2
CHAPTER 2 – THE WOOL OF A BLACK SHEEP
The academy-wide cleanup effort continued on for the next several days. In total, the damage from the confrontation had far surpassed that of the Balamb Garden civil revolt from six weeks earlier. Day by day, the casualty figures continued to climb. Fortunately, with Galbadia Garden now abandoned by the enemy, the medical staff had another infirmary on hand to service all the wounded. The fresh abundance of spare room couldn't have come at a better time; numerous survivors had been salvaged from the Trabia Garden ruins, including Headmaster Dodonna, who'd been given priority treatment. From his sick bed, a deal had already been brokered between the two headmasters to leave them Galbadia Garden in lieu of their destroyed home.
What soldiers and sorceress' knights they'd taken captive had been confined to the detention block spread across the 14th floor. Meanwhile, the dead had been gathered up, friend and foe alike, to be given a mass burial out on the snowfields in the coming days. The names of the fallen Balamb and Trabia students were taken down, and honored with a swiftly organized memorial service. Though he'd never attended anything of the sort before, whether after a field exam or other large scale operation, Squall had made it a point to show up. The impetus went beyond his obligation as acting commandant; he owed it to Xu, in gratitude of everything she'd done for him.
Edea had remained herself since the battle's end. To her delight, the veins across her cheeks had already begun receding by the second day. She'd largely kept herself sequestered to Cid's quarters in the meantime, under continual surveillance by Squall and a select group of top-ranked SeeDs; only once satisfied she wouldn't be recognized so easily did she dare to venture below. Having procured a more modest, professional wardrobe from her husband's closet, she'd already started resembling the kindly caretaker they'd known once again.
Unfortunately, for all of Edea's improvements, Rinoa had still yet to wake from her slumber. Since the morning after the battle, she'd been hooked up to an IV drip in her room, and kept under routine observation by an assigned med student. Squall likewise would come by to check up on her between his other duties; the keycard left discreetly wedged behind the room's number plate just beside the door allowed him easy access. His heart would begin pounding in his chest each and every time time he came to visit, anxiously hoping she might be awake to greet him when he stepped through. To his dismay, she never was. There she would always be, laid beneath the sheets, still as a corpse, the blipping heart monitor his only reassurance otherwise.
So it had continued until the 4th day, when at last some change was apparent: the keycard was missing. He took hold of the doorknob and turned. The door swung open to reveal a startled Selphie sitting by Rinoa's bedside.
"Oh… hey," she said to him as he strolled inside. "Just figured I'd stop by and see how she's holding up. Still nothing, huh?"
"Her vitals seem normal," he muttered as he closed the door behind him. "By all accounts, she ought to be back up by now."
"Have they given her any kind of brain scan?" she asked.
"Not yet. They're still too swamped to get her in for a full examination."
"Well, now that we know what using GFs too much can do to your memory…"
She let the open-ended statement hang in the air, correctly assuming that he could follow her line of reasoning. Although he'd never heard of such a thing happening to a cadet after only one summoning, rarely had he ever seen so much energy be poured into one as Rinoa had done. It was all too possible something had been damaged in the process.
"I know," he finally answered. "But for now, I'm still hoping it won't come to that."
"I've gotta say, it's really surreal hearing you of all people be optimistic," Selphie replied.
"I wouldn't call it optimism. It's more like… a desperation to be proven wrong. I'm the one who got her started on her training, so it's my responsibility if she ends up stuck like this for the rest of her life because of it."
"Squall… you've changed."
If he had, it was only a matter of circumstance. He'd been repeatedly pressed into one position of authority after another, regardless of his sheer lack of experience, and given no choice but to persevere. Facing such adversity would surely test any person, and ultimately force them to make necessary changes in how they handled themselves.
"Speaking of GFs… did you ever find yours?" he quickly changed the subject.
"No," she sighed. "We looked everywhere, but it's just gone. I can't believe I didn't check myself over for it after the blast."
"I see," Squall hummed. "And if you did still have it… do you think there would be anything you could do to help her?"
"No way. Best I could do was close up a few flesh wounds. I've got nothing when it comes to working on someone's brain, and I wouldn't have it in me to try it out on her first."
