Chapter 17: Separate Worlds
In Tribute to John Belushi
Written By Mr. X a.k.a. the Spy a.k.a. FaliAct Three - Storm of Paths
The stone-carved halls of Castle AGFF would have been gloomy if it
weren't for the efforts most of its general working inhabitants made
to culture it up, and bring into it a sense of humanity. Even with all
the hanging paintings and the pictures drawn by high officials'
children tacked on walls and refrigerators through the floors, it was
impossible to overpower the heavy atmosphere of war that pervaded the
entire castle. The castle was, after all, built primarily as a
quarters of war, an insurmountable fortress to hold the soldiers if
ever the city itself were to be taken.
To Reno, the Castle might as well have no decorations, for the
overpowering sense he had of being at war with it, at war with all
such fortresses he spent any time in whatsoever professionally - ever
since that day, not too long ago, when he murdered two warriors of
justice and remembered, in doing so, that he too was a human being.
_I'm paranoid,_ he told himself. _I haven't done anything wrong. and
most of those who operate here. if they knew. they'd support me
wholeheartedly._
He cast such thoughts out of his head, and walked on, through the
small kitchen where all officials of Castle Area 2F stored their food
and kids' pictures and magazines and other miscellaneous items, and
ate during lunch breaks, of which this was not one. The kitchen
remained entirely empty of people, as was typical of this hour of the
morning, and was just great as far as Reno was concerned. He didn't
feel like explaining himself to any nosy official.
He walked out of the kitchen to the small medical room on the far side
of the hall and faced his reflection in a dirty unwashed mirror - the
surface of the door to the medicine cabinet.
_The high intelligence of Castle AGFF, with the best technology of the
known world, and they can't even bring themselves to sponge off the
mirror once in a while,_ Reno thought, but quickly focused his
attention to more important things. There were circles under his eyes;
he could see them clearly even through the dirty smudges that covered
the entire mirror. His hair was uncombed and tangled, his eyes wide
and frightened.
_Look at me,_ he thought. _I'm a mess._
But what could he do? At this point, nothing. He sighed and opened the
cabinet door, pulling the mirror's reflective horror from his
attention, and searched the cabinet with his eyes. Tylenol, melatonin,
gan mao ching, corvintine. there. He saw the container and grabbed
yearningly into the cabinet, carelessly knocking several nearby pill
bottles into the sink or onto the floor.
"The boosters," he muttered to himself, already pulling the lid off
and dropping five of the little green and white pills into his hands.
Technically, he wasn't supposed to take more than two at a time, but
today health considerations seemed pointless and he knew he needed
them.
One quick gulp of tap water and he'd taken them all down, practically
inhaling them with his urgency. He drank another mouthful and pulled
up, shut the cabinet door. There was the mirror to confront him again.
Was he ready? He was ready.
He swallowed again, though there was nothing to take in, save for air,
and stared into his own bloodshot eyes. His tension was still so
strong; you could cut it with a knife. But the boosters would take
that away, soon enough.
"Well," he murmured to himself, pulling away from the mirror. He had a
meeting to attend. Might as well get right on to it.
***
Despite the added benefit of being teleported to AGFF by the being
known as Lord Bob, he had neglected to mention just how terribly large
this AGFF was.
It wasn't that Fulgore, Kuibob, and Darlon weren't used to a large
AGFF. On the contrary, the AGFF they were from was a world all of its
own.
But, from what Murgorath and Lord Bob had told them, Fulgore as well
as the other members of the MRF Beta had gotten the impression that
this Usenetverse's AGFF was a mere city or two - perhaps large ones,
but all the same! They could not help but be shocked when they learned
the AGFF encompassed over a hundred different Kingdoms, a diverse,
open-minded culture, and a complex government system all branching
back to the literal center of AGFF civilization, a single well-armed
Castle right in front of the largest city, AGFF City.
Needless to say, this was a shock!
And so, they had traveled for several days and several nights down
from the frozen mountains to the North, through the stormy roads by
the sea to the East, and down the main road to AGFF City, stopping off
only briefly at two Inns along the way, and transferring repeatedly
from fast-moving caravan to even faster-moving caravan.
Even now, on the main road for caravans and carriages directly in
front of - and less that a full football field's length away from -
Castle AGFF, they sat inside a horse-drawn caravan, awaiting entry to
the gates of Castle AGFF. And the process was going slowly. Very
slowly. There were still at least fifty caravans needing to be checked
for weaponry and illegal materials or substances, in front of them.
And, at best, there were two to three checked completely every five
minutes.
Darlon lay asleep in the back with a number of other travelers Fulgore
did not know, while other travelers played cards, read books, or
simply conversed with one another. Finally others, like himself and
Kuibob, simply sat the front of the caravan and watched the other
traffic go by.
One of the travelers up at the front with Fulgore and Kuibob was no
passenger at all. He was a tough, grizzled man in his early fifties
who had befriended each member of the MRF Beta at some point along the
way with the warm sensitivity he had shown under the tough exterior.
His name was Ben, and he was the driver.
"Say, Ben," Fulgore finally asked. "What's with all of the traffic? Is
this-ah-usual?"
"Usual?" Ben repeated, not seeming to grasp Fulgore's inquiry for a
moment. Then his eyes brightened with understanding and he pushed one
large hand Fulgore's direction as a beckon as he said, "Naaaaaahhh.
It's a stupid Chocobo Races. People don't know when to quit."
Fulgore was confused. "The Chocobo Races?" he said, unconsciously
beating an equally confused Kuibob to the punch. "Didn't those end
days ago?"
Ben snorted. "Officially, yeah. Officially, there's supposed to be
ONE and only ONE Chocobo Racing Day per year. But the people of
this country are too bloody fanatical for their own good. They usually
keep this going two or three weeks after they're supposed to take
everything down. I don't understand why City Council doesn't
intervene. It makes transit shit poor for travelin' folks like us.
Fulgore paused. "Oh," he said. Coincidentally, at the exact same
moment, Kuibob said "Oh" and King Eggnog in Castle AGFF all said "Oh,"
though for an entirely different reason. His reason was different than
Fulgore's and Kuibob's and much more relevant and important.
This was followed by a long period of silence. Fulgore turned his gaze
back to the long line of caravans in front of them. At the moment, it
had slowed to a standstill. Far ahead, he could see that the
authorities at the gate had stopped one of the caravans for special
inspection. The driver had his hands spread against the side of his
caravan and several uniformed officials were searching him.
"Looks like trouble ahead," said Ben.
"Yeah," added Kuibob.
This line of conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, so once
again, everyone quieted.
At some point, a green and white bus of about forty feet in length
whizzed past them in the traffic lane to their left. Neither Fulgore
nor Kuibob would have taken any special notice of its existence, but
for the loud exclaimed curse and raised fist Ben gave it.
"What's wrong, Ben?" Kuibob immediately asked.
"Ohhh. It's the Green Tortoise," Ben sputtered.
"The Green Tortoise?" Fulgore cut in.
"Yeah. The Green Tortoise," Ben replied. "You know. Cool drivers!
Gourmet meals! Alaska to alt.games.final-fantasy! You know?"
"No," Fulgore said, at the same time as Kuibob said "Nope."
They glared at each other.
"Oh, yeah, you're from a different dimension or somesuch. Well, let me
tell you. There are no motels! You make new friends! Heck, you make
your own adventure!"
