"Cecil, do you honestly believe Cosmos?" Rosa asked, walking in stride with him.
"Believe her about what?" he asked innocently, but Rosa sensed the careful shift he was about to use in his tone, even before he used it.
She shrugged, gesturing to the world around them. "Everything. All of this. Where do I even start?"
"Wherever you'd like," he said politely, concern heavy in his eyes. "Tell me what you're skeptical about. Perhaps I can put some of it to rest."
"I doubt that," she thought to herself, but immediately reconsidered. It couldn't hurt to talk through it, from beginning to end, with someone knowledgable. If Cecil couldn't explain it, then at the very least he could help her rationalize through it. He could offer an opinion or perspective she had never considered before. "Alright," she said. "Here's why I'm skeptical. I'll start from the beginning. Cosmos is a goddess. Is that not so?"
"It is so," he replied, nodding once. His eyebrows furrowed, confused about where she was leading him.
"Right. As a goddess, she has probably seen this world from its beginnings. She has probably also seen this war from its beginnings. I think it's safe to assume that. What say you?"
" . . . I think it's safe to assume that as well," he confirmed after thinking through it.
"And yet, despite seeing the beginnings of this war, she cannot tell me how long she has been fighting it. I find that strange. Don't you?"
"I never really thought about it," he told her in that careful tone. She looked over to him, but his eyes were straight ahead on the path before them.
"Now that you have thought about it," she challenged, "what do you think about it? During all that time, however long it was, she had fifteen warriors to go on missions and report to her. That, and inside information from a trustworthy spy. Do you really believe her when she says she 'underestimated Chaos' warriors?' And even if she did, why hasn't she adjusted her strategy with the knowledge she has now?"
There was a pause. Without looking, Rosa could tell Cecil was calculating the careful answer - the answer that not only conveyed how he felt, but also ruffled as few feathers as possible. " . . . Well first, let me make something clear," he said. "She hasn't always had fifteen warriors. When I first awoke, Zidane, Firion, Yuna, Onion, and of course, Warrior were already here. Squall, Cloud, and Tidus were new with me. You . . . you sound as though you're implying something. What are you getting at? That you think she's lying?"
"No," she said. "Maybe? Ah, no," she sighed again. "I'm just confused."
"About what?"
"About why she doesn't have answers. She can analyze the war enough to determine that she needs help, and she can call warriors, but she can't- . . . She can't properly analyze the threat that Chaos warriors pose? She can't talk about the nature and history of the conflict? Despite all that she is supposed to have seen, she doesn't have any answers. I find that odd."
"Rosa, believe me when I say that she is doing her best-"
"But it doesn't make sense, Cecil! How could she not know those things?" she said, more loud than she intended. Her voice carried over the flat, dirt ground where their small group tread, and a few heads turned in her direction. "Sorry," she quickly remedied, lowering her voice. "I don't know if I think she's lying, but something doesn't match up."
"You cannot fault her for her lack of recorded time. Time is strange in this world," he said, going to Cosmos defense. "Unless you meticulously measure it, it's not very easy to keep track of. If I had to guess, that's all it is. She's lost track of time. And gradual things are much harder to analyze unless in retrospect. It all looks the same from day to day, and she probably did not realize the mounting threat of Chaos' warriors until it was right in front of her. Like I said, when I first awoke here, Warrior was already here. You could always ask him."
"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "I don't want to ask Warrior."
"Why not?" he asked, and from his tone he seemed surprise at her anger.
"He won't allow me to prompt Cosmos at all. It sometimes feels as though he's hiding something from me as well."
"That's not true," Cecil said quickly. The carefulness dropped away. To Rosa, it was a refreshing show of true emotion, not calculated or filtered. "Warrior wouldn't lie like that, and neither would Cosmos. He's just . . . loyal. Very, very loyal. Loyal to a fault, even."
"And what fault would that be?"