Squall carefully dipped his hand into his jacket's pocket, rummaging around for his own extra sphere. He'd already considered the ramifications of potentially loaning it to her over the past several days. Recognizing the uselessness of keeping it for himself, he'd determined that the only sensible course of action would be to give it to the one person still able to harness its power. Whether or not she could be of any service to Rinoa came second.
"But hey, not like I could even if I wanted to now, right?" she rolled her eyes. "At least Irvine got all his stuff back from his dorm. Lucky him, huh?"
"Selphie," Squall cut her off as he traipsed over to her side, and brought up the sphere for her to see. "This was Xu's. She gave it to me right before she died."
"Huh?"
Her eyes suddenly went wide as she looked it over in his hand.
"Y-You're kidding me!" she stammered. "I told you, I wouldn't have a clue what I'm doing!"
"That's not what I'm asking," he clarified. "I just want you to have it, in place of your own."
"What? I… I can't take that! Besides, I've still got the one they gave me after I enrolled, remember? So, it's not like I'm hurting for one."
"That's not the point. Now that Xu's gone, you're the only one in the Garden who has any idea what they're doing when it comes to holy spellcraft. We're going to need every advantage we can get to defeat this Ultimecia, and that would be a big one. So, please… just do this for me. For us."
Her green eyes continued to swivel back and forth between his and the sphere. He continued standing there with his arm outstretched to her, wordlessly pleading for her to take it. After an uncomfortably long span of silence, she finally did.
"I… I don't know what to say," she said as she twirled the silver ball around in her fingers.
"You don't have to say anything," he assured her. "Just consider it a sign of my trust."
"Man, can't put a price on that, huh?" she smirked as she slipped the sphere into her pocket; she made double sure to zip it firmly shut.
"Nope. And that reminds me, I've still got your wallet."
"What?!"
It was Squall's turn to smirk. With a swift detour back to his dorm room, and an explanation for having kept it following their escape from the prison, he made good on returning it to her. Indeed, for however distrustful he'd been of her ever since, she had absolutely proven herself worthy in his eyes.
Two days later, he found himself back at Rinoa's bedside again. Still, nothing had changed. What had begun as a mild cause for concern was quickly turning to defeatism. The longer her coma persisted, the more anxious he became that she might never wake again. There he sat beside her in hopeless silence, at a loss for what to do. And as he continued to reflect over all they'd been through, from their first meeting at the graduation ball up until now, he began to reconsider if circumstance were truly all there had been to how much he'd changed. There had undoubtedly been something about her.
That night… you smiled when our eyes met. You were always so full of life. Now, you don't even make a sound… Please, Rinoa… wake up…
As he fruitlessly pleaded for her to hear him, a great fatigue suddenly began to take hold of his body. Before long, his head started pulsing, his vision beginning to blur. Although it had been some time since he'd managed to get a good night's sleep, he now knew better than to mistake this sensation for ordinary tiredness. He likewise understood that it was only bound to get worse the more he resisted. And more important still, he'd been longing for it. Giving in, he let himself topple out of the chair, falling face-first onto the edge of the mattress.
Ellone… is that… you…?
"Laguna!"
"Man, all this time, and that's still all you've got to show for it, huh?" he chuckled.
The moomba at his side purred in acknowledgment. Remarkably intelligent though the creatures were, it seemed the human language would forever elude them in any significant capacity. Regardless, the camaraderie he now shared with this particular one went beyond mere words. Three months had passed since its pack had found him and his friends injured from the tumble they'd taken down the Vienne Mountains. Fortunately, the road to recovery had been a short one; he'd been in nowhere near as bad shape as when he'd first arrived at Winhill. And though nothing could compare to the comfort Raine had given him then, their hosts had been nothing if not hospitable.
He and his furry companion traipsed along the main road running through Shumi Village. An evenly spaced arrangement of stout, one-level huts dotted the greenery all around, some elevated on raised plateaus. Composed of polished wood held together by bronze metallic frames, their design and generous spacing had been a conscious choice so as not to unnecessarily impose upon nature. Such had long been a central ethos of the Shumi culture. What other people would have tried to build up a civilization in the middle of the desolate windswept north? And yet, there was no snow in sight, nor the faintest hint of a chill.