He paused. Fulgore and Kuibob said nothing, so Ben continued, "Their
converted sleeper coaches feature comfortable handmade interiors
designed for hassle-free travel. The booths and couches they lounge on
during the day easily convert into beds at night and will accommodate
from 32 to 40 sleepy campers. The bunks which hang from the ceiling
are always available for a nap. Personal reading lights and volume
controls for their sound system are strategically located throughout
the bus. The casual environment on their buses is a unique and
unparalleled experience."
"So, Ben, what's.?" Fulgore tried.
"Oh. That," Ben cut him off. "Well, boys, let me tell you. The Green
Tortoise Adventure Travel Company was founded in 1974 and for the last
24 years they have been hosting budget-minded travelers looking for
adventure on wheels. Their custom converted sleeper coaches are
designed as an alternative to conventional travel. The Tortoise
reputation for low-cost, high-quality tours was realized through the
participation of people from all walks of life, with a universal
vision - ADVENTURE!"
"That's all fine and good, Ben," Fulgore quickly interjected. "But.
So. What's so wrong with them, then?"
"Oh. That," Ben said and he sighed sadly. "They were going so much
faster than my caravan. They're always going so much faster than I
can. I was just reflecting on how they're going to put me out of
business soon. Just go to www.greentortoise.com or call their San
Francisco office at (415) 956-7500, and you'll just see how far ahead
of me they are. Why, I hardly have my own mailbox yet! Bah!"
"Oh," Fulgore said. Kuibob didn't say anything at that moment. The
King Eggnog, far away as he was, was saying something, but it was far
more relevant and important than "Oh."
Finally, Kuibob replied helpfully, "well, you seem to know enough
about the Green Tortoise, Ben. Why don't you just collaborate with
them to pay your bills and do what you love if driving and travelling
are what you love?"
"Well, because." Ben began sadly. "I really don't think they'd take
me. All I am. is a tired old dreamer, who's lived his days of glory
and may now only watch the younger folk do the driving. I'm too old
for the likes of them."
"That's not true! Old men, young men, old women, young women, everyone
can drive the Green Tortoise! All it takes is a license,
determination, and a joy of driving - and you, too, can be a part of
the Tortoise!" a green tortoise of a passenger who Ben, Fulgore, and
Kuibob had somehow failed to notice getting on the caravan piped up.
"But I don't have a license!" Ben exclaimed. "Why do you think I'm
driving a florgin' caravan?"
"Well, you can get one," the Tortoise said soothingly. "The Green
Tortoise will help you. Once you have a license, all you have to do is
go to http://www.greentortoise.com/driver_applicant_info.html and sign
up!"
"Really?" Ben said. "But, can I fill the hot seat?"
"Sure you can, Ben!"
"I guess what I'm trying to say." Ben continued unheedingly, before
breaking out into a song, "is. Can I fill the Hot Seat?"
"Sure you can!" the Tortoise, Fulgore, Kuibob, and every other
conscious passenger piped in.
"Can I fill the Hot Seat, men?"
"Sure you can!"
"Can you fill the Hot Seat, Ben?"
"Sure you can!"
"Can I fill the Hauuu-t Seat, men?"
"Yeah you can!"
"Can you fill the Hot Seat, Ben?"
"Sure you can!"
"But am I really truly worthy." Ben pressed, "to drive the right bus?"
"Yeah you are!"
"To drive the right people."
"Yeah you are!"
"Down to Usenet?"
"Yeah you are!"
"To Alaskaaaa!"
"Sure you are!"
"Even to the home of the Tortoise, Saan Fraancisco?"
"Yeah you are!"
Ben paused. A number of passengers pulled out drums and started
beating them crazily. Ben stepped out of his driver seat and walked
down the aisle. In front of him, backing away one step for every step
forward Ben took, was the Tortoise.
"Ben," the Tortoise sang, in beat with the drums. "Look at it this
way. The Tortoise is here to say. How much to sink-your caravan-how
much to drink-you're the man-how long you think before it
di-i-i-i-iesss?"
"But that car-avan's been wit-h me most of my li-fe," Ben protested,
"Passed down, by family, to my late wife. If I don't hold on, who will
keep the trad-ition, hold on to the miss-ion, for my late wife."
"Keep the elat-ion by giving dona-tion, or if you choose stubborn
determin-ation, transfer your liiiife," the Tortoise sang the
argument. "All you have to do-let go of your anger, transform to
Tortoise the Carriage of your wiiiiife!"
"But if I do throw tra-dition to the river, oh, my heart will give a
quiver, oh, can I give a little sliver-of hohohohonooorrr. to my
wife."
Ben stepped backward and shook his head. For the next phrase, the
drumming ceased and the music ground to a sudden halt. And Ben,
seemingly oblivious to all this, said: "I guess what I'm trying to say
is...."
"I would rather lose my liver, oh," Ben sang and abruptly the drums
and music were boomin' again,"then allow my heart a quiver, destroy
the little sliver-of hohohohonooorrr. to my delightful wife."
The music stopped again. The drums stopped again, too, seconds later.
"I'm not asking you to abandon her honor, Ben. I'm just saying there
ARE alternatives," the Tortoise said quietly. "Your wife's family not
your immediate family, correct?"
Ben looked offended. "No, of course not!" he shouted.
"Then, unless you have children, the tradition's already broken. Do
you have any children, Ben?"
Ben lowered his head in sorrow. Fulgore knew this was a painful
subject for him.
"No, no," he said slowly. "She died. before."
"So, for starters," the Tortoise pointed out, "the tradition was
broken when you did not have any children."
"No. I didn't."
The Tortoise raised a reassuring paw and placed it on Ben's shoulder.
"Ben," he said quietly, and Ben looked up at him. "Wouldn't your wife
want you to be doing what you enjoy most? Driving the Green Tortoise?"
Ben hesitated and let out a long, defeated sigh. Finally, he
whispered, "But who... what do I do to the caravan?"
"Give it to someone, Ben. Someone you trust. Someone who can keep it
safe, and its life long. And, who? Well, that's up to you."
Ben remained silent, his head lowered to the floor. Finally, to the
shock of both conscious members of the MRF Beta, he said Fulgore's
name.
Fulgore stepped forward. "Ben?" he inquired cautiously.
Without moving to even look the direction of the Honorable Knight, Ben
continued, "When we arrive in AGFF City, the Caravan is yours to keep.
Or rather, I give her over to your group, the MRF Beta. Please keep
her safe. and. if the time should come to pass when you must leave,
without the Caravan. make sure she finds a proper owner."
Fulgore was speechless. So was Kuibob. So was Darlon, actually, but he
was snoring in the back.
"Th-Thank you," Fulgore finally said, regaining his mannerisms just in
the knick of time, and he bowed. "I. accept. On behalf of every living
member of the MRF Beta."
He looked to Kuibob for a final confirmation. Kuibob nodded.
Ben remained silent for a short while. Then, suddenly, abruptly, he
turned to the nearest door of the caravan, walked briskly over to it,
opened it, and climbed up onto the roof, followed by the Tortoise.
Once he was up on the roof, Ben stared defiantly the direction of the
sunset, and bellowed, at the top of his lungs, "I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT!
I HAVE SEEEEEEEEEN THE LIGHT!"
Patting him on the shoulder, the Tortoise smiled. "Congratulations,
Ben. You are now a part of the Tortoise."
"I am part of the Tortoise?" Ben replied hopefully.
"Yes. You are part of the Tortoise," the Tortoise said.
