Cecil woke to light streaming through an open window and the sound of Edward's soft humming drifting from somewhere nearby. Opening his eyes fully, he sat up and stared at the bard-prince, who was sitting on the bed adjacent to him, lacing up a pair of traveler's boots.
"Did you sleep well, Cecil?" the blonde man asked, placing his hands on his knees and smiling; Cecil thought he seemed different than he had the day before, far more confident.
"What time is it?" the Dark Knight asked, rubbing the back of his head and turning his gaze to the spacious room about him. He noticed his tunic and boots strewn on the floor, but could not remember placing them there. He supposed such was the consequence of being so physically exhausted the night before.
"Midday," replied the bard. "Get up. We are in need of supplies." Edward's honey colored eyes lighted on Cecil's frayed tunic and stained white undershirt, "It seems you are also in need of new clothing. You must be presentable before we travel to Fabul or you'll never get an audience."
Cecil knew that Edward was right. He would need a change in wardrobe if he was to make the right impression, but with what money would this wardrobe be purchased? It mattered little. As was, he hadn't bathed in five days and his hair hadn't been trimmed since before he'd left Baron. Combined with the fact that his clothing was less than presentable, and he ended up looking more like a bandit than a somewhat reputable Lord of Baron. "Is there a bath somewhere?" Cecil questioned, standing up to retrieve his things from the floor. "I feel like I spent the last several nights sleeping in a pigsty."
Edward nodded. "I've already asked the maids here to draw one for you," he smiled, finishing his work with his boots. "I figured you might say as much."
"Thank you," Cecil inclined his head and asked the bard prince for directions, quickly navigating the halls of the mansion to the spacious washroom; a place far more extravagant than the simple, practical rooms he was used to.
Shutting the door behind him, Cecil stripped completely and sunk into the steaming water, immediately relishing the feeling of heat on his joints. He hadn't even begun to scrub down, and already he felt better, cleaner. Though the Knight felt particularly indulgent that morning, he did keep in mind that Edward was waiting for him, and so he did not linger to soak, though he truly wanted to, feeling rather silly for thinking so.
Cecil was not usually one to enjoy things such as baths, they were simply just procedural, but he was beginning to appreciate the simpler things in life. In Baron, he'd held a position where bathing had never been a problem, but on the road it was an entirely different story. It would be false to say that he did not miss the convenient amenities life in Baron offered; at least not when he was filthy and road-worn.
He dressed silently, though he secretly wished he had fresh clothes to change into, and buckled his own boots, sitting on a stool not far from the heavy metal wash basin. Standing, he tied his hair back with a scrap of frayed black cloth, piling the long, pale, wet strands atop his head. He longed for newer, stronger cloth, but knew even turban cloth would be too expensive for his current budget, which had a balance of nothing and now even his armor was gone.
So far was the Dark Knight within his own thoughts that he did not notice the presence of a certain White Magi when he exited the room until he had already collided with her.
"Rosa," he held out his hands to steady her. "Forgive me! It seems I wasn't-"
"It's quite all right," she assured, shaking her head and smiling fondly. "You were so involved in your thoughts that you didn't notice me."
Cecil could not find words to respond to her, but he had no need to, for Edward came down the hall at that precise moment. "I would advise purchasing multiple outfits," Edward said, excusing the both of them and leading Cecil down the halls and into the midday sun. "Oh, what am I thinking? You must be famished!" He shook his head, and again Cecil noted how much more relaxed he seemed since the night before.
They had set off toward the market place far from the Mansion District, setting a leisurely pace.
"What happened?" Cecil asked him as they crossed a bridge into the market place, where the press of bodies could be overwhelming. "You seem very ..." Cecil made a vague gesture with his hands, wondering how to convey what he was thinking.
Prince Edward smiled serenely, "Do you believe in the afterlife, Cecil?"
