Eyes on Final Fantasy Forums > General > Writer's Corner > [F]Final Fantasy VIII: The Lionheart (Novelization Book 1)

[Darth Anarcus]

Hello, everyone! I’m Darth Anarcus (I'll make a "Hi! I'm new!" thread in general chat later), and I am pleased to bring you (as my first post at these forums, no less) a project I’ve been working on for the last few months: book one of my novelization of one of my favorite games of all time: Final Fantasy VIII.

This novelization was mainly inspired by Mathew Stover's novelization of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I was quite impressed with Stover's occasional use of second-person, as well as his occasional break in the narrative to insert character bios in the present tens, and his use symbolism to describe a certain scene or certain characters in action. Readers may also notice a symbiotic relationship I've introduced between a character and a metaphorical beast inside his heart, which is inspired by Anakin and his dragon. (I enjoyed that bit very much.) My style of characterization is also greatly influenced by Stover. While it may seem that I tend to borrow everything from the man, I can assure that that is not the case. I have developed it to such a degree that I have created my own unique style which is not a carbon copy of Stover's style.

Based on the feedback I've gotten from friends so far, this story definitely has a lot of passion behind it and sounds like I am really enjoying writing it, which indeed I am. However, I should tell you that I am an extremely slow writer, having to live with ADHD and all, so sorry if it takes forever and a day to get this thing even halfway done.

This story will be separated into three parts, forming a trilogy. These "books" correspond roughly to each disk of gameplay, with the fourth part being tacked onto the end of Book Three as it is too short to be a piece in and of itself. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.

So far, I have written a prologue and three chapters, and am currently working on chapter four. For now, I’ll post the prologue and the first chapter, followed by consecutive chapters every one to two weeks (but without any guarantees). Since the first three are finished, I may post the next two chapters as soon as tomorrow or the next day depending upon how much feedback I receive between now and then. Please feel free to “rip it to pieces” as they say, and offer any constructive criticism you have to offer. (I know that the forum policies state that constructive criticism is a two-way street, and I am sorry if I am coming off as selfish by asking for some before offering any myself.)

The images I have created as paragraph breaks are best viewed in the "EoFF 2.0" skin as the background is brown to match the forum background.

Enjoy!

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Introduction


The nation of Galbadia initiates inexplicable hostilities against nearby nations Dollet and Timber. Both request aid of Balamb Garden, an elite military academy that trains mercenaries called SeeDs. Three newly-commissioned SeeDs, led by Squall Leonhart, are dispatched to deal with the conflict, which proves fortuitous: Galbadia, as it turns out, has fallen under the power of a Sorceress named Edea. Sorceresses are extremely dangerous, and the Gardens were founded to counter them. And Edea does not seem content with only one nation to rule. Squall and his friends are thus drawn into a conflict far greater than they could have imagined, a conflict which threatens the world itself.

FINAL FANTASY VIII
THE LIONHEART




Dramatis Personae
(To be updated with each new character introduction)


Balamb Garden

• Faculty
Headmaster Cid Kramer
Dean Berry Borza
Instructor Yoshitaka Aki
Instructor Quistis Trepe
Doctor Kyoto Kadawaki

• SeeD Mercenary Force
Chrysovalantou “Xu” Xulander
Raymond Malcolm
Seifer Almasy
Squall Leonhart
Nida Throl
Zell Dincht
Selpie Tilmit
• Others
Fujin Aeolus
Raijin Zevvs

The Forest Owls

Theodosius “Zone” Zographiou
Rinoa Heartily
Emmanuel “Watts” Watson

The Republic of Galbadia

President Vinzer Deling
Sorceress Edea
General Malacus Caraway
Commander Havalus “Biggs” Lightdimmer
Captain Tio “Wedge” Yhdemmac
Laguna Loire
Kiros Seagill
Ward Zabac

Galbadia Garden

Headmaster Dodona Martine
Irvine Kinneas

Others

Ellone
Jeremias Dobe, Mayor of Fisherman’s Horizon
Flores “Flo” Dobe
Zorba the Fisherman
Julia Heartily
Edith Dincht
Garden Facility members

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Prologue


It was finished. The battle was over. The Devil of tomorrow had been slain, crucified on the cross where past, present and future intersect. The saviors born of the battleground—matured seeds who had been planted in their infancy into the Earth of War—had descended into the Hades that is the future where they engaged in an apocalyptic battle with the Devil of the world to come; and had arisen victorious, bestowing light upon a world in chaos.

The sins of the past had been annulled by the grace of the present. The curse had been blotted out, and the world had been restored to its previous state, before death had reigned. Hades had been despoiled, the veil of darkness had been lifted, and the people of the world were free from the tyranny of the Slanderer.

Yet, the Angel’s heart was not at peace. The man she loved was not there. He had promised that, once the battle was over, he would be waiting for her there. If you come here, he had told her, you’ll find me. I promise. Yet, he was not there.

Why wasn’t he there? Had something happened to him? Had he gotten lost in time, or walked into the wrong time period? Or was he…

No. He could not have been dead. It was impossible. He had promised to meet her there. He would not break that promise, for he had made the vow from the depths of his soul. She had gazed into his eyes—those deep, dark, piecing eyes which told no lies; which reached out to her, captured her and pulled her into the abyss of his very being—and she felt the power of his words in her heart. He would be there, no matter what. In that very field, painted with the vivid colors of red and white lilies and cooled by dancing winds, was the very place where she would find him waiting for her.

But why wasn’t he there?

Something was definitely wrong. She could sense it in her heart.

The cold wind blew violently, as if it had sensed her pain. Hundreds of flower petals danced in the wind, blowing towards the Angel as she shivered. That was when a brilliant idea knocked on the door of her mind.

She reached out and gently snatched a petal from the air. For a moment she gazed at it in the palm of her hand, studying the inanimate product of nature with a newfound awe. It was not sentient, yet it served a purpose, however minute it may have been. Now, she had a job for it to do; a higher purpose for it to serve.

I know you can’t hear me, she said to the petal without any words, but I need your help. Delicately, she closed her hand, safeguarding the flower pedal in her loving, almost maternal grip. She let power flow out of herself, channeling through her arm, into her hand, and eventually out of herself and into the pedal. She was imputing a bit of herself into this insentient marvel of nature, pouring her heart out to its deaf and dumb likeness, infusing its simple substance with her otherworldly power.

She could feel a transformation taking place in her hand, like a caterpillar undergoing metamorphosis in its cocoon. She could feel life being created in her delicate grasp.

The Angel opened her hand to discover that the flower petal no longer existed. Instead, a soft, immaculate white feather sat in her hand, glowing with an angelic aura. But the main difference was not the change in appearance. That meant nothing. Rather, the aspect that made all the difference in the world was that this pedal-turned-feather was now alive. Not alive in the sense of being a part of nature, but alive in the same sense that human beings live: it could now think.

Not only was this newly-created angel feather now a creature in and of itself, but at the same time it was also an extension of the Angel’s body. They were two creatures, yet at the same time they were one.

Two minds in one body.

What is it that you need of me? the feather asked her in spirit.

I need you to find him, the Angel replied. Find my love. I don’t care how far away he is. Travel to the ends of the universe if you have to! Just find him!

My Lady, the feather said, I will do as you ask. Only look, and you shall see. I am your eyes. Look with the eyes of your heart, and you will see what I see.

With that, the feather flew from the Angel’s hand—whether the wind carried it away or if it flew by its own power, she did not know—and danced its way skyward. She followed it with her eyes as the feather drifted its way towards the heavens.

As her eyes lost sight of her creation, the Angel began to visualize the last few moments she had spent with her lover and their friends. She remembered the nearly impossible battle they had fought together against the Devil. She remembered the last time she had gazed upon his face, surrounded by a heavenly light, after he had run his sword through the beast’s heart. She recalled the anguish she felt as his visage faded away into the infinite abyss of light.

For only a few weeks had she known him; but in that short amount of time, an entire lifetime had passed. When she met him, her life began anew. He had given her a gift that no one had ever, or ever will again, be able to give.

Oh, how she longed to see his face once more…

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Chapter 1
The Lionheart


The sky was hidden from sight behind a thick blanket of clouds. It was a wonder that it had not begun to rain yet. Lightning illumined the firmament briefly, shedding a single second of daylight upon the rocky cliff above Balamb. Thunder roared like a menacing dragon, drowning out the far more intimidating silence momentarily.

The hair on his arms stood on end beneath his thick leather jacket, as Squall Leonhart stared deep into his opponent’s eyes from meters away. The tension thickened as the rivalry between the two young warriors culminated in this very moment. He knew that this was no longer a simple training exercise. This was now a battle of egos; a sparring of pride; a contest to determine who was the greater.

“Well now, isn’t this a delicious turn of events?” said Seifer Almasy, the Anti-Squall. “Mr. Greater-Than-Thou is too afraid to show me what he’s got. You’ll never make it into SeeD with that attitude.”

