Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Visions of Peace ❯ Messis Luna ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The Seventh Chapter - Messis Luna

Locke and Terra were brought to a small inn located in a wealthy district. It was a pleasant place to stay. The proprietor had gone to great lengths to make the small premises feel cozy and homely. Norris gave them keys to separate rooms and bid them good night. He had left no soldiers to guard them. It was unnecessary since he assumed they were there to help Danielle Meras.

In truth, they were nothing more than prisoners so long as Danielle held Relm hostage. Even if Relm was safe, it would have been foolish to try to escape or cause trouble within the city limits. They were outnumbered by the thousands and had no reason to bring the wrath of the Empire upon them.

Terra retreated into her room and despite Locke's best efforts; she did not speak with him. She was distressed over Remiel's invitation and brooded quietly in the darkness. She had led quite the sheltered life, had she not? Terra pursed her lips as she tried to pierce the fog of memories. Her amnesia had faded away but whenever she thought of the past, it was always a tasking prospect. Like breathing underwater, it never led anywhere and she had gradually stopped trying. The past was not important and when it was, her memories usually cleared up.

Terra nodded to herself reassuringly as she recalled her quiet childhood years. The memories seemed so fresh, so clear in her mind. She had never been to anything as extravagant; she had barely even talked to nobility before meeting Edgar, much less attend some fancy party. Considering the manner in which Remiel lived, Terra knew she had ventured far out of her league. Edgar and Celes might have preferred the richer lifestyle, but she enjoyed the simple things in life.

But why her? Why did Remiel bother with such a charade? He had wanted a conversation with her, not a date. She felt deceived; Remiel had probably planned this all along. Curse his devious two-faced nature. She had known it the moment she met him.

Terra frowned. However, he could not have planned this ahead of time, she mused. There had been no way to guarantee they would arrive in time for the Messis Luna. Had they delayed just another day in the Wilds, his plans would have been ruined. In fact, Remiel had even confessed to being surprised by their visit.

The General did not seem like the type to lie offhand, Terra admitted to herself grudgingly. He was just as crazy as the rest of them though, even if he was barely as old as Celes. The flashy green coat was different but the attitude was cut from the same erratic cloth as his peers. Certainly, Remiel was going to humiliate her. All the compliments he made despite how horrible she had to have looked after six days in the wilderness riding a chocobo... it had been designed to make her feel more comfortable so that he could crush her spirit with greater impact.

Terra shook in righteous indignation when suddenly she froze. Goosebumps ran down her back when she thought about the dinner with Gestahl. She had seen Remiel back in Vector during the short-lived truce. He had been one of the few men allowed near the Emperor's table. Remiel had not stayed for the meal but she remembered those unique green eyes. The look in them had been like a hawk's. He had been judging her worth, stripping her soul bare with the intensity of his gaze. No words had been exchanged, but she remembered thinking one thing: she never wanted to see him again.

It had not been just the eyes though. He looked so young but carried himself in a wholly different manner. The way he talked, the way he dressed... even the way he smiled. It was just so wrong. She could not place her finger on it, but there was something eerie about him.

The thought of his lips on her hand sent shivers down her spine.

-=-

Norris greeted them with a friendly smile early the next day. They had been treated to breakfast without charge; the hotel included a free meal for anyone that stayed overnight. Bacon and eggs was on the menu, the latter was so fresh that Locke would not have been surprised if there were chickens in the back with empty nests. The eggs were steaming hot and glistened from butter; they had been scrambled and garnished with a sweet-smelling sauce. The bacon was crisp and chewy at the same time, almost too salty but perfect when washed down with a cup of milk tea. There had been roots of some sort, Vais-something, Locke did not catch the name, on the side. They tasted like potatoes and he had downed them with fervor.

Afterwards, they had been served oranges. Locke had not seen a fresh orange in months. The sacrifices of heroes, he wistfully thought as he tasted the fruit. Pleasantly sweet with a touch of tartness, it was mouthwatering.

"Finished the meal?" Norris asked as he entered the dining room. His grey hair swayed from side to side, grazing the base of his neck ever so slightly as he joined Locke and Terra. Even in Albrook, most citizens gave the military wide-berth. But Norris did not look like the typical soldier and so did not scare the morning crowd. Around Locke's height, he looked like any other elder with a taste for comfortable flowing robes. His big grin only helped his friendly image. He was like a jolly old man; the grandfather at a family gathering who had too much to drink and could not stop laughing.

Terra placed her fork carefully on the brittle and expensive dishes in front of her. "Yes, I'm done," she replied. Her plate was still half-full, she had not touched the bacon.

Locke had already cleaned his plate, so he didn't bother saying anything and took the time to cleanse his hands in the lemon-scented water that was provided. In his mind, if the Empire was going to waste money on them, they should do their part in seeing the Imperial treasury just a little bit closer to bankruptcy.

"Great," Norris replied. "I'm sure you're eager to start your busy day, so let's go."

As they followed the old man outside, Locke wondered if it was mere coincidence that Norris caught them just as they were finishing their meals. In his opinion, it seemed too well timed. Locke glanced around, speculating whom amongst the friendly staff had been spying on them.

Even though it was late morning, it was still plenty cold. Mist formed as they breathed in the crisp and salty sea breeze. Frost could be seen upon parts of the sidewalks where busy feet had yet to tread. Terra was shivering slightly. Their clothes were poor protection from the biting winds and they had left their thick cloaks back in their room.

"Terra, this is Clarkson. He will escort you to Lindsay, Remiel's favorite seamstress," Norris introduced her to a man that fit the typical soldier stereotype perfectly. Large and imposing, Clarkson filled out the standard uniform of the Imperial Army with muscles honed from combat. Terra stared up at the blond haired soldier, rubbing her hands together for warmth while she gave a nod of understanding to Norris.

"As for you, Locke... you'll come with me," Norris said.

Locke narrowed his eyes. He was about to protest, but Norris cut him off before he had the chance.

"It's not exactly proper for you to follow your friend. She is being fitted for dresses and I doubt she appreciates the peep show you'll be getting," Norris gestured at Terra.

Clarkson had already started down the street, Terra trailing behind him and two more soldiers following her. They were out of earshot due to the cold winds, so Terra did not hear the comment.

Locke stared at Terra's back until she was out of sight. Then he remembered about Norris. He spun around and saw the old man far ahead in the opposite direction. Were it not for the uniqueness of his attire, Locke would have easily lost him in the relatively large morning crowd. Not even his sharp eyes could have picked out such an unassuming man amidst so many commoners.

Locke hurried to catch up, wondering what Norris had in store for him.

-=-

Lindsay was much older than Terra expected. For some reason, she had expected that Remiel would favor a younger seamstress. Perhaps someone as young as herself was impossible, but she had not anticipated a woman that would have better fitted the role of a midwife.

The seamstress was neither haughty nor condescending despite the prosperous business she ran. She worked uptown in the wealthy district, though that was expected given Remiel's fondness for her talents. Since Lindsay was used to noblewomen and wives of the rich Imperial businessmen, she was surprised by Terra's lack of deportment and wholesome attitude.

Much of the morning quickly passed by. Lindsay and her many assistants took measurements galore, stripped Terra bare and fitted her with plain clothes marked by an assortment of numbers. Lindsay was kind to Terra, recognizing her insecurities and gently advised her on proper mannerisms while she worked her magic.

Terra spent most of the afternoon with Lindsay's assistants. They bathed her and forced her through various other trials that seemed unnecessary for a simple dress fitting. Her hair was done and trimmed by a close friend of the seamstress, and jewelry was carefully matched to her skin in a rather drawn-out session. It was late afternoon before Terra tried on her dress, weary from being treated as no more than a mannequin. Lindsay instructed her carefully. The dress itself was not her eveningwear, but was meant to help her form and stature while Lindsay's assistants finished the final adjustments on the real thing.