Cecil noted the bard prince playing with a strand of his hair, his eyes possessed of that strange, far-off look. It was very different from the tone of forced cheerfulness he had taken on yesterday. "I saw Anna last night, and she told me to be strong and move on from her." His eyes locked with Cecil's, "To be honest, I was planning on moving on from this life after I assisted you in saving Rosa, but now ..." He smiled genuinely, though the smile was marked with sadness. "You are such a good person, a brave person, and I want to learn from you. I want to help you any way I can, and I know my beloved would want me to, as well."
Cecil patted Edward's shoulder and smiled softly. Though he did not know if he believed Edward's tale of Anna's ghost, he was glad that the bard prince had found some hope. "Any assistance you can offer would be appreciated, Prince Edward." He paused, and then spoke, choosing his words very carefully. "Why did you share that with me?"
Edward's eyes widened, as though it should be obvious, "I wanted us to become friends, and I felt you deserved to know, as you're our leader."
Cecil felt his own eyes widen in response, "I -" he closed his eyes and then spoke again. "I suppose I am the leader. I haven't given it any thought."
"Do you know what you're going to say to King Lao?" Edward led the Dark Knight to a small stall, where dried and seasoned lamb hung from the tent flap; just the scent made him hungry. Yes, it would be good to eat a real meal instead of tasteless rations.
"I haven't thought about that, either," Cecil admitted, surprised when Edward handed over the Gil for the food. "You don't have to –"
"Nonsense. I may like anonymity, but I have entirely too much Gil, and cannot possibly spend it all on myself. I insist."
"At least allow me to pay you back," Cecil took the meat despite his protests; he was far too hungry to deny it, and it would be a waste otherwise. "I'll feel guilty for the imposition otherwise."
"It's not an imposition, Cecil," said Edward, as if they had been friends all their lives rather than having met only yesterday. "My family controls the money flow in Damcyan. If I so desired, I could invest in trade with any country in the world and earn back ten times the profit. The money for food, supplies, clothing … It's hardly a drop in the barrel!"
"Still, I feel as if I am spending another man's money." Cecil took a bit of the meat, finding it was every bit as flavorful as it was aromatic. After a moment, he spoke again. "It's why I never took advantage of any of his highness's generous offers." He sighed, correcting himself, "I don't want you to think I am not grateful, but I am the man who prefers to make his own way in this world, not the man who takes handouts from others."
Edward played with a strand of his hair thoughtfully, his face subdued, "Then you must consider it a gift; between friends."
Cecil closed his eyes, but nodded reluctantly, "I'll consider the clothing a gift, but you will accept payment for the food at some point."
Edward laughed softly at him, "I suppose that's fair enough."
The two men traversed farther down the crowded street, and Cecil was fascinated by how different it was from Vangrad and Necrograd. Merchants shouted out their wares and the prices, and most shops were open stall or tented, their goods out in the open, displayed proudly for the world to see. It was chaos compared to the neatly labeled indoor shops of his home country, where advertisements were announced by herald or flyer.
Edward moved in on a large, mauve tent, dragging Cecil with him by the cuff of his sleeve. His eyes had locked in on the place with hawk-like precision, and Cecil realized as soon as they stepped into the dimly lit, heavily perfumed, and distinctly stuffy interior that the prince was a bargain hunter as well as a monarch.
A woman with tanned skin and very little clothing sat in the center on the tent, lounging about on an old sofa covered in an overabundance of jewel toned fabric. When she saw them, her sage green eyes began to smolder, and she smiled knowingly, "Ah, Edward dear. It seems your scruffy looking friend needs new clothing and a shave."
Cecil ran his hand over his face and felt the scratchy stubble there, surprised at its presence. He had never had to worry about shaving very often before, but it had been quite awhile, and the thought had not crossed his mind earlier this day.
The woman snaked her way from the couch, her sheer skirts swimming about her hips as she ambled toward him, "I must know your sizes, Mister …?"
Cecil looked down at his hands, where there were little white scars on his knuckles, "I'm sorry, I do not know. And my name is Cecil, madam."