“I’m not afraid,” Squall purred slowly through his teeth.

“Alright,” Seifer said, lifting his gunblade high over his shoulder in an attack position. “Let’s dance.”

Squall looked down at his own gunblade, wedged into the rocky ground in front of him. He found himself in awe of the weapon he had used for years, studying its every detail with a newfound intrigue: the shiny wonder-metal known as mithril that glistened in the dim light; the curved handgrip and trigger; the barrel affixed to the side of the blade, identical to the one on the other side which he could not see.

But most of all, the symbol engraved along the length of the blade held special significance. It was the likeness of a lion’s profile, identical to the insignia on the ring he wore beneath his black glove. He had had the gunblade decorated with that symbol years ago, after the same pattern on his ring.

This was not the time to be lost in thought. He gazed back at Seifer, who smirked mockingly at him, beckoning him to charge at him with all his might.

Squall grabbed his gunblade from out of the ground at rushed at his blonde-haired twat of an opponent with all his fury, his blade held high above his head with both hands. As he drew near, he swiped his blade hard downward; his blade was met by Seifer’s as it was knocked away. Seifer chopped at Squall’s side as Squall parried with an upward swing. Seifer stepped to the side, spinning around like a whirlwind, his white trench coat fluttering outward in all directions. Squall’s reflexes served him well as he lifted his gunblade over his head and behind his back just in time to block Seifer’s ferocious attack. Squall turned to discover the sharp end of Seifer’s gunblade flying upward toward his chin. He swung his own blade down fast and hard in time to stop Seifer’s blade inches away from his face.

Squall and Seifer pressed against each other’s gunblades in a powerful lock. Squall gritted his teeth as he pressed as hard as he could, his face so close to Seifer’s that he could feel the warmth of his opponent’s breath. He gazed deep into Seifer’s eyes as a million emotions surged through him.

“Give up, Squall,” Seifer snarled. “It’s over. Nothing can help you now. You will always be second-best!”

That did it. That was the stimulus he had been looking for.

Finding new strength in his increasing anger, Squall felt confident enough to remove one hand from his gunblade’s handgrip and swing around the locked blades at Seifer’s jaw with his fist. Seifer was stunned for an instant, but that did not break the lock. He countered with a punch of his own, landing upon Squall’s left cheek.

The world spun as Squall was knocked backwards and the blade lock was broken. Shaking off his disorientation, Squall leaped back at Seifer, gunblade swinging wildly. Like a madman, he slashed, chopped and stabbed at Seifer at blinding speeds; and amazingly Siefer parried every single blow. Squall kicked Seifer square in the chest, which sent him staggering back a few steps. (Finally, an attack that Seifer did not anticipate.)

As Squall rushed Seifer once more, Seifer extended his gloved hand towards him as a ball of fire shot out from his palm into Squall’s chest, sending him flying backwards and to the ground as his gunblade flew from his grip. Squall frantically patted out the flames, but just as he tried to get up, there was Seifer standing over him, a look of superiority about his face.

“Now,” Seifer said, “I will show you who the best is.” Slowly he lifted his blade above his head with one hand, as Squall cowered in fear. This was it. His life ended right here, right now. All of his hopes and dreams would now be smothered out like the flame of a candle.

He was not ready to die. It wasn’t fair. This was not the way his life was supposed to end.

The rest of the world blacked out as the only thing he could see, Seifer’s gunblade, came down violently at his face.

He closed his eyes.

He held his breath.

He waited for the end to come.

Instead, a sharp pain suddenly shot down from his forehead diagonally across the bridge of his nose as his head was jerked along with that motion down to the side.

This is how it feels to be Squall Leonhart:

Your entire life flashes before your eyes in one millisecond. You can’t even recognize half of the images that you see, but you know that they will be your last.

You open your eyes to find yourself staring at the rocky ground on which you sit, gazing at a shimmering puddle of blood. You don’t understand what the vision means. Does it symbolize the blood that was spilled upon your death? Is the blood that was spilled from all the people that have died through your heroics as you trained to become a SeeD? Is it the immeasurable more blood that would have been spilled had you been accepted into SeeD, but had been sparred from?

Is this Heaven or Hell?

You don’t know for certain. The only thing that you are certain of is that you have failed. You failed to live up to all of your hopes and dreams, only to meet your demise in a stupid training exercise.

You feel something between your eyes. It feels like…a bead of water or sweat dangling from your skin. The droplet of liquid lets go and falls as your eyes catch a sight of it. It appears to be crimson-colored, so it could not be water or sweat. It is when the droplet splashes into the puddle of blood that you had been staring into upon your entry into the world beyond that you finally realize what it is.

It is a drop of blood.

Your blood.

And if it is your blood that you see, and that you are apparently still shedding, logically that must mean that you are bleeding.

And if you are bleeding, that means that your blood is still flowing through you.

And if your blood is still flowing, that must mean that you are…alive.

You sit up and remove your glove from your right hand. With your sweaty fingers, you feel your face for a wound. Indeed you do discover a lash across the bridge of your nose. But what else you discover upon contact is something that is an undisputable testament to your vitality.

Pain.

Lots of pain.

Indeed you are alive. Good. Now there’s plenty of time to accomplish everything you’ve ever wanted to do.

You gaze down at the blood—your blood—that covers your fingers. That’s when you notice the ring about your finger. You turn your hand over to behold the likeness of the lion that has been living within your heart all of your life. From deep within your heart, the lion speaks to you.

You are weak, Squall, the lion says. You have been beaten. Is this the way you want to be remembered for the rest of your life? As a coward?

You shake your head.

I, on the other hand, am strong and mighty, the lion continues. I am the king of the forest. I never lose.

“Yes,” you admit.

You must not be so weak, Squall Leonhart. You must stand strong; be more aggressive; take what you want, and make no apologies. You are the Lionheart, and no one can defeat you. You will destroy them all.

“Yes,” you snarl with confidence.

The lion claws at the inside of your heart.

Let me out! it cries. Use me. Become me. Let us be one. Together, we will conquer all of our adversaries.

“Yes.”

The lion claws again.

Arise, Squall. Take up your pride. Do not sit on the ground defeated like a coward!

“Yes!” You climb to your feet.

The lion claws ferociously at you heart. A hole is forming, and he is almost free.

Look, Squall. Look at him. Look at your victim. Look at your prey!

You behold Seifer, walking away with his back turned to you and his head held high. Your blood boils with rage. Your heart jitters with wrath as it bursts open and the lion is free, controlling you like a puppet.

You bend down and pick up your gunblade. When you straighten, blood from your battle scar trickles into your mouth…and you like it. You want more. You thirst for blood, but not your own.

The lion roars, and from the depths of your soul its mighty bellow echoes through your being, and escapes from your lips.

Your opponent is startled and spins around as you charge at him with all of your animal instincts, the lion inside you feeding you all of your thoughts. With the taste of blood on your lips, you grit your teeth and let yourself be driven completely by rage, dispelling every rational thought from your being.

Your prey lifts his weapon, and you swing at him with your mighty claw—your gunblade. He blocks a few of your attacks, but his pathetic attempts are no match for your strength. You are the Lionheart, and he is but a fox soon to be devoured by you.

You knock the blade out of your victim’s hand. Defenseless, he staggers back. You can smell his fear, and it makes you all the more hungry.

You scream as you slash your blade across his face upward diagonally. Then, he bleeds. He bleeds, from the exact same place that you are bleeding. There is no need to devour him. Just seeing him defeated and bleeding is good enough for you. Your thirst is quenched. The Lionheart is victorious.

This is what it feels like to be Squall Leonhart.

For now.

“I win,” Squall said, panting through his teeth. He wiped blood away from his face with his sleeve.

Seifer dabbed at his face with his finger. He gazed at his blood on his fingers for a moment, and then he started to chuckle. That chuckle soon turned into a loud belly laugh.

Squall tightened his grip on the handle of his gunblade. What was he up to now?

“Squall,” Seifer laughed, “you never learn, do you?”

What?

That was when Seifer thrusted his hand outward as an invisible wall of powerful wind slammed into Squall, sending him flying backwards, slamming him headfirst into the rocky face of the cliff. As Squall lay immobilized, he could faintly make out through his fading vision the silhouette of Seifer rising to his feet.

Darkness veiled his eyes as he drifted out of consciousness.

[Darth Anarcus]

I have decided to go ahead and post chapter two. I dare not post chapter three quite so quickly because I'm just now working on chapter four and now I have to go back and edit many things in it that conflict with the information provided in the FF8 Ultimania guidebook; and I'm a slow writer. Maybe I'll post chapter 3 once I'm one third to one half finished writing chapter 4. I hope you guys like it. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

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Chapter 2
The Garden


Squall opened his eyes only to have them forced shut again by the blinding ceiling lights. He let out a groggy moan as he tried to open them again, slowly.