The entire village was subterranean, settled within a vast cavern chiseled deep into the rock untold millennia ago. Massive chunks of luminous crystal ingrained across the high ceiling were their sunlight. A raging waterfall poured down from above on the village's outer edge, falling further into the depths of the earth beyond a steep precipice. Evidently, the conditions had been suitable for plant life to thrive; there was no shortage of bushes and trees spread about, as well as private gardens jutting off from a select few houses. Laguna could hardly believe his eyes when he and the others had first been brought in; that any culture could prosper this far below ground for so long still amazed him.
The villagers, squat and pale yellow with over-sized hands, went about their day all around. Most offered Laguna a bow as he passed by, their customary sign of greeting. Hand waving was expressly frowned upon; as a people so dedicated to their life's handiwork, carelessly flaunting one's palms was viewed as a sign of disrespect. He tilted his head back to each of them in turn as he carried on. By now, he'd become familiar with a great number of them, as well as their many moomba helpers; what fiery, furry creatures he passed along the way called out to him with a purr.
Human visitors were exceedingly rare. There had supposedly been only one instance before themselves: a group of technicians from Fisherman's Horizon who'd been named honorary Shumi for having assisted with the construction of a new elevator system to the surface. Naturally, he and his friends' arrival had drawn attention from all corners. And yet, for what celebrity status they'd garnered, it had thankfully never progressed into pestering, nor resentment for that matter. Regardless of whatever the villagers all thought of them, they were often too wrapped up in their own work to pay any mind. A Shumi's calling was so much more than a simple career or hobby; it was a way of life, a means to contribute something of value to their society.
Laguna's own calling had again been put on hold for the last few months. Though he'd been back on his feet in short order, he no longer had a clear heading. The blast that had sent him and his comrades tumbling down the mountain had reduced the region beyond to a gigantic smoldering crater. No matter his desire to see Ellone, there was no possibility of crossing it into Esthar. Fortunately, after bringing his dilemma to the villagers' attention, they had been able to provide him with a solution. One of their brothers regularly did business with Esthar, even now in the midst of the ongoing war. His routine visits home were usually sporadic, though had become increasingly frequent as of late. And so, Laguna and his friends had opted to wait for his next return. Finally, that day had arrived.
[… Ellone? Are you there? Can you hear me?]
Yup, there is is. Looks like it's gonna be another big day.
He did not slow even as the familiar sensation washed over his mind. If anything, it gave him comfort to feel it again; each instance thus far had been nothing if not a sign of another milestone event in his life. It had been there his night spent with Julia, during his mishap in Centra that had led him to Winhill, when he'd found his resolve to go after Ellone, and the day he'd undoubtedly changed another lonely young woman's life forever. It had yet to lead him astray, and he was sure this time would turn out to be just as beneficial to him in the long run.
"Laguna!" his moomba squeaked again as they approached the Elder's hut at the center of the village.
"Yeah, I'm gonna miss you too, little guy," he sighed. "You and all your pals."
He knocked on the door, and waited for a response. It came moments later as the door creaked open. A Shumi like any other stood on the other side, dressed in robes no less humble than the rest. And yet, Laguna knew better; what awaited this brother further down his own life's path was a responsibility far greater.
"Hey," Laguna greeted him. "Me and my friends are about to head out. Is the Elder busy?"
"Not at the moment," the attendant said. "And Attendant is sure he'd be willing make time for you. Please, come in."
He parted the door further, allowing Laguna and the moomba to step through. Despite the Elder's executive position, his hut was hardly more spacious than most others in the village; a short entrance antechamber opened into a domed main hub. The walls all around displayed many hung mementos from Elders past, as well as an extensive written record signed by each upon their ascension to the title. A dimmed light fixture hung from the center of the ceiling, casting light down onto the man himself at his giant desk. His stature was far taller; standing up, he was almost twice as tall as his attendant. His hands were no different, each finger nearly as long as one of his arms. As was the norm for their race, his chin had begun to droop with age; it dangled over top his robe's collar like a bulbous uvula. His beady black eyes turned up as the three walked in.
"Master Laguna is here," the aide announced.
"Thank you, Attendant," the Elder replied in a rich, eloquent baritone.
For as long as he'd been in the village, it had never failed to make Laguna uncomfortable hearing so many citizens address one another by their occupation. In the Shumi culture, one surrendered their given name upon receiving their calling. In the eyes of the Elder, and all the village, this particular one had no name but 'Attendant' now. So it was for every profession: 'Artisan', 'Sculptor', 'Farmer', 'Tailor', and right on down the line. Likewise, for any member of the tribe besides the Elder to refer to themselves using 'I', 'Me', or any variation thereof was strictly taboo.
