****Final
Fantasy IV****
*The
War of the
***Part I - The
Light***
* I *
- His Majesty's Orders -
One
born of a dragon
hoisting the light and the dark
arises high up in the sky
to the still land.
Veiling the moon with the light of eternity,
it brings another promise
to mother earth
with a bounty and mercy.
*
The sound of steel blades cutting through the air. The monstrous hum of engines roaring through the sky. The mere sound of the machines emphasized power, let alone the sight of them. Their magnificent shape resembled what had become of what once was...Airships, a vessel not of sails, but with wings. Just as their predecessors ruled the seas, they ruled the skies of the known world, the air their ocean and the clouds their waves. Just seeing the airships effortlessly gliding across the sky on their puissant propellers caused people to stop and stare, sometimes endlessly, forgetting completely what they were doing. Children loved to see them and often played as if they were airships themselves, running in circles until they fell over dizzy. Most people revered them; they were an awesome force that none dreamed of overcoming, for such things as these had only been conceived in dreams before. No man had ever touched the sky until now, and it was a glorious day when man's eyes could see through those of the birds. Another frontier had been opened, and was ready to be conquered.
But just as any dream is realized, it can be squandered by hands of greed and a thirst for power. Such was this dream, for in recent days people began to fear the airships, these masters of the blue heavens. People ran for cover if they heard even an echo of them in the distance; their thunder now was a call of death. There were none who knew exactly why the country of Baron had suddenly started attacking others. It certainly did not seem like them to lash out like this, pillaging and plundering as they did. Baron had always been known to be peacekeepers, and their King was thought to be a kind and just knight. There was something foul in the air of Baron. The dream had become a nightmare.
Though only one controlled such technology as the Airships, there were several established and renowned kingdoms throughout the world, each holding its own unique strengths, and each with their fair share of land beneath them. Their land and power were so vast that their names easily fell into the ranks as an entire country. There was the forest country of Toroia, the deserts of Damcyan, the marshlands of Fabul...and then there was Baron. Baron had become, possibly, the most powerful country in the world, and with the airships at their disposal they could not be touched as they laid waste to cities and castles from the skies, bringing death like hot rain. What could the defenseless victims do against such a devastating power...nothing. There was nothing they could do, for Baron was far too strong. Even without the airships, they had one of the most formidable armies in the world. Fear preyed on commune and kingdom alike, for the country of Baron no longer stood for peace, it stood for evil.
History tells stories of unspeakable evils that arise throughout the world, each with its own name. The squadron of airships under Baron's control was known as the Red Wings, the name given to them from the red wood used to build them which imprinted their supreme strength into the mind. Nowadays people would say they are red because of their bloodthirsty nature, the color stained of the world's blood. Perhaps the people were right; for the Red Wings seemed to become a little darker in color each time they tore through an innocent village. Certainly history would remember the name Red Wings, as well as the man who stood behind them as their commander.
The commander of the Red Wings was Cecil Harvey, a Dark Knight, taken in by the King himself and trained by him as such. No one knows of his family or of his true home, not even himself, but he had made a home in Baron since he was orphaned there as a baby. Over the twenty-one years since that day he had grown to become the King's most loyal subject and that earned him the right to lead the Red Wings with His Majesty's orders. But before he ever commanded the Red Wings he had been trained under the Dark Sword and passed every discipline within that Order, which dubbed him the Dark Knight of Baron. Such a title was something most men died trying to achieve, but Cecil had shown such potential in his youth and the King had so much faith in him. It was almost as if Cecil was destined to become a Dark Knight, as if fate had chosen him for its very purpose. His position not only as a commander but as a Dark Knight was highly respected among soldiers in the kingdom, for they had heard stories of what one must go through to become such a man. Even walking through the town outside the castle, the townsfolk would fold under his presence, some frightened of his appearance while others simply admiring such strength and valor in his young face. He seemed to have anything any man in Baron could ask for.