“Well well well,” came a familiar female voice from inside the same room. “Look who’s finally up.”

He knew the voice all too well. It was that of Dr. Kadowaki, the head physician at the garden. The two of them had met several times before, only never for anything this serious. Squall had always come for treatment for minor scrapes and bruises, thus letting him get to know the doctor a bit more.

Squall lifted his hand over his eyes to dim the light a bit. That was when he felt the bandages wrapped around his face.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Easy there, Squall,” the doctor said. “You’ve got a nasty wound across your face, as well as a minor gash on the back of your head. I’m surprised there’s no concussion. I’m guessing that your ‘training exercise’ got a little more personal, eh?”

“Seifer” was all Squall said. He removed his hand from his face as his eyes adjusted to the light. Dr. Kadowaki’s familiar form began to take shape. She was a short, stout, middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun. She wore her trademark white physician’s coat which she never seemed to take off, even when off duty.

“Looks like your eyes are focusing. I think you’re going to be alright. Just take it easy training, huh? You may not be so lucky next time.”

“Yeah, try telling that to Seifer.”

“Bah! It’s no use,” Dr. Kadowaki sighed. “That boy won’t listen to anyone. It’s like trying to reason with a potato. He was in here a little while ago for me to treat his injury. When I told him that he should stay and rest for a while, he shrugged me off and walked out. He didn’t even let me bandage him up after I was done with the stitching.”

“Yeah, that’s Seifer,” Squall said.

“Look. He obviously intimidates you to push you to do something drastic, which always ends with your undoing. Why can’t you just ignore him, plain and simple?”

“What?” Squall sat up. “Do you expect me to just sit there and take it?”

“Walk away, Squall.”

“I can’t just ‘walk away’! Someone needs to show Seifer that he’s not as tough as he thinks he is. His damn egocentric attitude is annoying as hell! Someone needs to put the guy in his place, and that someone is going to be me.”

“‘Egocentric,’ huh?” The doctor chuckled. “And you don’t think you suffer from that particular ailment as well?”

“What ever,” Squall grunted as he lay back down.

“Okay. You want to be cool, huh? Well that’s fine, but don’t end up getting yourself killed in the process.” Dr. Kadowaki picked up Squall’s student ID from his pile of belongings on the nearby chair. “Let’s see here. Your instructor is…” She scanned the card carefully. “Instructor Trepe. I’ll page her now.”

Dr. Kadowaki walked out of the ward and into the office section of the infirmary where her desk sat. She picked up the phone and dialed the extension of Instructor Trepe’s classroom.
At that same moment, Squall heard the door to the infirmary slide open and someone entered, most likely one of the doctor’s aids.

“Oh, thank you. You can set those over there,” Dr. Kadowaki told whomever the newcomer was. Squall lay back down and shuffled onto his side. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of this person through the window. It was not someone that he recognized. She had short, not-quite-shoulder-length black hair, a slender body and fair skin. What caught his attention the most was her light green shawl, most likely made of silk or some other extremely light fabric, gracing her arms.

As the mystery woman set the tray of medical supplies down on a small table by the window, she turned her head in Squall’s direction, making eye contact. Her eyes were a piecing dark brown but yet full of light. A warm, gentle smile stretched across her radiant face.

“Hi there,” she said, her voice a bit muffled by the glass. “It’s…really good to see you again, Squall.”

She turned and left.

Unless his ears were deceiving him, he could have sworn she uttered his name. Did he know this person? If so, from where? Although it was the first time he had ever seen that particular woman around here, yet there was something oddly familiar about her.

He decided not to dwell on it.

Dr. Kadowaki came back into the room.

“I just spoke to Instructor Trepe. She’s on her way.”

He said nothing.

“In the meantime,” the doctor continued, “let’s remove those bandages.”

She made her way to his bedside and produced a pair of small scissors from her coat pocket. Sitting down on the stool beside him, she began to delicately cut away the bandages wrapped about Squall’s face. The cold metal of the scissors felt a bit funny against his raw, sweaty flesh beneath the bandages. Once they were off, he felt a bit relieved; though he could distinctly feel a piece of wounded flesh stretching across his face, diagonally between his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. It was an odd feeling, and a second later the pain returned, though it was not as great as it had been on the battlefield.

Thank the stars for drugs.

“How’s it look?” he asked.

“Um…well, as expected, there’s a nasty scar. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

And worry he didn’t. He closed his eyes once more.

“Well, it’s time for my lunch break,” Dr. Kadowaki said. He could hear her stand up. “Just try to get some rest until Quistis…Instructor Trepe gets here.” She walked away as Squall drifted off to sleep once again.

Who was that girl? And why did he feel like he knew her from somewhere?

Meh. Better not to think about it. For now, all he wanted to do was rest.

This is Squall Leonhart:

A loner. A pacifist. A lone warrior in the midst of a battlefield of enemies round about. A man who sees the world as something distant rather than something he has to participate in.

Quite frankly, there aren’t many things that he cares about, and even fewer people that he cares about. In fact, he is quite sure that there is not a single person he knows whom he genuinely enjoys. He has no friends, and he is perfectly fine with that. After all, what’s the point of getting to know someone in a school for mercenaries when there’s a high probability that you will never see them again following graduation, since you’ll enlist in what ever military will accept you, and will be stationed wherever they sent you?

No, there is indeed no point, and Squall accepts that truth. He has always been that way, ever since he could remember. His earliest memories are of his three years living in an apartment in the costal town of Dollet with his best friend and legal guardian, Deron Leonhart. Deron was five years older than Squall, and looked after him like an older brother. He and Deron had lived in Dollet from when Squall was eight to when he was thirteen, at which point Deron was found dead in the street, apparently murdered by a Galbadian soldier for talking ill of the Galbadian Empire. Bittered and enraged, Squall had decided to enroll at Balamb Garden in hopes of one day joining the mercenary-student organization known as SeeD. He did not—and still does not—know exactly what it stands for, but he had heard that it was an abbreviation for some ancient Centraic phrase.

After having met and getting to know the garden’s headmaster, Cid Kramer, Squall was finally accepted into Balamb Garden to begin his studies as an underclassman.

As an underclassman, in his spare time, he read about gunblades: their history, use, function and anatomy. Eventually, he was able to construct his own gunblade from the manuals he had read, and trained himself to utilize one from other resources he studied.

It’s funny. He still feels like an underclassman sometimes, even though he only has one more year left at the garden. He hates that feeling with every once of his being. Although he likes to be high-and-mighty a lot of the time, yet his fears are what make him feel inferior at times, and that is one aspect that he despises about himself.

As far back as he can remember he has always imagined his fears as a lion caged inside his heart who would often speak to him. While he can hardly hear the lion’s voice in the daytime—the fight with Seifer had been an exception—he most often hears it at night, when the door to its cage is unlocked and it is free to stalk its way around the depths of his inner being, making its way up to the mountain peak of his brain.

Why do you waste your time among these inferior brats? the lion frequently asks him. You are better than them. Or rather, you should be. Your tolerance makes you weak, Squall Leonhart, and that is your only infirmity. You appear noble, strong and free-spirited on the outside, but on the inside you are weak. It is your fear that makes you no better than them.

Squall replies, And what makes you think I’m afraid? I’m not afraid of anything! I fight bravely without the fear of injury or death, so what the hell are you talking about?

Aye, but, the wise and fearless lion replies, it is neither injury nor death that you fear. What you fear is the wounding of your pride; of not being the valiant warrior in the eyes of others as you believe yourself to be—or should be.

And then suddenly it all makes sense. This is why Squall doesn’t feel complete at times. Why he doesn’t always feel proud of himself, even though he likes to appear to be of that frame of mind in front of everyone. There is a piece missing to the puzzle of his identity, and in that void exists the fear of what others think of him.

He is, however, quite good at masking it. He manages to project such a convincing “I don’t care” attitude—from the way he talks to his countenance and mannerisms to the way he walks—that pretty much everyone appears to be fooled; when in reality he cares quite a bit. In fact, he is so obsessed with other people’s opinions of him that he has become an expert at judging to what degree he should put on his little show every day, and in every environment.

Yet, he can’t help but feel this sense of helplessness at times, and that scares him. He wants to be that perfect warrior he envisions, and he wants it now. He has never liked waiting.

Understand, Squall, the lion says. I do not want you to be a coward; yet at the same time, you will never be that warrior you desire to be. That’s not you. Being a warrior is not what will save you, Squall Leonhart. You are searching for the wrong treasure.

He doesn’t quite understand it, but he can often hear those words ringing and burning in his ears.

He is the ultimate warrior…at least in his own mind. And soon he will be the ultimate SeeD. He is determined. Focused. Clear-headed and reserved.

And even though he would never admit as much, he is proud to be a student at Balamb Garden.