Finally, the day ended. Terra waited patiently while the kind seamstress brushed at the brand new gown, smoothing out some wrinkle that only her eyes could see. Terra could barely recognize herself in the mirror. It was the first time she had looked in one since the morning and she had not expected the sudden change.

Whatever had been in the bath, it had invigorated and energized her. Her eyes were wide, her eyes a shade of blue that reflected the fairness of the clear sapphire sky. Her hair was an energetic shade of yellow, bright as the sun and shimmered in the light. Her features were flawless, her skin smooth and supple, her lips a delectable rose, and her cheeks were a soft blush.

"When did I-" Terra stammered.

"You had fallen asleep," Lindsay explained softly, "when Claire painted your face. I asked her to be gentle and slight. You are not one to require the heavy paint that many other ladies of nobler birth require."

Terra stared at her dress. It was a silky fabric of a milky shade of white that flowed over her form. It caressed her like morning dew, glistening like diamonds in the warm sunlight, as it trickled down colored leaves.

"Should this be so," Terra fumbled for the word. "Low? I mean, there's not much covered..."

Lindsay stepped out from behind her, staring both at her form and gazing into the mirror to judge. "My dear, you have a beautiful figure. I know many that would never be able to carry such an elegant and simple cut. You look simply stunning," she smiled. "I have no doubt that you will be the star of the ball. No man would refuse your hand."

Terra felt her face heat. "I've just never worn anything like this," she stammered.

Lindsay brushed at Terra's bare shoulder. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment before coming to a realization marked by the grin on her face. "Yes, those clothes you wore were certainly unfitting. I shall have some of my aides prepare you some proper daily wear."

Terra shook her head. "No no," she held her hands up. "I prefer those comfortable clothes." Seeing the look on Lindsay's face, she realized that the seamstress had misunderstood her. "I mean, I travel quite often. It's difficult to wear anything so majestic," she added hastily.

"Ah," Lindsay replied. An aged finger touched her lip as she stood deep in thought. "I'm sure I can convince Claire to set something out for you then. She comes from a noble upbringing but used to travel to the capital every month, so she'll know what's best. I'll have her lay out a proper wardrobe and have it sent to your room. Claire could use the practice anyhow and this won't cost you a dime," Lindsay winked.

Seeing there was no easy way to refuse, Terra grudgingly accepted.

Lindsay strolled off to a table hidden in the corner, picking up a thin silver necklace from a pile of fine jewelry. Her assistants had been unable to decide on the proper centerpiece for Terra and had left behind a small selection. Lindsay hung the necklace about Terra's neck, marveling at how well the silver matched her skin. A single sapphire rested just below her neck.

"About the stone," Terra started. It had an unfamiliar weight to it and she didn't feel comfortable.

Lindsay smiled. "Yes, you had a lovely crystal necklace. Would you prefer that instead of this jewel?"

"You can do that?"

"Well, I expected it really," Lindsay took back the sapphire piece and waved to one of her aides. "I was going to give it to you as a present, but since you insist now..."

A thin silver necklace was draped over her neck. Hanging from the center was her father's magicite remains on. It was slightly lighter than what Terra was used to, but it felt right against her chest.

"There, that's perfect," Lindsay said as she paraded Terra in front of a full-length mirror. She fingered the shards of Maduin. "What a unique piece of crystal, I've never seen anything similar. It's no wonder you're so attached to it."

Terra had never thought of about magicite in that manner. In fact, she had tried to think about it as little as possible. It was gruesome to know that espers were reduced to such remains.

"You'll be the envy of every woman at the ball."

-=-

Locke was sitting on one of the many piers of Albrook when Norris found him again. His pants were drenched as waves broke upon the harbor. He had a faraway look in his eyes. It was nearing sundown and Locke had spent most of his time in deep thought and recollection.

He had chased Norris down earlier in the morning and demanded an answer to why the old man had been constantly making witty remarks at his expense. Norris had ignored him and instead went about on errands. He walked around Albrook, talking to various guards and soldiers while Locke followed in a poor mood. It was nearly lunch when he could not stand the way he was being treated and gave Norris a piece of his mind.

Locke once thought that Norris' friendly grin was painted on; that the man was just never angry and could probably smile as he spilled blood on the battlefield. It seemed to fit the old man's carefree style. He could probably tell a comical story while medics stitched up his insides.

Instead, Norris gave him a taste of his wrath. Locke had cared little for the biting words that Norris said. The punishment, to be left isolated on the docks for the remainder of the day, was almost a reward. But Norris had said a few things that had touched something deep within him. The stirring of memories was unwelcome and unwanted. That had been the true punishment: words that left Locke questioning himself.

His feet hung off the wooden ledge and his back was against a damp pillar. The frigate before him was slowly making its way out to sea, its sails spread wide to catch the strong breeze. There was still much activity at the port, even though it was nearing winter. The ocean did not freeze over and there was business to be had and a war to be fought. This boat would be last to set sail before the sun sank below the horizon, but others would cast-off under the crescent moon.

"Your attentions are selfish and childish. You hardly treat her like a person. I saw the way you look at her, like she was something you lost. Even had I not been ordered to keep you away from her, I would have gladly done so of my own accord. It'd be best for both of you."

Locke licked his dry lips as he remembered the more scathing remarks. They had been pretty hateful and filled with curse words, but none struck a cord quite like that comment. He had gotten used to being insulted over the years as a Returner. The Empire's soldiers weren't exactly known for their eloquence, and working undercover meant lots of tussles with those rowdy men.

"-something you lost-" Locke repeated in a soft whisper. The cold winter breeze carried his words off into the endless expanse of the glistening ocean. He closed his eyes. The glare... yes, it was the glare that forced such a reaction. It was not as if he had been thinking of those three words for an entire day. Certainly no Imperial could...

Rachel.

Memories of his failure resurfaced uncomfortably. It had been a long time since he genuinely thought of her. The memories of that day were still crystal clear; his negligence by bringing her along for that one trip. He had been young and foolish; too overconfident from his previous successes. The pitfall trap had been hidden deviously... and he did not see it until it was too late.

She had suffered for his mistakes.

His fist tightened. And of course, the Empire had ended her suffering. For the Glory of the Empire, he thought as a twisted smile touched his lips.

Locke opened his eyes again, gazing into the sunset far off to the distant west. It was the same golden light; no longer warm because of the sudden coldfront but still equally comforting. His smile softened as he thought of the honeyed glow that had basked her.

Terra...

He had spent years within an impersonal shell, detached and impassive. Working with the Returners, he had ignored his own problems and focused on theirs. It had been easy to lose himself in his work. When basic survival was something hard fought and gained, there was little time for self-assessment. It had helped him forget what laid in Kohlingen. He wasn't sure what he might have done without Banon and his band of revolutionaries.

Then Terra had entered his life. She had lain there, wounded and in great pain, alone in the Narshe caverns after falling some distance; fragile and defenseless as the Empire bore down mercilessly upon her. Locke had done his best to save her from those heartless soldiers. Banon's orders be damned, he would have guarded her regardless of what the Returners wanted. He put his life on the line to protect her naivetÈ and innocence from the horrors of the unkind world.

The shock of realization hit Locke like a bolt of lightning.

"Locke."

Locke did not even hear the voice. His hands were trembling as he realized what he couldn't do; what he had failed to do. His teeth clattered, but he was not cold. He brought his feet close to his chest as he shook in anguish.

"Locke, these two men will take you back to your hotel. You will be guarded for your own safety until the night is over," Norris said to the thief's back. Seeing no reaction, the old soldier gave his men a nod and turned away.

Locke looked up into the darkening sky, unaware that Norris had already left. The clouds swirled together in a mix of purples and reds, twisting and knotting together in anguish as they devoured one another.