"Then you must take your tunic and your shirt off, Cecil. I need your sizes," she ordered, and he bashfully did so, seeing no other choice and no way of escape.
Her eyes grazed his form appreciatively, and he felt himself turn what he was sure was a very unflattering shade of red. She took his clothing as if it was a dead animal, and then she turned to Edward, "Let's talk prices and materials, Edward, darling."
Edward shook his head, "I'm sorry, Claudia, but we're in a hurry. May I see the samples?"
"You want to see samples, Edward?" she arched a dark eyebrow at him, placing a hand on her hip. "There are some people who should not wear samples, and this man is one of them. Though his tastes are undoubtedly simple, there is no excuse for purchasing him something that does not suit him ..."
They went on like that for quite some time, and Cecil, uninterested in the heckling, took to examining the interior of the tent, though there was not much to look at. Rolls of fabric were propped up against what appeared to be a wardrobe, and changing screens lined the far end of the tent. A large, frayed, and faded rug patterned in a Fabulian style lay on the dusty ground, upon which sat this Claudia's sofa. Cecil found he felt as uncomfortable here as he did in front of the noble families back home; awkward, as if he were some obscene thing to be gawked at, not a person.
The woman laughed, jolting him from his thoughts. When he turned, a look of mischief filled her eyes. "Our bard friend insists on a simple size matching from my samples, but I would like to make for you a dress tunic." She moved over to him, seeming to have an idea already circulating in her mind. "A lovely sage would set off your eyes, you know," she purred the way all women did when were pleased about something. "And with a silver thread!"
"I told Claudia that we couldn't afford-" Edward began, but the woman rounded on him.
"If money is an issue, I will give it to you, but I must work for this man!" She cast Cecil a gaze that made him feel as if he were a piece of meat that she wanted to eat. "It is not everyday that someone with features such as his just waltzes into my shop," Claudia took his hand. "Men are usually so tedious to design for, but this one ..."
"Well, if you insist," Edward sighed, and Cecil marveled at his sudden ability to act as if he were burdened; was this a normal part of being a Damcyite?
"The samples are back in that corner," she pointed vaguely to the northwest corner of her tent. "Take the agreed upon items and then get out! I must work!" she released Cecil's hand and shoved him his clothing, which he was more than happy to return to its proper place on his back. "Come back before supper and I will have it done."
Following Edward to the corner she had directed them to; it did not take long to find what they were looking for. They left a moment later, Edward's arms filled with three tunics, an undershirt, and a new pair of black pants, on which he had bargained the price down to practically nothing.
Cecil blinked in the intense light as Edward dragged him back toward the mansion. "We'll go to drop this off, and then I'll take Rydia to purchase the rest of the supplies. You must spend more time with this lady of yours." The bard prince's eyes suddenly took on a sad, wistful look, "She seems to be so lovely."
"I'm sure the two of you will get along quite well," Cecil assured Edward. "She's a very kind, educated, well-mannered woman. Her family is one of the oldest in Baron, after all," it amazed Cecil how boastful he sounded of Rosa.
Edward's laughter echoed across the empty Mansion District as he pulled open the doors to the blue mansion, revealing Rydia, who was scrambling around the foyer, pink faced and laughing, while Rosa chased after her. Cecil, as easily as if he'd been doing every day of his life, reached down and scooped the green haired girl into his arms. "Edward wants to ask if you'd like to go shopping with him," he said as Edward handed the clothing to a maid and whispered polite directions to her.
Rydia peered around Cecil's neck, giving Edward a critical look ,"Why can't he ask me himself?"
"Girls as beautiful as you make him nervous, Rydia. We must be considerate of that," said Cecil, Rydia's giggle's drowning out his voice.
"You can tell him its okay, but he has to ask me himself next time!"
"Rydia says-" Cecil jokingly began, but Edward's laughter cut him off, and the Dark Knight placed the girls on the floor.
