A burst of energy spiraled toward him; he deflected it, but it was followed too quickly by another. With a muttered curse, he desperately gathered up his ki and blocked the second attack, though the impact still sent him flying back against the ancient stone wall. He picked himself back up, trying to ignore the sudden loss of feeling in his arm. Dammit, he was getting too old for this sort of thing. The cloaked figure, dim light reflecting off what remained of his mask, seemed to have the same opinion. "You're getting tired, Warrior of Light." Cid managed a wry grin. "From this? Heck, this is nothing. I could do this all day." "You have been," Siegvin reminded him. "Or, at least, all night. It's too bad you didn't join me... but then, I hardly need you anyway." "The feeling's mutual." Cid watched his opponent carefully, trying to disguise the power he was building up within himself. *Just keep talking, you ugly bastard...* "Why don't you run off after your master like a good little minion? You'll have to hurry if you want to catch up with Darovan." The fallen Sleeper chuckled, raising his twin blades into an X before him. "Oh, have no fear... I fully intend to 'catch up' with that fool. But I think there's time enough to deal with one old man." "Funny you should mention time..." With some difficulty, Cid raised his arm and gestured toward Siegvin. "Abate, flow of time, and trap my enemy in the eternal hourglass! Stop!" For a moment, the air around Siegvin seemed to waver, carrying with it the scent of forgotten centuries... then the effect dissipated, leaving the swordsman totally unaffected. He chuckled briefly. "You should have realized that I'm too powerful for such feeble-" But Cid wasn't quite finished. He hadn't expected his spell to work; the attempt was only to provide him the few seconds he needed to draw upon one of the most powerful Arts in his arsenal. As he gathered one last ounce of ki, he allowed the energy to suffuse his body, and he began to glow with a pure white light. Sensing the waves of power now emanating from the ancient warrior's form, Siegvin began to raise his swords defensively... but it was far too late. Faster than the eye could see, Cid leapt forward toward his opponent, delivering a stunning elbow to the throat as he arrived. Even before Siegvin could react to this attack, it was followed by a roundhouse kick that struck the swordsman's temple solidly, which in turn was followed by a devastating open-palmed strike. A dizzying series of blows assaulted the Sleeper, more than he could possibly count, and each one more powerful than the last. With every strike, the aura surrounding Cid seemed to diminish... and, somehow, Siegvin himself began to glow. Finally, with only a trace of light around him, Cid flipped backwards, then collected the remaining energy in his fist. "Bum Rush!" He dashed forward, striking Siegvin as he passed... ...and, with that final additional bit of power, the ki transferred to the Fallen One was released in one titanic burst of concussive force. Siegvin's body twisted unnaturally, a dancing shadow in the middle of a column of light. As the Art's remaining power left him, Cid fell to his knees. He hadn't used that one in far too long, and had forgotten how draining it was. With difficulty, he tried to get to his feet. A familiar voice behind him made his blood run cold. "Let me help you with that." Before Cid could react, there was a sharp, intense pain in his chest. He instinctively looked down, and wasn't terribly surprised to see a sword blade protruding from his body. He clutched at the blade to no effect, then, as Siegvin *lifted* the sword, raising Cid into the air, there was just too much pain to concentrate on such trivial things. "Not bad, old man," Siegvin admitted. "I'm actually going to need some time to recover from that. But I'd expect no less from a legendary Warrior of Light." And then the fallen Sleeper flicked his sword to the side, throwing Cid through the air to strike the nearest wall. He slowly slid to the ground, ending up in a bloodied and motionless heap. Siegvin turned and walked off, without a single glance at his fallen foe. "So much for legends." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Atma Beast, carefully controlled by Beastmaster Stine, loped to the top of a hill and came to a stop. Kyle's Dragoons were already there, and despite the feline monstrosity's intimidating appearance, they barely spared it a glance before returning their attention to the city below. Behind Stine, Jil gradually released her grip on the makeshift saddle and slid to the ground, privately vowing never to ride such a beast again, no matter how much of a hurry she was in. But it was curious - despite the Atma Beast's impressive turn of speed, the Dragoons had arrived even sooner, accomplishing in one night what would otherwise have taken three days. Jil had heard about what the Dragoons called a 'Boost march' before, but hadn't been prepared for the pure spectacle of it. As the assembled regiments of crimson-clad warriors left La Verde, they began a rapid jogging trace that she felt sure would have worn them out quickly. Then, at a shouted command from Kyle, the front row of soldiers activated their Boost Armor, launching themselves in a low forward arc. The next row of Dragoons followed suit, then the next, until the entire column had 'skipped' forward several hundred yards in just a few seconds. By the time the last row touched the ground, the Armor worn by the first row had cooled down enough to allow them to take another leap forward... In the hours before and during sunset, the Dragoons appeared to be a living wave, an undulating pattern of red and silver. After the sun had gone down, the display turned from impressive to eerie, with only the glint of moonlight on metal and the flickering glow of the Boost engines to mark the Dragoons' locations. It wasn't a tactic that was recommended by the Church's financial department, Kyle had explained to her before they'd left. Boost Armor, while crafted of expensive starsilver, wasn't designed for the dozens, perhaps even hundreds of jumps that the trip had required, and most of them would require a complete overhaul to return them to full performance. Some of the Armor had even burned out completely during the journey - there were no serious injuries, due in part to the low altitudes involved, but the unlucky Dragoons (Reill among them) would have to walk the rest of the way. Still, it was an acceptable procedure, as long as it was saved for emergencies... and nobody could argue that an attack on Tienne qualified as an emergency. Now, however, it was clear that it was too late. The Dragoons, exhausted from their journey, stared grimly down at the ravaged city below. The Manakyr were quite clearly gone, but even from a height had left visible traces of their attack. Even in the dim morning light, Tienne's immaculate streets and marble buildings would have gleamed; now the streets were pockmarked with craters caused by spell and GOLeM alike, the buildings were scarred and battered. After a long moment, Jil managed to tear her gaze away. She had never been terribly devout, but seeing the very heart of the Church ripped apart and laid bare was profoundly disturbing. The Dragoons didn't spare her even a single glance as she slipped through their ranks, searching for... Kyle. He stood next to a lone elm, gazing down at Tienne and leaning on the Ashura Lance for support. She hesitated, then stepped toward him... and then, with a shout of rage, he lifted the Lance and spun it around himself with all his strength. A moment later, the tree toppled over and rolled down the hill a short distance before stopping. "Gods DAMN it!" he shouted, his voice full of helpless frustration. "Everything we did, everything we went through, and we couldn't even save Tienne! What was the *point* of it all?!" Jil stepped forward again, opening her mouth to say his name, but stopped again as she saw the glisten of tears on his cheeks. For a moment she was surprised, then chided herself for that reaction. *O'course he's moved ta tears,* she told herself. *This be disturbin' even ta me, and Tienne be his HOME.