But Cecil was troubled by many things in the recent weeks. The King had been acting strange with his sudden orders of seemingly mindless destruction. It was as if the King was searching for something, yet Cecil knew of much better ways to find things than to destroy every city along the way. It wasn't like him to do such things as this. Cecil knew the King too well to let this go by without questioning, but questioning the King was something none spoke of; his word was all that was needed for any soldier in Baron. Cecil would have to find a time to say his part, but until then his instructions were to be followed as ordered by the King.
The Red Wings cruised over the
fluorescent blue ocean, the sun beaming off the surface in rippled patterns,
swaying amongst the crests. Their shadows danced over swells and waves crashing
on the shores of small islands scattered about the endless sea. Five airships
amassed in the skies in delta formation, a flying-V, as they headed for a
village off of a peninsula west of
"Captain Cecil! We are about to arrive at Mysidia!" yelled one of the crew members, forewarned by the bow watchman, the sun crawling across his golden helmet as he stepped forward with the news. All of the soldiers aboard the ship wore the same bronze armor with their gold helmets, the official garb of the Baron army.
"Yeah..." the Dark Knight replied, eyes never wandering towards the messenger as he stood statuesque at his command post. His mind was too cluttered with questions to say anything more. He wasn't even sure what the soldier had told him, nor did he notice him still standing there, awaiting further instruction. The soldier eventually stepped away from his commander after a short salute, making his way over to another soldier overlooking the scenery from the rail of the airship. Cecil just stood at his post, his open-faced helmet allowing the breeze to graze his skin, the top of it slightly curled over his forehead following his nose to a sharp point, keeping his eyes from the searing sun. He was completely lost in thought, drowning in a sea of things he might say when he returned to Baron. He didn't even want to go on this mission in the first place, but the King had ordered it upon him, personally. There was no way out of it.
"Looks like it's bothering the Captain as well," said one soldier to another, noticing Cecil with a face full of distress. They would quickly glance at their captain before returning their sights to the world below, afraid he might be angered by their stares. They knew this was wrong just as the captain did, and it wasn't easy for them to swallow either.
"Even if we were ordered to do so by His Majesty, taking something as worthless as a crystal from innocent people is..." the voice of the other soldier trailed off as the engines started to growl deep in the ship's belly, telling the crew that it was prepared for a landing. Men took their stations about the vessel, each with their own job to do in making sure the fleet was brought down safely just outside the village.
Though the sun was high and bright in the sky, everything seemed so dark to Cecil, the skies above overcast with his foreboding, as the people of Mysidia below immediately fled to their homes or any kind of safe haven they could find. He watched, the airships falling slowly from the clouds, as the people below scattered from the wavering grass, the powerful propellers pushing violently against the Earth. Before they had even landed the entire village was empty; what was once a lively community was now a ghost town.
The engines quieted and the ladders were lowered, rope and wooden rungs dangling from each ship, lightly bumping against the massive hull. Cecil and a band of his soldiers descended from their flying castle, his foot touching Mysidian soil bringing a pang of some discomforting thought to his mind. The thought was lost before he could even remember what it was, but he left it behind and marched his troop into the village. From that point on everything was just a blur, his mind taken to some other place, some other time as they walked the empty streets, bare and lonely; the sound of their feet breathing puffs of dust behind them. Standing tall and strong in their path was the very structure they had been informed of, a bethel. And within this sanctuary was the tower that supposedly carried their objective in its womb./p>
Of all things he did not want to remember, this was certainly one of them and his mind tried to press all these things aside. All he knew was that there was no resistance; there was neither fight nor bloodshed. Not until they set foot inside this architectural nonpareil, the people inside obviously unaware of the present danger they were in. Two soldiers swiftly forced the doors open with a stern boot, sending them whirling around into the respective walls they were attached to. With the crash of the doors slamming into walls, and the sudden cold air that followed, the staggered eyes of those inside watched as bronze and gold poured in, followed by a man built of a darker armor looking most like a shadow once out from under the light of the sun. Those that were too shocked to move, unsure of whether or not their lives were at risk, were easily subdued and held still against the wall with the tip of a sword. The soldiers had only one job, and that was to ensure the safety of Captain Cecil so that he may complete the mission at hand, and if someone was in the way, they were to be taken care of.