"YES!" Ben exclaimed to the surrounding crowd of caravans and other
related vehicles. Drivers and passengers were beginning to exit the
caravans to see what all of the noise was about. "I AM PART OF THE
TORTOISE!"
"CONGRATULATIONS, BEN!!" screamed hundreds of people from within and
without caravans on all sides of Fulgore's new caravan. Some woman
was, with the help of several other women, pulling a large piano onto
the roof of their caravan. One of them leaped up onto the bench in
front of the piano and started to play an upbeat tune.
"I'm part of a family," Ben sang. From the MRF Beta's new caravan, the
drummers started to pound on their drums again. Out of the window of a
nearby caravan, a trumpet player blew into the horns.
"The Green Tortoise family," Ben sang.
"PART OF A FAMILY!" he and the Tortoise sang together.
"I'm part of a family," Ben sang alone.
The beat took hold, and for a while, the instruments led the song.
Two men wearing black porkpie hats and dressed in black business suits
with white shirts and black ties stepped out of their car and stood
beside each other against the side doors, their arms crossed in front
of each other, and they were wearing sunglasses. They were Jake and
Elwood, of course. Their car was on the road going back toward AGFF
City, but because of several lines of backed-up traffic on either side
of them-leaving no possible way to get out of traffic in their usual
fashion-they weren't going anywhere for quite a while.
"PART OF A FAMILY!" Ben and the Tortoise sang together.
"I'm part of a family, part of a family." Ben sang alone.
"PART OF A FAMILY!" Ben and the Tortoise sang together.
Instrumentation took hold once again. People had begun to get out of
their cars, vans, and caravans and were dancing along with the beat.
"I'm going to take you behind the scenes," Ben sang. "Right on down to
New Orleans.
"I'm going to take you to where your soul dreams," Ben sang. "Right on
down to New Orleans.
"You wanna know what good food means?" Ben sang. "I'm going to take
you down to New Orleans.
"It's a sixteen day trip, but don't you jump ship, 'cuz I'm going to
take you down to New Orleans," Ben sang.
Instrumentation again. Jake and Elwood danced beside their vehicle,
and hundreds more danced in lines beside their own.
"I'm part of a family," Ben and a hundred others sang in unison. "PART
OF A FAAAAAAMILLLLY!"
It was at this point that the beat changed abruptly. This spooked most
of the horses in the area and started them racing off of the main lane
for horses. This included the horses of Ben's caravan and, as a
result, both Ben and the Tortoise were knocked off of their feet and
off of the roof itself, at which point they hit the earth hard, were
unable to get back up in a hurry, and would be quickly trampled to
death by rampaging horses. Or Ben, at least. After the rampaging
horses passed, there would be no sign of the Tortoise to be found.
All of this sudden movement frightened the horses farther away from
Ben's caravan and started them charging crazily off in various chaotic
directions, which in turn freaked out most of the horses near them -
sending them, as well, charging off in various chaotic directions,
which of course freaked even more horses out and sent them all
charging away in various chaotic directions.
The result of all this was mass-destruction, most of which was caused
by mass-panic. Most certainly, the horses did manage to slam rather
powerfully into numerous parked cars, not to mention what happened
when they hit actual moving traffic.
But, for the most part, the mass-destruction that transpired did so
because people were over-influenced by mass-panic.
The drivers of cars approaching the caravans whose horses - the real
drivers, after all - had stumbled out onto the road, slammed on their
brakes as an automatic reaction rather than slowing down to a gentle
stop with the space aplenty that they had.
Hence, the cars directly behind them also slammed on their brakes but
not nearly fast enough to avoid smashing in front of and behind them
and sending the whole messy mish-mash of broken cars careening toward
the out-of-control caravans.
Even on the caravan road, there was no shortage of chaos and
destruction. Panicked drivers and passengers who had gotten out of
their caravans to join in on the dance now frantically scurried - or
at least attempted to scurry - back into them before the horses
charged out of their reach. Many times the end result was a trampled
human driver or an overturned caravan.
Jake craned his neck to look at Elwood. Elwood craned his neck to look
at Jake.
"Let's go, Jake," he said.
Jake nodded, walked back over to the passenger side, and got in. As
always, Elwood got into the driver's side. It was in doubt whether
Jake even had a license, though also irrelevant on a world mostly
unaware of America.
Elwood turned on the engine and quite casually backed through a small
path that had miraculously formed in the overwhelmingly chaotic
traffic jam, and backed right into a lane of fast-moving traffic going
the other way.
And so it was that Jake and Elwood left the traffic jam at a nice,
decent speed, going the wrong way on a one-way street, and wearing
sunglasses.
Jake pushed the seat back, yawned like a cat, and put a B.B. King tape
into the tape player. "Hit it," he said.
Back at the scene of chaos, the change of beat was quickly becoming
the lack of beat - or music, even - as most public attention was taken
with conserving the safety of their vehicles and lives.
As a nice addition to the chaos, the standard police force of AGFF
City and agents of the AGFFSDIAIA charged into the mess, screaming
meaningless orders and blowing meaningless whistles.
Back in the caravan which had started the entire mess, Fulgore and
Kuibob struggled to control the horses. But the horses would not be
controlled and only grew more and more resistant and violent with each
attempt either of them made to stop it.
Finally, as a gesture of panic, as the horses charged blindly toward
an active road, as death loomed closer and closer, Fulgore screamed,
"Ben! If you can hear me, for Bob's sake, help me! How do I stop them?
What do I do?"
It was not Ben, however, who would reply. It was the disembodied voice
of the Tortoise.
"Fulgore." the Tortoise's voice spoke calmly from within his head. "To
get out of this situation alive. You must learn to Hope! Hope,
Fulgore, Hope!"
"Fat whoppin' good 'Hope' will do us right now." Fulgore murmured to
himself. Then he stopped. He had nothing to lose. Certain death was
inches away. Why not?
He let loose the reins. Desperately, Kuibob pushed him aside and took
the reins himself.
Fulgore fell backwards, tinges of Hope beginning to form in his head.
"Hope, Fulgore, Hope." the Tortoise's voice said inside both of their
heads. "And you too, Kuibob."
Kuibob pulled on the reins with all of his might. Fulgore hoped.
Darlon was woken up suddenly as the horses' hooves beat for the first
time on air and not on the battered earth and the caravan rose up high
into the air.
It wasn't the act of the horses doing that which woke him up, nor was
it the feeling of the caravan leaving the earth. He would have happily
slept through all of that. In actuality, it was the mere fact that he
fell out of the rear window as it happened that did it.
The events in Darlon's life unfolded somewhat like this: He fell out
of the window. He abruptly gained consciousness. He screamed. He hit
the ground. He abruptly lost consciousness.
That's life.
The other passengers were screaming and yelling and flailing about
like maniacs and Fulgore was in a meditative stupor Hoping and Kuibob
was having a hell of a time telling the other passengers to shut up
while simultaneously trying to drive the caravan through the air
toward the gates of AGFF City without crashing into anything.
"Shut up, Shut up!" cried Kuibob, in beat with the drums that several
passengers started to beat at just that moment. "Shut up, I say!"
"What are you trying to do?" responded another passenger,
rhythmically. "This isn't Santa's Sleigh!"
"Oh, do shut up," said another passenger sitting next to him. "You're
just adding to the fray!"
"Shut up, Shut up!" cried Kuibob. "Shut up, I say!"
Fulgore opened his eyes.
"Some rare odd events are coming into play," he rapped.