She rushed over to Edward and took his hand.
"Bye, Rosa! Bye, Cecil!" called Rydia as she waved over her shoulder; Cecil waved back.
When he turned back to Rosa, he found a look on her face that he could not fathom. Her lips were curved into a kind smile, and her eyes were shining. "Rosa, what's wrong? Why are y-?"
"Oh, Cecil," she sighed, taking his arm and leading him away; to where, he'd no idea, but he supposed it didn't matter. "You're so good with children. You'd make an excellent father."
He felt himself blushing for a reason very different than he had in the tent, and she laughed playfully at him, tweaking his nose in their childhood tradition. "I'm not so sure, Rosa."
"Don't be silly, Cecil. I have a woman's intuition when it comes to these matters; a clear advantage over you."
At her joking tone he relaxed and bumped their shoulders together. "A woman's intuition? You're right, I can't possibly compete."
She returned his quip with one of her heart stopping smiles, "You have to see the gardens, Cecil. They're so peaceful, and I think they'll do you good."
"Summer is fast waning," he commented as they exited into a small, lush, garden, clearly very well kept by the staff here. "Soon, the Harvest will be in full bloom back at home, and then the Harvest Festival will be held. I wonder if they'll cancel it because of these conflicts, or ..." he trailed off, noticing Rosa's disinterest. "I think I'll miss the golden fields, "he chuckled wryly. "I may even miss the snow."
"You make it sound as if you're not going back," said Rosa very softly as she led him to a lone bench sitting underneath a grove of trees; she sat, and he took his place at her feet. "Do you think you'll never see it again?"
Her fingers trailed through his long hair, hair that had once only brushed his shoulders, but now fell well past his shoulder blades. Leaning his head back and resting it against her knees, he closed his eyes and exhaled softly, "I have to stop Baron, and until I do, I'm a fugitive. I can't go home."
"But I was told you were dead," Rosa protested.
"When they came for Rydia, I spared the men. They'd have gone back to Baron by now, and Lord Baigan will know," he opened his eyes to see her chewing her bottom lip.
"They're calling it a war now, Cecil," her sea foam eyes looked striking against the blue of the sky beyond, "The Crystal War. Everyone in Baron is terrified of what this means, and it's only been a little over two weeks since the raid on Mysidia."
"It seems so much longer to me," he muttered. "Perhaps it is because so much has happened," above them, the branches of trees normally not found in this climate criss-crossed, casting a patchwork of dappled shadows all about them. "Still, I cannot believe they have begun to call it a war."
"What are we going to do?" her hands hovered for a moment at the knot he'd made in the cloth that tied back his hair, before loosing it and allowing his hair to fall freely about his face.
"The only thing left to us; treat with Fabul and Troia and hope to amass a force large enough to defeat the Baroni military." Saying it aloud made it sound absolutely ludicrous. Defeat Baron? With what strength? What could unarmed monks and armed women hope to do against the Red Wings and the Dragon Knights?
"Surely there has to be something more we can do. We can't be that powerless, can we, Cecil?" She trailed off. "Let's not speak any more of politics. I just want to forget all of this for a few hours."
"Have you seen the cit yet, Rosa?" he asked as her fingers trailed soothingly across his scalp.
"Why, Sir Harvey, are you suggesting a tryst?" She leaned down over him, smirking. "I'm not sure I can condone such behavior. It's entirely improper. Think of my suitors!" She feigned offense.
"But, milady," he stood, offering her his hand and a low, sweeping bow, "how can you possibly deny a man as charming and handsome as I?"
Her laugh was like water to a parched man, "well, I'm afraid I can find no fault in that logic."
And she took his hand.
(INTERMISSION)
"You will retrieve for me the Crystal of Wind," said Golbez, his voice barely audible, though the tall man beside him seemed to have heard, for he nodded stiffly.
"You are dismissed," he waved his hand resignedly, and the man disappeared into the dark corridors, going to do what only Gaelach could possibly comprehend.