"Please, have a seat," the tall Shumi motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.
[Ellone? Ellone, if you're there, please answer me.]
"Th-That's alright," he stumbled over his tongue. "It won't take long anyway. Me and my friends were just about to leave. They're waiting for me over at the tavern. But before we go, I just wanted to drop by and say thank you for everything you've done for us. We owe you a lot."
"Not at all. It was the least we could do to help someone in need. And especially someone with such a worthwhile cause. It is unfortunate that we must part, but you will always be welcome here. You'll forgive me if I do not come along to see you off, however. I'm afraid I have very little goodwill towards our wayward brother with whom you must go."
Laguna had heard as much from the townspeople, and yet never any further elaboration. Whatever the reason, that he hadn't been banished from the village outright must have meant it was nothing of great concern.
Then again, they're pretty generous people by nature…
"Oh, how Attendant envies those who walk in freedom," the attendant spoke. "How wonderful it would be to explore all the outside world has to offer."
Laguna silently concurred; he'd felt the same all his life. It was the very dream that had kept him pushing forward for so long, until he'd finally achieved it with his career in journalism. Were he still employed, the village would have made for a perfect piece in Timber Maniacs. But as he'd learned since, there were more important pursuits in life.
"It's great to see new places," he summarized for the attendant. "But it's the people you have waiting for you at home, the ones you share your life with… that's what matters most."
"Very well spoken," the Elder lauded him with a smile.
"Attendant knows," the younger Shumi acknowledged. "But, this place seems so… fixed, so rooted in tradition. Too much so. Our lives and destinies have been set in stone for us from the moment we're born. Wouldn't you despise that kind of life, Master Laguna?"
Pretty sharp…
"That's enough!" his superior cut him off. "This is the way of our people, to selflessly devote ourselves to each of our individual callings, so that we may better our society as a collective whole. Yours is to stay by my side, in preparation for the day you become an Elder yourself. I will not stand to see my successor shirk that responsibility. Not again."
As the Elder continued to reprimand his aide, Laguna's moomba friend began huddling in close to his leg. He stared down at the creature, at a loss for what he was expected to do; who was he to stick his nose into cultural matters he had no understanding of?
"A-Anyway, I'd better get going," he awkwardly diverted the conversation. "Don't want to keep the guys waiting. Or our ride."
At his words, they both turned to him, their faces wrought with embarrassment.
"Our apologies," the Elder said. "We did not mean to trouble you. Please forgive us for such an ugly display."
"It's alright. I don't have all the answers myself. I can only speak from my own life experience. Believe me, Attendant… I've known what it's like to feel out of place, or that your life's not taking you down a path you want to go. Just try to keep your head up, and stay positive down here. And don't worry about trying to find your 'true' calling right away. If life's taught me anything, it's that sometimes it finds you."
The stout Shumi averted his eyes to the floor; whether out of contemplation or defeat, Laguna couldn't tell. He'd tried to choose his words carefully so as not to upset the Elder, though couldn't be sure that what had ultimately come out would be enough to help him persevere.
"Just… something to chew on," he insisted. "Think it over, and tell me what you come up with when I'm back someday. And I promise, I will be back."
Not waiting for a proper dismissal, he turned away and started for the door.
"Thanks again for everything. See you around!"
In his effort to remain casual, he instinctively waved back as he trailed out of the hut, only realizing his faux-pas once he was outside. Deeply embarrassed, he quickened his pace as he trailed off down the main road, and did not look back.
The standoff between master and apprentice continued to weigh on his mind as he made his way through the streets. He was torn; though he could sympathize with the attendant's hopes and dreams, he was not so ignorant as to disregard the Elder's point of view. The people needed hope for the future, a reassurance that their prosperity would continue under stable leadership. Laguna couldn't imagine how he might react in the same position, nor did he expect he would he ever need to.
[Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be.]
"Laguna!" the moomba called his name again as they approached the tavern.
"Yeah, I know, I could've handled that one better," he sighed; whether that were in fact the substance of its nagging, he knew it was true, all the same.