"I've decided to scream," announced one passenger politely. "If I
may."
"NO!" Fulgore and Kuibob cried together. "Shut up, Shut up!" Kuibob
added. "Shut up, I say!"
"No," said Fulgore, shaking his head. "Get Hope, Get Hope!" Fulgore
rephrased it. "Get Hope, I say!"
"In other words," said one priestly figure. "In Ajora, you must pray!"
"NO!" Fulgore and Kuibob cried together. "Get Help, Get Help! Get
Help, I say!"
"What is this?" the priestly figure looked horrified. "What's this you
say?"
"In circumstances like this," Kuibob wailed. "No religion is the way!"
"Is it an anti-religious message," one woman demanded, "that you are
trying to relay?"
"NO!" Fulgore and Kuibob cried together. "Just Hope, Just Hope!"
Fulgore shouted, "Put Religion away!"
"We're comin' down," Kuibob announced, and it was true; the caravan
was flying through the air right at the gates of AGFF City. "Hold on
to your horses, or at least some hay."
"We're going to make it!" Fulgore announced. "You see, Hope's the
way!"
"YAY!" cried the passengers. "YAY, YAY, YAY!"
"Maybe that's good for you," the officer at the gate announced
before the caravan knocked over the gate and the horses trampled him.
"But you've just ruined my day.!"
"But that's okay!" Fulgore sang. "Because. We're ALIIIIIIIIIVE!"
He heard the steady thump of a number of people running toward the
caravan. Fulgore looked around and found the caravan surrounding by
several dozen officers, each with a laser rifle aimed at his head.
***
"I am thankful all of you were able to make it here today," Sean said,
staring down sombrely at each of the gathered royal and political
leaders in front of him.
"Of course we would make it," Yang of the kingdom Fabul said with an
equal seriousness to his tone. "What you speak of concerns the lives
of several people very dear to us."
Sean nodded. "Yes. I would not have brought you here if this were not
of the most serious nature. Kingdom Baron has been sacked, and my
sources tell me the general in charge of it, from all appearances, is
the Dragoon Kain."
There was a gasp, issued nearly simultaneously from almost all those
gathered in the packed Council chambers of Castle AGFF.
Queen Rydia of Kingdom Eblana shook her head sadly and bit her lip but
said nothing. Beside her, her husband Edge was having a much more
violent reaction. "What he says is true," Edge said loudly, "for I too
saw the invader as being Kain. And I was there."
"What is the fate of the king and queen?" Councilman Robert of Baron
Kingdom asked.
"We're not quite sure," Sean said, "but the king Cecil is presumed
dead, and Kain seems to have taken the queen for himself."
Alex Kuqainne of the Dragoons snorted disbelievingly. "As if."
Edge opened his mouth to speak, but King Edgar of Figaro cut him off
unintentionally. "Maybe there is mind-control at work here?" he said.
"Zeromus," Yang rasped decisively.
"Or greed," Edge said, and Rydia elbowed him.
"We are unsure of the Dragoon's motivation," Sean said. "And at the
moment, that is not the most immediate concern. We have evidence to
show he had involvement in the Tifa clone attack at AGFF Square
yesterday."
Almost everyone in the room shivered at once. An uncertain number of
AGFF citizens and government officials had disappeared without a
trace, and Tifa clones were indeed very vile things.
"Furthermore," Sean added, "he seems to have gathered an army of
skilled Dragoon warriors - who could only have been educated in the
east," he raised his eyebrows at Kuqainne, "large enough to completely
annihilate the entire Baronian army and sack the town besides."
He raised his arms for emphasis. "No army smaller than ten thousand
would be capable."
Kuqainne stood up. "No!" He grimaced. "There is no way they came from
the Eastlands. One of us would have heard of it."
"Maybe you did," Edge countered.
"Goddamn it," Yang said, "what's happened to you, Edge? Have you
become the Inquisitor, and are we all witches?"
Edge shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Sean raised an arm for
silence.
"No one is accusing anyone of anything. These are simply the facts,"
Sean said, though something remained in his tone that said otherwise.
Reno pulled the door open and quietly stepped in, catching the eyes of
his fellow Turks as he did so. Tseng looked at him disapprovingly.
Sean looked over at Reno with nothing identifiable in his eyes for
just one long moment, and then turned back to the round Council table,
ignoring him. "Back to the subject at hand. Sources tell us Kain's
army probably arrived from ships along the Coast of New Mystica - and
took a southward path toward the center of AGFF. Before Baron, reports
show that he took a number of smaller Kingdoms and nations of the
south, making a beeline directly toward AGFF City."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"So, you think he plans to take the Grand Capital itself?"
Falimortalis of the Alpha Wave asked quietly, raising his eyebrows for
effect. "That's quite an ambitious goal."
"Also quite something to worry about," added Falconer. "An army that
could take majestic Baron without us hearing about it first is a force
to be reckoned with."
"That is why I have called you here today," Sean said. "Partly. I
request, as the military voice of the King, as much as a quarter of
each of your armies to come face this threat, and to arrive with your
own supplies. I know with an alliance of the Kingdoms and the
temporary cooperation of the nations, we have both the numbers and the
strategy to easily crush the Dragoon army before it has the time to do
any serious damage."
Reno quietly stepped between Elena and Jake and stood with them,
facing the Council table.
"Kind of late, aren't you?" whispered Elena.
"I was. taken with other things," Reno whispered back. "Miss me?"
"Focus," she whispered. "This is an important discussion."
Lord Cyan cleared his throat. "Wouldst thou know when the Dragoon army
is expected to arrive here at AGFF City?"
Sean took a deep breath. "We expect the Dragoon army to arrive around
noontime today, and immediately begin siege."
"Our armies won't even be alerted by then. Many of us will still be
riding back. It'll be too late."
"Sieges have been known to last days, or weeks," Sean said. "In fact,
we're counting on it."
"What if we are already involved in wars, and cannot supply troops?"
A sharp edge entered Sean's voice. "By measure of the King's order,
you will be declared an independent nation, apart from the Alliance of
Kingdoms, and AGFF government will cease to support you in any way,
including with war supplies."
Cyan paled visibly. "I. see."
"It is the law," said Sean.
"The law." repeated Cyan, and hesitated. Then: "Yes, we must follow
the laws of the newsgroup. You have my support, Sir Sean. We will send
you a quarter of our army, even at the risk of my Kingdom. But. will
you send support back after.?"
"Yes. You can count on us for that," Sean said. "And that goes for all
of you involved in fighting private wars. Once this threat is dealt
with, we will send soldiers to recompense all warring Kingdoms still
in the Alliance. That is a promise from the King. Now," he drew
himself up briskly, "is there any man here who still feels they cannot
send soldiers to fight for us in the name of the King and God?"
Yang raised his arm and stood up. "Yes. Fabul is currently in the
midst of a siege herself, and we cannot. cannot risk the life of our
citizens by drawing away our meager troops at this dangerous time."
"Then, by the honor of the King, I declare you an independent nation,"
Sean replied coldly, emotionlessly. "You may leave now."
Horror crossed the face of King Yang and, as he walked toward the
door, catching the eye of every one of his old teammates and friends,
in his eyes grew a look of defiance. Once he had left, Sean addressed
the suddenly silent group in counsel.
"Anyone else?" Sean asked.
No further hands were raised.