Quistis walked down the long corridor to the infirmary. She wondered why the hallways were longer than need be. They were about half a mile long, and that was no exaggeration.

Ordinarily, students would greet her in the hallways, but this corridor was empty. No one was going to or coming from the infirmary today, which she took as a good thing. As she strolled down that hallway, she took a moment to appreciate the sunlight shining in through both sides of the transparent walls. Looking to the side, she beheld the hills to the north engulfed in the morning sun. The glare forced her to lower her glasses for a moment, which made the scenery not quite as clear, but still magnificent to behold.

Returning to the present, she approached the door of the infirmary. She felt a certain nervousness that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and she seemed to experience this sensation every time she was around Squall. She straightened out her instructor’s uniform—a handsome ensemble of a black jacket decorated with many militaristic patches of colors, a matching skirt that reached her knees, and black boots—took a deep breath, and pressed her finger against the “OPEN” plate.

This is Quistis Trepe:

A woman in every sense of the word, she is classy, elegant, and wise beyond her years. At just eighteen years of age, Quistis is a natural-born leader. What she lacks in physical strength she more than makes up for in ingenuity. There are few people in this world like Quistis.

Having been raised by Professor Winston Trepe and his wife Jaina in the small town of Shanagon in the southeast of the Western Continent, Quistis was destined to follow in her father’s footsteps. At the age of eight, she left behind her parents and younger brother to study at Balamb Garden. In her latter years, she was approached by Headmaster Kramer himself and offered the position of Instructor of War Tactics. She enthusiastically accepted that offer, and that is where she is today.

She loves her job with all her heart. Although she doesn’t really feel any type of connection to most of her students, she still cares for the wellbeing of each and every one of them.

Especially Squall Leonhart. He is the first and only student Quistis actually has any type of feelings for. Although she can’t really determine what exactly it is that she feels when he’s around, it is quite obvious to her that there is definitely something there that cannot be denied. In fact, she often worries that she may be blushing when Squall comes around.

So she stiffens her posture and assumes the image of an intelligent, dignified woman of high respect—which indeed she is.

Squall is a tough nut to crack. He is almost frustratingly self-reserved, and Quistis is dying to know what lies beneath the tough-guy exterior. Yes, she is definitely attracted to Squall for some odd reason, and she doesn’t know why. It’s not like he’s the nicest person in Garden, after all.

Yet, there is something about him. Something…familiar. Something that makes her feel young again.

Bah! When these thoughts enter her head, she decides not to dwell on them. She has enough things to worry about. She worries that she is not living up to what an instructor is supposed to be, and fears that her termination is imminent. No, her leadership skills and tactical expertise on the battlefield are unquestionable. What is questionable is her devotion to her job in the classroom. After all, she finds herself flirting with her students at times, especially Squall. And that is a big no-no in the Balamb Garden‘s Instructor‘s code of conduct. But it’s not only that. She’s just…not into it.

All-in-all, Quistis is the ideal human being. Yet she is living proof that even overachievers have their flaws.

The door slid open as Quistis entered the infirmary. Having glanced around and not seeing Dr. Kadowaki at her desk or anywhere at all, she assumed it was okay for her to just go right on into the ward. Having rounded the corner into that room, she spotted Squall lying asleep on the nearest bed to her left. His shirt had been removed, and she salivated over the contours of his shapely chest muscles and abs.

She shook it off. Such thinking was unbecoming of an instructor, especially in regards to one of her students. Having come to her senses, it was then that she finally took notice of that quite hard-to-miss scar running across his face between his eyes.

So this was what happened when two massive egos butted heads. She sighed. When would these guys ever grow up? Didn’t they realize that they were playing with real weapons and magic—things that could have gotten them killed?

Boys would be boys.

Spotting a nearby stool with all of Squall’s belongs and the remainder of his clothing placed on top, she reached for his shirt and threw it at him, careful not to hit his wounded face with it.

“Wake up, Tough Guy!” She said.

As Squall squirmed and moaned, shaking the post-nap grogginess off, Quistis suddenly realized that she was being inappropriate again. She immediately composed herself, folded her hands at the small of her back, and reassumed her instructor’s posture and manner of speech.

She cleared her throat before continuing: “You’re lucky to be alive, Squall. Had the hunters not spotted the two of you, I’m not sure what might have happened.”

“Hunters?” Squall whimpered, rubbing his eyes.

“Now get dressed,” Quistis said, “Today is the big field exam. I wouldn’t want one of my best students missing all the fun.” She shot him a flirtatious smile as she walked out into the office area.

Finding a mirror on the wall behind Dr. Kadowaki’s desk, Quistis gazed at herself as she smoothed out the long bangs of her golden hair which she always let hang, and adjusted the bun tying back the rest of her hair. She removed her glasses and took this opportunity to gaze deep into her pale blue eyes, which stood out against her fair skin and dark attire. For some reason, she found herself hoping she looked alright, though she could not put her finger on exactly why. That was when she noticed the blurred form of Squall inside the patients’ room climbing groggily out of bed and slipping into his black leather pants. She put her glasses back on for a clearer picture, and she was glad she did. Squall looked absolutely divine, even when injured and drugged up.

“You know, Squall,” she called out to him as he slipped into his white tee-shirt, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been quite distracted lately. Is there something on your mind?”

She waited for his customary irritated reply.

“Not really,” they both said in unison.

Squall looked at her over his shoulder with that look in his eyes that she found priceless. She giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Squall grumbled.

“Funny?” Quistis said. “No, no, it’s not that. I’m just…happy, I suppose.”

“Happy?”

She turned around.

“Yes. I feel like I’m finally beginning to understand one of my students a little better.” She smiled. “And believe me, that’s not an easy thing to do. You’re a hard nut to crack.”

Squall sat down on the bed as he put on his socks.

“You can think what you want,” he said. “But don’t think you’ve suddenly figured me out. I’m a lot more complex than you think, Instructor.”

“Oh, really?” Quistis said. She walked back around the desk and stood in the doorway of the ward. “Then tell me, Squall. Tell me more about yourself.”

Squall gazed up at her as he tied his boot strings. He bore the most begrudged look anyone could ever possibly bare.”

“Tell me,” Quistis went on flirtatiously, “about your childhood.”

“My childhood?” Squall looked confused.

“Yes! Your childhood. Your sensation. Your words. Your emotions.” Sure, it sounded completely nonsensical, but hey, it was better than nothing. Quistis may not have been much of a poet, but she was persistent. “You know, from back then, I mean.”

“It’s none of your--”

“--Business!” She finished for him. She couldn’t help but giggle once again.

Squall was silent. He had apparently had it up to his eyeballs with her.

And it was damned [i]cute[/I[.

“Let’s go,” she told him as he put his jacket on. “You wouldn’t want to be late for class with your favorite instructor.” She shot him one final flirtatious smile over her shoulder as she walked out of the infirmary.

As she strode back down the hallway, she realized something: she did it again.

Cid sat tapping his pen against his desk as he went over the final preparations for today’s operation in his head. He had faith in his students, but he couldn’t help but be a bit nervous every time something like this came up. After all, there was always a one hundred percent chance that people on his side of the conflict would be injured or killed. Though it usually tended to be the allies in what ever battle his students took part, there was always the danger that some of the students would not return to Balamb Garden. It didn’t happen often, but when it did happen, it was always a big deal. No one liked sending kids off to war, much less seeing them killed.

Still, what had to be done was what had to be done. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made. It wasn’t fair, but then again the world was not a fair place.

Just then, his pager rang. He pressed the button on his desk.

“Sir, Xu is here to see you,” the voice of his secretary called in from the intercom.

“Thank you,” Cid replied. “Send her in.”

Ah, yes. Chrysovalantou Xulander--better known by her infinitely more manageable nickname, Xu--was truly an indispensable human being. What would he do without her? A fully-fledged SeeD and student in her last year--and most likely Quistis’ heir as resident military strategist--Xu was practically Cid’s eyes and ears.

Whether that was good or bad, he could not decide.

Cid rotated completely around in his expensive office chair as the fancy double doors opened and Xu came marching in with all of her paperwork clutched against her chest. Clad in the usual female SeeD uniform consisting of a mostly black coat and skirt with various designs, Xu had shoulder-length brown hair, piercing dark eyes and light skin.

She almost reminded Cid of a younger version of his wife--or rather, his ex-wife. Every time he saw her, mixed emotions boiled within him. He had to smile at the pleasant memories conjured up from her appearance, but at the same time he winced at the painful reminders of what had become of his beloved.

“Headmaster Kramer,” Xu began. Cid snapped out of his daydream. “I have the reports from the Dollet Army’s central command intelligence.”

“Thank you, Xu,” Cid said warmly as he reached out and took the papers from her hand. “How does it look?”

“Not good, I’m afraid,” she sighed. “The Galbadians have pretty much taken over the town and are presently advancing upon the old military communications tower. It appears to be their main interest.”