A few of the people inside were able to escape Baron's grasp as they fled down a hallway through a large door at its end. The rest were properly kept from harms way, unless, of course, one of them decided to be a hero. Cecil didn't even want to try and imagine what would happen to the poor fool that attempted to break free. If anything he didn't want anyone to die today, but if they were suddenly beset, then things would surely get ugly. The thought of staining these halls red was discomforting.
"Should we follow them, Captain?" a fellow soldier came to Cecil's side, "This area is clear, and it appears that those who escaped were the only other people still here."
No, this is a holy place. Mysidia is a commune, not a monarchy, Cecil thought as he stared down the long hallway, not yet informing the soldier of his decision. He noticed the door at the end of the hall was highly decorated with patterns of gold and silver as well as a very unique symbol...a crystal. Cecil's instincts went off. This village is overseen by an Elder and I can bet he's right down there. He's here with us.
"Sir?" the soldier persisted.
"Those that are not needed to secure this area come with me," Cecil ordered, never taking his eyes off the door, "We're going to find what we need through there."
The soldier relayed the commands to the others, a group of soldiers immediately gathering before their Captain, prepared for his next order. The rest stayed behind as they grouped the Mysidians together in a corner and closed the doors to the tower with two soldiers taking guard duty. No one was allowed in or out, not as long as the sword of Baron was upon the people of Mysidia.
"Let's go!"
Cecil pushed his men forward as they marched heavily down the stone wall corridor, a red carpet leading the way to their destination. There was definitely something important beyond this doorway, and it was clear to Cecil, for no red carpet would grace a path to nothing. Just as before, upon approaching the door, two soldiers stepped forward to make way with their steel heels. This time it didn't fly open upon the first assault as they surely had planned. The metal hinges groaned against the stress, but stayed strong in defiance.
"Fools! Try and lock us out, will you?!"
The soldiers yelled through the thick gold and silver glittering against flaming torches lined down the walls. They kicked the door again and again, each time the sound of the metal reeling against their assailing boots. Finally, as a trickle of concrete dust fell from the ceiling, the door gave way and crept open to a room of icy cold reflections, crystal tiles and walls with bright shining pillars lined up evenly on either side. In the center of the room, ascending a short marble stair, was an ivory rostrum topped with a red silk pillow. But as stunning as that looked, it paled in comparison to the beauty of what sat upon that pillow, glowing so softly yet bright enough to turn night into day. It was the crystal that Cecil was here to find, his mission sitting up there like a trophy ready to be won by the strongest soldier. Cecil couldn't take his eyes off of it until a soldier grabbed his attention, directing his eyes to those who stood in front of his trophy, guarding it, keeping it from him. As soon as he saw them he knew who he was looking at.
There stood the Elder of Mysidia, standing out just by the look of him. He wore the long black cloak of what Cecil could only imagine was a� representation of his power over magic, the arcane threads wrapped tightly to his body with a highly decorated gold belt fastened around his waist. His long brown flowing hair accompanied by his beard following suit gave him a look of wisdom over the others. Those others, the ones who had escaped, stood in front of him, standing firm. There were six of them, four men and two women, Cecil noticed as he glanced at them with the least of concern. The last thing he wanted to see was their skin running red, but they were intent on protecting this crystal at all costs, including their very lives.
This is where things began to blur again, Cecil's mind becoming nothing but a soft haze peering through his eyes. He didn't even notice the things happening around him anymore, not the wizards yelling their curses, the soldiers returning with their own threats. He didn't notice the wizards take arms against the advancing men in his troop, what weapons they had not nearly enough to even dent the armor of Baron. The only thing he saw next was his men as they immediately unleashed their swords and slaughtered the wizards, leaving their bodies dead before the Elder, the crystal tile reflecting scarlet pools of blood. The horrid sight nearly broke the Elder and Cecil could see it in his face, his eyes portraying the thought of sending them all to a fiery death as it surely struck his mind. But the Elder knew, just as well as Cecil did, that fighting was useless, and the Dark Knight seemed to explain that through his eyes as they glared at each other. Cecil kept a stern grip on his feelings, even as the Elder's miserable eyes peered through him, begging him to go no further. Cecil knew this was all wrong, but he had come this far already, and he still had a job to do. His trophy was waiting for him.