* She hovered over him for a moment, trying to find something to say... then her quandary was resolved as another Dragoon, this one on horseback, rode up toward Kyle's troops. Jil had often wondered why the Dragoons preferred horses - she suspected that it was because chocobos weren't stupid enough to allow someone wearing jet-propelled armor anywhere near them. After questioning the troops, the rider guided his mount toward Kyle. "Are you in command of these Dragoons?" he demanded. Kyle stood up, unashamed of his tears. "I am," he returned gruffly. "We did a Boost march from La Verde, but it looks like it was a wasted effort." The rider shook his head. "I heard that all Dragoons are going to be recalled from their posts in other cities - you would have had to come here anyway." "I see." "We're still sorting out what happened, but we'll get your men quartered and re-supplied." His gaze flickered to Kyle's rank insignia. "If I could get your name so I can tell them who to expect, Captain?" Kyle hesitated - he had no doubts that his father would have informed the Tienne Dragoons of his mutiny. *Ah, hell,* he decided, *it'd come out sooner or later.* "Cavanaugh. Kyle Cavanaugh." "Cavanaugh!" The Dragoon's eyes widened, and Kyle's grip tightened around the Lance for a moment... "Oh, sir... I'm so sorry to hear about your loss." "My... loss?!" He felt a fist gripping his heart - had Marcine...? "Of course... you wouldn't have heard yet. I'm sorry, sir, but... I'm afraid it's your father. Armand Cavanaugh is dead, sir." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- FINAL FANTASY LEGACY Knights of the Round Begun (and herein continued) by Brian Stricklin Chapter 38: Awakenings and Aftermaths -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Big brother?" "Yeah?" "How many times have we been taken prisoner so far?" Davin scratched his head. "Never thought about that... let's see here. The dwarves, the Ryukins, Moon Empire, and of course this time... four? Five, maybe? I lost count a while ago." "So... why didn't we escape this time? It's getting kinda boring." He glanced at Marcine, who sat quietly in one corner of their makeshift cell. "Got me, small fry." The Dragoons had been haggard and battle-weary; it would have been quite a simple matter to get away, even without hurting them. Davin had been surprised, therefore, when Marcine had stepped forward and surrendered unconditionally. Once the Dragoons had her in their grasp, the others had had no choice but to give themselves up as well. Davin had tried to get an explanation for Marcine's actions on the way to the hotel room which now doubled as a prison, but all she would say was, "It's time to stop running." That had been yesterday; they'd spent the night in one of Tienne's many inns, with Guards of course standing watch at the door - apparently the official jails had all been destroyed or severely damaged by the attack. In addition, they had all been fitted with rune manacles. Of course, only Marcine would be affected by them, but the soldiers had either been unaware of this fact, or unwilling to take any chances. Shaking his head, Davin stood up and walked to the room's sole window. He almost didn't recognize the streets below; was this smoke-filled, ravaged city really Tienne? Even with such a short attack, the Manakyr had done quite a bit of damage with their spells. He shuddered to think what would happen when Darovan's forces decided they wanted to finish the job... The sound of footsteps in the hallway made him turn, and he watched the door warily as the handle rattled. It opened slowly, and a moment later two Guardsmen stepped into the room, swords drawn. One of them, a bloodstained bandage around his temples, waved his weapon at their captive. "All right, you lot, over against the wall. Now!" Davin made no move to obey. "What, you're gonna execute us right here? Won't that get blood all over this nice carpet?" "*Shut up*, heretic!" the other Guard snapped. "You're just damn lucky the Dragoons didn't cut you down in the street!" The was a clatter of metal, and Shizuka's manacles fell to the floor. "This one suggests that you leave here now," she said politely, producing a knife from some hidden pocket. "We have no pressing need to injure you at this time." "Why, you-" "Enough." The command came from the hallway, and the Guardsmen immediately subsided. "There is no need for further conflict." An older woman, at least sixty years of age, entered the hotel room, her steps occasionally aided by an ornate staff. Her long, embroidered robes were sapphire blue in color; if this wasn't enough of a clue to her identity, the gold-edged tri-fan around her neck, its blue point situated prominently at the top, certainly was. Marcine, roused from her introspection, got to her feet and raised her hands to her mouth. "M... Mother Cecilina..." The High Priestess of Purity favored her with a faintly regretful smile. "Hello, my child. I trust you are well?" The young mage faltered. "I... I..." A wrinkled hand reached out and touched her cheek. "It seems only yesterday that you were attending Scripture study in the Cathedral. You were always such a quiet and obedient girl, I recall." Marcine flinched away. "Things change." With a sigh, Cecilina let her hand drop to her side. "So they do." There was another rattle as Shizuka unlocked Mika's manacles, and the alchemist rubbed her wrists absently. "Yeah, yeah, real touching scene here," Mika said. "Somehow, though, I get the feeling you're not here to talk about old times." Davin rolled his eyes. "Mika..." "It's all right," Cecilina said with a chuckle. "I simply wanted to-" "We know all about the Church's dark little secret, y'know!" the girl continued hotly. The color drained from the Priestess' face. "Secret?" "That's right! And if you lay one finger on us, we're gonna let the whole world know! You're going *down*, ya old bag! You and the rest of your partners in crime!" The bandaged Guardsman stepped forward with a scowl. "Blaspheming little urchin! We'll see how well you talk when I-" "SILENCE!" Cecilina glared at the two Guards. "Leave us." "But, your Holiness! We can't leave you alone with these heretics! They killed Father Lambert!" "What?" Davin stepped forward, ignoring the Guardsman's blade. "Lambert's dead?" The bandaged Guard sneered at him. "As if you didn't know! We found his body this morning, sliced clean apart! We know what that sword of yours can do, boy." "Sliced apart?" Davin was puzzled for a moment, then his eyes grew wide and he and Marcine exchanged glances. "Siegvin. It has to be." "I thought they were working together," Mika protested. "Maybe they just got sick of the sight of each other." He turned his attention back to the Guard. "No, I didn't kill Lambert, but I know who did." "A likely story! Just say the word, your Holiness, and I'll-" "No," she interrupted. "I'm certain I am in no danger from these four." She glanced at Mika. "No immediate danger, at least. Go." After the Guards had reluctantly left, the old woman sat down on one of the beds. "So. You think you know something, do you?" Davin nodded. It was clearly cards-on-the-table time. "We were down there after Darovan was released. We saw Lambert casting spells against him; pretty powerful ones, too, I think." Cecilina seemed to age twenty years in