Golbez turned to the moons, unsurprised when a soft, deep, voice made itself known. "You seem pensive, my old friend."
The Dark Lord turned around, a smirk revealing the youth of that face, a handsome man in his late twenties. "Rubicante, you know you are several times my elder."
"Ah, but I have known you since you were a twelve year old whelp, and you have continually proven yourself a valuable companion," the dusky man replied, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, his glowing yellow eyes filled with a certain fondness toward the Dark Lord. "We've made head way in Eblan."
"So it will soon fall," Golbez sat on the edge of the bed, and then swung his legs over the edge and lay down, crossing his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
"As sure as the twin moons set and rise again," Rubicante told his young friend. He hesitated, then spoke once again, "You seem distracted, Golbez. What troubles your mind?"
"To be frank? Cecil Harvey." He peered upward through his half closed eyes. "He attempts to stand against me. I realize he has no real chance of being victorious, and yet … There is something about him that unsettles me."
"He seems immune to your persuasion."
"No. That is not it," Golbez turned his violet gaze on Rubicante. "It is that no one forewarned me of him. They all assumed he would not pose a threat; that he would not dare to go against his king, that his loyalty was unshakeable. Yet he stands at every corner, and though he fails, there he stands. I cannot help but wonder what would happen if he were to acquire the kind of power that could defeat me…" He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "No, that is not likely, but I would honestly not be surprised if he were there to defend Fabul when I arrive. In fact, I am hoping he is there, for I have a little plan in store for him."
"I see that glint in your eyes, Golbez. You are enjoying yourself," Rubicante's voice was slightly accusing, but amused.
"Yes. I will admit that I have long yearned for a worthy adversary," Golbez shot up out of bed, his eyes glowing with magic in the darkness. "I hope he responds in full to my ploy."
"You're playing with this Cecil," Rubicante chuckled. "Be careful not to become too drawn up in this rivalry."
"I can practice restraint," Golbez snorted. "I have realized that this threat must be neutralized." He looked down at his hands and smiled in a way that was almost sad. "Yet he is young, and I am young also. Perhaps I just want to act my age and compete for once." He looked back up at Rubicante, the expression wiped from his face, the usual mask of careful cruelty. "It will be a shame to snuff out his life, but to know we've finally won brings me great satisfaction."
"What should I tell Lugae to do with the POWs?" Rubicante asked, returning the subject to business.
Golbez chuckled coolly, "tell him to transform them into an advantage."
(INTERMISSION)
Cecil could feel Rosa's eyes on him as he turned about in the new, sage green, velvet tunic and crisp with undershirt, showing it off only because she had asked him. It was a comfortable fit, and even Cecil had to admit that it was pleasing to the eye.
Edward beamed at Claudia's handiwork and was going on to the woman about price – despite her earlier offer of giving it to them.
Rydia sat on Rosa's lap, eating the sweets Edward had indulged her with on their shopping trip. She was grinning at Cecil, "Want some?"
Cecil shook his head, "No thank you, Rydia."
Cecil was suddenly aware of Claudia's voice, and glanced over to see Edward paying her. Picking up his old clothing, Cecil moved to the changing screens, feeling further self-consciousness with Rosa there. When he returned, he indulged Rydia a little bit on his own when she held her arms out and he picked her up, smiling warmly at her.
"I like you a lot Cecil," she whispered in his ears. "At first I hated you, but I really don't think you meant to hurt Mommy, and you have Rosa, and I like Rosa," she suddenly pulled away, looking a bit sad. "And you're different, like me."
Cecil remembered the rockslide at Mist, and wondered, not for the first time, what she had done to cause such a calamity. He also recalled her powerful magics, and supposed that she may be sensing whatever Tellah had when they had first encountered the old man. His features, however, set him apart, and she wasn't exactly usual in that area herself.
He ran a hand through her thick, green hair, "Yes, we are different, aren't we?"
