Author's Notes: Happy Holidays a bit early. This chapter is going up early because, well, two days before Christmas isn't really going to be free enough for me to post at my normal time. Still, hope you're still enjoying the story and trying to keep up with it. And remember, giving me a comment tells me that you're out there and makes it worth posting.
I also would like to note that I, as ever, have used Icy Brian's Final Fantasy 8 Fanfic Resource for some of the information that Nida and Quistis are operating from. Icy Brian's resource includes a full script of the game, as well as the information included from the terminals in Balamb Garden and the blurbs about places in game mentioned in the Tutorial area of the game. I honestly don't have the time to replay the game to verify information for myself, so Icy Brian's resource is a must have for what I'm doing most of the time. For locations and other visual details I will go into my copy of the game where I've made a massive amount of saves throughout the game and find what I need for information.
And in case you didn't know, with this chapter, Hyne's War becomes the longest fanfic I've ever written. Yay story!
Hyne's War: Chapter 15
"So this is how the other half lives," Nida mused as he shifted yet again in the too hard chair he had taken for himself—turned, of course, to face the door. For a moment he took his eyes from the closed door, letting his gaze dance around the room. There was little to speak of, a too large wooden desk, bookshelves filled to overflowing at almost every wall, small windows shaded with old faux-wood blinds, and little enough room for two people on this side of the desk. In fact, there was only one chair this side of the desk, and despite his best efforts, Nida hadn't been able to get Quistis to sit. Whether it was because she was nervous or because she preferred to be able to use her whip is Nida didn't behave, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he hardly expected an answer.
"Other half?" Quistis asked, quite happy to surprise him.
"The ones not trained in killing since childhood," Nida said, though he was almost nervous about putting the idea out there. "The ones who go to high school, to college, to normal jobs beyond that. What must it be like to wake up every morning of this conflict and be sure someone else is going to make it better for you?"
"It's hardly a life I'd want for myself," Quistis countered, shaking her head as if she could not even begin to fathom Nida's words. "To stand idly by, putting my life in other people's hands, and do nothing myself? I could never live such a way."
"This kind of life is really all you've ever known, right?" Nida observed. "You've been in Garden since you were, what, eight? I was eleven, used to a quiet life, used to other people handling problems. The very idea of Garden scared me. And I can only imagine what it looks like to older people. Child soldiers, training child soldiers as replacements, and sending them all out to war. What we do must be sickening to some people. It's a wonder that more people haven't protested against us."
"Many of the students who join us at an age like mine are orphans. Who would speak for them?" Quistis asked. "Who would question the organization that has often saved them personally, and has saved the whole of the world once?"
For that Nida had no answer, and he was left silent in the chair, contemplating Quistis's words. Was it really as simple as that? That no one spoke up because there either wasn't anyone, or there weren't people who wanted to hamper the effectiveness of the mercenary group? It was almost too sad to think about.
Nida was still deep in contemplation when the sound of the doorknob jiggling caught his attention. When he looked up he could already see Quistis stationing herself by the door, whip clenched tightly in her hands. With her ready to strike if things turned violent, Nida was left with nothing more to do than sit there, serving as a bit of a distraction. He swallowed back a sigh and leaned back in his chair, striving to look relaxed in a way that he did not feel. Yet even as he changed his position, shifting so that he was actually leaning back in the chair, Nida couldn't help but think how cliched this all felt. There had been nights these last months when he'd stayed up late with Irvine and/or Zell, watching old movies about cowboys or hard-boiled detectives, who would come back to their office to find the bad guy they were looking for sitting there, casually, as if to say 'see, I can get to you anywhere.'
Cliché or not, there was little else for Nida to do. The man this office was assigned to didn't know they were here after all, nor did anyone else in the history department at the University of Deling City. There was, after all, a chance that this man or another who knew him was a Zebalgan. Better to not risk it and get the man when he was not expecting it. And so here Nida sat, well aware of how he would look when the man came in, and he waited for the man to unlock the door that Quistis had relocked after she'd had Nida pick it to get in here. At last the lock clicked back and the door started to open. The light that came in through the door was almost enough to blind him after so long in a darkened room, and Nida was thankful that whoever had opened the door seemed to have not noticed his presence. Instead the man, for that was the sound of the voice at the door, had turned back to speak to someone else, and his arm reached in to flick on the switch even as he bid whoever he was speaking to farewell.