a matter of seconds. "I see." "And we also know that the Petrify spell is used to encase people in the Sinner's Wall." That part was actually a shot in the dark, but it seemed probable, and judging from her expression it had struck home. Marcine, who had been expecting vehement denial, looked closely at the Priestess. "You... you aren't surprised by that," she stated. "You knew about Lambert, and the Wall." "The Wall, yes. As for Lambert..." She sighed. "I'd heard rumors from his subordinates. Perhaps I should have confronted him, but the time never seemed right, and with Onias' death... But yes, I knew that Lambert is... was a mage." "Then... it's true what Darovan said. The Church has been exploiting magic for centuries, while at the same time killing and sealing anyone who happens to read the wrong books." A wince of pain crossed Cecilina's features. "I can't blame you for thinking that way... but the situation is a bit more complicated than that." Davin smiled grimly. "I'm not surprised - all we've gotten since we left Tienne in the first place is more complications." "This one regrets interrupting," Shizuka began, "but she is curious: if this knowledge is so dangerous, why are you not ordering our deaths so that we cannot tell anyone?" "Don't give her any ideas, Shizuka," Mika growled. "There has been quite enough deaths lately, young lady," the Priestess replied firmly. "I see no need to add to the tally. And at any rate, I suspect that the damage has already been done." Marcine looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Mother Cecilina?" The old woman hesitated, then slowly got to her feet. "I suppose I might as well show you. Follow me - I'll try to explain about the Wall on the way." "Where are we going?" "To meet the past, my dear. To meet the past." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Council of the Moon Empire, like so much of that country's culture, was steeped in ritual. There was a precise procedure to follow before the discussions could begin, which involved the recital of one's lineage, the sharing of sanctified wine, and a long, complicated oath to resolve the matters at hand as fairly and wisely as possible. The elders, each one the leader of a different Empire city, were always anxious to get through this part, so that they could get down to some serious shouting. The shouting was important. In a culture that put such great store in honesty, it was important to show that one possessed complete and utter faith in their convictions - the man with lesser convictions could not truthfully say that he was in the right, because otherwise there would be no room for doubt. Therefore, agreements tended to be won by whoever was loudest and most arrogant about his beliefs. Of *course* it must be like this! There is absolutely no question about it whatsoever! The subject for today was the reports of the attack on La Verde, and already the shouting was particularly outrageous. For her part, Gyn was there to advise, rather than decide, so allowed the debate to rage around her. As far as she could tell, there seemed to be three factions; one group maintained that the only ethical thing to do would be to provide aid to the Church in their time of need, one insisted that it was none of their concern, and the third had its eye on attacking La Verde while it was vulnerable. Fortunately, this faction was in the minority, but the other two seemed to be going strong, with no end in sight. Finally Gyn got to her feet, and the argument slowly ground to a halt as the elders turned their attention to the famed Oracle. "" she began, "" There was a confused murmur among the elders, though some of them, slightly better educated than their peers, remained silent. After a moment, Laori Enthen, elder of Indong and one of the 'do nothing' proponents, stood and faced her. "" "" She gestured, and a servant obediently stepped forward with a tightly-wound bundle of cloth. As the fabric was untied and opened, the gathered elders let out a hiss of surprise. Resting on the cloth, which was now placed in the center of the large table, was a gleaming blue sword, its blade oddly curved. Laori sputtered. "" She raised an eyebrow. "" "" The elder of Ramaz, little more than Laori's toady, took a sip of wine before continuing. "" "" Gyn replied smoothly. "" Kayeh flushed as a ripple of laughter crossed the room, and Gyn continued. "" She held out her hand, and on cue her assistant placed a scroll in it. Opening the scroll, she began to recite, more from memory than from what was before her. "" Another low murmur of discussion arose, and Gyn returned the scroll to her assistant. "" she announced. "" A few moments passed, then Laori, who had been studying a similar scroll, coughed. "" She simply smiled at his attempt to parry. "" "" "" "" A young man, one of the palace's many servants, came rushing in, red-faced and out of breath. Kayeh, who'd had a bit too much to drink at this point, laughed at the boy. "" Laori rolled his eyes. "" "" Gyn shook her head, then turned back toward the servant. "" "" A strange expression crossed the youth's face, and Laori's eyebrows knotted together in annoyance. "" "" "" "" He shifted uncomfortably under their combined stare - they couldn't say he was lying, but were edging toward saying he was insane. "" -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Yes, the Church has used magic, ever since the Wall was introduced. Possibly even before then - I admit I haven't done much research on that subject." Angry, Mika trotted ahead of Cecilina and put her hands on her hips. "So you're telling me you chased Marcine all over the world for helping someone, when you guys use magic all the time to hurt people? You're nothing but a big bunch of... of hippopotamuses!" "Hypocrites," Shizuka murmured. "Yeah, that too!" "Please understand," the priestess said. "The intention was never selfish. The Cult of the Manakyr was always out there, looking for those with the talent for magic. If we hadn't kept up a strict prohibition, the Cult would have been much more powerful than it already is." Davin looked dubious. "That's all it was, then? Keeping recruits away from the Manakyr?" "Not at all. Despite everything, we still believe that the use of magic is sinful." She looked down. "At least, *most* of us do. And we did our best to limit our own use of it." "How so?" Cecilina paused, then lifted her tri-fan pendant. "Each High Priest or Priestess is given a specific responsibility," she explained. "The Priest of Courage is entrusted with the actual casting, as it requires courage to accept a bit of sin in the name of the greater good. However, only the Priest of Wisdom may provide him with the texts he needs to learn the spells, and is trusted to limit him to only what is absolutely essential. And only the Priestess of Purity can authorize the actual use of spells, and must do so in a calm and unbiased manner." He rubbed his chin. "A nice little system... in theory." She shrugged and continued walking along the ruined streets of Tienne. "It's worked almost flawlessly for centuries, young man. Remember, one does not rise this high in the Church without being *very* pious. I myself was utterly shocked when my predecessor explained things to me... but in time, I saw the logic behind it. Unfortunately, if someone that has no such qualms is appointed High Priest, particularly in the service of Courage..." "...like Lambert." "...like Lambert," she agreed sadly. "I can only assume he found some grimoires somewhere, and was careful enough not to alert Onias and I of his new skills. Nevertheless, he was the exception, and not the rule." "So, if you're so sure that magic is evil, why are you treating us so well? I'm getting kind of edgy waiting for the other shoe to drop." "I'm... not entirely sure, to be honest. I wanted to see Marcine again, simply because I couldn't believe she was the same person that we heard was leading the Manakyr. If nothing else, I doubt even the most talented mage would rise so high in but a single month." She hesitated. "In addition, there have been new... facts brought to my attention, facts that trouble me deeply." "What kind of facts?" When there was no answer, Marcine lifted her head and turned to the Priestess... then, somewhat surprised, looked around. "Wait... I know this place. We're close to my home!" "Indeed we are," Cecilina confirmed, and led the group to a finely- wrought iron gate, the Cavanaugh family crest engraved upon it. There were several Guardsman flanking the gate - they started to raise their weapons as the group approached, but subsided when they saw the Priestess. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she continued, "but we're a bit short on usable space and there wasn't anywhere else to put them." "Put who?" "I told you, child: the past." The Guards opened the gate, and Davin and his companions stepped into a courtyard filled with people. There were perhaps three hundred of them, clustered here and there around the property. The Cavanaugh estate consisted of a stable, practice grounds, a small grove of trees, and various other perks that came with being the oldest established family in Tienne; despite the generous size, however, the uninvited guests seemed a bit pressed for space, though they carefully avoided the large mansion in the center of the grounds. Some of the people seemed rather subdued, barely looking up as the newcomers arrived, while others were engaged in animated conversation, and- "Hey!" Mika's eyes grew wide as a nearby man, chatting with two women who were nodding in agreement, held his hands apart and chanted briefly - a moment later, lightning sparked between his palms. "That guy just used magic! Right out in the open, and stuff!" Marcine looked at Cecilina. "You can't be using my home as a prison for Manakyr, can you?" "Not at all, child. Any that we captured are being held quite securely elsewhere, and are firmly manacled. No, these people are-" But before she could explain, a wizened old man seemed to notice their presence and approached, moving rather spryly for his age. "Ah, Cecilina! Thou dost bring us some more, eh?" He spoke with an oddly stilted accent - it reminded Davin of Stine's mode of speech, except that it flowed more naturally and, if anything, seemed even more archaic. "We'll not have room to breathe before too long." To everyone's surprise, the High Priestess of Purity knelt before this elderly figure, supporting herself with her staff of office as she did so. "Many apologies, your grace. I'm afraid things are still a bit confused." He shook his head, urging her to get up. "Nay, nay, don't 'your grace' me, my dear. I be just a man, simple as that." He turned to look over the newcomers. "What be this, though? I naer expected such bairns to be included among us!" He knelt down next to Mika, who watched him warily. "When didst thou get entombed in the Wall, child? What year?" "Huh? I was never in that dumb ol' Wall, you weirdo," said Mika, Mistress of Tact. She glanced back at Cecilina. "Who's this old geezer?" "This," the Priestess explained, "is His Grace, Wallace Carpenter." Marcine gasped. "You... you mean... *Saint* Wallace?" The old man treated her with a wry grin. "Aye, so they tell me." Mika blinked. "Who?" "He... he was a High Priest of Wisdom," Marcine told her shakily. "He devoted his life to helping children and improving the quality of life. He helped develop public school systems, free hospitals, libraries..." "He even had a hand in the creation of the Mystic Academy," Davin added. Wallace smiled. "The Academy still stands, eh? 'Tis good to hear - I didst fear that it wouldst not be tolerated by my colleagues for long." "But that was all about three hundred years ago," Marcine protested. "After you... I mean, after *he* died, he was elevated to sainthood by the Church." "Aye? Well, I doth feel rather healthy for a dead man," he replied cheerfully. She turned to the grim-looking Priestess. "Mother Cecilina, what's going on?" The Priestess of Purity sighed. "When the Manakyr airships dropped their cargo of Soft, they did more than just free their comrades." Marcine stared at her. "You mean...?" "Aye." For once, Wallace's smile faded. "I, and all these people, are loyal subjects of the Church who were condemned to the Wall of Fools for our 'crimes'. Not Manakyr, look you, but true and patriotic citizens who merely sought answers to their questions. Even I was deemed heretic, though not a single spell hast e'er crossed mine lips." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- At Kyle's request, he and the other had been escorted to the city morgue. Needless to say, it was crowded at the moment... but a place of honor, as it were, had been reserved for the commander of the Dragoons. Kyle found himself holding his breath as he approached the shrouded figure. Hands shaking, he pulled back the cloth... then let out a deep sigh. *Oh, Father... why did it have to end with bad blood between us? Why couldn't I have made you understand...?* A low murmur arose next to him, and he was surprised to see Beastmaster Stine there. He was holding his tri-fan pendant tightly and whispering - Kyle couldn't understand the language, but it sounded like a prayer. Finally, Stine opened his eyes and gazed mournfully down at Armand's body. "'Tis a sad day for the Church," he said quietly, and Kyle could only nod. "Ye knew him, Stine?" Jil asked. "Aye, though only by reputation. Stine didst always look up to the famous Commander of Tienne. He was a paragon of the Church, and a true champion of its Citizens." Thoughts of how this 'paragon' had acted toward his own children, not to mention Davin's father, flew through Jil's mind, but she held her tongue out of respect for the dead. Kyle sighed again. "I never really expected him to die. Not like this. He was always the one big constant in my life - we had our arguments, but he was there to anchor me when I needed it." He suddenly chuckled. "You know, I almost went off to the Mystic Academy instead of joining the Dragoons?" "What, you?" It was hard for Jil to picture him as something other than a Dragoon. "Mainly because there were supposedly plenty of women in the Academy," he admitted. "We had a huge fight about that, but he finally talked some sense into me. And now... and now he's gone. I just wish I could have talked to him one last time..." Stine laid a hand on his shoulder. "Stine understands, Kyle. But it doth not be too late." He blinked. "What?" The Beastmaster nodded solemnly. "Thou canst still gain thine father's forgiveness. Thou needst only visit the Church and allow thineself to be sealed in the Wall of Fools." "WHAT?!" His voice was, among the silence of the dead, almost obscenely loud, but he didn't care. "'Tis the only path for thine redemption," Stine insisted. "If thou dost recant thine heresy and accept the consequences, Stine knows that thine father will forgive thee from the hereafter." Kyle knocked the Beastmaster's hand from his shoulder. "The hell you say! I thought you had accepted that magic isn't necessarily evil." He scowled. "Stine didst, admittedly, think thusly when thou didst heal him. But then thou didst unleash that truly unholy spell, destroying thine enemies with honorless magic." "X-Zone..." Kyle could feel it still, looming in the back of his mind. It was too powerful for him to cast again any time soon, but the memory of its effects stayed with him. "Stine was willing to travel with thou for the sake of Tienne," the Beastmaster