" . . . He will not question Cosmos the way that you do. Probably not at all." Rosa caught his eyes, and put the obvious question there in the air. 'Why not?' Cecil understood. "It's trust. Warrior and Cosmos trust each other. Completely," he said sternly, slashing his hand through the air. "Warrior was one of the first Cosmos called, if not the first. And when he arrived, he arrived with less than most. He had no purpose, he had no memory of any place to call home - he did not even have a name, which is a grace we're usually awarded when we wake up here. Cosmos gave him all of that and more. She gave him a name, first and foremost: the Warrior of Light. She gave him a sense of home in this world and a friend that he could confide in. She gave him a rank among her champions as her right hand, and she gave him a purpose for which to fight. By that alone, his connections to her run far deeper than that of simple duty. Think," he started, circling his hands as though to conjure up the depth of emotion. "Think of what they would both lose if we lost this war."
"They'd lose everything," Rosa confirmed. "It reminds me of you, and the King of Baron."
"It's . . . exactly like that," Cecil said. "The King did the same for me when I had nothing. So, Warrior won't question Cosmos because he trusts that she's doing everything she knows how to to protect everything he cherishes. She trusts that he's doing the same for all that she cherishes. It's mutual."
"I understand," Rosa ceded. Of course, Cecil would never speak poorly of a friend. But even if he was being generous, he did allow Rosa to consider Warrior differently. Just as she had friends and family she held dear, so too did Warrior. The only difference was that those he cherished and the things he valued were here in this world and directly involved, not far away or removed from the fighting. "Perhaps I was too presumptuous. I will . . . observe patience, I suppose, now that I understand more about him. And if we ever get the chance, perhaps I will ask him some of my questions." It was a token response. She didn't have any plans to ask Warrior anything at that point. Not after the nature of their last exchange. She had personally attacked him with a criticism of their battle strategy, and he had literally stepped between her and Cosmos, preventing her from asking any questions.
"That's what I would suggest," Cecil said. "And even express your concerns to him. He may have some insight on Cosmos that may explain things better than any of us ever could."
Rosa decided to drop it, and instead turned her gaze from the ground to their rapidly changing surroundings. They headed in the same direction Rosa took when she first fled Sanctuary, following the path in an arc to Sanctuary's left. Their group skirted around a ridge of mountains where the path narrowed between an empty stone gateway. They filed through one-by-one, and Cecil gestured for her to go first. With every step they took, the clouds seemed to congeal, thicker and darker. The air chilled, and Rosa could feel and smell moisture in the air.
"It smells like rain," she observed. "Warrior said we're going to the Melmond Fens," she said. "Where is that?"
"Technically, that gateway back there marked the beginning of the Fens. But the area we're going to is West of here," Cecil said. "There are two areas that comprise the Fens. The area where you fought the Emperor is the Southwest Fens, and they lead around Sanctuary. There's another area that leads to a dead end that is the Northwest Fens. We're to patrol the Northwest Fens."
"Patrol. So we're looking for Chaos' warriors?"
"Yes, just to make sure they're not skulking about, trying to ambush us any time soon."
Rosa looked behind her, and saw that they were already some distance from the pillar. She'd been talking more than paying attention, but when they came to the fork in the path where Rosa had veered left before, it looked familiar. She couldn't see over the rising rocks, but she could feel the Gateway where her encounter with the Emperor happened. It felt threatening, like she was lucky it let her out unscathed the first time. If she dared to go back again she would receive a worse fate, she knew. Firion and Laguna headed their small group, and led them down the right hand path instead, through a patch of soft sand. Rosa looked around, calmed by the untamed feeling of nature. The scenery was odd to say the least, now that she had the time to look. There were mountainous rocks everywhere, sand, hard dirt, grass, barren dust, and all manner of terrains. Like the world couldn't choose between all of them so instead it went for a random fusion. No one terrain was constant for very long before it changed again.
From their path, Rosa looked to her right, to the vast expanse of ocean. Across the water, she could barely make out the outline of another land mass.
"What's over there?" she asked, stopping.
"The realm of Discord. Chaos' domain. Do you see the volcano peeking up above the mountains?"
She couldn't see it directly, but the unmistakable cloud of grey smoke and ash told her exactly where it was. She nodded. "I see it."
"There's a Gateway there, and at the end of the Gateway is Chaos' throne."
"He has a throne, too?"
"He does. In a place called the Edge of Madness. I myself have only been there once."
"I see," she said. "I would assume his warriors all congregate there, just as we do in Sanctuary."