"Good," he said. "You are to ride off immediately to bring your
troops. All but the rulers of Eblana, Figaro, Damcyan, and Doma, and
the Turks. all but those, you are dismissed. And to the members of the
Alpha Wave, you have orders to come to counsel with the King."
Once all those no longer invited to converse had left - and the door
was firmly shut - Sean continued.
"My apologies for making you wait," he said, "but what I now say to
you must be kept in the highest of privacy. It must not leave this
room."
"What is it, dare tell?" King Edgar asked.
Sean sighed and shook his head thoughtfully, pacing from left to right
around the room as he did so. "We know for certain that King Cecil is
dead, and we know who killed him." He looked anxiously back and forth
between the gathered rulers. "This is why it had to be kept in secret;
it would cause too much of an uproar. But. It is confirmed that Queen
Rosa herself fired the dart that killed the King of Baron."
"What?" shouted Rydia. Even Edge looked shocked.
Sean sighed. "It is true. Apparently, she has professed love for the
Spearbea. excuse me, Kain. We think she conspired with him beforehand
to annihilate Baron."
"Absolutely not, I refuse to believe that." Rydia said strongly, while
all the while her husband made soothing sounds to quiet her. "And you
shut up, Edge. It is shameful you have no further faith in your
friends!"
"I agree." Edward began, though a quick glare from Edge was enough to
shut him up.
"If you do not believe me," Sean said, "and I can understand why it
might be hard to swallow - take a look at the video a spy for the
AGFFSDIAIA made from within the walls of the Castle last night, in the
viewing room. It is very informative."
But Rydia just shook her head. "No. no, it can't be. I can't believe
either Kain or Rosa would be so malicious!"
"I can and I will tell you why," Sean said, taking control of the room
once again. "The Mysidian legend did not begin or end with Cecil.
Cecil defeating Zeromus was only a small part of it all.
"In truth, it was only the beginning. The legend speaks afterwards of
an individual known as the Spearbearer - Kain, I think - taking
control of 'his inherited kingdoms' and _using_ them to smash the
world. Some takes on the legend say the Spearbearer is meant to save
the world, yet I doubt it, for why wouldn't he be listed in other
sections as among the Light Warriors if his task were one of Light?
No, I believe his role is destructive - far more destructive than
anyone in these chambers may have guessed. I believe he plans to
unleash Zeromus and far greater evils unto the world.
"I know it must be hard to accept," Sean went on. "But I encourage you
to. For I believe we are the Light Warriors, and we _must_ work
together if we plan to save the world from all of the evils soon to be
released. This is a time upon which great deals of legends have been
written. We must be careful. I believe Yang, who fought us in Council
today. I believe he is the Masquerader, the man of two faces who, in
legend, betrays the Light at the crucial moment! And we must be very
careful of him - even second-guess him, or he will destroy us all."
Cyan stood up, his face flushed. "Sir Yang is the most honorable man I
have ever met! I will not believe."
"People are not what they seem!" Sean shouted, silencing the King of
Doma. "The first part of Mysidian Legend has came to past. why should
it not continue to do so?"
All was silent. Awkwardly, Cyan shifted his gaze from the head of the
AGFFSDIAIA and sat down.
"Kain is the Spearbearer," Sean said. "And I believe Yang to be much
more than he seems. If I cannot convince you now, perhaps after this
battle is complete."
"I believe you," said Edge. "I've been a Light Warrior before. I'll be
a Light Warrior again. We'll save the world, huh? Yeah, you got my
allegiance and the allegiance of Eblana. Huh, Rydia?"
"Huh," she said noncommittally. And then, "Yeah. I mean, yes. I'll
support you. There's enough evidence. I don't know about Yang, but
I'll trust you about the Spearbearer. We must defeat them, even at the
cost of our friends' lives. We'll. fight for Light. Just tell us what
to do."
Sean smiled reassuringly. "I know it's a hard thing to say, Rydia. I
know what needs to happen will. Just follow my guidance. Cyan?"
Cyan hesitated, then nodded. "Aye. I pledged allegiance to the AGFF
Crown long ago. That still holds. You have my support, and the support
of Doma. We will help you crush Kain's forces."
"Good. Edgar?"
Edgar nodded. "Aye. We'll be Light Warriors again. I'll alert Sabin."
Sean nodded back and looked toward the King of Damcyan. "Edward?"
"Aye."
Sean looked up at the Turks for a moment and simply nodded: no
questions needed to be asked.
"Then you are dismissed. Ride off at your earliest convenience. There
is some heavy fighting to come. And good luck."
"Honor to the King," Cyan said.
Sean's smile widened.
***
When the man awoke, his mind was a haze and he had a terrible
headache. He was in a soft, comfortable bed - the only thing that
seemed the slightest bit comfortable at the time - and the walls
surrounding him were unpainted wooden boards and not particularly
memorable. There was a beautiful painting hanging on the wall,
depicting a beautiful waterfall overshadowing a distant blue lake and
a forested land surrounding it. The theme was misty and mysterious and
light-gray watercolors had been used to depict this. This had been
done surprisingly well.
He sat up and abruptly fell back onto the bed. The blood rushed to his
head and for a moment, he could see very little. What was he doing?
Where would he go? Where was he? _Who_ was he, for that matter?
His mind was a haze of random images, none of them seeming to connect
properly with one another, none of them telling a complete story. And
names, statements, mottoes, and seemingly meaningless phrases sung by
voices he did not remember. He remembered the lizard, the train, the
people he made the leap with, but not the leap itself. The names
Fulgore, Murgorath, Dave, Celes, Slipgate, Maria, and Bob came up from
his subconscious, but as he expected, none of them connected with any
of the chaotic images that made up his memory.
With irritation, he dropped trying to think it through. Whoever he had
been before, that was another life. He had to focus on who he was now.
_Where_ he was now.
He didn't remember coming here, nor did he remember who had put his
arm in a cast, nor why. His arm did not appear or feel injured. All it
felt was itchy. He wanted to free his arm from it, pick himself up
from this over-comfortable bed and find out where he now was. He could
be in the custody of any number of people seeking to cause him undue
pain, injury, and death. He did not know how or why, but he knew he
had a lot of enemies who would jump at the chance to turn him against
all he previously stood for in his dazed state, whatever that might
be.
A sudden sense of displaced urgency formed in his head and he again
felt the urge to sit up. Which he did, moments later. This time, his
head remained clear and he didn't feel the immediate inclination to
fall back onto the bed. Instead of weariness, he was filled with
determination. He would break away from whoever had taken him hostage
and he would break away, till he found a safe place of isolation where
he could meditate, sort out his memories, and figure out who he was.
The man tested his weight on both feet separately and was surprised to
find himself unsurprised at the lack of injury or weakness in his
legs. He pulled himself up and looked to the still wooden doorway at
the end of the room. Once he went through that door, there was no
going back. Everyone in. wherever he was, was an enemy. A potentially
dangerous enemy.
But of course, from the moment he was captured, there was no going
back. This was nothing unusual for him. There was absolutely no reason
to be nervous. He should really get over it. Get some respect.
_So, straighten up and carry yourself with honor, L._
Who?
None of the names he could remember started with an 'L'. So who was
he?
Again he pushed such thoughts aside and focused his attention on the
mission at hand. Uneasily, he stepped toward the door, then realized
he shouldn't be uneasy, and determinably, EASILY, stepped forward
another step.
And the doorknob trembled.
It was only a slight tremble, but easily caught by L's acute eyes, and
he stopped in his tracks.