rumbled, "but now there doth no reason to aid a heretic such as thou." "You idiot," Kyle growled, "you don't have a *clue* what's going on, do you? Everything I've been doing, everything *Marcine* has been doing has been for the sake of the Church! There's evil out there greater than you can even imagine!" "Nevertheless, Stine will follow his own path come the morrow." He glanced at Armand, then sneered. "Stine doth only be sorry that such a fine and noble man hath been succeeded by a pair of worthless heretics." Kyle glared at him, then pointed at his father's corpse. "There's a few things you should know about that 'fine and noble man' you admire so much. He... he..." Moments passed, then he let his hand drop. "The hell with it. I'm going home." After Kyle had stormed out, Jil in tow, Stine hesitated for a long moment before following. He fully intended to follow his own path, but it would help to know where the path should take him... -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As High Priest of Wisdom, Wallace had been entrusted with the keeping of the ancient Manakyr tomes which contained the secrets of magic. He was not at all tempted to learn these secrets himself; well, maybe a bit tempted, but not enough to act on those impulses. He was, however, keenly interested in the history of the Manakyr and how it compared to the Church's records. So he dug, immersing himself in old books for weeks at a time, and eventually made some surprising discoveries. At first, he assumed the Manakyr records were incorrect, but the more he cross-referenced them with holy scripture, one fact became more and more irrefutable. "True Majik," he explained, "was originally never intended to be classified as a sin." "What?" Marcine was stunned. "But the heresy of magic is one of the cornerstones of the Church's beliefs!" "Aye," Wallace agreed, "it did become so over time. But at first, it was accepted by the Church..." he paused, to build the dramatic suspense, "...because the Gods themselves... are Sleepers!" He leaned back, prepared to bask in the gasps of surprise... Mika nodded. "Yeah, makes sense." "Probably easy to tolerate a little Fire spell when your Gods can level mountains," Davin agreed. "Though I bet they still weren't too sure what to make of Clea when she showed up." "Indeed, nay," St. Wallace said, slightly annoyed. "But her intentions were pure and her actions just, so she was accepted by most of the Church. O'er time, with the actions of Darovan, more and more restrictions were placed upon the evil use of True Majik, until finally just the knowledge of spells turned from illegal to heretical. We became so afraid of its capacity to be used for evil, that we shunned all possible uses for it, good or bad." "And Callings too, I assume?" "Oh, Callings came later, of course - Darovan himself was the first among Callers. The only real restriction on such things, one that had existed since the Church began, was this: 'Thou shalt not disturb the Three Gods in their slumber, lest their eternal captive be released.'" Marcine looked down at her hands. "Then... I really *am* a heretic," she said quietly. "I've summoned both Shiva and Ramuh, Purity and Wisdom." "Thou hast?" The old man quickly turned his attention to her. "But that should be impossible! The Sleepers are sealed, never to be Called again! Unless..." His eyes narrowed. "Who *art* thou, my dear?" "Well, my name is Marcine Cavanaugh... but I know what you're really asking. Yes, I'm apparently Darovan's Legacy." "Cavanaugh... aye, I shouldst have recognized it. Thou hast the Cavanaugh cheekbones." Wallace considered for a moment. "This explains much. Sadly, the Manakyr texts were quite cryptic concerning the Legacy... but as I recall, once it, or rather *thou*, appears, the Gods are destined to be unsealed regardless." "Not if we can help it," Davin said grimly. "At any rate, that be my story. 'Twas this knowledge, and my intent to share it with the world, that made me a heretic." "Knowledge..." Davin blinked, then looked at Cecilina. "I think I understand what you said about 'the damage is already done'. These people," he continued, gesturing toward the group Wallace referred to as 'the Awakened', "they must know that the Priests know magic, since they had Petrify cast on them when they were sealed." She nodded. "And this isn't everyone that was released - many of those who were imprisoned have almost certainly fled the city, seeking to make new lives for themselves. Sooner or later, the word will spread about the Church's greatest secret, and there's nothing we can do about it. One cannot unbreak an egg, particularly one this size." There seemed to be nothing to say about this, so silence reigned for a moment. Finally, Davin looked at the Priestess. "So, what do you intend to do with us now? With Marcine?" "Do?" She shook her head. "One heretic among hundreds scarcely matters at this point. I cannot give you my blessing, but I will not stop you, either. You should take your friends and hide somewhere until this is all over." He quirked a smile. "Not my style. Besides, we've got much more important things to do. We have to get going to Dwarvenhome and find the Crystal of Courage before Darovan does - if he breaks it, we're all done for." "Dwarvenhome? The Crystal of Courage?" She peered more closely at Davin and his companions. "What precisely are you talking about?" "It's... a long story." "I have time," Cecilina said firmly. "Particularly if it involves Darovan." "Aye, I would be most interested as well," Wallace said. "Okay. Better get comfortable, then - this'll take a while." He took a deep breath. "It all started back when Marcine got arrested for heresy..." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- There was a patch of water a few miles off the coast of Tienne. For hundreds of years it had remained undisturbed, except by the occasional trading ship passing through. Even the local fishermen avoided it, mainly because their nets became tattered wrecks within hours, and their lines snapped at the slightest tug. Far, far below the waves, there was an ancient tower. Though it had been there centuries, it bore not the slightest trace of age, and even the iron hinges on its door were free of rust. It had remained just as it was when it was first created. And now, with a great rumbling of stone upon stone, causing bizarre eddies and currents around it, the tower began to rise. The process took several hours to complete, and it would be some time before the citizens of Tienne noticed the sudden appearance of the serious navigational hazard. Nevertheless, it rose until the top of the tower was well above the waves, slowly drying in the afternoon sun. Above the tower doors, gleaming in the light, rested a large and flawless aquamarine. Only one familiar with the Manakyr language would recognize the symbol for Water engraved upon it. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The tale had indeed lasted quite a while, and the sun was edging toward the horizon by the time Davin's story drew to a close. Several of the Awakened had sat down to listen, as much due to Davin's oratory skills as the facts involved. When he finished, Davin and his friends were immediately overwhelmed with questions; the Awakened were, of course, curious by nature - otherwise they wouldn't have studied magic - and the tales of ferocious monsters, mighty spells, and distant lands had a compelling allure. They continued to press Davin for more information, which gave Cecilina a much-needed chance to slip away and think about things. It all seemed... fanciful, if not an outright lie. Onias' murder at Lambert's order. Ghosts and living armor, dwarves and demons. Ashgar, the Ryukins, and the Moon Empire. The discovery of the Knights, and the death of a friend. Battling Manakyr at La Verde, and facing Darovan himself below Tienne. And through it all danced a solitary masked figure, a Fallen Sleeper, who seemed determined to take the life of Darovan's Legacy. Her first impulse was to dismiss it all as fantasy. And yet... And yet there was too much that had the ring of truth, that confirmed suspicions she'd had for quite a while. And if the entire story was true, then the situation was much more grave than she had originally thought... "Excuse, please..." She looked up with a start - the Ryukin girl was standing over her, having approached in complete silence. "Yes, my child?" Shizuka bowed. "This one deeply regrets any distress we may be causing you. She knows it may be difficult to hear such things about Father Lambert..." The Priestess shook her head. "No, child. I suspected him of studying powerful magic for many years, and I've *always* known of his... rather ruthless tactics." Cecilina hesitated, then sighed. "But I fear for the future of the Church. Even if Darovan is defeated, everyone will know what we've done, and everything we've accomplished will be as nothing. The Church as we know it is dead." The young ninja considered this statement for a moment. "This one politely disagrees." "Pardon me?" "This one knows the Church has done terrible things. And she knows it will have to answer for its deeds, which is how it should be. But she has seen how the people of the Church behave. They are very loyal, perhaps even as loyal as her own people are to the Ryukin Emperor. Despite everything, this one thinks that they will understand your reasons." Cecilina shook her head. "How... how can you say that with such certainty, child?" Shizuka paused, then turned to look at the Awakened. "This one has spoken to them, the ones most unfairly hurt by the Church. Did you know how bravely they had fought against the Manakyr, once they awoke?" "I..." Truth to tell, there *had* been rather more Manakyr casualties than the Guardsmen and Dragoons could account for. "Many of them were injured or killed in the battle, all in defense of Tienne. Their first impulse after being released was to defend their home against the invaders. This one does not doubt that there will be difficulties, but in time, she thinks there will be an understanding." "The lass be right, Cecilina," a familiar voice called, and St. Wallace approached them. "The Church hath made poor choices in the past, but if thou dost make the right ones now, I think thine people will eventually forgive you." The Priestess sighed. "But Darovan-" "What of him?" He smiled at her kindly. "Darovan destroyed Tienne before, yet here it be. We rebuilt the city once, and we'll rebuild it again, as many times as necessary. Besides, if he doth decide to finish the job, I'll wager that we can give him a nasty surprise. Thou couldst do worse than inviting the Awakened to join you against him." "I can't expect the Dragoons to fight alongside heretics!" "*Not* heretics," he corrected firmly. "Patriots. Mages they may be, but they be as faithful to the Three Gods as you or I." Despite herself, Cecilina managed a wry grin. "I think that will be more difficult to explain than our own misdeeds." He chuckled. "All worthwhile things are difficult. 'Tis the nature of the universe." "What the HELL is going on here?! What are all these damn people doing in my front yard?" The three of them looked up just as a crimson-armored young man strode through the gate, brushing past the Guardsmen outside. Quickly Marcine got to her feet. "Kyle!" His eyes widened, and he dropped the gold-bladed spear he carried. "Marcine!" Two more figures entered behind the Dragoon, and Davin broke into a grin. "Jil!" She nodded to him with a wink. "Davin." Mika hopped to her feet as well. "Stine! STINE?!" "HERETIC!" The Beastmaster's sword was out in a flash, and he advanced toward Marcine. "Didst thou think thou couldst hide from Stine in Tienne itself? IT DOESN'T MATTER what thou didst-" *PAF!* A small glass vial broke against Stine's chin, and though he tried to hold his breath, he still managed to inhale just enough sleep gas. The rapier fell from his hand, and he collapsed into a peacefully snoring heap. "That," Mika said to nobody in particular, "was close. Hate to see his reaction when he found out he was in the middle of a couple hundred mages." "Kyle..." Marcine stepped closer to her brother, her voice catching. "F... father is... He's..." "Shh." He pulled her close into a hug, and she began to cry helplessly against his shoulder. "I know, sis. I know." "He, he died to protect me," she sobbed. "Just like Syeira. I... I never even got to tell him that... that..." Watching from afar as Kyle gently held his sister, Cecilina allowed a slow breath to escape. "The last two members of the Cavanaugh family," she said quietly. "The proudest line in Tienne, the standards many hold themselves up to... and the daughter is not only a heretic, but linked to Darovan himself." "Master Kyle also knows the Magical Arts, and has performed a Calling," Shizuka informed her. "From what this one has heard, all Cavanaughs share the blood of Darovan." "What?" That had been left out of Davin's story. "But then... that would mean..." "It doth mean," Saint Wallace told her, "that even the most noble and pious citizen doth have the capacity for True Majik. That may be a sign worth considering, perhaps?" Cecilina nodded slowly. "Perhaps it is, at that." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Laliho, yer honor!" Tharlo Bridgebreaker, mayor of Dwarvenhome and, technically, the Dwarven King, glanced up and nodded at the dwarf framed in his doorway. "Laliho, Drond. Join me in a mug o' fungus tea?" "Don't mind if I do." With a clank of armor, the dwarf took a seat on one of the office's stone chairs and removed his helmet. "How be th' new copper tunnels?" "Passin' well, passin' well." Tharlo lifted a kettle from a small, rune-heated stove and poured its strong-smelling contents into two ceramic mugs. "There be traces of iron mixed in, but th' chief miner tells me we'll hit the pure vein in a year or two. How's yer son? I heard 'twas quite the reunion." Drond nodded solemnly. "Ach, so 'twas. Haen't seen Olaf in nigh unto a century - 'twas good of him ta visit his old da." He took a swig of the pungent tea, then stared into the mug thoughtfully. "There be somethin' I was meanin' ta tell ye... Ah, yes. I went down to th' Sanctuary yesterday." "Aye?" "Aye. Seems that th' Fire Crystal be flickerin' and flashin' somethin' fierce. 'Tis holdin' up fer now, but it dinnae look good. Might shatter at any moment, so it might." "Oh, aye?" Tharlo considered this. "Could be gettin' close to th' end o' th' world, then." "Aye." The Dwarf King gave it further contemplation, then made a note on a nearby work assignment schedule. "Best move the crew off of the copper tunnels, then. I'd hate ta have them spend their last days minin' impure ore." "'Tis just what I be thinkin'," the other dwarf agreed. "I appreciate ye tellin' me that, Drond, I surely do. Now, what d'ye think of these tungsten-ta-lead ratios comin' out of Shaft #12? I think we can get better performance with a twelve-degree turn to the right." "Are ye daft? 'Tis nothin' but rock and a two-percent occurrence of low-grade tin there! Now, take it to the *left*..." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- After exchanging news of recent developments, the six companions entered the Cavanaugh mansion. The family servants, already in the middle of cooking large amounts of food for the uninvited guests outside, were utterly thrilled at the arrival of the young Master and Mistress of the house. Though Marcine seemed nervous, the servants dismissed her admitted heresy as being less important than her safe return home - a fact that made Cecilina a bit more thoughtful. The next morning, after a night in the largest, softest, most comfortable bed he'd ever seen, Davin was awoken by the sound of loud clanking outside. At first he dismissed it as the movements of Dragoons, or possibly the beginning of the efforts to rebuild Tienne. After a while, however, the shouts began to filter through his early morning haze. "Please get out of there, miss!" "Aw, c'mon. Just five more minutes. This is cool!" "But it's dangerous, miss! Someone could get hurt!" "Oh, stop complaining. I'm getting the hang of it. Hey, what's this do?" "DON'T PUSH THAT!" Annoyed, Davin rolled over and peered through the window... Five seconds later he was on his feet (still dressed - after sleeping in his clothes for so long, he'd lost the habit of doing it any other way) and rushing down the hall. "Everyone, wake up!" he barked. "There's a GOLeM on the loose out there!" He burst from the front door and forced his way through the crowd of Awakened; most of them had been sealed long before steam technology had been developed, and they watched the mechanical beast with a mixture of fear and fascination. It was of a spider-like design, with a wagon- sized central body supported by several thin, articulated legs. *This looks to be a small one,* Davin thought as he raised his sword. *I should be able to take care of it myself...* Then he realized what was wrong: GOLeMs, in his experience, didn't have hair. Especially red hair, with yellow ribbons braided into it. "Morning, big brother!" Mika waved to him from atop... no, actually partly inside the GOLeM's main body. "Isn't this cool?" "Yeah. Cool. Really cool. What the heck *is* it?" "Mother Cecilina sent it to us, so we can get to Dwarvenhome faster. It's called a spider-walker!" "Actually, miss," a rather nauseous-sounding voice from inside the GOLeM added, "it's the Prototype Arachnid-class Steam Walker 37-A, Mark Three." "Shut up! I'm naming it the spider-walker!" "Yes, miss. Whatever you say, miss. Can we get out now?" Davin raised an eyebrow; behind him, Kyle, Marcine and Shizuka filed out of the mansion and blinked in the morning light. "Who's up there with you?" A familiar armored man carefully raised himself into view - the red helmet he wore didn't quite go with his green complexion. "It's me, sir," Martin said. "Glad to see you're not dead yet." "Uh, me too. Aren't steam engines really hard to maintain, though? They're not really practical for long distances." "Nah, this one's a new design," Mika informed him. "Really efficient and reliable. Plus it's got all these legs, so we can get over mountains and stuff really easily!" "Huh. I guess Cecilina decided to help us after all. I wonder what changed her mind?" Behind him, Shizuka remained silent. A new voice rang out across the courtyard. "Young lady, you get down from that thing this *instant*!" If anything, Mika's smile grew broader. "No *way*!" She fiddled with the controls until the cabin was at ground level, then hopped out and ran toward the gate, where a large, matronly woman carrying a satchel had pushed her way through the rather beleaguered Guards. "Mrs. Walters!" Marcine blinked. "Who's that?" "Our next-door neighbor," Davin explained with a grin. "She helped look out for Mika while I was on the road." Despite the young alchemist's glee, Mrs. Walters sported a stern expression. "When old Mrs. Peters down the street told me she saw you yesterday, I thought she was just senile. Where have you *been* for the past month, young lady? Ever since the Guards came and searched your house, I've been worried sick about you!" "I've been out adventuring," she claimed proudly. "Big brother and I have been-" "I might have known!" She advanced on Davin, who instinctively backed up with a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, Mister Highwater. You've finally dragged your innocent little sister into a life of crime." "Well, it wasn't exactly my ideaOOWWWW!" She redoubled her grip on his ear. "What was that?" "N-nothing, Mrs. Walters." "Good." She released him, ignoring Kyle and Marcine's giggles, then turned back to Mika. "Well, at least you're home now. Come along - you've got a month's worth of homework to finish. Chop chop!" "Awwwwww! But I *can't* stay, Mrs. Walters! We've gotta go to Dwarvenhome so we can save the world, and I'm the only one who can get us in because I'm the one who fought the big ugly demon so the dwarves wouldn't be bothered by gloom rats for another twenty years!" "What?" She treated Davin to another glare. "What sort of nonsense have you been filling this girl's head with, young man?" "Anyway," Mika continued, "I've been practicing my alchemy a lot on the road, and I've done things I hardly ever read about in those boring old books." "Hmph! Experience is all well and good, but there's no substitute for a solid education. Well, I suppose there's nothing for it then but to come along with you." Davin's eyes bugged out, and he coughed. "That's... uh... not a good idea." As she turned a baleful eye on him, he spoke quickly. "It's going to be dangerous out there, and-" "All the more reason for me to accompany you," she insisted. "*Someone* has to keep your sister out of danger. Besides, at least this way I can be sure that Mika is keeping up with her studies." "Um... excuse me, Mrs. Walters?" Marcine stepped forward hesitantly. "Mika has done some pretty impressive things while we were traveling, and we really *do* need her to come with us." The older woman looked her over. "And who might you be, missy?" "Me?" She hesitated, not sure how far her reputation as a heretic had spread. "My name is Marcine Cavanaugh." "Cavanaugh, is it?" She glanced at Davin, then a sly grin crossed her features. "I see, I see. Well, in that case, I won't be a burden." She hefted the satchel. "Your books are in here - I'll expect you to read a chapter every night." Mika made a face. "Yes, Mrs. Walters." Nevertheless, her gaze flickered to the spider-walker - that looked *much* more interesting than alchemy at the moment... "I also packed some food - I thought we'd have a little picnic, but it seems you're in a hurry - and also..." She paused, her hand still in the satchel. "I hate to tell you this, Mika, but I'm afraid your house got destroyed in the attack. One of those mechanical things blew up right next to it?" "Really? That sucks." "You don't seem too worried," Marcine noted. The young girl shrugged. "It wasn't really a home or anything - we just lived there after our village was destroyed. Besides, being on the road is more fun." She turned back to her neighbor. "Did anything make it through okay? My clothes? My moogle clock? My Gyn Samson action figures?" "I haven't found those yet," Mrs. Walters admitted, "but I did find... this!" And she lifted her hand, revealing a misshapen, frayed construction of fabric and stuffing. Its eyes were mis-matched, one of its yarn-made nostrils had come undone, and numerous patches covered its surface. It looked vaguely like a dragon, vaguely like a bear, but mostly like an amorphous blob with legs and wings. "Griever!" Mika happily took the plush monster, then playfully smacked it around a bit. "How's it going, you ugly critter?" Davin chuckled. "It figures he'd be the only thing to survive. After everything you've done to him over the years, getting blown up by a GOLeM is probably nothing." Shizuka stepped forward, her usual calm expression marred by a faint, puzzled smile. "Mistress Mika... what is that?" Mika released the chokehold she had the... thing in, and held it up for the ninja's inspection. "This is Griever! I've had him ever since I was a kid. Whenever I played with my toys, he