Then the man was in the room, door closed behind him, and Quistis's whip around his throat. The stone gray eyes of the old man were wide with something that wasn't quite shock. There was definitely surprise there, but an odd acceptance mixed into it. This man had expected their arrival, there was no doubting that fact.
"Doctor Munroe," Nida said, trying to sound friendly even though he felt a bit guilty for what the man was going through. Still, there was no point in destroying the image they were trying to create here, so Nida slowly rose and took care to straighten out his SeeD uniform once he was standing. Only then did he look up and smile at the Professor and resume speaking. "I'm..."
"Yes, yes, I know. You're Nida Nomura, the Heir, and you've come to ask me about the history of the Zebalgans," the old man said, his words giving Nida as much surprise as how calmly they came out. "And I'd happily tell you everything I know if you would only have Ms. Trepe release me."
Quistis regained her composure far quicker than Nida did, and even as he continued to stare at the old man, she was unwinding her whip and mumbling only the most fleeting of apologies. Munroe only waved them off, as if hey had no time for such a thing, and quickly shuffled past her and towards his desk. As Nida finally finished shaking off his shock, the old professor had opened a locked drawer in his desk and pulled out several large files.
"How did you know...?" Nida started to ask, but Munroe waved that question off as quickly as he has Quistis's apology.
"Come now, do you really think that I would be so caught up in ancient texts and excavations as to fail to keep up with the modern news? Who does not know the name and face of Ms. Trepe, one of the heroes of the world? And you, Mister Nomura, are becoming quite well known yourself, considering the announced aims of the Zebalgan people. Yes, I dare say I know more of you and your goal here than you know of me."
From the way the man was acting, Nida was about as certain of that as Doctor Munroe was himself. All he really knew of the man was that he was one of the few scholars who studied Zebalgan history, and that he was not only a professor, but held a doctorate in history at the same university that he now served as a tenured professor at. That, and there was the fact that none of the other historians they had heard of who specialized in Zebalgan history seemed to be around anymore. All of them, so far as Nida could tell, has gone missing save for Munroe himself.
"And you supposed that SeeD would eventually come to you for your information?" Quistis asked, and Munroe just chuckled in response.
"It was only a matter of time, my dear. While I personally missed the broadcast that announced their return, I heard students speaking of it afterward, and began to prepare myself for your need. At the time, though, I did not expect to find SeeD coming to my door save as an afterthought. While it pains me to admit it, there were always those who had found more, knew more of the Zebalgans than I did, or at least had what I knew to be better—though unfounded—theories on the Zebalgans of ancient and modern times. Yet the longer it took for your people to seek out information, the more likely it became that you would come to my door..."
"Why do you say that, Doctor Munroe?" Nida asked, though he already thought he knew the answer.
"Quite simple, my boy. The longer it took you to seek out information, the more of my colleagues went missing. At this point I feel that it is quite clear that their interest in the history was not due to scholarship alone. Rather, I believe that they were interested for they, themselves, were Zebalgans."
The man's conclusion came as no real surprise to Nida—or, as likely as not, to Quistis—for it was one they had come to on their own. There seemed no better explanation for the disappearances of the other scholars than that, which meant that Munroe was all the more important to them.
"It seems that you have the gist of the situation," Quistis agreed. "I suppose that you can understand just why it is so important that we learn everything we can from you."
"Of course. That is why I have been collecting everything I could get my hands on these last few months. Transcribed conversations between myself and whatever other scholars I have had since the first video. What unpublished findings they had from their current work. Even private files that I managed to bribe others to acquire. While it is hardly as much as you could want, it should become some use to SeeD and the war effort."
"Do you really think there's anything in there that is going to help us?" Nida asked, far more reluctant to believe what Munroe was telling him when the man was giving the information so freely. "Honestly, I have trouble believing that you're not a Zebalgan left behind to distract us."
