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The guards shifted uneasily. Today was not a day to have to be on duty. Bernuka was angry, and he was making his temper known. Two guards were already seriously injured. No one knew the reason for the master's anger; his military action had been a success. The appearance of two bands of armed human soldiers might have been the cause, but Bernuka had said that they would be coming. He had nullified the threat and proved that his magic was greater than all the human's combined might. But that had not stopped him from returning in a barely suppressed rage. Some few thought
Bernuka paced, allowing himself the indulgence of a little rage. He had given his guards and servants countless reasons to fear his wrath already. Soon it would be time to punish them. He smiled, a forced expression, delighting in his deviousness. Punished for serving him, punished for disobeying him, always fearing him. Now, however, it was time for some... diplomacy. He felt his anger flaring again, but controlled himself. He crushed his anger, as he crushed everything. The box buzzed, precisely on time.
"Bernuka," said the face on the screen. "I'm very disappointed in you. Do--"
"I'm wounded deeply, Enric," crooned Bernuka, feigning hurt while emphasizing the speakers name. The blurry face jumped and writhed, but the flash of anger in the eyes of the young man was easily detected.
"I will not waste my breath playing these little games with you, wizard," said the man, coldly. "I know everything. Allowing you to terrorize your own people was never part of any deal. Wasting time and energy on foolish pursuits. You are desperate, and I have no need for desperate *creatures*. You tried to use me, and you failed." Bernuka managed to look angry, covering a brief moment of doubt. It was a bluff; that was all. This clod was inferior and if anyone knew everything, it was he, Bernuka, not some glorified figurehead. Still, the man knew too much for comfort. The anger was returning.
"My affairs are my own," grumbled Bernuka, having some difficulty affecting disdain. "Not for you to interfere in. How can I uphold my end of our bargain when you constantly change the terms of the agreement? How can you accuse me of using you, when it is *you* that used *me*?" The man was silent, thoughtful.
"Very well, Bernuka. We will play this way a little longer. I have time." The screen flickered, ending the communication. A stalemate again. Bernuka refused to let himself believe that his position had weakened. This alliance was becoming less and less useful, but he wanted to hold onto it a while longer. It was time for an execution, retribution for rebellion within his palace walls. He would allow himself to enjoy it. Return to Chapter One
General Niehl bowed his head. His men were swarming around. He had just dispatched a messenger and was preparing to move out. He looked over the fresh graves before him for the last time. He was having a great deal of difficulty overcoming the rage building within him, but he knew that it wouldn't do for his soldiers to see him out of control. They couldn't respect a leader who let his emotions get the better of him. There was no finer soldier in the continent than he. He didn't allow himself to feel the hatred; he didn't allow himself to feel anything. He held the black bow aloft and pivoted on his heel, letting his white cape swish with the quick motion. "Let's move," he yelled, springing to his horse. Return to Chapter One
In the darkness, the trees and plants were black, clawing shapes. Even the familiar path seemed somehow sinister. Isianu walked along, sure of herself even though the shadows stretched out to reach her.
"[Back already?]" asked the terrible cool voice. Her father sat on the short wall, waiting for her.
Opening her eyes, Isianu looked and found the horrible environment she was currently in and who was there to welcome her. Letting out a snarl at her father "[What have you done to me?]" she asked trying to hide her anger and despair at being back here with anger.
Bernuka's expression remained frozen on his face. His gaze pierced through her. "[I've done nothing to you that you didn't bring upon yourself.]"
She knew she was back in the garden, but could not remember how she came to be there. "[Have you already decided, daughter?]" He smiled. She was confused. Decided what? His eyes danced with amusement. "[Why, decided whom to serve, dear. Who will you serve?]" He stood, extending his arms to her.
At his question she growled at her father and dismissed it with a sweeping paw movement. "[Yes, if I had not, I would not have gone into exile. I serve myself, and no one else. I can become a powerful and righteous ruler without your help! So send me back or imprison me, I don't care but I shall be back to bring honor to the Veenous legacy!]" She then stands there defiant, awaiting her father's wrath.
His eyes seemed to flash and his smile became patronizing. "[Excellent! Yes, noble words. Where did you get such ideas? I wonder. Who filled your head with such foolishness?]"