“The tower?” Cid pursed his lips. “What in the blazes could they want with that?”

“We don’t know, Sir. I’m guessing they’re trying to use it to make some large-scale military broadcast.”

“Probably.” He sat silently for a few seconds, going over it all in his head. “Thank you, Xu. That’ll be all.” She nodded and left the room.

Cid polished his glassed with his tightly-fitted wool vest as he gazed at the sky through the large, glass roof of his huge office. He tried to appear on top of it all, but in reality he felt like he never quite knew what he was doing. He knew he was a pushover, and that aspect of his character bothered him more than anything in the world. Still, important decisions had to be made, and they had to be made now.

Seifer sat at his desk, gazing at his reflection in the blank computer screen. The scar running diagonally between his eyes was almost as red as his short, buzzed hair. To his surprise, he didn’t really mind the wound much. After all, it was not uncommon at all to see SeeDs walking around the school with freak battle wounds drawing all of the attention away from their otherwise attractive faces or figures. His injury was nothing to be too worked up over.

He snickered at the reminder of how that scar got there. Apparently, he had underestimated Squall quite a bit. He didn’t think the guy had it in him, but he was obviously mistaken. But he was glad. Glad not because Squall had managed to deflate his ego a bit, but glad because the kid was learning.

Speaking of Squall, Seifer looked up to behold his opponent enter the classroom, followed by Instructor Trepe close behind. Everyone was quick to take their seats.

“Good morning,” Quistis announced. Some students retorted, while others didn’t even care to acknowledge her. “As you know, there will be no class today. That being said, let’s go over today’s schedule so that you can get out of here as soon as possible and do what you need to do to get ready for today.”

Squall took his seat across from Seifer. He never returned his gaze, or even looked up from his panel. Seifer had to chuckle to himself.

That was when it hit him: he and Squall shared matching wounds. The only difference was that Squall’s scar ran diagonally in the opposite direction of his own.

“I’m sure you know that today is the field exam for SeeD candidates. Team assignments will be announced in briefing room two at sixteen hundred hours. Those not participating are free for the remainder of the day. Those who failed last week’s written test are to remain here in study hall where the makeup test will take place in approximately fifteen minutes. This will be your last chance to make yourselves eligible for today’s field exam. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait another year. Are there any questions?”

“Yeah,” Seifer spoke up. “I’m just wondering who’s going to be so lucky to serve under me in the field exam?” He did so enjoy giving her a hard time.

“You’ll be given your team assignment along with everyone else, Seifer,” Quistis said. He could sense a bit of irritation in her voice, and he loved it. “And Seifer? Do not injure your partner while training! The same goes for you, Squall. You could’ve killed each other!”

“Fine. I’ll be careful,” Seifer yawned.

“Class dismissed,” Quistis announced, coming to her feet. As everyone gathered their things and headed for the door, Quistis called out once again: “Squall, may I see you a moment?”

Was he in trouble? Was she favoring him?

Seifer did not care.

This is Seifer Almasy:

He is the best of the best. End of story. There exists no other like him, and no one can be as good as he is on the battlefield. He disregards orders because he makes his own rules. He is not afraid to let his emotions show, and he will stand firm on what he believes should be done in every situation.

Although he has taken the SeeD field exam many times and failed, it is not because of any sort of inadequacy in his performance, for he is the best. Rather, it is because those stupid higher-ups make harebrained decisions, and he is man enough not to go along with them when he knows that he is right. It’s not his fault that he isn’t a SeeD.

It’s never his fault.

He grew up in Deling City in the far west, the adoptive son of one Kann Almasy, a Dollet military veteran. His father taught him to be a roughneck in every sense of the word, and it was his father who taught him how to use the attenuated gunblade. Kann taught Seifer to get what he wanted no matter what length he had to go to get it.

It was only natural that Seifer decided to become a mercenary, and thus enrolled at Balamb Garden at the age of twelve. Since his arrival, he has made it quite clear that he kowtows to no one. Within his first year at Garden, he met and befriended a boy named Raijin Zevvs from Esthar, and a girl named Fujin Aeolus from Trabia about a year thereafter, and the three have been best friends ever since. Three years ago, the three founded the Balamb Garden Disciplinary Committee; a club where Seifer would be free to exercise his love of ordering people around.

Although he finds most non-war subjects boring, he does take a mild interest in history. Ever since learning of sorceresses of old, he has taken up an intensive study of sorceresses and their knights. It has been his dream to one day become a sorceress’ knight, though it is unknown if there are any more sorceresses left on Adama; and if there are, they probably live a life of secrecy.

Though he never misses home, he does go back to Deling City every summer to see how his pop is keeping up. His stay is usually limited to two or three weeks, but this past summer he met a certain young lady, which ended in his staying all summer long. She was the daughter of some military general.

But he tries not to think about that. That relationship ended in disaster, and thinking about it only hinders his performance.

He is being placed in a position of command in today’s field exam, much to his delight. The decision came from Headmaster Kramer himself. Kramer told Seifer that the reason for his decision is that he really wants him to pass this time. Evidently, even the headmaster thinks he’d be an indispensable asset to SeeD.

He’d be foolish to think otherwise, for Seifer is the best.

Quistis pulled Squall aside to the corner opposite the door. As she did so, Squall could hear a group of students gathered near the door whisper to one another, and he knew it was about him because he could feel their eyes on his back. Whether they were gossiping about the scar on his face or about something supposedly going on between him and Quistis--or a combination of the two--he did not know. All he knew was that, while he tried to project an air that he did not care about what others thought of him, the truth was that he was quite tired of all these rumors.

Then again, it was inevitable. He did feel that Quistis had some sort of unhealthy obsession with him since she was always on him like flies on honey. In fact, it annoyed him quite a bit.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Quistis whispered.

For a split second, he was worried. Worried that Quistis--his teacher--was about to make some sort of major confession of undying love for him. What was worse, he wondered how he should respond to it.

“I just wanted to make sure you‘re feeling alright.” Quistis continued.

He let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.

“Good to hear,” Quistis said. “It’ll be a while. Maybe you should get some rest before the field exam?”

He shook his head.

“But not too long.” she went on. “The last thing we need is a groggy soldier on the battlefield.” She shot him a final smile before she gathered her things and walked out of the classroom.

Oh yes. The field exam. While he didn’t particularly look forward to it, it would be a nice change of pace from the everyday routine. His first real battle. Yes, it was a big deal. It was a big deal not only because it would decide if he would be accepted into SeeD or not, but also because he was anxious to drive those damned Galbadians who killed his brother out of his home city.

Not to mention that it would be nice to be back in the old city again, even though he’d be busy fighting a war.

He had never taken a field exam before, and this would be the last one offered this semester. Other students who have taken it had failed every single time; others did not come back. The few that did make it and were made SeeDs have all unanimously expressed that they while they were glad it was over, they knew that other, tougher battles awaited them in their futures.

Squall looked out the corner of his eye as he exited the classroom to behold the same group of students gazing and snickering at him. Before he had a chance to return his gaze to watch where he was going, someone bumped into him--hard--and fell to the ground, books and papers scattered everywhere.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” the other person said. It was a young girl with shoulder-length brown hair turned up at the ends, and attired in a SeeD uniform. This was the second person within the same day whom he had never seen before.

Are you okay?” Squall asked, pretending to care.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the girl said as she picked up all of her things and came to her feet. She met his gaze as she smirked embarrassedly.

Cute girl, Squall thought. Wonder how old she is?

“Sorry, I was running late,” the girl said. “Is the registration for the field exam over?”

Squall nodded.

“Oh no!” she whined.

“Don’t worry about it,” Squall said. “I’m sure if you leave a note for Instructor Trepe, there shouldn’t be any problem. Did you pass the written test?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Then I think you’re okay.”

“Well that’s a relief,” she breathed. “I’m new here. Just transferred from Trabia Garden.” She took a look around. “Gosh. This place is so much bigger than my old school. And it’s a lot warmer here, too. Hey, do you think you’d have time to show me around?”

He tried not to roll his eyes. He didn’t know the girl, but she was already annoying him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have time.”

“Bummer,” she looked down. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She giggled as she entered the classroom.

What was with all the new people? As he strode toward the elevator, his mind went back to the girl he had seen in the infirmary that morning. Who was she? How did she know him?

He decided it best not to think about it. Instead, he focused on the task at hand.

[Darth Anarcus]

Here, finally, is chapter 3.

You'll notice that 1. I have decided to skip the fire cavern altogether as it served as nothing more than an introduction to the battle system and didn't advance the plot at all, and 2. I have expanded upon the pre-Dollet mission briefing. First of all, I thought that having them meet in the middle of the hall was unlikely and, quite frankly, stupid, so I transferred it to a briefing room. This allows for a more hands-on introduction and provides opportunity for students to ask questions. I've also transferred Xu's briefing on the ship to this point because I felt that it was something she likely would have shared with everyone, and not just her own squad.