Munroe chuckled at that. "I applaud your caution, it is a laudable trait in one of a position as important as yours, Mister Nomura. From what I understand, these people will stop at nothing to have you, and the power you represent to them, in their hands. While I doubt that my words alone will convince you of my sincerity, I assure you that while I am fascinated in Zebalgan history, I have learned enough of them to fear what would come of them being in power. What few people know, or remember rather, is that the Zebalgans controlled the last true empire known to the world. That empire was not only one of the most powerful in the whole of our history, but also one of the cruelest to those they deemed lesser than those of their blood."
"Empire?" Quistis said, looking a bit confused. "I thought that the last empire was the Centran Empire, which came to an end around four-thousand years ago."
"Yes. The history classes we had to take said that their people split into three groups: those who remained on the Centran continent until they destroyed themselves and the land 80 years ago with the Lunar Cry; the far smaller group that founded Dollet; and the largest group which settled in the Esthari plains and built that country," Nida added.
"I have long held that such foolishness should no longer be taught to our children. Alas, no one cares for the opinion of an old scholar. The truth, so far as we determined from excavations, is that the Centran Empire actually survived in some form until about a hundred years ago. At that point they seemed to have sought more power, to restore the glory of the empire that had been severely weakened by the splinter groups which went to Dollet and Esthar, and began to excavate an ancient weapon: the Crystal Pillar. This is said in their histories to be part of the corrupted body of Hyne, which the god left behind when he fled before humanity's attacks upon him in ancient times, whereas other cultures refer to it as a weapon they created from the magic that existed in the time of legends. Either way they sought to use this weapon to strike at the world and regain their glory. Sadly they either did not understand the Crystal Pillar, or could not properly control it, which led to the destruction of the last of their empire and the vast damage we now see of the former continent, rendering it into something more like a collection of isles and slightly larger land masses..."
"Woah, woah," Nida said, raising his hands before him to stop Munroe. "That's a lot for anyone to digest, even if we believed you without hesitation. Mind giving us a moment or two to think? You're kind of suggesting a whole new world view, you do realize that, right?"
"Of course. My compatriots always waved the ideas off, suggesting that it was foolish, but I believe that was less because they believed it than because they did not want such ideas being common knowledge. It would tell people the truth of the fact that the Centran culture was in fact descended from the ancient Zebalgan peoples, and were likely still alive today. They never responded to the ideas with dissent, not heartfelt dissent anyway. There was always a bit of shock and fear when I spoke of it."
"I can understand why," Quistis said, shaking her head. "This is hardly something that has ever been suggested before, and I'm not sure that I'm even ready to believe it, as reasonable as it sounds."
"At least it gives us a bit of what we hoped to find here," Nida said, moving forward to take the files that Munroe had placed on his desk.
"And just what was that, Mister Nomura?"
"A place where they might be hiding," Nida said, turning his attention towards Quistis. She nodded in agreement, a serious look on her face that implied to him that she'd quite likely be contacting Squall with this information long before they ever made their way out of the building. Soon enough what methods of surveillance that were open to them would be directed at the ruined continent of Centra. With luck, they would find what they needed quickly, especially with Esthar's help.
"Well, I'm sure there will be more within those files to help you than you expect," Munroe said, finally sitting in the chair behind his desk. "But, if I may say this Mister Nomura, do not allow yourself to fall into the hands of these people. If the Crystal Pillar is any indication of the power that may be inherent within Hyne, if it really is a piece of the corrupted half of the god's body, what you could lead them to might serve as the very destruction of this world. Never, ever, should the power of a God, if one truly exists, fall into the hands of a people as savage as the Zebalgans have always been known to be. Trust me on this."
All Nida could do was nod as he turned away from Munroe, and follow Quistis to the door. While he had been reluctant to let himself be taken in by the Zebalgans before, with the idea that being captured could lead to something worse than the Lunar Cry—which they were still dealing with the results of now—made Nida fearful.
