He looked around a bit, without getting up. The poor people of the town and the Imperial soldiers alike walked by, ignoring him just like any of the other bodies that had fallen from the high buildings.

"Hey," he whispered to a passer-by, "Are you one of the town's residents?"

"No."

"Boy, that helps... Can you tell me how to get to the inn?"

"Take a left past the building to the south."

"Okay - take a right past the building to the north, right?"

"Right."

"Oops... I mean a right BEFORE the building to the north... right?"

"Wrong."

"Okay, thanks."

"Hated helpin' ya."

Cordain pulled himself up entirely. He was used to the language of Zozo, and knew it well. He followed the opposite of the man's directions to the inn. It was full of soldiers yelling about demanding immediate service. He chose an empty table in a fairly quiet corner, and waited for service.

After about half an hour, a waitress finally came over and said, "Hello there - you're not a soldier, are you? You must be a citizen then, right?"

"Wrong, I'm an outsider."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I tell the truth sometimes, and I am now. However, I also can lie."

"Hmmm.. I guess you are - a Zozoian never coulda said that."

"That's right."

"Well, its good to see someone else here - the soldiers are getting to be more irritating than the natives."

"Yes... I guess they could be... but what about you?"

"Oh, me? I'm from Nikeah - when the Empire... came in... they decided that they needed truth-telling waitresses over here in Zozo. So I got sent over here."

"Hmmm... Nikeah... Well, just get me my cup of tea." The waitress walked off, but before entering the kitchen, she stopped to whisper something in the guard captain's ear.

Suddenly, Cordain realized the significance of the girl's hometown, and ducked under the table just in time to avoid a poison-tipped arrow.

"Great - another unhappy reception," he whispered to no one in particular.

A swarm of the town's guards got up and drew their swords and began to rush towards Cordain. Cordain quickly darted out from under the table and on top of it, and started hopping from table to table across the room. He leapt out of the door and into the alleyway. The soldiers followed. Then he saw his chance. A merchant - it would be a longshot, but that certain merchant could just be...

"Hey!" he yelled to the merchant. "If they ask you where I'm going, tell them the truth!"

"Ok, I will," the merchant replied happily.

'There's still no way of telling for sure...' Cordain thought.

Cordain rounded the corner, and entered the building known as the "Deserted Cafe."

The soldiers ran up to the merchant and asked, "Where'd the man in the blue jacket go?"

"He went that way!" he said, pointing in the direction of the 'Deserted Cafe.'

"Thank you, sir."

The soldiers headed off in the opposite direction.

"Oh!" the man spoke up to them again, "Would you like to buy some Rust-Rid?"

Cordain charged into the cafe' and slammed the door.

"Phew!" Cordain sighed and looked around. True to its name, it was pretty much deserted, except for a single barmaid at the counter.

"Don't worry, the soldiers aren't still coming - and don't ask about the passage to the mountains, 'cause there ain't one here!"

"Uh-Oh! The soldiers aren't after me! Better head for the caves!"

The barmaid rolled her eyes, and watched as Cordain scrambled up the stairs to the balcony - where Mt. Zozo waited.

He looked down off the cliff side, to see that the soldiers were still following him. They were just entering the mountain cave.

"Shoot!" Cordain began running, cursing under his breath. His clothes were becoming soaking wet from the rain.

"We almost got 'im, guys!" he heard the guard captain yell. Cordain scrambled across the rope bridge which held sturdily, even in the pouring rain. Trying not took look down beyond the bridge ropes, he studied them for a moment. 'There'll be no cutting these,' he noted.

He reentered the cave on the new mountain side, glad to be in their dry interiors again. He ran to the opposite side of the room, and fell back against the wall to catch his breath.

"Why the meaningless running?" a voice asked.

"What the?!" The floor opened up below Cordain's feet, and he landed in a bunch of hay. He looked up to see a dragon less than five feet away.

"Oh great!" Cordain exclaimed, drawing his rapier.

"Calm down," the voice again spoke out.

"Son of Bahamut! Now the dragon's talking!"

"No, don't be stupid, Cordain."

"Huh?"

"It's me." A man in a black cloak - which was surprisingly dry - stepped out and confronted Cordain.

"What? You... I thought you were in Jidoor..."

"Well, I'm here now."