"You're safe with me," Locke whispered into the southern winds. He stood up and took a deep breath of the cold sea-breeze. "I gave you my word."

-=-

Just after dusk, one of the soldiers had alerted the two women that Remiel had sent a proper escort to retrieve his consort for the night. Like a doting grandmother, Lindsay had kept Terra company while they waited. She had no other customers that day or other affairs to attend to. Remiel had wanted her undivided attention and paid enough to guarantee that. Yet Terra was certain that Lindsay would have stayed by her side, regardless of money.

Lindsay had done her best to sooth Terra's worries while she went about closing her store. She had given Terra a scarf and one her aides had gone about looking for a proper coat. The issue of what kind of fur to be worn was argued amongst Lindsay's many assistants, and they came to an agreeable solution scant seconds before a soldier declared that the carriage had arrived.

The escort waited outside in the empty street. It consisted of a single carriage drawn by two chocobos, and four mounted men as guards. The driver was a soldier in ceremonial uniform and there were two more similarly dressed men standing guard beside the door of the carriage.

No one had expected Remiel to be present.

Lindsay and Remiel shared a friendly hug, the former blushing a furious shade of crimson when Remiel commented on her hair. The two conversed while Terra was fitted into the fur coat by Lindsay's aides.

The General himself was dressed in an extravagant red coat. He wore a fluffy white shirt beneath and his brown hair was slicked back by some sort of strange glistening substance. His pants were a similar shade of carmine, and his side was adorned by a gold hilted blade that was thin and dexterous. Remiel Lilienthal could have passed as a dashing prince with his boyish grin and merry disposition.

Terra might not have been able to name much of the clothing that Remiel had adorned, but time spent with the Returners ensured her weapons knowledge. The sword at his side was a rapier. It was a gentleman's blade, not in common use as it was far too flimsy for combat on the battlefield. Edgar had shown her the rapier once; it was light and relied on speed rather than brute force, suitable for a woman like her. Terra had never taken to any blade.

"My angel," Remiel said as his eyes feasted on the sight before him.

Remembering one of Lindsay's many lessons in proper lady-like deportment, Terra embarrassingly held out a gloved hand. Without further commentary, Remiel swept her away and led her outside into the biting cold. She entered the carriage -- awkwardly refusing the help of one of the guards -- and Remiel thanked Lindsay one last time before closing the door.

The carriage began to move slowly down the street, its wheels bouncing along the cobblestone road and causing them to bobble in their seats. Terra found the silence to be uncomfortable. "I'm surprised you came," she tried to start a conversation.

Remiel raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I mean, you're the host," Terra added. "Lindsay seemed certain that you would be busy at your manor, to prepare for the party or whatever else you have to do." She wasn't exactly sure what a host had to do. Remiel had plenty of servants, so she doubted he had to prepare food or set out dinning arrangements. She felt foolish, trying to talk about a subject she knew little of, and folded her arms protectively beneath her breasts.

The smile that touched his lips made her a bit more relaxed. "You're very correct. I have hosted the ball many a time. Since I pressed on you such extraordinary demands, I felt it was necessary to demonstrate my gratitude for your kindness." Remiel brushed at his brown hair and stared outside at the passing buildings, taking little note of her self-conscious feelings. "In addition, Norris is more than capable of entertaining the early birds. Certainly they enjoy his attentions. He is both deft and cunning amongst the nobles."

While he spoke, Terra stared at the weird golden belt he wore. There was a sash at the side, decorated by the petals of some purple flower, and filled with something that was pleasant smelling. It filled the carriage with a delightful scent, like tulips in the rain, without being overwhelming. Terra averted her eyes when his gaze returned to her. She rubbed her hands idly; it was freezing even in the carriage.

"It shall be a cold night. The winter has advanced unanticipated," Remiel noted her discomfort. "I shall hasten the driver."

-=-

Locke grumbled to himself as he stepped over the prone bodies of his two guards. The two men had been more vigilant than he had given them credit for. It took well over an hour before either had made any mistakes. Their diligence and attentiveness faded with each passing minute and Locke pounced on his chance the moment it presented itself; they did not have the great need that gripped Locke.

If his timekeeping skills had not failed him, the dance should have started a little less than half an hour ago. Locke surmised that he had plenty of time. The Messis Luna should last at least another two or three hours. He dragged the two guards down an empty hall in the hotel and into the cleaning closet. With luck, neither would wake before the night ended. With even more luck, neither would even remember what had happened.

Locke stepped out onto the chilly night streets, cursing the weather as he did so. Now that the sun had set, the biting cold winds were doubly freezing. He should have taken the uniforms that his guards had and worn that. It might have been warmer.

Too late for that now, he did not want to risk being seen going in and out of the hotel. There was no telling if Norris had anyone in the lobby watching him. Instead, he would keep to the backstreets and stay far away from any soldiers. It was likely that there would also be military in common wear watching the crowds; that had been how Norris had kept their route clear the day before. It was fortunate that he followed Norris around during the early part of the day; he had realized there were many soldiers that did not openly advertise their affiliation. Without uniforms, the men blended into the city life with relative ease and were the watchful eyes of the Empire's army. He would have to tread carefully tonight if he was to avoid being discovered.

Pulling his hood up, he slipped into the dark alleys of Albrook and made his way to the Messis Luna.

-=-

Terra had never known there were so many noblemen and aristocrats in her life.

Remiel's mansion, as great as it was, was completely filled with gentlemen and ladies from the highest ranks of the Empire. Many of the men had extravagant and meaningless titles when they introduced themselves. Few were of the military, and Terra came to the realization that Remiel's power did not stem purely from his military rank.

From what Terra gathered from the conversations between Remiel and his various guests, addressing him as a General was improper tonight. She stayed by Remiel's side as he acted in his capacity as the Governor of Alfort-Brougham, greatest of all civilian governments and second only to the Emperor. Though many were of noble houses, some of the men were commoners; cunning and ingenious businessmen. They had foreseen Gestahl's expansionistic inclination and had profited from it greatly. These men were now rich and powerful, wielding control of nearly every aspect of the Empire's economy. From farming to weapon-smithing, each was greeted with respect and kind words from Remiel Lilienthal. They were important and highly valued guests.

In return, these men showered the General with gifts. Business was conducted in casual conversations, to Terra's disbelief. No less than a minute had passed when she was first introduced to some rich lord before the man was already promising Remiel the resources at his disposal. Terra was astonished.

It seemed that Remiel had filled his capacity as governor quite well. Most of the men spoke of bureaucratic situations that Terra understood little of, but Remiel deftly handled. He was a suave young man; a friendly gesture and choice words usually tipped the conversation to his side had there been a decision to be debated, or a deal made between the Empire and its upper-class citizens. Few of the richer men, old or young, seemed to fear Remiel's military command. They talked to him like a good old friend, a valuable ally, and patted him on the back or made jokes at his expense. Remiel took things in stride, laughing at suggestions for a duel and deftly refusing the hand of many a nobleman's daughter.

Women loved him. Most of the ladies seemed to glow when they were spoken to, or turn shades of crimson when Remiel turned his handsome smile in their direction. Nearly all the women at the Messis Luna were attached in some fashion, so it seemed inappropriate that Remiel would flirt with them; even more so since Terra was at his side. However, by some manner of charisma he managed to do so without drawing any angry glares.

They were speaking with yet another guest. This one was a rounded man by the name of William Mildmay. He was the third William in the House of Mildmay. He also had some title: a Lord of yellow stalks of something or other, Terra did not remember. She had been introduced to dozens of such men and had promptly forgotten each title as it would was announced. It was rare that she was spoken to, so she was not tested on her memory. There had been a couple that lavished compliments on her dress, and one nobleman's wife had been thoroughly entranced by the crystal gem that hung around her neck.