"Are you ready to depart?" Edward asked, a large pack that looked too heavy for a man of such slight frame to carry slung over his shoulders.
"Of course," answered Rosa, the bow and quiver of arrows she'd purchased with the money she'd brought from Baron in her arms, making Cecil wonder whether he was the only one without accessible funds.
Cecil nodded, "We need to hurry. Baron may strike at any moment."
"Then there is no time to waste," Edward left the tent, and Cecil and Rosa followed, the girl still in the Dark Knight's arms.
It did not take them long to reach the hovercraft; parked just within the shade of Kaipo's walls.
Cecil was made uncomfortable by the weightless sensation once again as he took his seat next to Edward.
"We're headed to the Tao-Shin Mountain Range," announced Edward over the whir of the engines and the rush of the wind. "Mount Hobbs is the most direct route to Fabul, so the trail is well worn. We should reach it in a few hours, if I drive as fast as I did yesterday."
"We'll have to walk to Ha-Chi?" asked Cecil.
"Yes, but the journey isn't long – not when the weather is fair."
And with that, the conversation ended, and their journey continued.
Cecil was content to listen to Edward, Rosa and Rydia chatter as he thought of the next few days of fair weather travel. Baron was being idle, and Cecil had already tarried too long in Kaipo, wasting far too many days at large, yet Baron had made no move, for if they had, they would not be able to escape the news. That alone told Cecil they were secure in their victory that they felt they could waste what the Dark Knight knew to be ever precious time. Perhaps their negligence could work to his advantage.
Cecil fingered the hilt of his sword, staring at the distant mountains that grew ever larger on the horizon, and wondered if he would ever see his beloved Baron again. More importantly, he wondered if Baron would ever recover from this disgrace. Perhaps, if King Thomas could return to his old frame of mind …
It was in this mindset that Cecil exited the hovercraft, half dazed as Edward shoved him a leather armor.
"You cannot go into battle unarmored. I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing."
It was rudimentary armor and did not provide protection against anything other than the must blunt of weapons, but it was better than nothing, and certainly sufficient for an excursion into Fabul. In monk country men did not arm themselves, and so Cecil would not have to fret about piercing or slashing blows. However, just because a man could not cut or stab you did not mean he was unable to kill you, as Cecil well knew from his days as a novice.
Strapping on the breast plate, wrist guard, greaves, and hip guards, Cecil readjusted his scabbard and placed his hand comfortably on his hilt.
When he turned around, Rosa was already waiting for him, her quiver slung over her shoulder, her bow in hand. She was standing by Rydia, who was clutching a short staff in her right hand, looking very unsure; Cecil resolved to teach her how to use it. Edward, who held their supplies (including whatever extras he'd purchased at market) in the pack he had upon his back, was holding his harp. Having seen its abilities first hand, Cecil didn't doubt it would be effective against the foes they may encounter upon the mountain, though it did look rather feeble.
"There is a camp ground we can utilize a little ways up the slope," said Edward. "We should reach it before nightfall."
"You've traveled frequently, Prince Edward?" Rosa inquired as they began their ascent up Mount Hobbs.
"I used to, when I was a bard," he laughed. "I never went farther than Tei or Kaipo, because of my health, and because Anna…" he trailed off, his face filled with a sudden mourning. "Anna would worry about me."
Rosa's face filled with deep compassion, "I'm so sorry for your loss."
Edward smiled, albeit a bit sadly, at her.
When Rosa asked Edward about his job as a bard, Cecil moved forward, walking close to them and relying heavily on his senses to alert him of any danger. That is why, following along with the others, he did not notice the wall of gleaming ice in front of him until Edward grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Someone was clearly trying to block off the passage between the countries, surmised the Dark Knight. First the beast in the sunken highway, and now this monstrosity.
"Well, I'm certainly grateful we have a Magi with us," said Rosa, kneeling by Rydia's side. "Will you cast a fire spell upon it?"