Cordain shook his head, "So what are you doing here?"

"I followed you - and by the Goddesses it was hard! Whoever took you here must've been good.."

"You mean you don't know who did?!"

"There's a first time for everything. Do you know?"

"Well, I have a hunch..."

Cordain proceeded to tell the man in black about the Figaran battle and his fight with Cam.

"I see. I think I know what he might be. I'll be going now!"

"Wait..."

"Goodbye!"

His source pulled out a Warp Stone and vanished.

Cordain sighed, "It's too hard to get good sources these days..."

Now he began to take a look at the dragon. "It's the storm dragon - slain by King Edgar, the former-general Celes, the gambler Setzer, and" - Cordain shuddered - "that despicable Prince Sabin. Wonder why it's still alive?"

Cordain walked over to its side to find that it was wounded. Examining the wounds, he found them to be fatal, yet only slowly killing it. It seemed to move suddenly. Cordain jumped back, but realized that it seemed to be almost... smiling at him.

"The gem holder has already beaten you here, mercenary.. You can go, now.."

"What?! Now the dragon really is talking!"

"No, stop being stupid, Cordy."

"Who's there?" he asked, ignoring the name.

"It's me, Cam... but, of course, you can't see me. As I said, the gem holder has already beaten you here. So why don't you leave, and let his poor creature die?"

"Well, what do I care? And what are you talking about? And why am I here?!"

"Hahaha... You mean you don't know?"

"You've been about as cryptic as possible, kid."

"Shut up, mercenary! You've fought me, lost, and are still older than me! That should be the insult to you!"

Cordain looked down for a moment, but then a smile began to creep across his face, and he said, "Ahh, well, you're not helping, so I think I'll go..."

"What do you mean I'm not hel--I mean... fare well, Cordy..."

"Yeah... bye, kid."

Cordain left the dying dragon and the invisible kid... but where would he go?

"No, no, no!" the master swordsman scolded, "There is no thrust! I would have thought that obvious, by the fact that the technique is named 'slash!'"

"Yes, I know, but why not?! Why is there never a thrust, never a jab, and never a lunge in any but a few complicated masters' attacks and a small group of rarely used defensive moves?"

"Because the whole principle of Doman swordsmanship is based around the slash!"

Cordain scowled.

"Now try again."

Cordain thrust.

"No!" Cyan slashed at his face.

Feeling a searing pain, Cordain reached up to his left cheek to feel the warm consistency of blood pour onto his hand.

"If you do not learn by words," Cyan said angrily, "I must teach you through actions! Now go to your room - I have other people to train."

* * *

"Are you sure that you don't want that treated, Cordy?"

"No, dear Marie, I deserved it... I disobeyed the master of swordsmanship. I never should have listened to uncle Toran and aunt Cassie's silly tales of fencing masters... fencing was never worthy of the title 'swordtech!'"

"Oh, come on, Cordy, dear... You can't give up that easily."

"Well, nobody else seems to even want to accept it - why should I try?"

"I believe in you, Cordy.."

* * *

"Damien Regale?"

"Here."

"Henry Sandcaster?"

"Here."

"And Jeremy, uhh, Zemus?"

"Umm... here..." Jeremy was always self-conscious of his unpopular last name.

"Alright, we've got all the rookie knights here. Is that correct, Marie?"

"All except Kindar, Cordy," she whispered back.

"Yes... well he's far too loyal to Cyan to be able to keep this operation secret."

"I see..."

Cordain nodded and spoke out to the small crowd, "The time has come that fencing be taught as a true and proper swordtech."

Murmurs rustled about the room, and Henry Sandcaster stood up to say, "But a swordtech not approved by a master is illegal - and as far as I know, neither the King, Cyan, or any of the other master swordsmen has done much more than grunt at the idea."

"That is exactly why we rookies must keep this secret from anyone else."

They nodded grimly.

"Fencing deserves a whole lot more than it's getting!" Cordain exclaimed.

"I'll second that!" Marie echoed.

* * *

Four years later..

"Look! Look at the water - it looks odd... poison!"

"Cyan!" Cordain gasped. "All the other sentries... they're dying..."

"Our liege!"

* * *

"The king.. he's dead."

Cordain sighed.

"Any other survivors?"

"No..."

"What about in here.. In Marie's room?"