Here's chapter 3:

---

Chapter 3
The Field Exam

Seifer tapped his fingers nervously against the wooden cafeteria table. He had participated in two other field exams in the past, and had failed. This one would be different. He’d prove to everyone that he was the real goods, especially being put in a position of command.

“Yo, Seifer, you’re a nervous wreck, man,” said his good friend, Raijin Zevvs, as he finished his carton of milk. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, you know?”

Seifer looked up. The fact that Raijin had never been fond of wearing shirts repulsed him. He seemed to enjoy showing off his hard-earned muscular body in his leather vest, which he always kept unbuttoned, just barely meeting dress code standards.

“Cid’s made me team captain,” Seifer said. “He says it’s not normally given to non-SeeDs, but he did it because he really wants me to pass this time.” He leaned back in his chair. “And good thing, too, because someone needs to whip these wusses into shape. The captains I’ve served under the last two times have been very lenient. They need someone tough to get things done.”

“Yeah man,” Raijin said, “I’m sure you’ll get it this time. Well hey, at least you’re a candidate. We’ve never even made it that far.”

Across from Seifer sat his other best friend, Fujin Aolus, totally indifferent and unempathetic. A half-blind albino, Fujin had no doubt suffered some sort of traumatic experience as a child that left deep mental scars. Whether or not it was the same incident that took her left eye was anyone’s guess, but she had the habit of speaking in loud, one-word, authoritative sentences. Only when she and Seifer were completely alone together were the few times he had actually gotten her to speak like a normal person, and to reveal things of a semi-personal nature.

“Hey Fujin,” Raijin said, “When do you think we’ll be SeeDs?”

Fujin glanced over her ear-length, white hair as she adjusted her eye patch.

“Ignore,” was all she blurted out.

Fujin and Raijin had been Seifer’s best friends since the very beginning. A little over a year ago, they had founded the Disciplinary Committee, with the supposed intent of assisting the faculty in keeping order; but Seifer knew deep down that the real reason he wanted such a position was so that he could legally boss other students around.

“You know, Seifer,” Raijin whispered as he leaned closer, “I think Fuu’s even more irritable than you are.”

“What?” Fujin yelled as she jerked her head in Raijin’s direction, her one eye glowing with fiery red fury.

“N-nothing! Raijin whimpered. But it was too late: Fujin had decided to kick him in his shin with all of her might as he screamed, turning the heads of all nearby students.

Seifer couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Take it easy, you know!” Raijin squealed.

Looking past Fujin, Seifer caught sight of a familiar punk with spiky, blond hair as he ran in from the hall up to the counter.

“Oh, look. Here comes Chicken-Wuss,” he said.

Fujin and Raijun turned to look. Seifer could faintly hear Chicken-Wuss’s voice as he placed his order.

“You got any hotdogs left?” Chicken-Wuss wheezed.

“I’m sorry, Zell,” the lunch lady said, “but I’m afraid you’re a bit late again. We’re all sold out.”

“Damn! Not again!” Chicken-Wuss whined. “It’s hopeless if you don’t get here early.”

“Yeah, they’re quite a popular item. So sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’ll try again tomorrow,” said Chicken-Wuss as he turned to sulk away.

“I’ll try to order some more,” the lunch lady called out to him, “but there’s no guarantee.”

Seifer, Raijin and Fujin all exchanged glances.

“Running!” Fujin exclaimed. The three arose from their seats.

“Let’s go fine that student for violation of academy regulations,” Seifer said. But he really couldn’t care less about “academy regulations.” As long as he got to chastise someone, he would be satisfied.
[
This uniform made Squall’s skin crawl. Though the blue jumpsuit was quite handsome, there was just something about formalities that made him cringe. However, the tolerable weight of his prized gunblade hanging from his belt made it worth it.

Also hanging from his belt was a holstered BG-19 semi-automatic machine gun, the standard weapon of a SeeD. While he preferred not to use it, the mission called for everyone to be armed with a long-range weapon; and a melee weapon was encouraged for close-quarters combat

As he strolled tumultuously down the second floor hallway, he couldn’t help but fume over his duel with Seifer that morning. Seifer cheated when he used that fire spell against him, since the use of magic was explicitly against the rules in student training exercises, as the student handbook had made quite clear. The question was: why did he do it? What exactly was Seifer trying to prove by provoking Squall the way he did, making a simple training exercise into something personal?

He didn’t know the answer, nor did he want to care.

As he rounded the circular hallway past a few classrooms and faculty offices, the open door to his destination--the briefing room--came into view, through which he caught sight of Quistis--no, Instructor Trepe and Headmaster Kramer standing in the front of the room with a line of seven SeeD members standing at attention against the wall behind them. Of those SeeDs, he only recognized Xu, the renown senior and military strategist protégé. Of the students present, he only noticed the clumsy girl who had bumped into him earlier, and Nida Throl, a classmate.

Squall was never one to take an interest in getting to know many people.

“Oh, Squall. Good, you’re just in time,” said Quistis as she took notice of his arrival. All heads turned.

At the same moment, Squall felt someone push him from behind.

“Out of the way,” came the familiar voice of Seifer as he entered. As Seifer slid his way past, his eyes met Squall’s as he shot him a boisterous smirk, to which Squall did not no how to respond with anything other than a glare. His eyes followed Seifer as he made his way toward the front of the room and took his place among the SeeD captains.

Finding an empty seat to his immediate left, Squall unhooked his gunblade and beege and laid them on the floor in front of him as he slithered indignantly into the blue, padded chair, his eyes locked with Seifer’s for what seemed like an eternity before he finally decided to be the mature one--for once. Breaking the gaze, he composed himself.

Seifer was not a SeeD, yet there he was among the squad captains. The rumor was that Cid--feeling sorry for Seifer’s repeated failure in these exams and desperately desiring a gunblade specialist among the ranks of SeeD--placed Seifer among the squad captains from SeeD in order for him to really give it all he had, and hopefully pass the exam. It seemed that Cid was so desperate that he had even condescended to permitting Seifer to wear what ever he wished as he was the only one out-of-uniform in the entire room. Also, Seifer was the only one not standing at attention as he leaned casually against the wall, his gunblade hanging visibly from his belt beneath his trench coat.

That was when he realized that he was staring at Seifer again, who most assuredly was staring back at him. Once again, he composed himself and looked away.

“Alright, I think that’s everyone,” Quistis began. “Headmaster Kramer will now begin today‘s briefing.” She stepped to the side as Cid took his place front and center, hands conjoined at the small of his back.

“Good afternoon,” Cid announced.

“Good afternoon, Headmaster Kramer,” the audience intoned. Squall was not into that.

“I’m afraid the situation is quite dire,” Cid explained. “Galbadian forces are advancing upon the old TV tower, indiscriminately pillaging anything or anyone that stands in their way. Captured SeeDs and SeeD cadets are being held hostage in an abandoned underground bunker near the City Hall. While our troops are putting up a quite a fight, their numbers are dwindling and we need reinforcements.

“This is where you come in. As commander-in-chief of SeeD and Balamb Garden, I have selected this campaign as this year’s field exam. What we need are two recon squads: one to recapture the tower, one to liberate the prisoners, and two for emergency backup. The council feels that small teams would draw less attention and hopefully be able to get the job done quietly and more efficiently than would entire battalions. Once the tower is cleansed and our captured troops liberated, all cadets are to pull out and return to Garden while more SeeD troops will be deployed to carry out the remainder of the battle.”

It made sense.

As Cid gazed around the room, making eye contact--it seemed--with almost every single person, his posture stiffened as a grave look overcame his face.

“This exam will involve twelve members from squads Alpha through Delta,” Cid continued, his voice deepened with solemnity and sternness. “You will proceed to a real battlefield. The battles are real, the enemies are real, the danger is real. Life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace. Each of these go hand-in-hand. There is only one way or the other: success or failure.”

Squall could have sworn he could hear each and every gulp in the room. No one dared look away from the headmaster’s gaze.

“You will be accompanied by eight SeeD members. Should you fail, these members will get the job done. The pride of Balamb Garden: the elite mercenary force, SeeD. Learn from them, obey their commands and accomplish the mission together.”

Cid made another scan of all the faces, letting his words ring loudly in their ears and their hearts before continuing.

“And now I’d like to turn the remainder of today’s briefing over to our expert strategist, Chrysovalantou Xulander.”

Cid stood off next to Quistis as Xu stepped forward and stood took her place in front of the assembly. Simultaneously, a viewing screen lowered from the ceiling and took its place behind her.

“Thank you, Headmaster Kramer,” Xu said. Cid smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“Lights, please,” Quistis called out. The lights dimmed to minimum as the screen lit up, showing a map of the city of Dollet.