"I'm not sure what it is that they do. But if I had to guess, based on what I've seen and what Golbez has told us, probably not. I believe they prefer to spend as little time around each other as possible. Which reminds me: what did you make of Golbez?" Cecil asked her.
Rosa mentally reviewed her entire interaction with Golbez. It wasn't a particularly deep conversation. "He seemed . . . nice. Polite and cordial. Very professional."
"Is that all?" he joked, chuckling slightly.
"I didn't really get the chance to talk to him. I did recall a memory of him. Right after he took me from the crystal room in Fabul. His aura was pure evil. But the man I saw today was not the same man. He had a very different, non-treatening air about him."
"That sounds right," Cecil said. "The Golbez that you remembered was under someone else's control, just like Kain was. The being that controlled Golbez was evil, not him."
"But . . . Golbez controlled Kain," Rosa countered. "Right? Someone controlled Golbez, and compelled Golbez to control Kain?"
" . . . When you say it like that it sounds so . . . undignified. But yes."
"It is undignified," she said. "To have someone infiltrate your thoughts and feelings and exploit them from within . . . It's horribly undignified."
"Yes. Are you aware that Golbez is my brother?" Cecil continued.
She mentally cursed her tongue. "Oh . . . I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude-"
"No, not at all. I don't think he would take offense, and neither do I. Our parentage make us more susceptible to magic and influence."
"You're Lunarian," Rosa said. She didn't have a specific memory to tie to it, but she knew it to be true. "Half-Lunarian, on your father's side."
His face lit up, as though Rosa told him the best news of his life. "That's right! I'm so happy you're remembering more about me! But anyway, Golbez is a good person, I assure you. He had a difficult life, and despite being on Chaos' side, he is a remarkable individual."
"I don't doubt it. He offered to meet with me again to discuss memories and things like that. That was very nice of him. Especially if it comes at personal risk."
She continued after her team with Cecil in tow, and at the edge of the sand, she felt a drop of water fall on her hair. Then another, then another. "It is rain!" she said, holding a hand out to catch some. It started slow, but quickly grew to full-sized drops, falling straight down on her and hitting her clothes and hair. It was a warm, comfortable rain, and she watched it patter steadily on the ground. "I didn't think there'd be rain in this world," she said. She conceptualized the world in a vacuum of sorts. Anything that reminded her of its potential independence disconcerted her a bit. None of the other warriors seemed worried about the rain, strolling clamly through it. "Won't we get wet?"
"A bit, but not much. It's almost like the water in Sanctuary. But still beautiful, isn't it? It never rained in Baron because of the crystals. They kept nature in balance. But when it did rain, it was beautiful like this," Cecil told her. She glanced over and saw a glaze over his eyes that could only be from a memory. "One night," he said, voice quiet, "it rained so hard His Majesty grounded all of the Red Wings' airships. You and I spent the entire day on the parapets, in the rain and soaked through, watching the storm pass."
She didn't remember the moment specifically, but after hearing him talk about it, it felt right in her heart. She felt as though she could piece the memory together herself despite not actively experiencing it. He smiled, as though the memory meant the world to him despite being so small, and it was incredibly endearing. She thought about her conversation with Zidane, and her vow to view Cecil differently. To view him as someone who cared about her and was simply trying to help her. She thought about her promise to ask him more about himself, simply to hear him demonstrate the care he had for the world and for his friends. "Tell me more," she said in earnest. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to hear him speak his sincerity about everything.
"More about what?"
"Anything," she said. "More about Baron, or our experiences in the castle, or our adventures - or even the civil war on Chaos' side." He blinked his surprise down at her. "Zidane told me about it. He told me that Sephiroth and Golbez were seriously injured in a civil war amongst Chaos' warriors. He said that you were heavily involved, and you almost fought with Warrior over it. He said you cared for Golbez as though you were a White Mage."
" . . . Yes. It was definitely the strangest thing to ever happen."
"What do you remember about it?"