was always the big evil monster that had to be beaten up." "And Mika always liked to add realism to her games," Davin added with a grin. "Yep! Remember when I tied rocks to his legs and dropped him down the village well? I can still see the look on..." She suddenly realized that everyone was looking at her, and she self-consciously hid Griever behind her back. "Of course... playing with stuffed animals is just kids stuff. I'm too old for that sort of thing." "Oh, of course," Kyle said understandingly, trying to hide a grin. "Well, that'll be it, then," Mrs. Walters decided. "You take care of yourself, young lady." She turned to leave... then, with a knowing smile, nudged Marcine in the ribs. "And you... I expect you to make a respectable man out of young Davin, understand? Of course, you don't want an old chaperone like me around for that... Ta-ta!" After she'd left, Mika scratched her head. "Well, that was a lot easer than I... huh? Marcine, why are you and big brother blushing like that?" Just then the door behind them burst open, and a rather disheveled Jil emerged, shuriken in hand. "Curse me bones to th' four winds fer oversleepin'! What be that thing?" "Oh, the spider-walker?" Mika grinned, distracted by a chance to show off her new toy, and Davin and Marcine breathed a sigh of relief. "This is our ride to Dwarvenhome!" "On that mechanical monstrosity?" The captain shuddered theatrically. "Thank ye, no. I be glad I'm not goin' that way." The girl blinked. "You're leaving us, Jil?" "Not exactly," Kyle explained. "She and I are going to be looking for the Knights - this Cid character may be looking for them, but I figure the more people we have searching, the better our chances. And Jil's Phoenix Compass can probably find them pretty easily." "I wish we didn't have to part again so soon," Marcine said plaintively. "I know, sis. Don't worry, though - we'll keep in touch." He nodded at the spider-walker. "I've seen the plans for this, and there should be a radio set on board. We'll give you a call when we find one." "But shouldn't you at least take someone with you? You might meet up with Siegvin, or the Knights themselves might attack you." He rubbed his chin. "You've got a point." Kyle glanced over at Martin, who was just now cautiously climbing out of the machine. "How about it, Martin? Ready for another trip?" The Dragoon stood up shakily. "Sorry, sir, but me and Reill have been reassigned. They need every man they can find to guard the city. I'm just here because I brought the Prototype Arac... uh, I mean, the spider-walker." "I see." Marcine looked around. "I hate to say it, but... what about Stine?" "He left a little after I woke up," Mika told her. "He rode off on that big monster of his, saying he'd had enough of consorting with heretics for a while. Said he was gonna go find Pearl." "I don't think I'd be that desperate anyway. Well, maybe we'll just go by ourselves," Kyle decided. Marcine shook her head. "It's too dangerous..." "Hey, here's an idea," Mika chirped. "Shizuka, why don't you go with them?" "What?" The young ninja looked almost alarmed. "Has... has this one done something to make Mistress Mika send her away?" Rolling her eyes, Mika gave Shizuka a quick hug. "No, silly! You're my friend - I'm never gonna just send you away. But Kyle and Jil are gonna need help, and you're the only one I can trust to take care of them." "But... but this one's place is with you. Her duty is to protect Mistress Mika. Master Cid said..." "Yeah, yeah, I know." Mika thought for a moment, then suddenly brightened. "That's it!" She turned to the rather dejected ninja. "Shizuka?" "Yes, Mistress Mika?" She held out the malformed plush monster. "I need you to protect Griever for me." Shizuka blinked, and stared at the toy uncomprehendingly. "He means a lot to me, so I can't take him into Dwarvenhome. Those dwarves are weird - there's no telling what they'll do to him. They might try to eat him or something. So you keep him safe until I get back, okay? Protect him as if he were me." Shizuka gazed at the stuffed animal a moment longer, then nodded and took it carefully. "This one will safeguard Griever with her life if necessary." "Uh... you don't need to go *that* far. He's pretty durable." "This one understands, Mistress Mika." "And it's just Mika!" "Yes, Mistress Mika." "Well, that's settled, then," Davin decided. "C'mon, folks - it's time to get moving. Our only hope is to get to Dwarvenhome before Darovan finds it, and to get the Heartstones before Siegvin does. It's called a race, people, and there's no prize for second best. Let's *move*!" -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- High Priestess Cecilina walked the hallways of the Grand Cathedral slowly, her mind racing. Miraculously, the Cathedral itself had escaped serious damage - perhaps the Three Gods had protected it after all... Did she dare enlist the Awakened? The soldiers of the Church had been selected for their piety, particularly the Dragoons - there would be friction between the two groups, of that she was sure. Then again, St. Wallace had had a point: the best counter to Darovan's mages would be a group of mages loyal to the Church, fighting fire with fire as it were. And the Church had collected an impressive amount of spellbooks over the years, mostly confiscated from Manakyr prisoners, so it would be easy to... The murmur of a small crowd interrupted her train of thought, and she looked up to see a group of novices clustered around a door. "What's going on here?" she demanded. "M-Mother Cecilina!" At the sight of the High Priestess, the novices grew quiet... except for one, who was pushed forward by her companions. "Um... we heard that... that..." "Heard what?" "Well... some of the Guards found him and brought him in and one of them said he was *sure* that he was him but I said he couldn't *possibly* be him because he's dead but he said that he's gotta be him because he looks like him and-" "Enough!" Cecilina rubbed her forehead to ward off the growing headache. "Who's this 'him' you refer to? And I don't mean the Guardsman." They told her. Five seconds later, Cecilina entered the Cathedral's infirmary. There was a Guard there, watching the most recent patient with mingled suspicion and awe; the Priestess ignored him and bent over the bed, her eyes falling briefly on the bloodstained bandages across the man's chest. "So... it *is* you!" "Hello, Cecilina," Cid said weakly. "It's been a long time." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=- AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, a day late due to e-mail difficulties, and not as complete as I might have liked, but here it is. And whew, talk about full circle - we're leaving Tienne for the second time, with the traditional 'you've been everywhere, so now you can get there easier' vehicle. ^_^ Anyway, just a few notes: First and foremost, let me say this: GRIEVER IS A TOY! Not a Sleeper, not a Knight of the Round, not Mika's guardian freakin' angel, but a TOY. Anyone trying to make him more than what he is, is asking for a pimp-slap. ^_^ Secondly, for Scott Schimmel... Scott, dude, stop killing the characters, will ya? There are better ways to prevent character bloat, y'know... ^_^;; Thanks go out to Brett, Madsman, and NinjaDebugger for prereading, and to Lurker and Terence for *wanting* to preread. Extra props to Terence for the Glossary, without which this chapter would have been much more confused. To all future authors, I strongly recommend getting with Terence and Lurker to discuss your ideas. We're in the home stretch, and they've got the best handle on how things fit together. (I sort of do as well, but I'm notoriously biased, and I have to be in the right mood to really discuss FFL's future. ^_^;)