"I'm afraid to look.."

"I'll go.."

"No - please go check on your family, Cyan. We must all deal with our own grievances - not each other's."

Cordain entered the room.. and at that moment, he understood Cyan's cry of rage: "The empire must pay!"

So he left. Following the south winds, he made his way to Mobliz, where he got hired by a sailor, who had landed nearby on the Veldt. He again sailed with the wind and the currents to Nikeah, still following the clouds- those soft, wispy clouds..

* * *

Cordain awoke on an overhang looking over the entirety of Mt. Zozo. He knew had fallen - yet another fall - and he had been saved by the crafty Cam Bruggelman. He was above the storm of Zozo, and he could see the soft wispy clouds, flying overhead in the breeze.

He sighed, 'That must be forgotten. I cannot fear if I am to succeed.'

He turned and entered the caves, wondering how he got to the peak this quickly. What he saw shocked him and made him forget his question. A lived in room with a desk, a shelf, and an open chest was set out before him. The chest was empty, and the desk clean, but on the shelf were some silk flowers. 'Beautifully made, too,' he thought.

Then he noticed a small wastepaper basket that he hadn't seen before.

Inside was the crumpled up rough draft of a letter.

He read aloud:

"Dear Lola,

I am writing to you to beg for you forgiveness. I am guilty of

perpetuating a terrible lie... I have only now realized the error

of my ways. I hope I can correct a great wrong. Your boyfriend,

who you thought was in Mobliz, passed away some time ago. I have

been writing in his stead... We humans tend to allow the past to

destroy our lives. I implore you not to let this happen. It is

time to look forward, to rediscover love, and to embrace the beauty of

life. You have so much life left to live...

Cyan."

Cordain was astonished. He didn't realize that Cyan was such an emotional man... but nonetheless, emotions hold back a human being's capabilities... they musn't be allowed to rule one's life - or even a play more than minor part in it.

He sighed, threw the letter back in the trash, and left the room. He was still slightly tired from his flight through the caves, so when outside he slumped back against the wall. 'Just a little rest..' he thought..

* * *

"Mom! I'm going over to uncle Toran's today!"

"Not again... do you always have to go over there?"

"Mom..."

"Oh, it's alright - but I do wish that you would look up to a true swordsman like Cyan as your role model, not that fencing show-off of a brother your father came with."

"Don't worry, Mom. Aunt Cassie will make sure he doesn't show off too much!"

Cordain's mother laughed cheerfully and said, "Now run along, dear!"

"Bye!" Cordain yelled as he jumped out the door. He ran through Doma Castle, navigating his way through its many walls, until he reached his uncle's quarters. He was about to reach up to the door knocker, when he caught a glimpse of an amazing sight: a purple bird flying toward the castle. Being young, Cordain ran out to go see it. He climbed a hill to see that a person was riding it - a girl his age. By this, he was totally amazed. Not so much by that a young girl was flying it, but by the fact that you COULD fly it. He began waving madly at her, and yelling, "Hey, there!"

Apparently noticing him, she got her bird to glide in, and land on the hill. About halfway there, the brown haired, green eyed girl announced, "Hi! I'm Keyla!"

When she had landed, Cordain ran up and said, "Wow! I mean, hi, Keyla, I'm Cordain, but my friends call me Cordy, and so can you. Anyway, where'd you get the neat bird?"

"My parents discovered him. They say that lots of chocobos can be purple, if the right sorta genetic stuff happens."

"You mean that's a chocobo?"

"Yep."

"And he can fly?"

"Yep."

"And your parents found him?"

"Yep."

"Is he the very first one?"

"Yep."

"What's his name?"

"Yep - I mean Bork.."

"Cool!"

"Umm... do ya wanna ride?"

"Really? Can I?!"

"Yep. Hop on. Just hold on to me, and you'll be alright."

"Alright!" Cordain cheered, hopping onto Bork behind Keyla.

"Now just wrap your arms around me like this.."

Cordain swallowed a bit hard.

"Oh, come on, Cordy, don't be shy. It's not a commitment. I'm used to it, anyway - Prince Edgar has a crush on me." Cordain smiled. Even in Doma, there were tales to be heard of 14-year-old Edgar Roni Figaro's unrestrained girl craziness.

When they were both ready, Keyla started talking to Bork.