"I remember Golbez carrying Sephiroth in. Dragging is perhaps a better word. Sephiroth was barely conscious, and Golbez looked ready to drop as well. Warrior wasn't . . . " Cecil paused, and the sound of the rain filled the silence until he gathered his response. " . . . He wasn't trying to be harsh or cruel, but he is a man of principle. I'm sure he saw that something was wrong, but because of his nature, he thought it was a ploy to cover an ambush." They crossed over a small puddle, and Cecil kicked at the water. "He wanted to attack them right then and there, even though they were almost defenseless. It would have been a slaughter. It was almost right after I was called, and when I saw Warrior draw his sword, it stirred horrid memories in my heart. I remembered drawing my sword against the Mist Dragon. I heard the King's orders in my head, to kill it without mercy. And then I watched myself stand in passivity while the Bomb Ring destroyed Mist Village - which not moments before had been in peace. I felt the same despair watching Warrior attack Golbez and Sephiroth, the way the Bombs went after the helpless villagers."
They skirted around a small mountain range, emerging on the other side at a narrow strip of sand. The water lapped calmly at it, making it look more like a beach than anything else. He gestured for her to go first, and as she crossed with him close behind.
Back on wider ground, Cecil continued his story. "My heart went out to them. Golbez brought his injured comrades to the only place he could think of for refuge, and was met with instant scorn. I made up my mind. I remembered who I wanted to be, and why, um, why I had become a Paladin, and I put a stop to Warrior's attack.
"Despite my dissent, Warrior kept the Chaos warriors under lock and key. He had us stand with blades at their throats, and Cosmos refused to roam around Sanctuary without armed guards."
"So what happened?" she asked. "When you healed Golbez? What did you do?"
"I just . . . cast the strongest Cura I could. That's the extent of my White Magic, and I can only cast it when I am a Paladin. There was no familiarity that I could sense when I looked down at Golbez, but . . . something in me would not let me rest until I saw them healed. Both him and Sephiroth."
Her heart swelled again with the awe she felt after Zidane's story. He spoke about it with true emotion, and she could sense the way his heart bled for them and the resolve he had to make the choice to save them.
"Every time I had enough strength replenished to cast, I cast again. I kept them healed until I overextended myself and passed clean out. By the time I woke up, Golbez was awake and sitting up."
"You're a good man, Cecil."
"You're a good man, Cecil."
"I'm a coward," he spat bitterly, shaking his head. "A coward who cannot even defy orders he knows he ought not follow."
His down-trodden despair was so unlike his normal self that Rosa felt herself growing scared for him. "Cecil of the Red Wings is many things, but he is no coward!" she asserted. "The Cecil I know would never whimper like this!" She hoped it would rally him, but his frown only deepened. "Not the Cecil-"
" . . . I'm so glad you're here, Rosa. I'm not glad that you're fighting this war, but I'm relieved that someone as skilled as you will be with us. If you would have been there instead of me, you would've had Golbez and Sephiroth back on their feet in mere hours, not days."
"I don't know about that . . . I don't know what I'd have done in that situation," she said distantly, trying to recover the memory that his voice cut through and interrupted. But it was gone.
"You'd have done exactly what you were supposed to do. You're a wonderful ally to have around, and a great friend. When Baron used to wage wars under the old King, you were his premier healer. You were said to bring men back from the throes of pain and death, and send them on their way like they were never wounded."
Rosa felt the edges of another memory creeping into her vision. When she was fifteen and still a mage-in-training, Baron went to war with its western neighbor, Troia. Baron had incredible military superiority, and when His Majesty received word that a Troian army was marching on the border, he had almost all of his forces mobilized within days. He sent his army west to meet Troia on a large clearing situated directly between the two nations.
The White Mages marched in front of the troops, and the moment they reached the clearing Rosa and the other mages-in-training were set to work. Pitching medical tents, designating treatment areas, unloading, organizing, and piling Potions, Phoenix Downs, Elixirs, and Ethers - what seemed like billions and billions of Ethers. Even non-magical tasks, like equipping their assigned Mage with rods, staves, and multiple back-ups, gathering bandages, tourniquets, drawing water and hauling it's back to the tents.
Rosa could feel the tensions rising with each task she was set. Some of the Mages were anxious, twitching nervously, assisting the mages-in-training to avoid idleness. Some were heavy and sad with dread at what was to come. Rosa only felt jittery. A neutral kind of anticipation that urged her to run where she was told and hurry through the tasks she was given.