The door opened and a thin man with dark gray hair and a nervous - yet
oddly amused - attitude about himself stepped through, carrying a tray
with a bowl of soup and buttered toast on a small plate. Upon seeing
L, his eyes widened and he dropped the tray to the floor with a loud
clatter.
"YAAAAAAAA!" he screamed.
"YAAAAAAAA!" L screamed right back.
The man attempted to frantically pull away, but L was ready to react.
His hand shot forward and grabbed the man by the neck. He picked him
up, held him up over his head, and steadily regarded him.
"D-Don't kill me, "the man gasped, gazing down at him with fright but
no hate.
This man was no enemy, L realized. And that frightened him more than a
look of pure hatred because L didn't know how to deal with it in his
present state. This felt like unfamiliar territory, especially to a
man with no identity.
"Don't worry," L promised, "I won't."
With intention, L changed the energy flowing through his arm to the
man's neck and quickly put the man to sleep. He didn't know from what,
but he was comfortable using the power, familiar with it. He knew what
it did like it was a part of his own body.
L lowered the man to the floor and walked past him, into the next
room.a big room, filled with gypsies, performers, and other circus
people. This was distinguished by the colorful clothing they wore, as
well as the various tools of a circus lying on shelves and within
large wooden boxes, such as juggling balls, knives, whips, and face
paint. At the end of the room directly in front of L, a door, just
barely ajar, shined the bright yellow light of midday through the
room.
L stopped momentarily and stared at the wide circle of circus
performers and coordinators who had just suddenly gone silent at his
appearance. They stared right back. Finally, a man with a long bright
white beard and a balding head stood up and faced him fearlessly. He
wore a long white robe with a thin belt sewn on around the waist. The
only item currently held by this belt was a simple wooden rod with a
copper star tied on its end. The man reminded L of what he always
supposed Moses would look like, before he remembered he wasn't
supposed to remember anything at all and promptly forgot.
"I beg your pardon!" the old man roared, shocking L from his newfound
gift of forgetfulness, and L jumped. Automatically, he raised his
fists to own chest and they flared up with a familiar green fire.
Familiar to L, at least. Every other living being in the room jumped
back with fear and even the old man fell back onto his seat. L himself
barely blinked. Every time he used this power, he somehow recalled,
all feeling would disappear from his lower arms and they became to him
like swords - deadly weapons of power and only that until the
situation called for less destructive means. Initially, his upper
chest had always gotten burned by their close proximity to the burning
fists, but with time he learned to hold them up far enough away to
leave the burns mild if not nonexistent.
"H-how do you do that?" a small, very small, perhaps even midget
small, actually-that-might-be-the-point small woman inquired of him.
An atmosphere of awe had filled the place, one that unnerved L
terribly. It wasn't the least bit threatening.
"Well?" L demanded, ignoring the woman's question altogether. "Are you
not going to confront me?"
"Young man," the old man stepped forward and spoke quietly. "Lissen
up. We found you lying on the beach near one of the burgs we were
performing at a while back, and some of our people took you back with
us because you were injured and they thought you might die without us.
You healed up surprisingly quick, and within the first coupla days all
of your injuries disappeared. Even so, you wouldn't wake up, so," he
shrugged, "we figured we'd keep on feeding you till you wake up. But
now that you do, you destroy a very expensive door, knock off one of
our people, and come up to us with yer fists blarin'. Nice thanks for
saving your life. So I guess what I want to ask you now is, will you
lower your fists of glory and do us a favor or two or do you mean to
kill us all?"
L blinked. This was not what he expected.
"Well, uh." L began apologetically. He lowered his arms to his sides
and they slowly began to return to their normal mix of pink, white,
and red. "I, uh, thought you were some of my enemies, and." he trailed
off.
"Who are you anyway?"
"I. I'm not quite sure. It starts with an 'L'. I think. Just call me
Ell, I guess."
"So, Ell," the small, very small, the
errr-you-get-the-general-idea-at-least small woman spoke up, "you
never answered my question. How *do* you do that thing with your
fists?"
"I, uhhh, I don't know. I don't remember very much, really, just how
to use it. Magic, I think."
"Magic?" the old man's eyes brightened with intensity as a crazy idea
of some sort entered his head and he took another step toward L. "Ell,
how would you like to join a _circus_?"
***
The warden opened the cell door.
In front of him, kneeling on the floor, was the Dragoon Kain. Stripped
of his armor and forced to wear rags, he could have been any number of
convicts forced to serve long sentences within the wide prison
chambers of ACCR. His hair was disheveled and dirty, and his face was
covered with dark streaks of mud where his face had rested between the
poles of the window the night before. Upon the sight of the elderly
warden in the doorway, Kain's face brightened and he pulled himself to
his feet, greeting him warmly.
"Kain," the warden spoke sadly to the man standing before him, "she
wouldn't see it."
Kain's face darkened again at this news and for a moment, he couldn't
even meet the warden's eye and he kept his gaze focused on the floor.
The warden waited for a reaction, and when he didn't get one
immediately, he continued, "Kain?"
Finally, Kain looked up at him again and when he did this time, he was
trembling mildly. "Does she hate me that much?"
The warden took in a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. "Kain,
you have to understand. You've taken away her family and she loved
her family deeply. And if I were her, I too would probably hate you."
Kain nodded, turned away, and began to limp toward the window on the
other side of the cell. Halfway there, he stopped and turned his gaze
once again to the floor.
"You killed her family, Kain. Her mother, her father, her sisters, her
brother. Whatever feelings she might have had for you before, they
were nothing to her feelings for her family. You betrayed her trust,
and you destroyed her life."
Kain didn't say anything for a long moment, but when he did his voice
grew nearly hysterical. "I must have been in a terrible rage indeed.
for I cannot remember anything of it... and I cannot see any situation,
however extreme, bringing me to a place where I would ever be capable
of hurting... her or," he hesitated, "her family. I love her...and them.I
love them all and I can't see how I could've ever killed. Bahamut's
Blood!"
"Kain, I can't change things for you and her. She hates you. She sent
the letter back without ever opening it, and she wrote that she didn't
ever want to hear from you again on its front."
Kain did not respond. His back remained turned, his head lowered to
the floor, and tears slowly began to drizzle down his face.
"I'm sorry," the warden added, backing away toward the cell door.
"There is nothing more I can do."
For effect, the warden waited for a response, though he expected none.
After a few seconds, he stepped through the doorway, looked back
haltingly one final time, and shut the door, leaving Kain cloaked in
the darkness and a terrible lonely guilt.
But it was Murgorath who walked away from the door, content with the
illusion that he had built up to keep Kain blind to the actual reality
of his situation. He could not hold back - nor did he even try - the
sneer that grew upon his face at the thought of this. So far, all had
gone perfectly. And Kain was such a gullible Dragoon. With a single
enchantment, Kain's memory of the last few months disappeared entirely
and an entirely new reality had been fabricated for him. He had never
questioned the history and setting he had been given or the sincerity
of his new friend - his ignorant loyalty was the device Murgorath
would use.
It was all very quickly going entirely according to The plan...
And the Holy War.... had already begun.
***
Reno and Elena walked up the otherwise silent corridor of Castle
AGFF's second floor.
"So," said Elena. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"
Reno hesitated, and took a deep breath before speaking. "King Eggnog
is going to be holding an honorary acknowledgement ceremony for us and
other... civil servants, in a couple of hours."
"Yes?"
"And he's going to deliver a little speech, then give the floor to
Sean."