Cecil saw the shadows of fear reflected in her eyes, and could almost see the pillar of fire himself; could almost hear the screams and smell the smoke. "I ... I can't."
"But fire is the most basic of all spells," Rosa sighed, brushing her hand through Rydia's hair. "Surely-"
"No! I can't!" Rydia protested more vehemently. "The fire ... My village ... Mommy and Daddy..."
"Rydia," Rosa crooned, "you're the only one who can help us. If you don't cast fire, the people in Fabul will be hurt by The Red Wings. I know it's painful, Rydia, but just try, you may just be surprised."
Belief and trust in the older woman showed in Rydia's green eyes, and the girl took a deep breath. Spreading her hands in front of her, clutching her staff, she closed her eyes and turned to face the imposing wall of ice. Her skirt began to flap in a sudden breeze and her verdant hair began to course with movement. Her eyes snapped open, and fire leapt from the space between her arms to lick at the impassable wall with tongues of flame. Before long, it had evaporated into nothing more than a current of steam rising into the sunset sky.
"I did it!"
Rydia cast her arms around Rosa's neck, and the woman laughed, returning the girl's hug with all the warmth of a mother. "You were excellent, Rydia."
Together, they headed up the mountain slope, arriving at the campground in only an hour or so. It was evident that the area was well traveled, the ground worn and trampled; a well used fire pit dug, and a pile of fine wood stacked high nearby.
"Does Fabul maintain the path?" Cecil said as he and Edward removed the canvas for the tents from the pack.
"To my knowledge," replied the bard prince, moving over to the fire pit and throwing in a few logs. "I would guess that duty would fall to the monks who guard the Fortress City of Ha-Chi."
"I've never been to Fabul," Cecil said, staking the tent posts into the ground and beginning the careful process of setting up the tents.
Rosa and Rydia went through the pack of collected the rations, "Neither have I. In fact, I've never been farther from home than Dracograd before." Rosa looked at Cecil from underneath her eyelashes. "Do you need help?"
Cecil shook his head, "I've been many places; Troia, Mysidia, the Adamant Isles, but never Fabul or Eblan. They have strict regulations over their airspace, so Baron has never flown there."
"What's flying like?" asked Edward, staring up from his place by the fire pit.
Rydia, with a flick of her wrist, sent fire there, and the blonde man jumped, his eyes widening in shock.
Cecil, who was now arranging the canvas and rope to form the two tents, turned his gaze to Edward. "It's unlike anything else in the world. Being above the earth, with everything so far beneath you, the wind in your hair, knowing nothing can harm you. It's a feeling of absolute release." He granted as he wrapped the rope around the stake and pulled it tight, "A feeling of absolute freedom."
"It sounds like your music to me," Edward sat on the ground and strummed on his harp. "Music is my passion."
"Oh, he's not just passionate about flying in airships," said Rosa, cutting the twine on the ration packages with the knife she kept in her belt. "You should see him pilot one. Not even Cid can out fly Cecil, and he invented airships."
"That's not true, Rosa," protested Cecil, beginning his work on the next tent. "Cid hasn't been allowed to enter the flight competition for years because he accidentally caused my crash in the third. He pushed me ahead, so there's no way I would have won otherwise, and he was victorious in the second."
Edward laughed, "He's being too humble, isn't he, Rosa?"
"That's Cecil," Rosa chuckled, handing Rydia her share of the rations.
"Will you take me flying one day?" Rydia asked as Cecil finished his work, drifting over to his side.
"If you'd like," Cecil told her, sitting down by the fire and allowing Rydia to come and sit in his lap.
"I'd like to, as well," Edward volunteered, his strumming growing louder until it coalesced into a song.
Rosa took a seat at Cecil's side, handing him his rations and leaning her head against his shoulder as Edward's song rose about them. It was sweet and sad; the sort of song that moved you, and when Edward began to sing it seemed as if even the fire stopped crackling.
"Memories drift across my mind,
Taking me back to that place,
Summer days long past, but still held dear.