Isianu's eyes narrow at her father's remark, while she was glad that he didn't strike her down, the odd game he was playing was hurting her deeply. "[What I learned,]" she growled slowly, "[Is that fear alone is not the way to rule. I have read about the great deeds of our people, how they came to this land, how they build the magnificent cities, and how they defeated their enemies. Throughout our history we might have flaunted our power more than we had to, but there was always something there; honor. I look around Goranthor today, I see the power is there en masse, but our honor has been lost. You have traded it for ruthlessness hoping that it would make your power more evident. Unfortunately you have just brought shame to our nation, and no amount of force can wash that off. You might think that it is a meaningless pursuit, but without our honor, you know what history and the other nations will think of us?]" Isianu then turns and sweeps her arm out in a rather dramatic fashion, "[They will think we are little more than animals.]" Then clenching her paw, she stared Bernuka directly in his eyes to give him a look at her drive and passion. "[At this moment the only thing left is to try and make up for my parent's sins and show everybody that we are NOT brutes! Of course you could not understand what I'm trying to do. You never had any honor.]" 7-26 Missing post
Isianu growled a bit as Bernuka turned away from her, giving her an idea on what he thought of her. The fact that he wasn't looking directly from her sent a thought through her mind. She might be able to end it all now with a quick slash of her scythe... Of course reason soon came back to her, it would be a futile action and only prove in her death. He no doubt that there were guards around the garden, and since she had no magical power yet she would be laid to waste by her father's sorcery. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Isianu backed up a bit and sat on a stone bench that she had played on for many years. "[So father,]" she said very questioning, with a hint of scorn in her voice, "[You have brought me here to complete my training? I doubt you would flaunt your powers for just a father/daughter chat...]" She sits there with her arms crossed watching Bernuka with eagle eyes, waiting his next move.
Bernuka cast a sidelong glance at Isianu, his sinister smile still in place. "[I did not summon you. You came to me.]" He stood again. "[Your training here is done, but you still have much to learn. But know this: It is I who compel you. You serve me. Delusions of free will are unbecoming of you.]" He turned away again and Isianu felt herself physically thrown.
Before Isianu could come back with a scathing remark, she felt dizzy and the royal gardens started to dissolve in front of her.
Bernuka sat quietly. He finished his meditation over the previous events with a definite course of action in mind. "[You have served me well in the action at Falkonis,]" he said to a flitting, black figure skulking in the shadows of the room. "[It would seem that we have been more successful than I could have ever imagined. I could never have done it without you.]" In the darkness, the figure squirmed impatiently. "[Do sit still. It seems that dear little Isianu has gotten into some trouble. You will serve me better there, now. Go to her.] The figure left Bernuka's presence. Return to Chapter Two
Meanwhile... The older man led his new recruits back towards his registration center. "...is the finest outfit, men. You'll not re--" he lectured, only to be interrupted by the taller knight.
"Captain Span, sir, is it wise to leave a prisoner armed, sir?"
"Armed? What are you talking about?" snapped the Captain.
"He had a sword, sir."
"A sword? Where does a deckhand get a sword?!"
"Sir?" ventured the other knight. "He's not a deckhand... He helped Quinn in Vangorsa. He's new, probably didn't even know who you were." He cringed.
"No excuse for insubordination," said the captain, glowering. "You," he said, pointing to the taller knight, "I see good things in your future. Go see that the prisoner has been properly... disarmed." The knight saluted and turned sharply. Things were looking up, after all.
The Baron watched the City of Ze burn, the flickering lights reflected in his eyes. He listened disinterestedly to the reports being recited to him from the first wave of messengers. His face was pock-marked and scarred from childhood illness and mistreatment, giving him a fearsome, ugly appearance. He towered over the men currently advising him, trying to tell him something about townspeople putting out many of the fires. It wasn't like Niehl to be this careless. Where was he, anyway? Why did the archers quit? The town should have been at his mercy. There was only one thing to do for this. He yelled for his charger to be readied.
Nearing the town, he saw one of the remaining bandits, badly wounded, but resisting the attempts of two soldiers to catch him. Hefting his axe, the Baron hewed the man's head from his shoulders with one mighty swing. "Take no prisoners!" he shouted, rallying the soldiers behind him.
The Baron overlooked the demolished city, not entirely unsatisfied. He looked over the bandage work being done on his arm.
"All done, Baron," said the medic. The Baron dismissed him and he hurried away. Another man approached.
"I have a report, Baron," he began. The Baron grunted his acknowledgement. "As we believed before, many homes were destroyed. Every building has had at least some structural damage. The townspeople panicked during the wolfmen attack and were gathered in the hills. One of their emergency measures. There are a few missing, but not nearly so many as there might have been." The Baron entered a tent, followed by his soldier. He threw himself into a chair, reclining and clutching his head.
"Declare martial law," he grumbled.
"Of course," responded the soldier. He paused. "There's another piece of information... many of the men reported seeing a moogle in Aldersgate colors. Riding on a black chocobo. The reports aren't all quite the same, but on those points they seem pretty sure." The Baron made a disinterested sound. "It would seem to match the reports of a chocobo rustler that stole an egg from one of the moogle's best lines. *The* egg, really. We managed to find one of the wanted posters." He produced a rolled parchment, giving it to the Baron. "It would probably be a good idea to track it down while it's in the area. The poster says it took two years to coax the birds to produce that egg. It might also help relations between us and them..." The Baron was thoughtful.
"Put some of the mercenaries on it, good trackers."
...