“Our client for this mission,” Xu began, her arms at her back, “is the Dollet Dukedom Parliament. A request for SeeD’s assistance was made thirty-one hours ago. The Galbadian government--who has been lording over Dollet with little hostility for five years now--has launched an unexpected attack upon the city some seventy hours ago. Forty-nine hours ago, Dollet abandoned their position in the inner city and were pushed back towards the far city limits.”

A yellow glyph lit up in the center of the map indicating the former position of the Dollet army, followed by a dotted line weaving its way from that position to the end of the city schematics and beyond.

“Currently, the D-army have retreated into the nearby mountains and are reorganizing their troops. The G-army has dispatched troops to mop up the remaining D-troops in the mountain region.”

The line came to a stop at what represented the mountain range outside the city, which began to glow yellow indicating the current position of the Dollet military.

“That’s the current status. Now onto the mission objective.” She turned sideways, her eyes centered on the screen. “According to our reports, the captured SeeD and D-army prisoners are being held in this bunker here, below the City Hall,” she pointed to a red glowing area near the right side of the map, “while other G-army troops are advancing upon the tower here.” She pointed to another red glyph. “We’re to make a landing here at Lapin Beach. Squad Delta, with Squad Gamma as backup, are to infiltrate the bunker and rescue the captives while Squad Beta, with Squad Alpha as backup, are to eliminate any and all G-troops in or around the tower. Once both objectives are accomplished, we are to eliminate the remaining G-army within the city and liberate it. Afterwards, our SeeD troops will intercept any G-troops trying to make their way into the city from the mountain region.”

The screen went blank and retracted back into the ceiling as Cid and Quistis came and stood beside Xu.

“Any questions?” Cid asked. The lights returned to full brightness.

“The people on the backup squads,” one student spoke up, “if we don’t end up seeing any action, how will we be graded? We won‘t automatically fail the exam, will we?”

“Good question,” Cid said. “I assure you that there will be more for the backup teams to do. For example: Squad Alpha will be in charge of securing the beach along with the SeeDs stationed there while on standby for Squad Beta, who will be infiltrating the tower area. Team Gamma will be responsible for keeping the path from the bunker to the beach secure while on standby to Squad Delta, who will be rescuing the prisoners. You see, while it’s true that the backup teams are there to serve as replacements should members of the primary teams fail or be--” he appeared to choose his words carefully, “--incapacitated, you will be somewhat responsible for your sister squad’s return by keeping the way clear. Should your assistance not be needed, you will be graded on your performance elsewhere.”

“What if we can’t win?” another student--the clumsy girl who had bumped into Squall earlier--dared to say. Everyone in the room snickered disapprovingly, and rightly so. How dumb was this girl? Was she suggesting that they were inept?

For the first time in his life, Squall realized, he had felt the closest thing to team spirit than he had ever imagined conceivable. Or was it just an extension of his own pride? He couldn’t tell.

“Um, in the event of an impossible victory, the commander--Instructor Trepe--will give the order to the squad captains to abort. They in turn will give the order to their respective squads. If your captain tells you to abort, you abort. No questions asked, just get back to your ships. Understood?”

A collective affirmative, albeit shameful grunt resounded. This was the one thing the proud would-be warriors bent on victory were not too proud of.

“Are there any other questions?” Cid asked. A few seconds of silence passed. “Then Instructor Trepe will now announce squad assignments. Best of luck to all of you.”

Cid stood aside, Xu took her place among the SeeD captains aligned against the front wall, and Quistis came font-and-center once again.

“Malcolm and Raana will have Team Alpha with Kang and Tilmit,” Quistis began. “Almasy and Xulander will have Team Beta with Leonhart and Dincht, Seddraw and Distivali will have Team Gamma with Throl and Izari, and Vogan and Athan will have Team Delta with Bowman and Faire.”

So, he would be with Seifer. Somehow he expected as much. Now that he thought about it, at the beginning of his presentation, Cid had mentioned that they would be accompanied by eight SeeD members. He assumed that Cid simply did not wish to embarrass Seifer. After all, it would have been quite rude had he said, “You will be accompanied by seven SeeD members and one inept, pompous cadet who never seems to be able to pass these exams despite his vaunted superior battle skills, and whom I had mercy on by putting him in a position of command and let him wear his favorite white trench coat in order to--”

His fantasized monologue from Cid’s perfect, incorporeal counterpart inside his own brain was suddenly interrupted by the realization of who his squad mate would be.

Wait, Squall thought, irritated. Did she just say I’m with Zell Dincht?

“Heh! Zell!” whispered the student beside him. “Now there’s a character.”

“He’s an idiot!” Squall scoffed.

“Problem, Squall?” Quistis spoke up. Heads turned once again as all eyes gazed in his direction.

“No, Ma’am,” Squall said.

“Good,” Quistis continued. “Then please proceed to the garage, where four vehicles will be waiting to take each squad to Balamb. Once there, head to the docks where each squad will board a SeeD military ship, and we will then set sail for Dollet. I myself will be riding with Squad Beta.”

He saw that one coming, too. It was quite obvious to Squall that Quistis would do absolutely anything to be around him. It was all just too much to have been a string of amazing coincidences.

“Good luck, everyone.”

With that, everyone scrambled toward the door. From the look of things, Cid, Quistis and Xu all stayed behind for a few extra second, probably to talk out the last bits of technicalities. Seifer stayed put against the wall, he assumed to taunt him some more, but that was when he realized that Seifer’s eyes were pointing towards the door. Turning, he noticed Fujin and Raijin--who had most likely been standing out in the hallway the whole time, listening in on the meeting--pushing their way past everyone and scrambling toward Seifer.

They may have been mindless groupies, but they were loyal and supportive friends, it seemed.

Squall picked his gun blade up from the floor as he climbed to his feet and hooked it to his belt. He walked up to the front of the room where Cid, Quistis and Xu stood conversing to one another.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted. They all turned in his direction.

“Is something the matter, Squall?” Quistis asked.

“Did you say I was with Zell Dincht?”

“Indeed,” Quistis said. “Quite a lively fellow, that one.”

“Lively?” Squall punctuated. “He’s just loud. And annoying! Look, is there any possibility of switching members so I could be on a different team? It’s not just Zell, it’s Seifer.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Cid said. “All squads have been randomly selected by the council of faculty members. Putting you with Seifer and Zell was not my doing, Squall. I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept it.”

“That’s right, Squall,” Seifer put in as he and his two friends moved closer. “I’m your captain. You will obey.”

Squall glared. Seifer would not pass up an opportunity to intimidate him, even if it was in front of the headmaster of the garden with his own career at stake.

“Oh, there’s Zell now,” Quistis said, taking notice of someone else apparently still in the room with them. “Zell, will you come here a minute?”

Squall turned around to behold Zell boxing with air. Zell topped off his aerobics display with a backflip before turning a spry grin to Squall, his facial tattoo standing out in contrast to his spiky, blond hair.

This is Zell Dincht:

He knows everything about everything, and that’s all there is to it. Don’t argue with him, because no matter what you say, no matter how much you think you might know about something, if it’s any different than what Zell knows about it, you are wrong. Zell has seen it all and read it all, so therefore he knows it all. When he doesn’t understand something, or when there comes a point where he has not studied up on a particular facet of the subject at hand, he fills in that void with his own conclusions; and those conclusions are always correct.

That is what he believes, and he’s sticking to it. No one will ever convince him otherwise.

Zell enjoys impressing everyone with his fighting skills which are a hybrid of Tekassi martial arts and boxing. Ever since childhood he had studied these two fighting styles from two different instructors back home in Balamb, and the irony is that those instructors absolutely hate one another. Yet, Zell is able to learn under both of their tutelage without any prejudice against him, though at times it seems that they try to outdo one another in teaching him, or one tries to keep him longer than the other.

Apparently, he is that important.

His only weapons are his fists and feet. It’s just too bad that he has to use some sort of weapon for this field exam, like everyone else. Guns are mandatory. Melee weapons used for short-ranged combat are encouraged, but not necessary. He will be taking along a standard BG-19 semi-automatic and a short katana.

Fortunately, his hometown of Balamb is only a short driving distance away, so he is a commuter. Although he does not own a car, the roughly an hour-long hike down that road every morning and evening helps keep him in shape, and he loves it. There is nothing more beautiful than the morning sunrise and the sunset in the evening as he walks between school and home.

He has lived in Balamb all his life with his mother, Edith Dincht. While he has never known his father, he used to be quite close with his grandfather who had passed away seven years ago. His grandfather, Hogan Dincht, was a famous soldier from Balamb serving in the Esthar army. He admires his grandfather to such a degree that he took the liberty of getting the very same tattoo--the tattoo that Hogan and his friends in the service had had done on their shoulders symbolizing their brotherly love. The only difference is that Zell had had his done on the left side of his face.