That was not to say that Terra ignored all that was said. Most of it was harmless pleasantries, but she was sure to note anything that might have sounded important. One such topic was about the House of Lords. She had heard that phrase before, from the lips of Danielle Meras. It seemed there were many men from that House here in Albrook, and they all owed Remiel a grand favor.

William had a wife as well, and she was as rotund as her husband. Still, Remiel had showered upon her compliments and she blushed deeper and deeper until Terra thought she looked like an apple.

"Governor Lilienthal, I guarantee that nothing less than five shiploads delivered before the first snowfall!" William was saying as he ate a small piece of ham.

Yet another strange thing that Terra had noticed only once before back in Vector, extravagant dinners seemed to have dozens of trays of one-bite foods. Cheese of all shades of yellow, ham, beef, fruits like pears or apples, everything was available in portions that satisfied nobody. Terra was chewing on some pear and pork mix. It was delicious, despite her initial reaction at hearing such a strange dish. Remiel had suggested she try it though, and it would have been frowned upon had she refused.

"William my good friend," Remiel replied. "Five shiploads are more bountiful than I had ever expected, even from your magnificent and grandiose fields. Surely you outstrip even Rawson, who has promised only four and delivered two."

William chuckled, a loud noise that reminded Terra of a pig. "Rawson is a fraud, one so poor that even in his own hogwash he cannot better me. Not only shall I guarantee five loads, but if you have need for it, there shall be another three loads before the solstice to put Rawson to shame."

"The faith of the Lilienthal family has always lain with the lords of Mildmay," Remiel said. "That faith has been reinforced this day. It has been a pleasure to speak with you."

William shook Remiel's hand before he turned back to the crowds, calling out the name of an old friend as he took more of the single-serving ham chunks.

Immediately, another man took William's place. "Governor! It's a pleasure to see you looking so well and with so fine a lady-friend," the elder man -- Terra assumed he was a nobleman by the way he was dressed -- bowed deeply in her direction.

"Lord Mansfield," Remiel bowed as well. It was the first time Terra had seen him respond in such a fashion. "I am pleased to see you well, I had feared the worst. This is Terra," he introduced her.

Terra found herself blushing furiously as the nobleman kissed her outstretched arm. It was such a nice gesture.

Lord Mansfield straightened. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his expensive looking cape and turned to Remiel. "I must say, I am pleased by what happened at Actarin. It is by the grace of God that we smite the New Order."

"Were you not a Mansfield, the former Speaker and most importantly, my good friend, I would never allow such talk," Remiel's voice had taken on a different tone, one that Terra recognized from the night before. It was quieter and baser, but filled with authority. "Actarin was just the first of many blows that the traitors will suffer."

"The House is pleased with how things are being handled, Remiel. You are a rising star," Mansfield spoke to Remiel as an equal, Terra noted. "We all expect a short campaign in the winter."

"Lord Mansfield, the House of Lords shall not be disappointed. Your faith was misplaced, but now it is back where it rightfully belongs," Remiel gestured back at the crowds. "Please, enjoy the rest of the ball without thinking such depressing thoughts."

Mansfield merely nodded in reply and vanished back into the crowd.

Remiel gently led Terra towards one of the emptier areas. There was a door guarded by a soldier in ceremonial dress nearby, which probably explained its lack of use despite the overcrowding. The ballroom itself was near the back of his mansion, but the guests were so numerous that they filled all of the central room and many of the halls leading towards the front doors. Even the landing on the marble staircase was packed with various nobles of all shapes and sizes, chatting amongst themselves and enjoying the benefits of their luxurious lives.

It took a while for them to make their way to the guarded door. Remiel met two more men, nobles this time, and spoke to them for a short while before politely excusing himself. As Terra followed Remiel away from the two nobles and their ladies, she felt eyes of disdain on her back. She had felt those same stares all night and it made her nervous and self-conscious.

The guard opened the door for Remiel without question and they entered a small study that was devoid of people. Terra was relieved by the break; it took a lot of effort to act prim and proper in front of so many nobles. They were all discerning and discriminating, snobs to the very core and ready to pounce on any that they deemed as riffraff. More than once she had been afraid that a lord would publicly denounce her, calling her a fraud and a commoner unfit to be at such a gathering.

Terra sighed in relief as she sat down in one of Remiel's plush chairs. She had done so carefully though. Her dress felt almost fragile to her; one tug and it might tear apart. But her diligence was rewarded; the satin cushions were luxurious on her bare back and gently supported her sore neck. She closed her eyes and rested.

Remiel took a sip of water from a convenient glass and adjusted his hair slightly in the mirror hung upon the wall. He turned his attention to her. "You are absolutely stunning this night," he commented.

Terra brushed at her knee, the dress was draped around her crossed legs and flowed in such a manner to her bare thigh. "Considering what I've seen tonight, I think you could have easily found a more willing and fitting date," she said quietly.

Remiel looked at her quizzically. When she averted her eyes, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, he set his glass down with deliberate care and lowered himself to one knee. He took her gloved hands and stared deeply into her eyes, holding her gaze for a long time.

Terra found it difficult to breathe as he held her in this way. Her heart pounded as those emerald globes drew her in and consumed her world. When at last he stood back up, she took a deep breath and shook her head in disarray.

"Terra, it is truth that perhaps a more accommodating and certainly more enthusiastic consort could have been found. But more fitting? I am skeptical of that fact," Remiel said.

Terra had regained her senses. "I just feel like everyone is looking down on me. It's really tiring."

Remiel raised an eyebrow again. He judged her for a moment before breaking into a great grin. "Terra," he said. "Your self-denial is unbecoming. Not a single man introduced has been anything but entranced by your beauty. So captivated they have been, none chastised my flirtatious nature like in the past," he laughed slightly. "Why, you not recognize the looks of envy upon the faces of their wives? Were you any more attractive, surely I would have a riot upon my hands."

Terra blinked, confused.

Remiel sank to one knee again and held her hand. "Your angelic and beauteous form shall be discussed between nobles for months to come. I predict no less than twenty unhappy wives because of this day."

Despite her previous feelings towards Remiel, she giggled at his words. She felt calmer and a bit less timid.

Remiel glanced down a gold pocketwatch that hung from his belt. "Fortune is on my side, for the dance is about to begin. Come." Remiel held out his hand.

Terra took his hand and followed him back into the ballroom.

-=-

Locke hated dogs.

He didn't know when it happened. When he was a child, he used to love dogs. They were cute, and the way they waggled their tails looking for attention was adorable. They were also totally loyal and lived up to the nickname: man's best friend. They had soft fluffy fur and were a bundle of joy to play with. There had been many nights when he had fallen asleep beside one, too tired from playing games to stay awake any longer.

Locke thought of his past and dreamt of better times as he hung precariously off the walls of Remiel's mansion. Below, guard dogs had followed his scent but caught nothing. They circled around aimlessly, confused by diverging scents of salted meat.

The guard dogs could have been dealt with easily had he been willing to kill them. But Locke had been afraid that doing so would attract attention and instead picked up some specially salted treats, perfect for distracting guard dogs. The plan had worked and the dogs ran around in circles until annoyed guards came across their charges chewing away happily. Locke had no doubt the diversion would be successful. He had done the same thing many times before, such as in South Figaro when he and Celes had been chased by Imperial trackers.

With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up and grabbed a hold of the green snakelike vine. He tested its strength; the weeds that grew on the walls could not be fully trusted, before he swung over and managed to catch onto the ledge of a window. Bits of aged stone fell to the ground as his fingers dug into the windowsill, gripping it tightly lest he fall all the way to the ground. Though the fall itself would not be dangerous, the renewed danger of the guard dogs certainly was.