Why?
The Elder was soon becoming desperate, finding no other possible solution - his people slain so quickly, so brutally - and he ran forward in a futile attempt to ask for mercy. Cecil was more than happy to give him that much, but he had forgotten just how swift his men were to impart force on any threat to their superior officers. A soldier quickly grabbed the Elder and thrust him up against a crystal pillar, holding a cold blade to his neck to insure no threat to the Captain.
"Should I get rid of him, Sir?" the soldier asked. The question was asked so plain, almost polite, and Cecil stumbled a bit over what he wanted to say.
How
did killing become such an easy thing to ask for?
"No, do not kill him." Cecil firmly commanded, just to make sure that he and all the others heard him clearly, "He presents no threat to us. He is lost."
Cecil wondered about that, thinking that maybe it wasn't the Elder who had lost, but perhaps it was himself. He didn't know why, but that's how it felt as he walked across the room to the marble staircase. There were only seven stairs, as he had counted every one on the way up; his way of calming his nerves in times like these. He approached the pale faced podium, the ruby red bed upon which the crystal lay so peacefully. It radiated with such a graceful azure glow, a glow that only made his armor seem that much darker as Cecil reached out and put his solemn hand upon its warm surface. He hoisted the sapphire relic to his eyes as he observed it, pondering of it for a second, trying to reason its purpose.
All the killing, all the death, for this... Cecil thought as he peered into the cerulean mirror in his hand, a pair of cold blue eyes staring back at him. His reflection in the crystal seemed so dark as he gazed for a moment more before placing it in his satchel. I look so evil... he thought as the image of his face in the sapphire glass stuck cleanly to the back of his eyelids, reminding him just what he was every time he closed his eyes. That struck some nerve deep within, and he wanted nothing more than to be gone and done with this mission, quickly turning around and heading for the door.
As he walked he saw everything that had happened in this room all over again, his mind replaying the swift massacre for him. The dead bodies of these innocent people lay there under his boot as he walked over them, their blood grasping his feet, trying valiantly to pierce his armor. But it didn't need to, for the sight alone could penetrate any barrier and attack the mind. Cecil wondered if he could hold out much longer, hoping his nerves were as strong as his armor. He wished he could've been somewhere else at that moment, somewhere far away, far away from everything. It didn't matter, just as long as he didn't have to go through any more of this...this nightmare.
Cecil's nerves were soon tested as the Elder let out a faint sob, a whimper, as the soldier that was holding him pressed the sharp blade a little closer to his throat. Cecil stopped at the door and almost fell to his knees in anguish.
This isn't right. What am I doing? Cecil's head almost self-destructed at that very spot, but a soldier's hand on his shoulder reminded him of his duty. He shrugged the hand off of him and walked out the door, the soldiers staring at their estranged Captain as he left them behind there in the crystal chamber.
The mission was considered a success, and the soldiers removed themselves from the sacred tower, following their Captain back out into the village where the sun took their eyes for a moment. But Cecil didn't seem to notice, or care, for all he could see was his chilling reflection in the crystal as he continued trudging towards the airships still resting outside of the village. Cecil saw no success in what they had done today, and it ate at him more and more as barren paths led him out of this place, this village of misery. Wary eyes peeked from windows and shadowed corners as the demons from Baron finally left, leaving with them a trail of Mysidian blood.
***Fierce winds tore at blades of grass and nearby trees as the airships took off from Mysidia, Cecil sitting rather uncomfortably in the simple wooden chair at his post, even more distressed than before. So many things beating at his conscience door, telling him over and over that he had just destroyed something sacred, something human. It was senseless, all this killing, this murder. That's what it was...murder.
Those people were innocent; there was nothing they had done wrong. They were protecting themselves from us, even if they did make the first attack. And yet they died by our hands as if they had made an attack on the King himself. Why? Cecil rummaged through his mind for an answer that he knew wasn't there to find. Not yet anyways. The answers would come when he returned to Baron, when he asked the King why he had been sent to blight this village.
