send word to all Stradivari in Jidorik to prepare themselves, but if war is coming as soon as you say, there is little we can do to stop it at this point. Servais is flying to our leader in Cremona as we speak to do what he can there to avoid a similar fate on that continent. For now, we must calm ourselves, and ready for war here."

Marylebone sat back down in his chair heavily, suddenly looking very tired. "Venus, tell the rest of the guard to clear the castle of all patrons." The female guard nodded and walked quickly out of the hall to spread the word. Marylebone sighed. "And I had so wanted to complete my opera. War is a terrible thing." He waved his hand to dismiss his guests, and both Dragonetti and Hammer put their hands on Molitor, forcing him to leave the room without any further antics. Outside, all four bronze bells rang solemnly, dismissing all visitors to the castle.

When Marylebone was again alone with Maduin and Elphis, he looked at the massive Esper carefully, measuring the words of the mad Atma. "Is what that man said true, Maduin?"

"Mostly. He exaggerates, but he has the right. My downfall did not happen in isolation. I took a great many people with me, and I regret it every day of this new, wretched life of mine."

"I understand. But do you really believe you can make a difference now? What can we do, now that war is upon us once more?"

"I have to believe, Prince von Muir, or everything I've done since becoming an Esper is meaningless. Zwill has given me some measure of hope. I never suspected such a force as the Stradivari existed in this world...and I bet the fallen Masters are as surprised as I am after what happened there."

Marylebone chuckled. "Hah, yes Servais certainly was pleased with himself when he arrived, and his high opinion of both of you is rare, let me assure you," Marylebone smiled warmly, looking at Elphis like lost daughter, and Maduin like a lost brother. "Hope goes both ways, you know. Believe in us, Maduin, and we'll believe in you. Zwill was not an accident."

"I want to believe that, sir, but..." Maduin stopped, he still was not sure how much Servais had told the Prince about his unusual companions.

Marylebone's smile grew wider. "Yes, Antissa. Hate, fear, pride, they exist in every town, some more than others. What shall the story of our country be in the end, hm? Will it be a play full of hatred and prejudice, or one of hope and cooperation?"

"That is what I'm here to find out, sir."

"Unfortunately, that is something each man must find out for himself. Zwill proved anything is possible, but Antissa proved that as well. That same drama will play out on a much larger stage this time, and a million different souls will have to search inside themselves for what part they will play in what will undoubtedly be the final great war between the East and West."

"I know where I stand, sir," Maduin said. "I must find Draco, and Captain Bismark, and anyone else enslaved by the fallen Masters, and I must do what I can to free them. That is where my heart is leading me."

"Me too!" Elphis chimed in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

"Good, good. I believe in both of you. We Stradivari may be mercenaries, but we are also a family, and human. I can understand your desire to free your fellow Espers, Maduin. It is a very Stradivari sentiment, heh."

Marylebone stood up, gesturing for his two guests to stand as well. "We have talked of unpleasant things for long enough. Please, feel free to roam the grounds and enjoy the pleasures of Manse von Muir for the rest of the day. I have sent all non-Stradivari home, so you can relax outside these halls without worry of frightening anyone."

"Thank you, Prince von Muir, you've been most generous."

"Yeah, thanks!" Elphis said, happily, eager to enjoy the vibrant smells, sounds, and sensations of the giant house. She half-walked, half-skipped over to Maduin and grabbed for his waiting hand. The two excused themselves, walking hand-in-hand out of the dining hall and into the sunlight.

"May Altimus guide us all," Marylebone said quietly once he was alone. In his hand was a softly glowing string of pearls that Maduin had given him to study. Yes, he knew what it was he held. The sacred Nacre was an artifact from a distant land and a distant past, and he had never once thought that such a low-ranking member of the Order as himself would ever set eyes on it. But here it was, and it was his sworn duty as a member of the Order of the Pearl to see his Master's will done.

"But what is your will, Master? I am just a lowly servant, barely worthy to hold such a holy relic. I, too, must sleep on these events, and pray for all our souls."