His muscled arms flexed as he pulled himself up. Balanced hazardously on the windowsill, Locke Cole -- famed treasure hunter -- took a quick glance inside through the glazed glass. He might have been in trouble had someone been looking out at that very moment, but fate was on his side and no one was there. The hallway that led past the window was completely deserted, save for the two motionless suits of armor at the ends of the hall. They gave the impression they were guarding the house against intrusion.

With a silent chuckle at the irony, Locke tried to open the panes, but realized that they were shut by a lock. No matter, he went about the familiar task. His hands were a blur while his mind wandered. He was well-versed in the art of lock-picking. It was a rare day when a lock required substantial effort on his part.

The window opened with a click, and Locke slipped indoors with a grin on his face. Warm air was his reward; it had gotten incredibly cold waiting outside for a noble to ambush. He closed the window carefully, locking it from the inside again, before he walked down the hall.

Locke brushed at a sprig of the vine that had caught itself on the elaborate coat he wore; the green stuff fell to the ground and lodged itself in the carpet. He tugged at the fancy collar, loosening it slightly. The shirt was itchy and a bit small, the coat a colorful disaster, but they would have to do. It had been difficult enough to lure a nobleman into the secluded alley, much less pick and choose the clothes he would steal. He left the poor man lying in a chocobo stable so that he would not freeze to death before he made his way to the mansion.

Locke was thankful that Norris had taken them around the mansion the previous day. Even though it had just been a single path towards Remiel's study on the third floor, it had been enough. He knew the general layout of the house and made his way towards the central staircase. Hopefully, the guard at the doors would not ask any questions and he could blend into the crowd without trouble.

Luck was definitely on his side, the guard at the door did not bat an eye as he stepped out onto the grand marble staircase and down to the mezzanine. The lights had been dimmed and there was a great crowd clustered about the edges of the platform. Locke had to squeeze through many of the larger guests, apologizing the whole time as he inadvertently elbowed a few in softer places. Despite the large number of people though, it was astonishingly quiet.

A murmur of adoration rippled through the crowd; the various "ah's" echoing in waves. Locke wondered made his way to the side of the platform and looked out into the expansive ballroom.

The focus of the dance, a ballroom twice the size of the front hall and hundreds of times better decorated, could be easily seen from his position on the marble staircase. He was not the only one looking in that direction. Every guest had clustered about trying to attain a better view. Most had not been able to squeeze through like Locke had; their girth had prevented such acrobatic maneuvers.

Locke's breath caught in his throat.

In the very center, where a small clearing amidst many beautiful women and finely dressed men had formed, was where all attention converged.

"Terra," he whispered.

Her dress, a soft pearly white that seemed to flow in a soft breeze, swayed as she danced with Remiel Lilienthal. A smile was on her face, her lips a rosy shade, her skin flawless, as she followed Remiel's lead. Every single eye in the audience was upon the two. The music seemed to flow from their movements, for certainly they were not restricted by something so earthly like a band. They encircled one another, their movements fluid and graceful, and mesmerized the crowd of hundreds.

Locke could not tear his eyes away from Terra. She was magnificent, a vision of beauty from his dreams, as she gracefully spun and swayed. Her shape in that dress made him sweat, and the look of delight in her eyes lifted the darkness from his heart and replaced it with joy.

His eagle eyes took note of the positions of soldiers, men in ceremonial uniforms but still bearing real steel. They blended into the crowd well but not well enough. A few were on the balconies and one was even near him. He saw the outline beneath their sleeves and knew what they were there for. Locke continued to scan through the crowd and picked out two more men. His experience told him that these two did not belong, no matter how well they fit in. At once Locke understood what must be done.

She did not see him in the great crowd when the dance ended. The thunder of applause overwhelmed the mansion in its magnitude, drawing a blush from a surprised Terra. Her eyes swept the various peoples of the Empire, the cream of the crop, and her smile widened in their love for her. They cheered for her, a half-Esper that had been all but openly hated during the Vector truce, and blew kisses at her feet. The more daring approached her, and there were many of them, and showered upon her the finest of compliments.

Unnoticed by all, where once a young blond-dyed rebel watched with his conviction in his heart, there was only a single green sprig lying on the luscious carpet floor.

-=-

The dance had quieted down, many of the older guests having left as the night grew old. Still, there was a great crowd still roaming the grand halls of Remiel's mansion. Though the most important already had their audience, those looking for advancement in the Empire still sought the Governor's good graces. However, Remiel had excused himself for the night to the disappointment of many. He thanked them in his usual charming manner and left Norris to deal with the fussier of the remaining noblemen.

Terra followed Remiel away from the ball, the smile on her face gradually fading away as she remembered what she was really doing in Albrook. It had been a fun night and she had blissfully forgotten many of the tasks ahead of her. She had enjoyed the crowd's kindness. It had been so nice when they adored and complimented her. They had showered her with their love and it was a wonderful feeling to be in the center of such delightful attention. So many had clamored for her to stay, saddened by her unshakable attachment to Remiel Lilienthal. Terra had simply smiled back warmly and thanked them for everything.

But her mood darkened the more she thought of the future. Terra began to feel guilty enjoying the ball, remembering the horrors that Relm, Setzer, and Strago all faced. Even worse, she had been delighted beside Remiel, an Imperial general no less. Memories of the Empire's wrongs flooded back, leaving her thoroughly guilt-ridden and regretful.

She tightened the silky scarf about her neck, frowning as she followed Remiel through more guarded doors. Terra realized something was wrong when the guards were no longer in ceremonial uniforms. The tasteless uninspiring brown leather returned in force, worn by vulgar guards that towered over her. They leered at her flesh, and Terra felt more self-conscious than ever in her flimsy dress.

"Where are we going?" she asked worriedly.

Remiel did not respond, instead unlocking a heavy wooden door with a key that hung around his neck. He turned back to her, gesturing down the darkened stairs.

Terra's heart pounded, images of the dungeons beneath Remiel's grandiose manor suddenly overwhelming her. The cold stone walls, damp moss-covered floors and rusted iron bars that kept the most twisted of criminals locked away. She took a step back in fear. "Wh-what are you doing?" she gasped.

Remiel had lost the good-natured disposition that she had grown to love during the evening. He pointed to the basement again. "After you," he said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone.

Terra tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. She eyed the darkened stone stairs with an ever growing feeling of dread.

"You have nothing to fear, this is a conversation where we will be free from interruption. Nothing more, child," his words had a slight edge to them and Terra did not notice the dangerous look on his youthful face. She took a deep breath and descended down the stairs, carefully holding her dress as she did so.

Torches lit with a puff of smoke as she approached them, the flickering light bringing back unpleasant memories of the airship crash and those horrible nights in the wilderness. They descended two flights down the spiraling stairs before arriving at the bottom.

Remiel stepped out in front of her, opening yet another locked door with a different key about his neck. The steel door swing open with a hideous screech.

There was no dungeon to Terra's relief. It was a lab, or so Terra gathered as she entered behind Remiel. She did not recognize much of the equipment upon the tables, nor did she recognize blackened machinery that stretched into the ceiling and had wires running along the walls like vines. Pipes, some clear, others old and rusting, were connected haphazardly from one machine to the next. Strange colored fluid, certainly not water, ran through the translucent pipes and left a trail of grotesque waste.

Unlike the stairs though, it was well-lit by strong electrical lights that left everything in a yellow hew. For some inexplicable reason, that made Terra feel better.

Terra followed Remiel through the lab. She made sure to avoid touching anything, much of the stuff arrayed on the tables seemed incredibly fragile. Considering Remiel's worsening temperament, she wanted as little trouble as possible.

At the very end of the lab, as far away from the stairs as they could get, Remiel stopped suddenly. He cleared a table with a single sweep of his hand, equipment clattering to the ground and glass beakers shattering, before he sat down on the old table. He shook glass shards off his long sleeves and loosened the collar on his ruffled white shirt, undoing a few of the buttons in the process.