Had Cecil been paying attention he would've noticed his men becoming restless, much like he himself. A good number of them were standing before him, trying to bring his attention to their cause. They didn't like the way things were being played out either, and it showed as a brave, yet foolish, soldier stepped out to say a word.
"Captain Cecil, if I may say something," he approached wisely, with a salute on one knee. Cecil nodded to the soldier, not in any mood to speak. The man of bronze and gold stood, his eyes trying hard not to seem weak in his Captain's presence.
"Sir, we earned our positions as the Red Wings through our valor and our chivalry. When people in Baron think of us, they should be proud that we serve the greatest country in the world, and other countries should think nothing less. Now we appear to be nothing more than pirates for His Majesty," the soldier was truly angered by what he had just done, and Cecil knew exactly how he felt, for the same dagger of indignation rested in his chest, "Even under the orders of the King, it's not right what we're doing here. Looting innocent people like this is an act of cowardice..."
"Stop it!" Cecil broke in, not happy with the direction the soldier was going. Though he agreed with him, he couldn't show any such disloyal conduct before his crew. They were beginning to sound as if they were distrusting their own King, and Cecil did not want any of his men to be put in the dungeon for treason, for that, too, would be on his conscience.
"But Captain," the soldier persisted, "Why are we going as far as pillaging a town of innocent wizards who cannot even resist us?"
"Listen, everyone!" Cecil stood up from his position and prepared to end the squabble of his crew once and for all, "His Majesty has decreed that possessing the crystal is absolutely necessary, not only for the good of our kingdom, but for the good of the world. The people of Mysidia knew too much of the crystal and what secrets it holds. Whether or not they would use it against us, they were a threat to the continued sovereignty of our country." How Cecil made the words sound so true he had no idea, but they were listening. He hated going against his crew, but even more he hated going against himself, "We are the Red Wings, the air power of Baron. His Majesty's orders are absolute!"
Those were the words the King had given him, what His Majesty more or less would have said had he been in his position. Whether or not Cecil believed them was another matter in itself, but the crew respected his words and held their tongues of any more such talk. The small gathering that had found itself before his post scattered about the ship, manning their positions as before. Cecil fell back into his chair, mentally drained from everything, especially after what he had just said. It took everything he had not to let his own emotions show through in his words. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he knew exactly what he would see, and that was the last thing he wanted hounding him right now. He just watched the skies as clouds rolled on by, stirred by the wake of the ship.
***Things were quiet for a good while as they soared over the ocean towards the country of Baron, the afternoon sun hanging high off their port bow. It was actually peaceful for most of the time, the hours flowing like minutes, things going by so fast yet still in slow motion, and the tickle of hair on Cecil's brow as the wind brushed against his face was rather enticing. If it weren't for the thought of blood on his boot he could actually fall asleep to such a scene. Such times he missed when he was able to just sit back and relax at his post, not worrying a bit about anything. He had actually been caught snoozing in the Captain's chair a few times before by some of the crew, but of course they would never tell the King such things. They used to joke with him about it, telling him he might wake up on a deserted island one day. But now, in times like these, there was nothing to joke about. Death is never a joke.
As peaceful as these hours were, Cecil began to notice that things still seemed disturbed and misplaced. Winds seemed to die, clouds frozen in littered patterns on the sky, leaving a small hint of something to come. Little did Cecil know it was simply the calm between storms, for not too long after he had noticed these things, the silence was broken as a watchman ran from the front of the ship, his eyes screaming alarm.
"Captain! Monsters!"
The brief announcement brought Cecil up from his post as he called loud to his crew.
"Everyone, prepare for incoming!"
Shouts rang out all over the airship, each relaying the message to man their battle positions. The crew assembled themselves in their routine, set positions and prepared for whatever was coming. Cecil remained at his post as he, along with his crew, awaited what horrors would descend upon them. Silence reigned the air once again as the breeze began to pick up, a cloud stretching its confident hand over the light of the sun, sending a mild shadow over the deck. Cecil watched with cautious eyes for something, anything. For a moment he thought it might have been a false alarm, for sometimes peaceful creatures that have never been seen before are thought of as monsters.
