New Order - Truth
June of Year 1778
...
...Car...
CECIL: Am I an intruder? Maybe we are.
Fear of the Absolute, I feel it as the movement of a wind blows onto the Northwest needle we follow as a troop. Phalanxes came first, followed by the armored chariots, whose wheels had been turned into legs and tired. But who is an intruder when the land we step upon once was ours?
Once... that's the word that defines us as such. I know, as an intruder does, how to open a window, as much as the King knows and has the key, the transportation vehicle, to open the Melda Arch for us to travel into their arch, with disguises apart to deceive the Regency of -LINDBLUM-, the one who controls mostly of Aerbs and the engines that move such place, later at the dusk and the following night that came on the days before this month.
...Scratch...
CLYDE: Just the mention of the word -ALEXANDRIA- by commander Komakino is enough to make us, you, me move around in circles and call such acts by 'training'.
For these days, to hear the same 'Alexandria' be heard by that old fart, whose jaw can't eat anything, except the words he say, had been a pleasure to be enough filled into me and the others. The same are quiet as my brother and these soldiers, strict as the marriage of our country, and taste as well as salt water drank from the ocean itself.
...Melt...
PRESCOTT: It's hard to accept the truth as it is told by them.
Pale it becomes for some, but for many, colors are achieved. Colors that bled as one red, the same meant to be sadly find on the tip of our swords and javelins. Was I meant to be there in the first place? If I hadn't assigned that paper, sure this time would be well spent by me to take care of the living, the family of mine, the sons who never had to await for me than I and Sophia awaited for such time they arrived, instead of ending up the day awaiting for the reckoning of the lost souls of centuries, trading in to become ghosts raised from the ashes they turned into.
...Security...
BARTHOLOMEW: Lenneth, Jack... why do I care so much for both? Is it because they belong to -BURMECIA- as do I?
And what about this Alexandria I and my family had been fighting against? Do they also have a reason to fight with dignity against us? What they have done isn't what we do, is it? The same may go for our ancestors, who had done many that resulted into this nothing, about to come near us in a state of Trance... This is a crisis I knew I had to come to, to fix such a balance once kept broken. I wonder what will come next, besides a change of speed...
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Day 26:
Resonance
...
CLYDE: What a pleasant time to feel alive. Sure, the ones who came before me must have thought of the same.
I wonder if Komakino ever felt alive. That moribund... Just look at the way he raises the sword up in the air with that dysfunctional and onion arm of his. With skin like his arm peeling each day, such is the pride of commander Komakino, and the devotion of something lost in the way more than the life of his. You may lift the sword when there's us with you, but when you're alone, you slide like a snail, and wished you could die like one.
CECIL: ...The Melda Arch is the passage located at the side of our country northwest of Aerbs Hills, to which we used as a route of peaceful trade and revenue. But in this world, like many, peace is just a word we gave a misunderstood meaning, because there's no exact way to achieve such.
All we achieve is a certain stability, like the price in gil of the products sold by quantity. The more they are sold, more the price increases. It has been this way ever since we stood above the plateaus, unlike them. We trade in gold, gems, as they trade us silk, spice and coffee. The only thing that keeps Burmecia and Alexandria on the same spot is that we're dependent on commercial relationships, and only.
CLYDE: ...You see, Marat took a bath, so why can't Komakino? Whereas we are far from home, a common misunderstanding on our part is that anyone, and anything, can be Alexandria and their intentions as well, like an infection does have the intention of hurting you.
PRESCOTT: A sailor told me once about citrics. Orange and other citrus syrups guarantee the safety of our jaw and gums from scurvy. I hope Fratley's fallen teeth don't expose much of his gums to such infections.
Exposed... for some reason, I recall the days I stood in Lindblum and the time when I noticed the rain burning my skin. The rain of Burmecia never would do such a thing, but there, at Lindblum, it did. That kingdom is divided into three districts, being the Market District, the Theater District, and the Industrial District. They all sound alike, but for me, they're the same, like the statues of the past Regents.
There's a statue of Cid Fabool VII in the Industrial district, but you can only see it by reading what's below, in the words written in gold. From that district, smoke rises up in the air, and wherever it rains, that same rain can burn those who walk there for a long time, there or around other districts. Each time it rained, a frame of the face of Cid vanished, as if the rain had melted his. Now they changed the face of his for a silver helm, as a solution for the issue of the statue, but the issue of the people remained the same.
At least, the Regent is safe.
CECIL: These hills are the cenotaph of Lord Aerbs and his sons, that came and ended like their own father.
Aerbs and his descendants divided this continent, and its tribes those hills came across. Plateaus for the people Alexandria and the other Alexandria, the mass of Lindblum; and the wet plains below the Mist, were those beings from Burmecia learned to live. The experiment of Dali desired by our King will be done.
Not that I desire its fulfillment, but part of me agrees on his orders. The part of being submissive stands out of the part that wants to raise a shout, to eat, to destroy the path I hang on, but not now. This second other shall be released, but not until we reach this Mist and the creatures that lie in there, so they'll never again trespass the plateaus where Alexander stood...
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