Terra hardly noticed. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling uncontrollably, as she stared at what was hanging on the wall above her. A little moan escaped her throat as she backed away.

Remiel stood up on the table, the wood bending slightly under his weight, as he retrieved the tiara from the wall. Still silent, he jumped down and strode towards her menacingly. No words were required to reveal his intent; it was obvious what he planned.

Terra fell backwards, pain shooting up her back as she landed on the cold stone floor. Her dress was wrapped about her legs as she panicked, trying to get away from that horrible, terrifying crown.

Rusty colored metal bent into a crude circle. The ugly ring had small barbs protruding at regular intervals around the edge, pointed inward so that the wearer would press those implants against their head. Those barbs were just sharp enough to press painfully into the skin, but did not draw blood. Not that it mattered. The horrors inflicted by the machination outstripped anything physical pain could give. Terra shook uncontrollably, her chest heaving in labored gasps as she stared at the object of her darkest nightmares.

The slave crown.

"Please," Terra sobbed as she tried to get away. Now her flimsy dress did not seem so fragile as it twisted around her ankles and bound her legs together. One hand propped her off the floor, else her bare back would have lain against the frigid ground. Her free hand pointed at Remiel, shaking involuntarily as she tried to think of a spell to defend herself.

A ball of fire, weak and sickly, launched forth at Remiel. It had been the only spell she could think of in the hysteria that gripped her, and as she watched Remiel sidestep aside, she knew it had not been enough.

Before she could say another word, Remiel closed the distance between them and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide as she tried to scream, her cries muffled by the forcefulness of his grip. Her hands grabbed his, clawing at them in a mindless frenzy as she tried to get away.

The crown was mere inches away from her eyes, the glistening spikes promising her the return of the cold embrace she dreaded most. Tears ran down her cheeks as she continued to struggle, her screams of terror unheard and ignored. Remiel was stronger than she was and the crown was ever closer, beckoning with its horrible cry.

Obey.

The touch of metal on her skin shocked her to the very core, drawing upon hidden strength that refused to ever be subjected to that horrible fate again. Revulsion welled up within, and a horrendous force deep within surfaced in the face of this specter of the past. In her hysteria, she had ignored the tremors of awakening. Now her control slipped; logic and sanity had no place in the face of this ordeal. Instead she felt herself taken by the monstrous fury that had overwhelmed her in the past; except this time, she gave up willingly.

Better death.

The red sheen called forth covered everything, her vision totally enveloped by the glowing aura. In the space between time, where a moment was infinitesimal and her will the uncontested dictator, the world could be bent and the elements subjected to her every whim.

The madness within, a raging storm that had always threatened to surface, consumed her. She had the power; the power to annihilate everything. The power to end all life. They were mere insects in her holy majesty; her flawless perfection in the midst of twisted aberrations. They were merely a quirk of reality. Abnormalities unfit to live, much less impress their arrogance upon her.

The crystal upon her chest heated and glowed a deep red. It would have burned a lesser woman, but she simply ignored the pain. Yet the warmth brought with it a moment of clarity, and her target changed to what was truly a threat.

The crown shattered into a thousand pieces and before a single shard reached the ground, it was incinerated into nothing more than ash. It had required no more effort than a single thought. Her power was nigh limitless and it was time to teach these infidels what true power was.

No! She shook her head as she barely kept the spellform from erupting and consuming thousands upon thousands of lives. The heat upon her chest was beginning to hurt her, and the pain let her focus again.

Then the heat disappeared. She blinked. Cold metal was upon her chest.

For the first time, she noticed the point of a thin blade held to the base of her neck. Her eyes ran up the length of the flexible metal and the hand that wielded it until at last she stared into threatening green eyes. It had been so quick that she didn't see it coming. Metal smoothly thrust against her chest, aimed at what had seemed to be most dangerous: the glowing red magicite remains of Maduin.

"Revert, or die," Remiel Lilienthal whispered.

The power came unrestrained and flooded her veins, her vision, and her mind.

Remiel had withdrawn himself, the distance between them exactly the length of the rapier at her throat. Though there was a glimmer of uncertainty upon his face, his eyes showed the unshakable belief within him. Within him, there was no fear.

This... thing had dared presume his earthly weapon was a match for the divine power at her fingertips? Her mastery of the seraphic energies that swirled within, white-hot fire that filled her with righteousness, would tear the infidel apart as he so richly deserved!

"That was a big mistake," she sneered in a voice that was not hers.

The thin blade shattered as the crown had before. Such was small sample of her might. Might that would now be directed at the infidel that had dared oppose her. Her power was limitless and she would teach him that lesson. In her mind's eye she could see the city of man, Albrook, and how it covered the once-beautiful countryside. It filled her with disgust. The fungus that had grown out of control would be cleansed.

First, she would right this insolent fool. How dare he threaten her! She envisioned his punishment: Flesh bubbling in the flames of her righteous anger, screams of torment for the crimes he had inflicted upon her. She could see the blood boiling within his lungs as he struggled for breath, red mist exploding out of his mouth as he died. The life slowly draining out of those green eyes she hated so much while she stood over him. He was at her mercy.

No. That punishment was not enough.

The spells came to her instinctively, power untapped in millennia but reawakened immediately. For his insolence, she would destroy all that he cared for. First those he cared for, then the cities he loved. She would cleanse the world of his filth.

Suddenly she howled in pain. Her chest grew hot, hotter than the infernos she commanded. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and couldn't focus. She tried to fight the fire but it was overwhelming. Her last thought was to ignite the city with her spells, but even that failed as she collapsed to the ground.

-=-

Remiel Lilienthal, General of the Empire, smoothly pulled up his left sleeve. He pointed with a small crossbow bound to his arm; the loaded poisoned bolt was enough to kill a man thrice over. He fired without a second thought.

His right sleeve had fallen down, but failed to conceal the other crossbow bound near his wrist. It was unloaded of course, unloaded into the chest of the half-Esper. He had learned of the poison used by the researchers in Vector years ago, and always kept his own supply just in case. The crossbows he had strapped on at the end of the night, when the Esper was too busy responding to her bewitched crowd.

The sheath of his rapier fell to the ground, useless. He drew a knife from his boot and carefully closed the distance between he and the Esper. He had taken no chances this night. Two bolts so close to the heart would be enough to knock out a dragon.

Remiel looked down. The Esper's skin had gradually faded from its white glow and her long purple hair reverted back to its revolting green shade. That was unexpected. Then he frowned. Here he was, towering over the dead body of the Esper like in so many of his dreams, yet he still felt no sense of achievement this night. It irritated him that even though justice had been served, he found no solace. He looked up in the direction of the heavens. "Do you deny me even this?" he screamed to them, cursing their names and sending a kick to the side of the Esper.

He wasn't surprised when she opened her eyes and coughed. It brought a smile to his face when he saw her struggle to breath, grasping at her chest where the bolts had been. That brought the frown back. Where had the bolts gone?

The Esper then pulled herself up. He saw a look of pain and despair on her face. Then she brought her legs close and huddled in a ball on the icy stone floor. With her arms wrapped around her bare legs and her face buried against her knees, Terra cried.

Remiel Lilienthal took a step back, surprised, and felt something he had never expected to feel.

-=-

"It never worked."

Terra wiped her eyes and looked up at Remiel. He had his red coat off, his white shirt partially undone and his legs crossed as he sat on a table. He was looking down on her but his expression was unreadable. Terra sniffled, trying to regain some measure of composure. She had not known how long she had cried but given Remiel's demeanor, it had been quite a while.