"There! Up there!" a soldier quickly blurted out, his sword pointed to the skies where a few strange creatures hovered above, circling their ship like vultures. There was an untold number of the creatures, too many to count, Cecil figured, as they weaved in between each other in a cloud of monstrous flesh. What they were was yet to be known, for they had yet to show any signs of attacking and were too far to clearly see. Cecil glanced at the airships trailing beside them, noticing that they were ready for battle as well, their men placed in the most strategic spots on deck, if there was such a thing as a strategic spot on an airship.
"They're coming! Get ready!" It was the next thing Cecil heard as he turned his head to the skies above, the sight of the monsters descending on them with a sudden speed driving him to draw his weapon, the Dark Sword. The things spread out amongst the five ships cruising over the ocean, each having at least three of the damned creatures to deal with. At first they were just a blur, swooping down to snatch any prey they could get their claws on, but upon one of them landing on a soldier at the front deck, the crew was able to get a good look. Even as their fellow soldier screamed in pain as the vile monster tore him open, none moved for a moment if just to get a better look at it.
Their fat bodies of putrid pimpled blue flesh looked like rotten, maggot infested meat, sometimes served in the dungeons of Baron. Their wings didn't look big enough to carry their extreme bulk, but they moved with surprising quickness in the skies. Their legs were just the same, seemingly too small to hold up such a thing, but it didn't seem to stop it from tearing into a man's back, shredding steel and flesh alike. The most distinguishable feature was the ominous eye that sat large above its maw filled with jagged steak-knives of teeth, perfect for the occasional human it preyed on.
Soldiers finally snapped out of their momentary daze as they took to the foul being, swords drawn and swinging at it with every intention of sending it back to the hell that it had come from. They drove the creature away, though hardly even getting a chance to leave a mark of their blades on its flesh. These creatures were sneaks; they didn't like confrontation but would quickly take a soldier that wasn't on his guard. One happened to be lucky enough to catch a soldier who strayed over to the edge, his back to the rail, unwary of the menacing monster sweeping in behind him. Before his screams even reached the ears of the crew he was taken overboard, a swarm of the creatures swooping in to get a piece of the catch. The only thing left was his helmet, which dropped upon the deck in a small spat of blood.
The floating eyeballs continued to swarm over Cecil's ship, a small cloud of them just waiting for a soldier to let down his guard. Cecil held his sword defensively as one tested him, swooping in close enough to get his attention, yet at a safe enough distance to escape harm. He advanced on it, just to let it know he would be no easy target, but another came in just to spite him. That one was not so lucky. Cecil, instincts driving his anticipation, sprung from his position, just high enough to drive his sword into its belly. As it tried desperately to escape, it only made its wound worse as his dark blade easily ripped it wide open, entrails dangling sickly from the laceration. Cecil nearly lost his sword as the beast flew off, pulling it with all his strength to dislodge it from the bone. The monster didn't get very far at all before it dropped from the sky into the sea below.
The swarm of ghastly creatures regrouped, and seemed to be waiting for something as they all hovered, stagnant, just over the bow of the ship. Cecil wondered exactly what such creatures would be thinking at a time like this, and it brought his attention to the airship on their starboard side. It was out of control and was flying severely off course...directly into the side of his ship. The sight of the colossal vessel coming towards him left a small drop of panic in the pit of his stomach.
Cecil didn't even have time to warn his men to brace themselves before the impact, the two tremendous hulls colliding violently before scraping viciously against each other; a cataclysm of splintering wood and shattered planks. Soldiers were thrown to the deck and sent sliding into the port side railing as the airship started to lean heavily to that side. The wheelman was clinging to the tall wood of the steering wheel for dear life, trying his best to turn the ship back in the right direction. Unfortunately his strength was nothing compared to the pressure of another airship digging into their side, like a fierce wind digs into a tree long dead.