He took hold of the door and swung it open. Stepping on through, he noticed a distinct lack of patrons among the various wooden tables and barstools. Such was normal for the time of day. Merriment was strictly a nighttime indulgence among the villagers, and even then, never to the point of intoxication. Laguna had never seen anything like it before; whether during his time in the army, or at Raine's bar in Winhill, many were the patrons who would go drunkenly stumbling out the door after last call, helped along by their friends. And yet, for all the times he'd frequented the Shumi Village tavern in the last 3 months, never had he seen a single case.
As he scanned his eyes over the tables, he quickly caught sight of Kiros and Ward. They were seated off in the corner. Across from them sat a Shumi a good deal more portly than any other he'd seen; he'd arrived the prior evening to much gossip among the village locals, and taken out a room above the tavern for the night. Behind him stood a pair of aides; their dark robes were long and flowing, their faces each obscured by a bronze, disk-shaped piece of head-wear. Though he couldn't see any trace of exposed skin, he assumed them to be human; at the very least, both were taller than the average Shumi. One carried his assault rifle and ammunition bandoliers slung over his shoulder. A glance at his waist revealed Kiros' sheathed katars buckled around.
[Is that…?]
"Good timing," Kiros said to him as he strolled up. "We've just finished hashing out the cost. It's going to be pricey, but we've got enough to cover it."
"I would say it's only reasonable," the Shumi insisted; his voice was remarkably deep and guttural. "It's a long journey, especially now that our usual route through the mountains is no more."
His deliberate usage of 'I' hadn't slipped by Laguna. At once, he began to understand why the Elder might take umbrage with this particular 'wayward brother'.
"We're just happy to have someone who can bring us in," he replied. "Thanks for letting us come along, Brother… uh, sorry, I'm not the best with names…"
"Norg," he formally introduced himself with a smile. "And please, think nothing of it."
[…!]
"So then, will it just be you three?"
His beady eyes trailed downward past him to the moomba. Laguna swiftly turned around, his heart growing heavy as he prepared to say goodbye. He reached out his hand to the furry red feline. It extended its own plush paw in return.
"Sorry, buddy," he said as they hi-fived. "It's time for me to go. Maybe we'll see each other again someday."
"Laguna," it mewled.
Its eyes, always so alight with excitement, just as quickly turned sad. He could feel his own starting to become itchy as the emotions began bubbling up inside him.
"It would be no bother to bring that one along as well," Norg suddenly interjected. "I've taken many moombas with me in my travels before. Especially as of late."
"Really?!" Laguna reeled in surprise.
"Of course. Only my brethren are bound by custom to remain in this village. Their kind may come and go as they please."
"Hey, you hear that, little guy? Do you wanna come along with us?"
The joyous squeak that escaped its maw was answer enough. He turned his head back to the Shumi, before pivoting to his friends.
"So what, you're looking to surprise Ellone with a new pet now?" Kiros scoffed.
"Hey, come on! The more the merrier, right?"
His friend said nothing in return. Ward too gave him no response, on account of no longer having the capacity to do so. All the same, Laguna could perfectly read his expression: 'If it means we can finally get a move on…'
"Please, let us not waste any more time," Norg asked of them. He rose from his chair; for however pudgy his proportions, his height was comparable to that of most other Shumi. "With our usual route out of commission, we'll have to make haste to get our next delivery there in time."
He started moving towards the door. His robed bodyguards were quick to follow after, each keeping their attention trained to the three every step of the way. Laguna understood perfectly well that time was of the essence; Ellone's last few months in Esthar couldn't have been anywhere near as comfortable as his. He waved for Kiros and Ward to get up from the table. They complied, and together with their enthusiastic moomba tag-along, the seven trailed out of the tavern.
Norg led the way forward, paying no heed to the looks he received from the villagers they passed. They traversed the network of narrow, winding roads towards the imposing cave wall at the village's far end. There, a freshly chiseled elevator shaft rose up into the ceiling. A winding staircase carved from the rocks stretched up just beside, now rendered a secondary means of traveling to the surface and back. Just the thought of traversing it from top to bottom made Laguna sick to his stomach. Even drawing close to the opposite edge of the village, where the waterfall cascaded down into the depths, had been enough to make him uncomfortable. After both his close calls in Centra and Trabia, he was determined to keep himself clear from any more steep drops.