"It never worked you know. All our attempts at duplicating the artifact met with miserable failure," Remiel said offhandedly. He gestured to the wall that he had removed the slave crown from. "We tried for years to copy the technology and we never came close." He laughed dejectedly. "The destiny of the Empire was magic, and yet we couldn't even figure out how to recreate this simple spell."

Terra rubbed her eyes again.

Remiel gazed up at the wall. "You just destroyed the prototype. It was the closest thing we had to a working model. After a couple dozen tests, the thing was deemed useless and the entire project scrapped."

He raised an eyebrow. "That had been five years ago," he added.

His demeanor had changed in some fashion. His words no longer carried the characteristic enthusiasm or the hint of sophistication that had become expected from him. In fact, his speech had changed completely.

Green eyes locked on her. "Terribly unfortunate... that it never worked."

Terra got to her feet slowly. Her calmer mood had allowed her to easily untangle herself from the dress. She straightened the straps before she self-consciously covered her chest. Terra drew a deep breath before turning to Remiel. "Why did you show me that thing?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from crying.

Remiel sneered. "Because you wore it, little child. Our fates were intertwined the moment I stole that artifact for the Emperor, so many years ago. That alone is more than enough for you to see what the Empire had done with your enslaver." He folded his arms, giving her a self-satisfied grin.

Terra narrowed her eyes, shivers rippling down her back. She might have heard wrong, but she swore her ears were not at fault. "You stole it?" she echoed.

Remiel grinned menacingly. "That's right. I stole it for the glory of the Empire in the first and only real successful raid into the Esperworld," he spat as he spoke that last word. "I tore a path through the stupid espers and turned their sacred temples upside-down. At the head of a two-hundred man company, I gutted and slaughtered the few defenders of their holiest of buildings. A waste of time it had been, we couldn't find anything that was remotely magical in nature other than a few pathetic trinkets. Religious artifacts of some asinine kind, totally useless to us. The scientists that we had along were beyond angry, considering how many we lost in order to secure those temples. Then, fate in its ugliest form led me into the embrace of a pitfall trap, one that nearly broke my back. Isolated from my men, I made my way in dark through ancient tunnels long forgotten by their creators and caretakers until I came upon a hidden room. The door that I opened led back into one of the main chambers, and after I called for my friends, I turned my attention to the prize in the midst of everlasting candles. A certain tiara-like crown that had been hidden unlike anything else."

He brushed at a strand of brown hair before continuing. "The Emperor gave us free reign to take back all the ancient magical items that the Espers had stolen from our world after the Great War. Hundreds of artifacts had been liberated in that great raid. Though it was costly, all agreed that the price was worth paying. After all, who would have thought that the Espers would have something so hideous in their grasp?" he chuckled softly.

"You..." Terra pointed at Remiel. Something was not right here.

Remiel ran a hand down his brown hair, flipping it over his shoulder as it had gotten in the way. He stared daggers into Terra. "Yes, I am the reason why the Empire attached that lovely little crown over your head."

The rumbling within returned, but she suppressed it easily with her feelings of horror. "You couldn't have been in the Esperworld," Terra whispered. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, warning her of danger. "You're as old as I am, and I was still a baby when the Empire broke through the Sealed Gate," she pointed at Remiel. "You're lying," she said with increasing confidence. "That was over a decade past, there's absolute no way you could have been there."

Remiel raised an eyebrow. "My dear Esper," he said mockingly. "We attacked the Esperworld exactly sixteen years ago. You were barely two years old back then; the most prized of all prizes. A child sired by a human and an esper in matrimonial blasphemy." He stood up and approached her menacingly, dagger in hand.

Terra took a step back, but found that she could not. His iron gaze held her to the ground without the aid of magic.

"I am thirty-five years of age," Remiel said. "Sixteen of which have been robbed from me." His mouth twisted into a sneer of pure hatred. "Robbed by magic that defended that fucking slave crown."

The deadly expression on his face left Terra unable to breathe.

The dagger danced along his shirt, so fast that it was difficult to see anything but the thin cut that appeared down his chest. Remiel grabbed at the cut and ripped his shirt aside, his smooth muscled chest revealed beneath the fluffy white fabric.

Terra's eyes widened upon seeing the scars. Red, brown and blue, they twisted their way over his breast. It ran through his nipple, down his side and disappeared into the trousers he wore with no sign of stopping. The hideous disfigurement captured her gaze, horrendous as it encroached upon his perfect bronze skin and leeched the energy from it until all was dead, mere cracked grey leather where life once was. Nearly half his chest was grey, dried skin only broken by the terrifying scars.

"My god..." Terra whispered. An aura emitted from that terrible wound overwhelmed her. It was a stench of pure unbridled repugnance. It drew tears from her dry eyes and a gasp of pain from her hoarse throat.

"Magic," Remiel sneered again. "The disgusting truth of its monstrous nature." He pulled the shirt back over his scars, Terra gasping for air as the aura was suddenly lifted away.

"It will kill me," he said as he turned away with a look of contempt on his face. "It takes its time, keeping me youthful; robbing from me of my maturity." He strolled to the front, where he clenched his fist and immediately smashed the delicate lab equipment. Glass exploded into thousands of fragments, tearing apart his fist and drawing fresh blood that ran in rivets down his hands.

"Remiel..." Terra whispered.

Remiel Lilienthal turned around to face her. His youthful visage was a mask of hatred. "Irony at its finest! Visiting upon me eternal youth at an age too young for me to enjoy, while slowly raping my body until I die from the poisonous spells." He raised his arms into the air, fists shaking at something only he could see. "I condemn it all! Magic and its profane and sacrilegious esper-kind!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes locked on her, his hands slowly returning to his sides. He had a vicious look on his face, both raging anger and perverted lust.

Terra held her hands close to her chest out of fear. She looked at Remiel in despair, no longer able to see the kind young man that had been her date; the gentleman that had swept her off her feet and her partner in her first dance. His face was twisted in hate, and she was incapable of seeing the kind doting smile that he had given her before they had danced before the crowd of hundreds.

"Magic is like a cancer, a plague upon this world. In the past it crushed civilization, tearing a hole within the world and taking from us the Dieties that guided our lives. The War of the Magi," Remiel's eyes were wild. "Espers tearing the lands asunder guided by only their hatred for humanity. The horrors they wielded spilt our blood and tainted the oceans crimson. Our only chance had been to visit upon us the greatest of crimes; the malignant curse set upon mankind when magic was bled into our bodies and used as weapons. It ended in darkness, the corruption and infection stopped only by the grand scale of atrocities committed. Untold numbers of innocent lives taken by magic, millions of millions killed for no gain. An apocalypse that wiped the world clean and left us to die wallowing in the sea of faceless corpses."

Remiel lowered his arms. "Quoted from the diary of a Mage Warrior who survived the war," he said with a sneer.

"Gestahl, in his arrogance and boundless stupidity, saw fit to revive the ancient menace. Bring the disease back into existence and base our great Empire about it. Had I the knowledge, the foresight, I would have ended his life years ago." His tone softened and he had a look of regret on his face. "But I didn't. I was not learned enough and so the blame lies upon me as well. For allowing the ancient menace to return and threaten all life, I will be punished. The destroyer of lives, awakened under my watch is an unforgivable crime."

"It does more than kill," Terra whispered weakly in defense of her kind. But even she did not believe the words she spoke. She was haunted by the feelings that had not faded away... the tantalizing promise of boundless power.

"Yes," Remiel's eyes grew distant. "It certainly does more than kill. It subjugates and enslaves humanity to its will." He spread his arms around. "Look around you. The Empire, humanity's greatest minds working together to create the grandest machinations. Technology under science, researched by years of effort and based on pure and natural principles. All undermined by the mysticism of magical artifacts stolen from the Esperworld," his voice grew hateful again. "The most brilliant of minds coerced into reading ancient books like pathetic priests. Forced into looking for ridiculous prayers to infuse magic into our machines. Lowering us to nothing more than barbarians staring into the skies and asking for divine guidance."