When he entered Balmab Garden at the age of ten, the institution was only a couple of years old. When he had first heard of its construction and had gone to witness it for himself, his mother would not let him enroll right away, believing him to be a bit too young. But after a few years of begging, pleading and nagging, she finally gave in and Zell was off to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.

Today, Zell will make his deceased grandfather proud when he passes this field exam and is accepted into SeeD.

Zell felt great! Nothing like a little warming up before the battle to get the adrenaline flowing. Not to mentioned that the onlookers were undoubtedly impressed with his moves, he was sure. He joined the small group of people gathered at the front of the room.

The guy with the gunblade--he had heard his name was Squall--looked like he meant business. Hopefully, this guy was a better human being than that other gunblade specialist who was good for little else than intimidating people.

Unfortunately, that intimidator would be his squad captain. No matter. He was genuinely looking forward to the company of this Squall fellow as an alternative to putting up with Seifer’s nonsense.

“Whoa!” Zell exclaimed, trying desperately to get on Squall‘s good side from the very start. “I’m with you?”

Zell extended his hand.

“Name’s Zell. Zell Dincht.”

Squall looked at Zell’s hand, then back up at his eyes. The look on his face combined with that cool scar made Zell quiver. He retracted his hand. Maybe this guy wouldn’t be so easy to befriend as he thought.

He searched for something else to make conversation.

“Um, heard you don’t get along with Seifer, either.” Squall’s expression did not change. “Heh! Heard he whooped your ass pretty good out on the mountain this morning!”

“We weren’t fighting,” Squall said. “We were training.”

“Well, I bet he doesn’t see it that way. Guy’s our squad captain, you know. That should be fun. Anyway, Seifer’s just an ass. Why do you let him get to you, anyway?”

“That’s--”

“--None you your business,” Instructor Trepe said along with Squall, who turned an annoyed gaze at her. Did these two know each other personally?

Well, there were rumors going around.

Quistis cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, Zell, but your squad captain is standing right behind you.”

“Wha…” Zell spun on his heels, shocked.

“Hello, Zell,” Seifer said, flanked by Fujin and Raijin. He knew he was in for it now, especially after these guys had just issued him a detention for running in the cafeteria not too many hours ago.

“H-hey, Seifer.” Zell quivered. Seifer’s scar seemed even more menacing than Squall’s, though they were nearly identical.

“Yes, Seifer. You are the captain of Squad Beta. Good luck.”

A smug grin overcame Seifer’s face.

“Instructor. You know I hate it when people wish me luck. Save it for someone who needs it, huh?”

“Very well,” Quistis retorted with a coquettish smile. “Good luck, Seifer.”

Zell couldn’t help but chuckle. Xu, Cid, and even Raijin did so as well.

Seifer glared.

“Add Instructor Trepe to the list as well,” he mumbled, apparently to his friends.

List? What list?

“Well then,” Quistis said, bringing back an air of professionalism. “Seifer. Xu. Squall. Zell. You are Squad Beta. I will be accompanying you to Balamb, as well as to Dollet. I can’t stress enough that teamwork is of the utmost importance, so let’s all get through this exam together.”

“Listen up!” Seifer called out, probably more forcefully than need be. “Teamwork means doing what I say when I say it and staying the hell out of my way!” His eyes centered on Zell’s. “And don’t you forget it,” he finished in a normal tone, poking at Zell’s ribs with his finger before spinning on his heels and exiting the room with his goons.

Zell felt his blood boil. He inhaled and exhaled vigorously through his nose, but was able to bite his tongue. Barely.

One day, his fist would collide with Seifer’s face. Or his boot. It would all depend on how infuriated he would be, really.

“We have yet to have a gunblade specialist among the ranks of SeeD,” Cid said, obviously to Squall. “That’s why I’m hoping you and Seifer will join us. Good luck, Squad Beta.”

“Thank you, Headmaster Kramer,” Xu said. The four of them started for the garage on the first floor.

Quistis could see the town of Balamb beyond the three other jeeps up ahead. They were just about there.

The jeeps were six-seaters, a bit bigger than standard military vehicles of like design. Xu sat in the passenger seat to her right, her hands folded professionally on her lap. Behind them sat Squall and Zell while the rear seat was occupied by Seifer alone, who sat in the middle rudely stretching his legs between Squall and Zell. All of them men had laid their weapons on the floor for the sake of comfort.

“Hey Squall,” Zell said, breaking over twenty minutes’ worth of awkward silence, “can I see your gunblade?”

Quistis eyed Squall in the rearview mirror, who gazed in the opposite direction with the usual irritated look about his face.

“Come on, man!” Zell persisted. “Just a peek?”

Squall did not budge, as she expected.

“Fine! Why are you so stubborn, anyway?” Zell obviously did not give up easily. “What’s on your mind? Say something, will you?”

Something, Quistis thought, anticipating his answer.

“Something,” Squall grumbled.

Oh yes. She knew him all too well. Quistis looked at Squall one more time in the mirror, and he happened to look back. She grinned at him before returning her eyes to the road. Balamb’s main gate was just up ahead, and the first two jeeps had already gone through.

“Fine,” Zell said as he gave up at last.

“What’s the matter, Chicken-Wuss?” Seifer spoke up. “Must you always be so annoying?”

“What did you call me!” Zell yelled. He was far too easily stirred up. It was time she interjected.

“Knock it off, you two!” Quistis raised her voice. “We’re here. Now, bear in mind that you represent Balamb Garden and SeeD, so try to act like adults. Understood?”

“Yes, Instructor,” two voices intoned at once. The one missing was most obviously Squall’s. He almost seemed religiously passive at times, as if it were part of who he was.

Quistis gazed at Xu sitting beside her, who returned a smile. Xu was always quiet when hostility broke out and was never one to argue.

The jeep drove through the gate and entered Balamb as two SeeDs saluted on either side. They followed the others in front of them down a narrow street as small children playing together cleared out of the way and watched in awe, and a few even waved. A grin overcame Quistis’ face as she and Xu waved back. That always made her feel warm inside.

They rounded a sharp bend, passed a few shops and finally arrived at the docks, where four SeeD naval vessels were docked. Quistis parked the jeep beside the three others as everyone picked up their belongings and exited the jeep. Quistis was the last to get out as she led the way down the paved docks.

“Alright everyone,” she called out as the team followed close behind, “ours is the furthest one down. Follow me, please.”

As they moved down the docks toward their awaiting ship, Quistis couldn’t help but hear some of the garden staff murmuring things about Squad Beta, the “problem team,” and the “rookie instructor.” She didn’t care. She was a successful woman with a successful career, so they could say what they wanted. It wasn’t hurting her one bit.

She hoped.

They arrived at the ship’s boarding ramp. Quistis stood aside with Xu as she gestured for the cadets to enter first.

“So this is our ship, huh?” Squall said.

“Ain’t no turning back now,” Seifer replied. Apparently, he too thought he was above the others--even though he was a cadet as well--as was apparent when he stood aside, opposite Quistis and Xu. “Don’t disappoint me now.”

“Come on, move it!” Quistis yelled. Seifer was one of the few people in this world able to irritate her.

Zell and Squall entered the boat, followed by Seifer. Xu then entered as Quistis climbed in behind them.

“The cabin in down the stairs and to your right,” she called out to the squad as she sealed the door behind her.

Several hours had passed. Squall was thankful that no one in his squad seemed to be prone to sea sickness, and that the cabin furniture was surprisingly comfortable. It was a welcome luxury on such a voyage where for the past few hours he had had to put up with Seifer and Zell butting heads like two quadruped savages. Quistis would constantly stand up, yell, and then go back to discussing military tactics with Xu. He was surprised she had not come and pestered him yet.

As if she had read his mind, Squall looked to his right to see Quistis making her way toward him. Affronted, he buried his face in his gloved hands and rubbed his eyes. That was when he remembered that a fresh battle wound bedecked his face, at which point the stinging returned. He sat back in his seat, his hand clinging to his face in pain.

“Easy Squall,” Quistis said as she sat down beside him. “You’ve got to be careful with your face now.”

Squall sighed.

“I never should’ve let Seifer talk me into ‘training’ with him,” he said.

“You seem to be easily talked into a lot of things,” Quistis replied. “Then again, I feel that you’d hardly do anything at all unless someone nags you about it. I mean, you knew that obtaining a GF was a prerequisite to this exam, and you had a month to do it; yet you kept putting it off until I reminded you about it yesterday. In fact, I think that if I hadn’t’ve have gone with you, you still would not have done it. And then what? You wouldn’t have been able to participate in today’s field exam.”

Yes, he had heard this before, and he knew it to be all too true. Yes, he had waited until the last minute to obtain his guardian force--one of the only ones left, in fact: the creature at the fire cavern whom SeeD had officially named Ifrit. He could still remember the heat of that battle--both literally as well as figuratively--as the creature forced hi