The Baron army arrived and sat camped for mere hours before the Troian army broke the tree line on their side of the clearing. Men started shouting, forming up, preparing for the battle. The two armies stared each other down. The first BOOM of a Troian cannon caused Rosa to drop everything in her hands. The ball whizzed through the air and Rosa watched as it pounded into the ground. Meters short of the Baron soldiers but kicking up rocks and earth as high up as the trees. The battle began.
At first, men were brought in to the Mages at a slow trickle. They worked seamlessly with their mage-in-training, treating men and sending them on their way if they were well enough.
When the order for a full-on charge resonated through the camp, all hell broke loose.
"Bandages!" Rosa's Mage yelled, unnaturally shrill against the deep, white noises of soldiers in pain.
"Mage!" Rosa confirmed.
She turned away and took off through the tent, weaving in and out of Mages, other mages-in-training, and wounded people. Knights were still pouring in, carried in in twos, threes, sometimes tens, and dropped wherever there was room next to a Mage's station. They piled up, brought in faster than the Mages could work. Rosa hurdled bodies left and right. She bolted past men screaming. Men moaning. Crying. Men covered in blood, covered in cuts and bruises, covered in their own gore.
"Bandages, now!" her Mage yelled again, now alternating between two men at once, one on her right and one on her left. Pouring magic into wounds and pouring Potions down throats.
Rosa tore through the stock-pile and tucked as many rolls as she could in her arms, but when she spun around she almost collided with two men, dangling an unconscious knight between them. His arms had been clasped at a growing red stain on his chest plate before he passed out. Stabbed through.
"Mage!" one of them yelled, and they dropped the man in front of her. "This man needs assistance!"
She couldn't. She was only a mage-in-training. The only spell she knew was Cure. And she was supposed to be helping her Mage-
"Rosa! Bandages, please!"
"Are you deaf, girl?" the knight asked, and Rosa shook her head. Right as she knelt next to the man and raised her hands, another knight was placed in front of her. His entire arm was almost shorn through - only a small shred of skin attached it. It spurted blood, and he writhed on the ground, howling. Making inhuman sounds of pain, terror, rage. Rosa froze.
"Aaaaaargh! Ngh- gah! RRRRRrrrrngh,"
"I need some help over here-"
"No- noooo, no, no!"
"Hrgh!"
"Rosa, I need those bandages!"
Suddenly the tent was too loud. The screaming she had drowned out in her busyness now drowned out her thoughts. Cries and wails coiled and recoiled on the air and in her head. Voices hoarse and shrill. Rosa stared at their wounds, but all of her training flooded out of her head, replaced with the sounds of pain, death, and dying. The metallic scent of blood and the cloying scent of rot suffocated her, and everywhere she looked there was carnage. Dying men, men who she didn't have the skill to help.
Another was dragged in and placed in front of her. She was expected to heal them. Three men, four, five. Someone behind her tugged on her skirts where she sat, and when she turned there was another. Clutching at her. All of them begging her to help.
"These men are dying, Rosa! I need bandages, now! Rosa!" Her Mage was frantic.
Rosa's hands felt cold. Her breath started to come faster at the weight of what she was expected to do. One needed healing, one needed Items, her Mage needed bandages - Rosa felt pulled in every direction. The pressure mounted in her chest until her heart beat furiously, and the sweat poured off of her. She felt surrounded. She couldn't breathe. Her stomach twisted. She panicked.
Not knowing what else to do, Rosa held her hands over the first man and repeated the only Cure spell she knew over and over again, until her voice was hoarse.
Cecil didn't seem to notice her momentary pause. " . . . Just like you did with Firion," he continued.
"Yes?" he called, hearing his name.
"Oh! Nothing," Cecil said. He quickened his pace and led Rosa over to him. "I was just saying how great it was that Rosa healed you." He was clearly opening the door for praise.
Firion nodded. "Yes. I'm very grateful to you. When I saw the Emperor's Death spell coming towards me, I thought for sure I had reached the end. I know I wouldn't be standing here today if not for you. Also," he added before Rosa could try and deflect his thanks, "I'm sorry you got tied up with the Emperor."