"Ok," said Marion Clandor, "we really can't be far this time. It is the ocean after all..." He surveyed the sea once more. The men following him stood sullenly. Nobody really cared for him anymore, but they weren't going to leave just yet. After all, they were less likely to go into battle with him in the lead than they were on their own. Their leader panted, climbing up another embankment. "I'll just check and see if I can see the city yet. I'm going to have that man court-martialed. And I'm going to do something even worse to that devious little partner of his..." He tripped, rolling down to land face first in the sand at the feet of the skirmishers. The men struggled valiantly not to laugh, but failed.
...
Emerging from the woods, Tarkin turned and waved to the bandits. "Thanks, guys, you've been a great help. You're all invited to my moogle show, as soon as I catch up with my moogle." He waved again. He was bound for Ze... and greatness.
The bandits waved back. "Don't be a stranger!" "Come back anytime!" "Sorry about the torture!"
The young soldier rode boldly up to the Baron's entourage. The Baron was riding alongside, as usual looking both somewhat commanding and foreboding at the same time. The new arrival made his way straight for his superior.
"Baron," he hissed in a load whisper to be heard over the fall of hooves. "One of my men has informed me that the prisoner has been locked in a cage for a day with no food or water..." He spoke urgently.
"General Geradon," said the Baron smoothly, waiting a moment to let his words sink in. Not seeing the response he desired, he resignedly went on, "I am fully aware of that. This is war, after all. Aldersgate gives no quarter."
"We are not at war with the moogles," said the younger, heatedly. He calmed. "Sir, we should take this opportunity to show our allies the honor and integrity we possess. Our position can only improve when they see us as generous, even to our prisoners. Especially when they are peoples of an allied city."
The Baron scoffed. "Nonsense... it'll do no better with its own kind. If it dies, we'll have done them a favor." He paused, considering his General's expression. "If you're so concerned, go see to our prisoner. Do whatever you like to it. All that really matters is the victory..." The soldier saluted and rode away, leaving the Baron to his self-satisfied thoughts.
"[Captain Bale!]" called Bernuka, moving swiftly down the hallway. The large werewolf lumbered after his master. "[I have a job for you that I think you will find most satisfactory, since you have something of a personal tie with that Dragoon.]" They entered one of the many laboratories. Turning to his guard, Bernuka continued, an out-of-place note of sympathy entering his voice, "[I do apologize for not letting you finish with him earlier. For the time being, however, he remains a part of my plans. I do want him to realize who his true master is, and I trust that you well know how to impart this lesson. You may do whatever you wish, disfigure him, shatter his body, destroy his mind. Just do not forget, his soul is mine. Leave him alive... but just barely. When you kill the elf, bring his body to me immediately.]" Bale growled his assent, eager to be off. He exited the room, already planning his course of action.
A cloaked, gray-white wolf emerged from the shadows. "[Orion, you will follow Bale. Keep Nox from interfering. Between the two, Nox is more important than Trent. You know what measures to take. Go.]" Soundlessly, the werewolf disappeared from the grand warlock's presence. Bernuka made his way to the wall, letting himself out by an unseen door.
"Friar Gohiel! Friar Gohiel!" exclaimed the young acolyte, bursting into the Friar's chamber. The Friar looked up from his prayer, surprised at his sudden visitor. He scowled, recognizing the young man. Before he could speak, his guest blurted, "The heretic, Friar! Rei Sarel! I trapped her at the Cathedral!"
"What? The Cathedral?"
"Yes, Friar," he continued, excitedly, "She came to defile the Cathedral, but I blocked the doors and took her chocobo. She's mad, we must send the priest-knights in all haste--"
Matariel gasped, pulling away from the peephole. Rei was in trouble! A vision of his daring rescue was already playing through his head. He ran through the side door. In front of the church Rei's chocobo milled patiently and Mat charged for it, grabbing the reins. "That dastard! Stealing from a lady!" He was imagining what he would do to that thief if he ever saw him again when a strong hand clamped itself on his shoulder. He was turned to face the thief as another hand clamped on his throat, cutting off his breath.
"If it isn't the lapdog," growled Vale, his matted red hair falling down around his face. "Stealing your mistress' bird back?" He threw his head back, clearing the hair from his eyes and lifting the slight Mat off the ground. He cast a glance down the street and pulled his victim into the alleyway. "What would happen if they found your dismembered corpse in your lady's room? One of her black rituals, wouldn't they say?" He twisted Mat's arm, causing bulging eyes to water as strained tendons popped, very near the breaking point.
Mat squeezed his eyes shut and kicked then, a hard heel kick. Vale exhaled, his grip weakening as he crossed his legs and his eyes, both men falling to the ground. Mat rolled away, wheezing as he drew breath while Vale lay motionless.
"Let... be... lesson," said Mat, half-standing. He paused, thoughtfully, "If... had... rapier... arm... worked... initials... backside." Vale stirred, his own watery eyes finding some focus, and Mat rapidly staggered away. "No... time... rescue... lady..." he panted, intent on finding the chocobo and making good on his own escape.
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