Sweet as honey,
The dreams of those days,
Lead my soul back to that place.
I find your embrace,
Home in your arms,
I've found your love..."
It drifted about them, as silver melody, alive with Edward's pure, simple, emotion. It was easy to drift off, and Cecil soon found Rydia was asleep and Rosa was snoozing on his shoulder.
Waking Rosa, he pulled Rydia into his arms and led them to their tent. Rosa quickly grabbed the blankets from beside the pack and laid one out on the ground. Gently as he could, Cecil lay the sleeping Rydia down on the thick blanket, surprised when he looked up and realized Rosa's face was millimeters from his own. She placed her hand on his cheek and ever so gently pressed their lips together.
His heart stopped, but he didn't pull away, even though he was unsure of what to do. His head told him he was dangerous and that he should not risk disgracing her, but the rest of him was screaming at him to deepen the kiss, and perhaps to go even farther.
At last, Rosa pulled away, looking disappointed. "Good night, Cecil," she said, making it clear he was no longer wanted.
Cursing his own foolishness, he exited, grabbed the other two blankets, placed them in the tent, and returned to the fireside. "I'll take the watch," Cecil volunteered.
Edward shook his head, "Get some sleep, Cecil. I'll wake you when I tire."
Sighing, the Dark Knight did was he was told.
The rest of the night passed without event, and the morning rose cool.
Cecil was already awake when the others emerged into the light of early morning. Knowing Rosa would be cross with him, and having mulled over it during his watch, made his mood sour, and he handed out rations with an uncharacteristic stiffness. Unlike the day before, conversation was forced, and they traveled up the rest of the mountain in a shroud of tension that affected even Rydia and Edward.
All anger and resentment passed, however, when Cecil heard signs of struggle coming from the peak. Loosing his sword, he took off up the incline, pausing behind an outcrop to gaze upon a truly terrifying scene.
The burnt bodies of an entire unit of men littered the ground, strewn about the ground like leaves in autumn. Among the corpses maneuvered a lone man, his skin gleaming bronze with sweat, his chest bare and head bald. Though Cecil had never seen a monk before, he knew without a doubt that this man claimed that title. Only a monk could defend himself against the onslaught of fire monsters that descended upon him with naught but his body.
Unsheathing his sword, the dark Knight leapt into the fray, moving with his own sort of grace to aide the man.
Before long, he and the monk were back to back, fending off the endless horde of enemies, elegant kicks and brutal slices sending blood curdling wails down the craggy slopes. Eventually, the last of the beasts fell, and Cecil lowered his weapon, turning to face the man, who bowed low at the waist. He was about to open his mouth, but a noise like two stones grinding against one another and Rosa's scream of warning caused them both to spin around.
Floating above the ground was a creature that seemed to have crawled from the depths of the Underworld. It had a bulbous body forged of roiling fire, and eyes that glowed white hot from its squat, smashed, ugly face. Fangs protruding from its mouth dripped saliva that caused the ground to hiss where it fell. The heat that emanated from the beast was enough to make Cecil sweat profusely, even from where he stood several yards away.
Before Cecil could react, it was descending upon them.
Moving out of the way as quickly as he could, Cecil did not realize what the beast had planned until he had rolled to his feet and raised his blade. Unfortunately, it was too late to do much more than watch as the creature swelled to three times its size and then collapsed in upon itself.
The resulting shockwave sent Cecil flying through the air, the heat singeing his clothing and hair, and stinging his eyes. When he hit a rocky crop nearby, he heard a snap as his left arm broke, bent completely out of shape, and felt shrapnel slice across his abdomen where there was no leather armor to protect him.
He only became aware of the pain when he slid to the ground, crippled by the sudden burst of searing pain that shot up his arm and through the rest of his body from his stomach.
Knowing unconsciousness would be best for him, he allowed himself to slip into blackness, Rosa's sobs accompanying him into the silent darkness.
