Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Ninety-ninth Sacrifice ❯ II ( Chapter 2 )

II

980 S.A.

 

An elderly man stood at the edge of a balcony, his old and gnarled hands holding tightly to the railing. The wind blew hard at this height, and the old man was too proud to be jostled about by it. A young student stood next to him, excited by the proceedings below. Having lived for many decades, under the blessings of the church no less, he had learned the true meaning of what he saw on the streets below him.

“Oh, Maester Phate isn't the parade astounding?” asked the young man beside him excitedly. “It looks like everyone in Bevelle is out on the streets, screaming at the tops of their lungs in happiness!”

“Well, a Calm only comes every ten years,” grunted the old man. “After the defeat of that monster, of course.”

“You mean Sin, right?” asked the young man in a somber voice.

“Aye, that and many others.” The old man spat in indignation. “If only you knew what those summoners and their guardians had to go through on their journey, young Braska, then you wouldn't be so eager to watch the parade.”

The young man crossed his arms sourly. “Why do you have to treat me like a child, Maester Phate? I am twenty-three. I understand the perils of the quest.” Braska paused for a long moment, staring for a long time at the crowd. “I know I have to die if I want to become a High Summoner. But … I, I can't let any more families be lost.”

“Like yours?” questioned Maester Phate, like only a teacher can.

“I have no one to miss me, and no one to miss! And there are so many dead that need to be sent.”

“Well, at least no one can blame you for being selfish, that's for sure,” chortled Phate. “You know the rules of becoming a summoner, though.” Phate turned to face Braska. “You'll need years more of studying to even be allowed into the cloister of trials. And the cloister in Bevelle is the busiest. You may just have to go to one of the other temples to take the test.”

Braska shook his head. “The fact that it is so difficult to take the test in Bevelle just means that the best come from here.”

Phate scratched his dragon-like wisp of a beard. “Aye, but the last High Summoner, the one they celebrate down there on the streets, was from Kilika. But, I digress. If I were any younger, I'd take the test myself, especially after all I've learned about Yevon. But, you, Braska, you're just the right age. Though, you should enjoy the Calm while it lasts. It won't last forever.”

“One day it might,” extrapolated Braska with a little enthusiasm.

“Humph, I sincerely doubt that,” grunted old Maester Phate as he returned to watching the crowd in celebration.

 

 

 

 

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