"Come on, Bork, get ready to fly!"

The bird chirped something back to her.

"Oh, don't be silly, Bork - the two of us combined probably don't weigh as much as Daddy, and he rides ya all the time!"

It chirped another, defiant chirp.

"There is not a difference, Bork! In fact, we're more spread out, so we should be easier to carry!"

Bork reluctantly flapped his wings. Then realizing Keyla and Cordain did weigh less than Keyla's father, he chirped happily and began to really fly.

"Whee!" Cordain shouted gleefully.

"Yippee!" Keyla shouted as well.

Keyla told Bork directly to do some of the many maneuvers he performed, but most were thought up by the purple bird himself. Cordain then pulled himself over Keyla's shoulder in mid-flight and said, "Hey, Bork, how 'bout a couple rolls upside-down?"

"That's dangerous!" Keyla warned.

"You're strapped on - all I got to do is hold tight!"

"But... if you fall..."

"Come on..."

"Oh... alright! Spin, Bork!"

The bird chirped, did a loop, and began spinning wildly around. They spun for a good while, before Keyla said she might puke if Cordain squeezed her chest any harder.

Keyla told Bork to just hover while her and Cordain tried to regain lost breath.

"Fun, huh?" Cordain said, exhausted.

"Yeah," Keyla panted.

"Wait a minute... if you thought that was so dangerous, how come you *gasp* already taught Bork the command?"

"Do you think I really wouldn't have thought of that already?"

"Yeah... I guess you got a point there... so, do you wanna go to Doma? We can talk to my uncle..."

"No... I gotta go home - my parents are probably worried."

"Oh... that's too bad..."

"Here - I'll drop you off on that hill - 'kay?"

"That's okay."

Bork smoothly landed on the hill and let Cordain off.

"Bye," he said.

"Bye..." she responded, and was about to take off, when she smiled. "See ya tomorrow?"

"Really?! Alright! I'll be on the hill after lunch!"

She laughed and said, "Boy, you're excitable! Bye, Cordy!"

"Bye!"

With that, she flew off.

* * *

'That dream,' he thought. He remembered all those happy flights with Keyla. They seemed like they would never end. Until the day...

'No...' he thought. 'I must forget that...'

He got up, now fully rested, and made his way down the mountain and into Zozo. In the cafe, which was still deserted, he asked the lonely barmaid where the soldiers had gone.

"They're still after you. They weren't distracted for some reason."

"Hmmm... distracted?" Cordain walked over to the door and stepped out into the rain again to investigate. Then he heard an explosion. Cordain jumped, startled.

"Sounds like someone's causing more trouble than me..." he said under his breath.

"Oh, how true, Cordy..."

"You again?! Why don't you go back and play with your dragon?!"

"Because he's dead," Cam said bluntly. "Besides, how could I miss out on the fun?"

"What do you want, kid?"

"I'm going to do you a favor - to show that there's no hard feelings after we fought. I'm gonna tell you where some potential allies are."

"Allies, huh? And I suppose you're gonna follow me around, too, huh?"

"I won't literally. But, yes, I will follow you in my own, little way..."

Cordain scowled. "So where are these... allies?"

"Ascending that tower," Cam said, pointing to a tower swarming with guards around it.

"And how am I supposed to get to them?"

"Why.. like this, of course!" Suddenly, Cordain was lifted up into the air.

"What the - no!" Cordain's fear of heights intensified because of the lack of ground below his feet, and he started to involuntarily struggle.

"Oh, come now, Cordy - this isn't the first time you've flown - nor, I'm afraid, will it be the last..."

Cordain was dropped at about the fifth floor of another tower.

"Now jump..." Cam's voice faded off.

He swallowed hard. 'Guess I have no choice...' Cordain took a leap out of the window and into the window opposite him on the other tower. Inside he found a stairwell which he climbed hastily. He had to have scaled ten floors before he got to a room. Peering inside he saw two teenagers, obviously twins, and a woman in the shadows standing over a pale man in a bed. The man started to stir.

"Look! He's awake!" one of the twins - the male - said. Cordain decided to make his entry now.

He opened the door and threw off his purple Zozoan cloak. He spoke up and said, "Good day, I am Cordain Daunkipre, mercenary for hire, and I take it from your appearance that you are not natives..."