Prince Chris von Muir, solitary heir to the vast von Muir fortune, ninth-ranking acolyte of the Order of the Pearl, and the leader of the Jidorikan chapter of the Stradivari secret society, pondered the multitude of responsibilities on his thin shoulders. Sometimes it all seemed like far, far too much for such a young man, and he just wanted to weep on his long-dead mother's arm. But he was a noble von Muir, a sacred member of the Order, and loyal Stradivari. These titles were sources of strength for the young prince. He could not let his family, all of his families, down at this critical juncture.

"Ah, I am so tired of it all!" the Prince sighed, then finally left the hall alone, exiting through a small door to his private chambers.

To the north, the first blow of the war had been struck as Lucius had predicted. Bahamut's human army poured out across the blackened plains from Glastok Bastion. They forded the Medina, careful not to drink even a drop from it, and continued onwards into Eastern territory. The first town they met, they torched. The Dragon King's orders were clear - no survivors. The pathetic army of the West, fearful for their own lives, followed these orders perfectly. Soon, the Medina would be diverted and drained, and then the real army of the West would flood the plains of the East, leaving nothing but a frozen wasteland behind.

To the west, inside Glastok Castle, Starlet watched with Esper eyes the tragedy unfold. Her human children were out there somewhere, hopefully safe, but she could not see them, hear them, or touch them ever again. She wondered if she would even recognize Aquilas and Leonora in time. For now, the tiny draconic cries of the little Kaiser were the only sounds that reached her ears. She loved all her children, but only Kaiser was allowed to receive her affection. So she would shower him with all the love she couldn't show her lost twins. As she watched the endless lines of human soldiers march east, she siphoned magical energy from her own body into the eager mouth of her little Kaiser dragonlet, curled like a snake in her lap. Someday he would be as mighty a king as his father. Perhaps Aquilas, too, would be a mighty human king, and Leonora a queen.

She shivered as the cold wind that constantly flowed around the castle now increased in violence. Her Master was telling her to focus, and not dwell on the past.

"I hear and obey, Master."

To the east, dying a slow, phthisic death in Ralse Castle was old King Ralse. Word had just arrived of the merciless Western attack on their outlying towns. But still, the peace-loving king could not give the final order to all-out war. He was so sick of it all, and wanted nothing more than to die in peace and leave these pointless mortal wars.

"Anton, what should I do?" King Ralse asked with a voice so faint Advisor Barden had to read his lips to make out what he was saying.

"War is inevitable, my Lord," Barden replied from the king's side. "You must make a decision now, before more lives are senselessly lost."

"No...no more war...I cannot give the order." The old man tried to raise his hand from his bedside, but could not.

"Then allow me to make it for you, father."

When the old man saw his son standing at the foot of his bed, he thought he was dreaming. Even when his own ancestral sword plunged into his skeletal chest, he never once realized his son had killed him. He died believing his final moments were a dream, and that in the end his beloved son was not the evil, heartless monster he feared he had become. He had been such a sweet boy, full of life, full of the noble ideals of the Ralse line...and so that is what he saw and believed as his eyes closed and his heart stopped beating.

Still further north, high in the Zozo mountains, the statue of the Goddess glowed with anger and excitement atop her golden pyramid. Anger at what had transpired in the north, but excitement at what was happening in the south filled the statue's aura. Coiled around the base of the statue like a gargantuan sleeping serpent was the Lord of the Seas, Leviathan. He was resting, trying to recover from his unbelievable defeat. He was sorely battered, bruised, and wounded, and looked very much like a beached whale, struggling just to breath as he lay in a heap at his Goddess's feet.

"They will pay for this outrage...," he hummed under his ragged breath, only half-conscious in his injured condition. "No one humiliates the Herald of Astarte...no one...no one..."

Around the great pyramid, a hundred thousand worshipful throats cried out in unison in praise of their Goddess and her inevitable victory. Among them, Giorgio Gabbianni joined his voice with the rest, now one among many. The air rang with a savage choir singing an ageless song that echoed in the hearts and minds of all people everywhere, and had since the beginning of time. War had come to Jidorik again.