"Look at the Magitek! Those towering weapons that were first born from the combined efforts of years of research. Now they are barely worked on, barely acknowledged as flawed and in need of repairs and upgrades. Instead, our researchers are busy extracting magic from espers and infusing it into our own people!" he screamed in anguish. "Our own children! Used as test subjects so we may inject them with the pestilence, the disease of immeasurable evil!" He slammed his fists down again and again until his hands were swollen and bruised, screaming curses all the while. The table nearly crumbled under the repeated blows, cracks appearing down the center where Remiel's fury was directed. Terra flinched with each blow, certain that he would strike her given the chance.

At last, Remiel calmed down. He regained his composure quickly and pushed aside the mess of brown hair that covered his eyes. "Even though Gestahl knew what magic had done to me, he didn't care. He knew what it turned Palazzo into, but he still didn't care. He tried again and again for he had you, proof that it was possible. And each time he created monstrosity after monstrosity, until he finally deemed it a success."

His calm disposition vanished again, his eyes widening as he thought back into the past. "Then he infused himself and it took from him the last of his humanity. It gave him power, dark and corrupted, and devoured his soul as its price." He sneered. "Fitting, that it would betray him in the end. That it would kill him in its most unmitigated form, before the very Dieties that govern magic itself. That is all magic is, after all. The dealer of death. My hatred of it knows no bounds, and you-" he pointed at Terra. "You are the personification of the cancer upon mankind."

"Why?" Terra whispered. "Why did you make me go through all this, if you hate me so much?"

Remiel turned to her, his eyes not hateful but still contemptuous. He leered at her, the strength of which made her feel naked in front of him. "I wish to see my enemies at their best, so that I am secure in righteousness of my cause. Nothing is more humiliating and disgraceful than taking the life of an innocent. I would never forgive anyone for doing such a thing."

He gestured at her. "I do not lie. You are gorgeous and the centerpiece of my annual ball. I have a sharp eye and discerned that beneath the dirty skin and shy demeanor was a woman of angelic proportions, capable of causing grown men to forsake their vows for but a single night with her." He turned away. "Yet at the same time when I see you in your glory -- the height of your existence -- I see exactly the monster you are. I know the best and the worst of you, both the apex and the abyss."

Terra's hand wandered up to her neck and clutched at Maduin. However, the magicite was gone, shattered by Remiel. The familiar weight was gone. She had nothing to draw courage from.

Remiel walked away, picking up a glass filled with a strange glowing red liquid. He swirled the stuff within the beaker for a moment before his face twisted in anger and he smashed it to the ground.

Terra shrank back when Remiel turned his attention back to her.

"Magic kills everything it touches. It's a cancer, a plague, a disease that cannot be cured. It will doom all that it encounters for it is nothing more than the taker of life. Death and destruction in a carnal mix of unbridled evil," his eyes were distant, as if he were quoting texts from which he spent so much of his life studying. But Terra found little solace knowing that he was only repeating from memory. Her own words were returning to haunt her.

"My fate is already etched in stone, and so has yours," Remiel pointed at her. "You will poison everything you touch, everything you care for and everything you love. You are the messenger of death, the bane of the innocent and curse of humanity."

Terra sank to her knees as she shook in fear. "I'm not-" she whispered to herself.

"Those close to you have already been marked. Their fate will be horror beyond imagination. Even those that have depended on you but for a moment, like Meras and Starson, they too will find themselves upon the doorstep of death with you as the gatekeeper," he prophesied. "Ragnarok indeed," Remiel swept his hand in finality, leaving her to drown in the grief of her own self-loathing.

Terra stared at his shrinking back. The fancy red coat was like blood upon his lean and muscled frame. She shook, overwhelmed by the hatred that gripped her. Wretched thoughts, distressing and depressive, broke through the locked doors in her mind. She hated her ancestry, her magic, her very life. She could still feel the power that rumbled deep inside of her. It had been so seductive. She had given into its siren song and nearly killed hundreds of thousands of innocent lives.

Terra closed her eyes in shame. She had almost become the horror she dreaded so much. She had been willing to kill so many with the wave of a hand. Her birthright, her very nature could not be atoned for. Everything she had done had been a failure. When she had tried to help Narshe by speaking to the Esper, she had nearly killed her friends and flew off in frenzy. When she had tried to convince the Espers to help the Returners, they had struck Vector in force and killed tens of thousands. Her trip to Thamasa... she trembled uncontrollably, tears flowing down her cheeks while clenched fists shook with pain. Her trip to Thamasa had gotten Leo, Yura and all Espers killed. And her trip to the Floating Continent unleashed the apocalypse and caused this: the Imperial Civil War.

She was a monster.

Terra opened her eyes and stared into the heartless green gaze of Remiel Lilienthal.

"Kill me," she whispered. She surprised them both with the strength and power of her words.

There was no forgiveness on his youthful visage. Remiel Lilienthal did not respond to the strength of her conviction. Instead he turned away from her and seemed lost in thought.

Terra wondered how long they stood there. The air was thick with tension and she wondered how long she could last before her strength faltered. Then Remiel turned back to her. There was no forgiveness in his eyes, but neither was there the murderous rage that existed before.

"No, Terra Branford. Against my better judgment, I will let you live," he said.

Terra wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"You are a grave danger to humanity," Remiel continued. "I have looked in your eyes and I have seen the destructive joy that danced within your true form. To say that you would have enjoyed killing me would be an understatement."

The horror of that truth hit her like cold water. She trembled with the realization of how her powers could change her.

"But I have already killed you today," Remiel said with a touch of disappointment. "There is nothing down that path, for either of us." His predatory gaze softened. "And I admit I was wrong, I had never expected to see you..." he paused, searching for words that escaped him.

"I never expected remorse," Remiel Lilienthal sighed deeply. "I had convinced myself that you were a monster and ignored the facts that I had seen all day. I ignored my own devices and judged you irredeemably guilty. By doing so I have betrayed my own ethics and as such, I am no better. I'm sorry, Terra Branford. I was wrong."

Terra didn't know why his apology meant so much to her, but it did.

"I have dreamed of this night for years. I have gone through the possible events a thousand times; a fantasy that could never be realized. And yet here it has, but it unraveled like nothing I had ever expected," Remiel stated. He took a deep breath and gestured. "Thank you, you may leave."

Terra blinked. "Leave?" she echoed in disbelief.

Remiel nodded. "You may return to Danielle Meras with confidence that our alliance shall be without further delay. As such, I have no right to hold you any longer." Remiel gestured at the stairs far behind him. In the chaos of the slave crown ordeal, they had switched positions and he was between her and freedom.

He was holding something back, Terra could see it. "But?" she asked.

For the first time that night, Remiel smiled. It had such warmth to it that Terra instantly knew: the charming smile that she had seen all night had been fake. "I want give you a chance; a chance to redeem yourself. It's something magic had never given me, but I feel that you should have it." He waited until she gave him a nod to continue. "I want you to go the front. You will go to the Core of the Empire, in the midst of Civil War. I want you to use your magic to save those innocents, and in doing so, atone for all the death and destruction of your past."

Terra was struck speechless. She thought about his words for a while. "I don't know if I can save... anyone."

"I don't doubt for a moment that your magic is strong enough to defend those in need," Remiel replied smoothly. "Mine is a selfish request, and one that I will not force upon you. However, if you succeed..." he trailed off.

Terra watched Remiel's facial expressions conflict with each other. His lips twisted from a warm smile to an angry sneer and back again. She wondered what Remiel was thinking that could cause him to act this way.

"If you succeed," General Remiel Lilienthal proclaimed with a flourish. "Then I will ensure that the Empire shall never make war again."