Cecil had found a rope dangling from the main mast behind him and wrapped his arm around it, trying his best to remain standing at his post. He watched the deck of his neighboring airship, the crew scrambling to its best ability to get the vessel under control again. Apparently one of the monsters had gotten a hold of the pilot, leaving the ship in the hands of the currents, hands which were now clawing at the hull of his airship. Time was running short for Cecil and his crew as his ship continued to tip over, much like a boat capsizing in the sea. Cecil didn't want to find out what it was like for an airship to capsize in midair, but if something wasn't done quickly then he was going to find out whether he liked it or not.
More and more the airship leaned, the crew holding on to whatever they could find, most likely praying at the moment for someone to save them. Cecil continued to watch, as calmly as he possibly could, at the other airship as its deck forced its way deeper into their hull. Cecil could hear the wood splitting open far beneath him, and he could only hope that it would not hit the engines, for then they would truly be lost. To his dire dismay, the airship began to shake violently, and Cecil knew that it would not be long before gears were torn from each other and the ship would fall to an unfortunate grave under the sea. It was taking too long, and he knew it, the hope of pulling the two ships apart far past the point of no return...it was over. He closed his eyes as he waited for the ship to simply plummet into the ocean, the shaking filling his bones with terror.
There
is no hope...
And then it stopped. The violent shakes subsided as the airship came back around to settle upright, the vessel at their starboard side pulling away under some level of control. A soldier behind the wheel gave a single wave of his hand in Cecil's direction, and Cecil did the same, gladly having his life spared for the moment. He finally took a breath after holding it for so long, acknowledging that the threat was over. He turned his attention back to his own deck, as his men got up to brush themselves off, relieved that they had survived but also unaware that they still had monsters to deal with. It was not a pretty sight as several soldiers were taken overboard by the hideous creatures; their lives held on to only to serve as food for these things. Cecil quickly got his men together, rushing from his post and taking to the front deck. He instructed two soldiers to guard the pilot, not taking any chances on another ship losing control. The rest grouped together in a tight circle on the deck, the creatures still lingering above their heads, their companions long gone within the monsters' belly.
There was nothing they could do but wait for these creatures to either go away, or make some kind of sudden movement in their direction. And wait they did, forever it seemed they waited. They waited and waited, until one soldier could wait no more. He took his sword and slung it into the air, into the cloud of floating teeth and eyes. One of the monsters actually snatched the sword out of the sky, swallowing it whole. Cecil noticed this, and a marvelous idea sprung into his mind.
These damn things are like gulls, they'll eat anything. Cecil thought to himself as he rummaged through his satchel for a specific item that he had been given by His Majesty. Not minding a bit for the crystal, he dug around until he came upon a round vial filled with a fiery red liquid, so warm that he could feel it through his armor. He took the vial out of his satchel and brought it before his eyes, a wicked smile crossing his lips. They'll love this.
Without a second thought Cecil hurled the vial into the mess of creatures, the swarm of them so close together that he lost sight of it for only a moment. After that moment he noticed it coming back down towards them, the monsters unfortunately not taking the bait. Cecil's eyes went wide for a second as he saw that his plan had backfired, but just as the vial fell out of the swarm, one of them swooped in and picked it up, fetching it between its teeth. Cecil exhaled deeply in relief as the monster flew back into the swarm and just a second later ignited in flames. Even more astounding was the explosion that burst from its fleshy body, as flames seemed to reach out of it and grab each and every one of its little monster friends, and each one was nothing more than a cloud of ashes after the fire was done with them. Their ashen bodies blew away in the wind before ever touching the deck.
A short cheer went around the airship as each soldier lifted his sword into the air, hollering to the high heavens. For the first time that day, for that single moment, they were all smiling, even Cecil, but that air of death still lingered. Their glorious victory was short lived, as a lone helmet painted wet red scooted across the front deck.