"Bartz already said something. You all do not need to apologize for him."
"I'll never apologize for him," Firion snapped. "His actions cannot be forgiven. But I am sorry for you."
"Don't be," Rosa assured him. "I'll be alright. Especially with this new patrol schedule. I know it's probably not ideal for any of you, but thank you. I'm grateful to all of you for all your efforts to keep me safe."
"You're being modest, Rosa," Cecil said. "I know you're not particularly keen on Warrior's schedule."
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked defensively.
"I know you," Cecil said. "You're self-sufficient, independent, and incredibly selfless. You don't like that we're reordering things just for you. It makes you feel conceited, or self-important."
Rosa stuttered, unsure of how to react to being called on her bluff. He said it like she had it written on her face. "N-no, I truly am grateful-"
"Well of course you're grateful, but if it was up to you, you wouldn't have anyone change anything just for your sake."
"Well- . . . Of course not! I've been here for all of . . . days, and just because I was attacked twice we have to render our entire system around me! It's inconvenient!"
"But necessary," Firion assured her. "We need you here, Rosa. After experiencing your power first-hand, I can attest to it. We'll do whatever we have to do for you, and I can promise you that it's not a burden."
"Well thank you, but . . . "
"None of us blame you, Rosa. Not in the slightest. Don't think about it like that," Cecil said, "like we're doing you a favor. Like Firion and I said, we're grateful to you."
She felt her cheeks heat, but it didn't exactly bother her that he seemed to know her so well. "I suppose you would know that about me, since we've been friends for years. I anxiously await the day I remember enough about you to know your mannerisms like that." She smiled at him to show her sincerity, and the way he smiled back at her made it seem like she had solved every single one of his problems.
"With numbers this big," Firion started, a new excitement coloring his voice, "I hope we see the Emperor-" He caught Rosa's eye and seemed to remember what seeing the Emperor would mean for her. He looked down and awkwardly placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Sorry."
"Cosmos said we directly oppose someone on Chaos' side. I'm assuming he's your opposition."
"Yes. He's an awful man."
"To say the least," she huffed. "What can you tell me about him?" Firion's jaw clenched. Even thinking about the Emperor had an effect on him. "I'd like to be prepared the next time I see him," she explained, hoping he didn't think she was purposefully bringing it up to anger him. "I will not have a repeat of our last two encounters." The Emperor would not catch her off-guard for the third time. She would make sure of it. Rosa rallied around the thought, and already it stirred up anger and thoughts of retaliation where previously there was none.
"No, I understand. He . . . I don't even know where to start. He's a tyrant in every definition of the word. He's cruel, and narcissistic, and selfish, and . . . awful. He is directly responsible for the destruction of my home world."
"What did he do?"
"Before he ordered his forces to invade, there had been peace for hundreds of years. And then his army marched on the entire land. He invaded my town, and he burned everything. He took my home, he killed my parents - I was adopted, so they were the second set of parents I lost in my life. His troops almost killed me and my friends. And then when he was finished raiding the towns and villages, he kidnapped people and sold the men into slavery, to harvest Mythril for his weapons and ships. He toys with others and uproots lives because they mean nothing to him. He uses people, and discards them like trash when he is done. I . . . I hate him. I cannot say that I truly hate anyone, except him."
The language Firion used mixed well with her anger, and she rallied around it. She tried to picture what would happen if she ever saw him again. Her fingers twitched at the thought of drawing her bow. Her heart felt cold with the magic she would use against him. He would not catch her off-guard for the third time. She would make sure of it. "I hope we see him, too," she said.
"He needs to be defeated. He stands against everything I fight for. Peace, and justice - and not political or military peace. I mean true, pure, uncorrupted peace."
"Where wild roses can grow?"
He blinked in surprise. " . . . Did Cecil tell you?"
"He only mentioned it. I remembered that you favored roses because of the similarity to my name."
"I . . . I know it's childish, but flowers are pure and beautiful. They are also fragile. If a flower can grow, it means it's been undisturbed. They can only thrive in times of peace. The wild rose is my favorite because it was the symbol of our resistance effort-"
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey!" Laguna yelled, pointing furiously. "We got company!"