"Uh-huh?"
"Sean will have the floor only for a short time - of course they
wouldn't want him to show too much power, it might be suspicious -
just long enough to acknowledge the Turks and a few other AGFFSDIAIA
personnel; whatever, it's not important. And then it'll be Eggnog
again for most of the rest of ceremony."
"Right. Reno, where are you going with this?"
"Sean will be up on stage for a very short time, with us near him an
even shorter time. But it might be just long enough to take action."
Elena narrowed her eyes and stopped in midstride. "For Ajora's sake,
Reno, what the hell are you talking about?"
Reno stared right back at her, and with intensity whispered: "Who
really holds the crown, Elena? Makes all the decisions? Decides our
fates?"
"Sean," she whispered. "Sean, of course. But we've always known that.
What do you plan to do?"
"Stop," he raised a hand to quiet her, "just a. give me a moment to
explain myself. Please. All of our employers have been a bit dangerous
to deal with; inclined, shall we say, to end the career of a young
Turk prematurely if he screws up on a mission. And we've had to do
some pretty screwed up things in our careers, and I understand that,
and it's never been such a problem for me until now, but. Elena. This
man. He'll use us until he's finished with us, and then he'll kill us.
I know that. You know that. Working with him is like trying to clean a
loose cannon. And there's more to it than that. Elena, this whole
culture. it's a lie. No one, not a high official government, knows
what's really going on and those who do would kill to keep it secret -
but when a man orchestrates both sides of the war, playing good and
evil as if it were just a game, for the sole purpose of causing
chaos to erupt at the cost of other people's lives, at the risk of
ours. Elena, it's."
"It's the job," Elena said. "What we're paid to do."
"It's sick."
Reno paused, looking into her eyes. He looked to be on the edge, but
something in what he was saying was close to convincing her.
"What do you want me to do?" she finally asked, her voice a mere
murmur.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you telling me?"
Another pause. This time, before Reno could speak, a door opened down
the hall and a well-dressed headquarters official walked toward and
past them.
"Howdy do," said Reno as he passed.
"Hello," said the official amiably.
They listened as his feet echoed down the hall, to a mere distant
murmur, and finally Reno turned back to face Elena.
"Because I'm going to do something today, and it's risky, and after I
do it, I may never again have a chance to tell you this," he said, and
his tension grew visibly.
"What?" Elena whispered.
Reno looked down and gathered her hands in his own. He hesitated.
"Listen, Elena, I know there's something between you and Tseng, and I
can respect that, and." he took a deep breath, "I can accept it. Now.
Now I can accept it, and some of how I was behaving earlier was
because I couldn't and now I can." Another deep breath. "And,
everything's been coming so clear to me and I know the part I am to
play in all this. And it's a powerful part. I was born to play it,
like I were a chess piece. But I wanted you to know before I. became
the 'wild card' of the deck, heh. I wanted you to know that deep down
I've always loved you and deep down some part of me has always wanted
your approval even if it didn't seem like I did. and if I fail here
today, I want you to live. I want you to escape. Get out of here
however you can before he kills you. And Tseng. And the new
Turks, Daron, and the funny guys with glasses.. But most especially
you. Promise me you'll find a way out. And you won't let him kill you.
Promise me."
Elena was speechless. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words
would come out. When they finally did, they were silent rasped
whispers, breathless, frightened. "Oh, Reno."
He stared into her eyes, intent, piercing, and she found she could not
look away. In the sudden silence, one could've heard with crisp
clarity a pin fall.
Elena nodded and tears formed in her eyes. "I promise," she whispered.
Reno's face brightened with relief. With no further ado, he wrapped
his arms around her and leaned forward to kiss her. To his further
relief, Elena did not pull away but instead received the gift he had
to offer - love - for what was to be the first and likely the last
time.
Finally, Reno pulled away and turned to the opposite wall. "I cannot
tell you how wonderful. how beautiful a feeling it is now, Elena," he
said quietly, his voice cracking on her name. "To see my path, to know
it and carry it to completion. it is without words, but I believe I
have seen God, if you could call it that." he turned back to face her,
and newly-formed tears could be seen in his heavy eyes. "This is what
I was meant to do, Elena. I can feel it. Feel no sadness for me, for I
have found...in my life... what so many people spend lifetimes futilely
seeking, never finding, never knowing. But each of us has a place in
the Pattern. Even if they don't know what it is, as so many don't. I
sincerely believe that, Elena, and long after I am gone, I shall live
on in the effects my actions have on the world! I'll live on in
you."
He gripped her by the shoulders and went on: "Elena." he paused, "you
have inspired me for years. Before I go, know that I could have never
gone on as long as I did without you. You supported me when I needed
it, and I never told you." he broke into tears, "how appreciative I am
for it all. Goodbye."
He pulled away for what was to be the last time, leaving a shocked,
speechless Elena standing against the wall. He started off down the
corridor without another word.
"Reno," she finally cried out. He hesitated. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," he said. "Give my regards to Tseng after it's all
over, eh?"
Without waiting for a response, he walked on, out of sight of the
female Turk.
***
The massive auditorium of the Castle AGFF was packed now, with press
and politicians, high-ranking officials and civil servants and
interested civilians. As usual for such a ceremony, diverse people of
all areas of the kingdom had gathered in attendance to watch the King
give a speech and award medals to 'heroes' within the government.
The crowd silenced as King Eggnog III walked up to the mike, dressed
regally in the finest of furs of animals he himself had hunted and
skinned; it was a well known fact for which he had received much
respect from those who held no sympathies with the animal rights
activists of the time.
To King Eggnog's left stood Sean Daugherty of the AGFFSDIAIA; upon his
face was plastered a kind but empty smile typical of any government
official at an obligatory function who thinks he ought to be off doing
more important things. Today, his smile was particularly empty in that
regard.
King Eggnog coughed into the mike. "Hello, citizens," he began
awkwardly. "I have called this meeting forth to celebrate the lives of
our heroes of military prowess who on this day fifteen years ago
repelled the forces of the enemy nation of AGFN at the risk and often
cost of their lives." He paused, growing visibly more comfortable with
every word, in front of the crowd. "Moreover, I celebrate every man...
and woman," he added quickly. Feminism was still a new concept to him,
"who has every been able to proudly call himself an AGFFer, a citizen
of this fine newsgroup, throughout the centuries since it won its
independence from the tyranny of the medieval alt.games hierarchies
that ruled it!"
People cheered and clapped and whooped at this last one. Eggnog nodded
proudly to himself and waited for the cheers to die down before
continuing, "Today, we celebrate the veterans of the wars, and the
bloody battlefields of glory upon which this newsgroup was founded on!
Today we celebrate St. Aron's Day, day for those veterans who made
this newsgroup what it is!"
The entire auditorium went up in cheers.
***
The Duke, one hour earlier than he had led the AGFF government
officials to believe, crawled stealthily through the underbrush,
followed by three of his finest warriors, among which was his best
friend of years, Raphael. Leaping from bush to bush approaching the
castle, they were quieter than cats in their steady approach.
The guards at the gates of the city never saw them coming.
"Quietly now," whispered the Duke. "Now.!"
***
"...would like to acknowledge Sir Fredrick E. Johnson, for his ongoing
efforts in keeping the historical records of our glorious newsgroup
sorted in an orderly fashion. God knows I never could've!" King Eggnog
chuckled.
Numerous members of the press chuckled with him.
Tseng yawned.