Night was a time that Nida had come to love in Balamb Garden. During the war he had taken to wandering at night, often times up to the bridge so he could look out clearly upon the stars. From the bridge there was less light from the rings of the Garden to block the view, and Nida had always loved the stars. It had been a sight Nida had been forbidden from ever since this whole Zebalgan mess had started, and while he was still forbidden from the bridge now, at least upon his return from the University of Deling, he had been given some freedom. Squall had finally and openly decreed that Nida was to be trusted, and at last he had been given freedom to roam through most of the Garden. So now, alone in the silence of night, Nida found himself making use of that freedom, wandering as he had been prone to.
Few people moved through the Garden at night, leaving the place empty in a way that made Nida long for something he couldn't quite put into words. Company wasn't quite right, it was hardly like he was looking for attention or even the kinds of conversation that might be offered him, but the emptiness still left him feeling odd. That was one thing he had always enjoyed about Garden: even when you were alone there were still other people there, somewhere on the edges of your awareness, making you feel comforted or something similar. At night, though, most people were tucked either safely away in their beds, or behind some door doing work. It left Nida alone, following wherever his feet chose to carry him.
"Excuse me, young man, but perhaps you could assist me," a voice suddenly came from over his shoulder, causing Nida to freeze in his steps. Normally someone calling out to him at night would hardly pause him, but there was something about the speaker, their voice unfamiliar and their words almost pressing, that made him stop.
When he turned he found a face as unfamiliar as the voice, and the man looking at him seemed almost expectant. The person he saw was a man that looked to be about Laguna's age, with short cropped brown hair and kind green eyes half hidden behind a pair of small glasses. The man smiled as he strode the few steps that separated him from Nida, and then held out his hand for Nida to shake.
"Forgive me for my rudeness. I should have introduced myself before calling out. My name is Michel Veringas, and I believe, by the look of you and how you carry yourself, that you are indeed one of the SeeD mercenaries, are you not?"
Nida could do little more than stare at the man for a moment, utterly shocked by the man. This was the famous scientist that Kadowaki had been talking about? The man looked nothing like what Nida had expected. Veringas did not look the part of a scientist, not dressed as he was in simple black slacks and a t-shirt that advertised some popular Esthari soft-drink. From what Kadowaki had said, Nida had expected a man as distinguished as Odine was pompous.
"I'm sorry, have I said something to cause you shock? From the look on your face I have obviously caught you off guard. I fear I must assume that you have heard of me, and thus I have not lived up to your expectations, correct? Too often to I earn such a reaction. I almost feel I should take up some kind of different appearance or something to better introduce myself to others..." the man said, sighing as he spoke.
"Forgive me, sir, but I just wasn't expecting you to," Nida started to say, but Veringas shook his head, seeming undisturbed by this.
"Yes, I did not exactly try to make my arrival here well know. I asked those who knew of my coming to keep my presence quiet until I could start my research. Which is actually why I called out to you, young man. I am here to not only explore the Lost Guardian forces—perchance you have heard of them—and to see if I can make those known to SeeD more effective. I was told that I would be able to make use of one of the SeeDs here to assist me. His name was, ah yes, something Nemera I think. Would you happen to know where this Nemera is? The Commander told me that he would be directed to me come the morning, but I just cannot bear to waste this time as, due to my changing of timezones, I am hardly prepared to sleep yet."
Nemera? Nida couldn't help but shake his head. Trust Squall to not only offer him up to this man without asking, but to fail to make sure the man even got the name right.
"It's Nomura," Nida corrected, "And what could you possibly achieve at this hour?"
"Ah, so you know the man? Good. I would like for you to fetch him as quickly as possible. The care of the Lost GF that the SeeDs found has been given over to me, as well as a few others, for my study. I would prefer to get to it now, not wasting any time. Please..."
"Other GFs?" Nida found himself asking, almost hopeful. How long had it been since he'd been allowed to junction? Was this Squall's way of allowing him to defend himself? And would Squall dare to give Veringas the right to use the one that Nida shared the closest connection to?
"Yes. But really, it is something to be discussed between me and the young man who is supposed to help me."
"Then please, share, because I'm the one you're looking for. Nida Nomura, at your service, Doctor Veringas."
That brought a smile to the scientist's face.