***
The threat was finally over, but the ship had taken a tremendous beating, and Cecil didn't even want to think about the casualty list. But it was his responsibility to know, so as to have their deaths documented upon their return to Baron. He immediately noticed that five of his soldiers had been lost, five families that had lost a son or a husband...or a father. Cecil cursed the heavens for bringing such hell into this world such as these creatures. The men that were gone didn't deserve to die, and especially not in this way.� But there was nothing he could do for them, nothing except remember them and to have their closest kin informed as soon as they arrived back in Baron. It would be a sad day for a lot of people, but Cecil wondered if it wasn't just a bad omen for their 'crimes' back in Mysidia. The thought surely crossed his mind as conceivable, for nothing would suit a criminal better than to die by the hands of a monster.
No,
they didn't deserve this. It wasn't their fault. It was...
"Sir?" a soldier tore Cecil from his thoughts, bringing him back to the situation at hand. Cecil stood firm in the soldier's presence, giving him no indication that he was struggling inside.
"Damage report?" Cecil asked. The soldier didn't even flinch as he gave his report even though he was undoubtedly shaken. A true Red Wing.
"Captain, the hull has taken a lot of damage on the starboard side, but the ship is still intact and operational. The engines have taken no damage. Five dead, sir."
Five dead. Just as Cecil had seen. He nodded to the soldier and sent him back to his duty with a short salute. Cecil glanced around at those who were left, manning the stations that had lost their crewmen, taking care of what needed to be taken care of. The sun finally peeked out again from the cloud that had overtaken it, draping rays of sunlight upon their decks.
"Is everyone alright?" Cecil called out to his men, making sure that none needed medical attention. There were two medics below decks, but thankfully they were not needed as every soldier still standing seemed to be alright. Cecil wanted to smile at that thought, but it never came to him.
"Yes, sir," the soldiers began to call out one by one, letting the Captain know that they were still strong, something Cecil wished he could say for himself. If only he could take his mind off of all these things. What made it worse was that he knew he still had to make his case for the King, whether or not he was worn to his limits. Things were going to blow up for sure if Cecil stumbled on his words while questioning this mission, if he could even get the nerve to do so.
Cecil, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to sit down and relax. His chair still stood at his post, luckily nailed into the wood of the deck. He'd be pissed if the Captain's chair had flown off the ship during the collision. As he walked across the deck towards his chair, he could hear two soldiers talking as they made their way to an unmanned position.
"This is insane," the one soldier started, "The monsters have been increasing radically and they get more vicious every day. A month ago we'd never have them attack us like they did today."
"I know," the other replied woefully, "Morris, Hendrick, Salison, Soran, Tannon...God! I can't believe this, they're dead! Dead because of those damned things!"
Cecil felt for his crew, felt their pain and despair. He wholeheartedly understood just what they felt, because he was just one of them, no matter that his rank exceeded theirs. He had known his crew for over a year and they had become so close that they were much like a family. There was no honor in these soldiers' deaths either, which made it that much worse. You die trying to save the world and you're a hero. You die because you were eaten by a monster on a mission and you're just another occupational casualty. These men would get no special notice for their deaths, only their names written in the logs of the Baron archives, lost in a pile of scrolls and paper.
Cecil finally reached his chair and slumped down in it, taking a load off his feet. He pondered more of his crew's words...the monsters. The monsters were growing unusually gallant these days and Cecil was worried of the consequences this would bring. Normally monsters would not attack airships for they were so large, but that didn't seem to be the case anymore. What made things worse was the unusual increase in their numbers, as if some freak phenomenon of nature had bred entire populations of these monsters. Attacks were reported more frequently around the castle walls, and outside of the town's gates, not only at night but during the day as well. Moreover, they were growing much stronger, as if growing in numbers wasn't bad enough.
Something
must be happening...
"Captain. Baron is on the horizon," a soldier disrupted Cecil's daze. Cecil's attention was quickly drawn to the time at hand, and he realized that it was time to face up to his feelings. This was where he decided whether or not he was ready to bring his judgments above His Majesty's orders, and he would break his code as a Dark Knight. But what did such a title mean if it was not properly conceived, and what did it mean if he didn't want to follow such a title anymore? So many questions still chasing him, but he had made his final decision, and so he nodded to the soldier before him as he rose from his chair. It was time for him to live his life through his own mind.
"Prepare to land." the Captain commanded./p>