Reno gritted his teeth.
***
The Dragoon leapt out of the underbrush and caught the nearest of the
guards in the temple with a sharp rock. He fell back with a yell,
while the Dragoon cut the second guard's hand. The guard dropped his
lance, and grabbed his bloody hand.
The third guard rushed to ring the alarm bells, but already the Duke,
another Dragoon soldier, and Raphael leapt out of the underbrush; the
Dragoon soldier shot an arrow into the third guard's gullet. The guard
fell to his knees, mere feet away from the bell.
While the first guard picked himself up off of the ground, a sharp cut
on his forehead, the Dragoon soldier grabbed him, turned him about,
and broke his neck.
The second guard grabbed his spear with his uninjured hand and leapt
awkwardly at the first Dragoon soldier. But before he could attack the
man, a bow 'twang'ed in the foreground and an arrow flew into his
stomach. He fell.
The Duke speared the remaining guard through the back - he never even
stood up - and, as quickly as that, the battle was over.
The Duke exchanged a glance with one of the Dragoon soldiers, and they
each pulled one of the guards' bodies over behind the nearest bushes.
***
"...the Military Captain of twenty-four years, Claude Bussemi, who I
myself stood beside in battle against the Meower forces back during
the invasion in the Year of the Dragon-Snake and the reign of the
previous King, Eggnog the 2nd, god bless him."
The crowd cheered.
***
"Hold the fort until I get back," the first guard rasped to the
second. "We must hold the illusion of safety until the crucial moment.
All may rest on it."
The lead guard, carrying in one hand a frighteningly sharp black
lance, emerged from behind the bushes, followed by two other similarly
clad guards - in whose hands were only simple iron lances.
The guard stepped through the gates and walked on, into the City.
***
"Finally, I would like to acknowledge a man who has contributed to the
stateliness of this fine newsgroup perhaps the most, a man who
possesses skills in espionage and has successfully spied on opposing
groups in times of warfare, has led battles against far superior
numbers and won, and who yet possesses a great love of cooking and
children. This man, the director of the AGFFSDIAIA and the AGFF
University War Studies Department - among others, has shown a great
interest in developing our Kingdom, spending much of this last year
helping our architects and engineers formulate brilliant blueprints
for housing in the coming decade. He also helps out at Robins' Wood
Daycare on the outskirts of the city, playing with the children and
making cookies in his time off work!"
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
"This amazing man is none other than the amazing Director Sean C.
Daugherty!" King Eggnog finished. Sean continued to smile and stepped
up to the mike with a great ease, met with loud cheering and applause.
***
People on the street, seeing the guard with the evil-looking lance
approaching, widened their eyes and crossed the street to avoid them.
One family - the elders of which had not yet drank their morning
coffee - only became aware of the sharp lance as the guard passed
them.
"Oh my!" the older woman declared as she bumped ignorantly into the
guard and saw the lance. The younger man and the woman pulled their
child between them and ordered him to walk faster.
The guard paid them no heed. His eyes were focused on only two things:
Castle AGFF, and the auditorium dome, built right beside it, looming
up in front of him as he approached them.
***
"Thank you," said Sean warmly. "Thank you. It is an honor."
Once the cheering died down, Sean went on powerfully, "I have served
this newsgroup faithfully for over fifteen years and never ONCE
regretted it! AGFF is my home, my newsgroup, and my native land! The
honor is all mine, to have been able to be part of a government that
practices monarchical democracy on a day-to-day basis, and to see it
works! I speak with leaders from the Allied Kingdoms - and even from
the independent nations, for they are people too - and we all leave
counsel with a feeling of all being equals and each having our say in
government. what other government can be counted on for that? As I
say, this is truly the people's government, and the honor is all
mine!"
This was met with further cheering.
***
"Purpose of business?" the guard at the auditorium asked.
The Duke smiled. "I come to watch the presentation of the King and his
servants."
"Not with that you don't," the guard said, nodding at the Demon
Lance.
"Please," the Duke said, a new hint of urgency in his voice. "I have
just walked twelve miles from the ambush site of the enemy. The Duke
is approaching and I fear he may arrive sooner than the King
predicted. I need to show him this, which I retrieved from the body of
one of the leaders. This is of the utmost importance."
"But it's a public ceremony," the guard said.
"I know," the Duke said. "Believe me, if there was another way, I'd do
it. I won't cause a scene. But I must speak to the King and show him
this."
"Couldn't you show it to the counsel...?"
"Let me in."
"It goes against policy..."
"I don't care. Let me in."
Something in the Duke's voice scared the guard. Though the uniform
gave the Duke no further authority than the guard himself, his voice
commanded him more than a thousand generals could've.
"As you wish," the guard said, biting back an automatic 'sir' that
rose on the tip of his tongue.
"Thank you," the Duke said, and marched past him.
***
"...But I could not do it alone. No, the contributions I have added to
the Kingdom only came with the loyal assistance of my fellow civil
servants under service of the King. Among those are the war generals,
the Counsel of Allied Kingdoms, and the covert group who have saved
this newsgroup many a time from enemy forces, the Turks - famous for
their role in Final Fantasy 7. I wish to acknowledge these first, with
the honor of being able to introduce formally two new members of the
group from the faraway newsgroup of alt.movies.blues-brothers. These
two new Turks with training in escapism and personal espionage, I call
up to the front now --- Jake and Elwood!"
The two men wearing sunglasses walked up to the stage with big grins
on their face, walking with an irresponsible gait about them.
Sean, still smiling more than he otherwise would in a year, shook
first Jake's hand and then Elwood's. They walked on past him and
recieved two entry-level Turk golden acknowledgement medals which the
King placed around their necks. Then they were gone and Sean
continued:
"Next, I would like to acknowledge Tseng of the Turks - one of the
senior members, constantly a good example to the newer ones. His
manners are perfectly in keeping with the Turk Manual of Behaviour,
and he is one of the best spies we have. Come on up, Tseng!"
Beaming with pride, Tseng walked up onto the stage and shook Sean's
hand with an equally large - but perhaps more genuine - smile on his
own face. Then he too moved on to the King, received an honorary
platinum medal, and walked off.
"And Elena, a strong spokesperson for the modern feminism movement
within the AGFF Government. Bold and outspoken, and a practitioner of
the behaviours of the Turkish Behavioural Manual, Elena has
successfully managed to make a place for herself and others like her
within the Turks and... other government positions, too! Elena, come
on up..."
On a higher level, a man dressed in the uniform of the Guard peered
down at the stage with a marksman's eye. His attention was not on the
Director of the AGFFSDIAIA or any of the Turks recieving medals, but
rather, on the King. From below the platform emerged in his hand a bow
and arrow; he narrowed his eyes and pulled the arrow back...
The King Eggnog, with the utmost care, placed the medal over Elena's
neck and lowered his hands from with a fatherly smile on his face.
Concern filled Elena's eyes as she heard Sean call Reno's name behind
her and she tensed up visibly.
"What's wrong, child?" King Eggnog whispered.
Without answering, Elena turned away from him and walked off stage.
Feeling horror come up from the depths of his stomach, Eggnog turned
to look at Reno coming up on stage, looking very, very grim.
Sean extended an arm to shake Reno's hand, his grin continuous.
Reno's arm went into his coat pocket, and withdrew with a gun.
Sean's smile began to fade.
Reno put his finger on the trigger.
A dozen security officers pulled weapons from their pockets and coats,
and....
To be continued...