Before long, they reached the elevator. As they piled aboard, Laguna turned back to take one last look at the marvelous underground society, thankful for all its people had done for him. However alien their culture was to him, they'd been the kindest hosts he could have hoped for.
Another place to bring Ellone…
"So, what exactly do you trade in?" Kiros asked as the lift began to rise.
"Whatever brings the greatest profit," Norg answered cryptically. "I've had many years to build up a long list of clients from all around the world. I work to supply wherever there is demand. For the right price, of course."
"What was it that made you want to go into that kind of business?" Laguna pried.
[Money. What else?]
"Ambition… and perhaps a hint of resentment. You've seen my brothers and sisters down below, the way they toil day after day, and for what? Their entire life's work spent all for the betterment of the community, never receiving an ounce of gratification for themselves. That way never sat right with me. I sought something more than the 'calling' I'd been forced into. I wanted to make something of myself, to carve out my own path. And if that meant leaving the village and everything I'd ever known behind, then so be it."
Laguna hesitated before speaking again; he'd heard practically the very same thing from the Elder's attendant not even a half hour before.
"And did you ever… share any of this with the others? You can't be the only one who's ever thought the way you do."
"I brought it up to the Elder once. He was so furious he had me stripped of my position as his attendant on the spot, and demanded that I never speak my mind to another Shumi again under threat of banishment. I left not long after that. What more is there to do when you've had your life's purpose in the village rescinded? All the same, I kept my oath to him. They still give me a berth whenever I'm in the area on business. Good thing, too. I've been coming through more frequently thanks to a new trade I've become involved in."
"And what might that be?" Kiros asked. The lift finally slowed as he did so, coming to its apex in a small domed chamber constructed entirely of rock.
"What's that saying you humans have?" Norg chuckled. "'Seeing is believing'?"
He strode forward to the entryway, an otherwise unremarkable segment of wall. The large ingrained handholds and barely noticeable treads set at its base were the only indications otherwise. He took the handles in his monstrous grasp and heaved. The rock face slid along its treads, allowing daylight to come shining through from the other side. Snowy plains awaited beyond, peppered by trees and hulking boulders not unlike the hollowed-out one they emerged from.
A motorized caravan of armored transports idled immediately before them, their polished silver plating gleaming in the sun. Laguna quickly scanned his eyes over the five tightly clustered vehicles as Norg and his aides led the way forward. The doors to the nearest opened at their approach. Out stepped another two dressed in matching robes and head-wear, who quickly moved forward to intercept them.
"Show these three and the moomba to the back," Norg commanded them. "Make sure their… accommodations are in order."
"Yes, Master," one responded. With a wave of his arm, he gestured for them to follow.
Apprehensive though he was, Laguna knew it was too late to be having second thoughts. He'd waited 3 long months for the sake of guaranteed passage into Esthar. There was no other recourse for him now; he'd kept Ellone waiting too long already. With another look to his teammates for solidarity, they and the moomba circled the caravan to the rear-most transport. As they drew near the back of the truck, the leading aide stepped aside. He gestured to the sealed cargo door, bidding Laguna to go ahead of him. Eager to finally get back on the road again, he reached for the handle and heaved upward. Whatever their traveling conditions, he was sure he'd be content so long as Norg and his men kept them sufficiently fed.
What he saw as the shutter opened left him speechless. No less than a dozen moombas littered the inside of the cargo carriage, all shackled to the walls. Many bore fresh scars about their ragged, ruffled fur. Those not too fatigued to rise whimpered and squeaked as they turned to him, seemingly begging to be freed from their chains. Laguna's eyes began to water as his brain struggled to process the sight, if not for the sheer cruelty, then surely for the unbearable stench of droppings wafting out.
"What the hell?!" he shouted. "What are you guys doing to-"
He cut himself short as he was abruptly seized from behind. A sharp needle was plunged into his neck the next moment. He winced in pain as it sunk deeper, and struggled to fight his way out of the aide's grasp. His limbs quickly failed him. As he slumped from his feet, his eyes gradually going blurry, he noticed Ward's bulky figure go toppling over off to the side. Try as he might to turn his head to take stock of Kiros and his moomba friend, he no longer had the strength to. At last, his vision gave out completely.
What's… going…?