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Crescent Stigma	By : Cynthermes Category: Final Fantasy Games > Crossovers Views: 833 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dissidia, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy I and its characters belong solely to Square Enix. They’re not mine. I can only lay claim to some OC’s and the plot. No profit has been made for the construction of this prose

Chapter List
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PROLOGUS

Part Two:

Last Quarter: Lunar Beginnings
“By the order of His Majesty, Odin Baron, revered King of Morgatte, Lord Captain Cecil Austere has been ordered to secure the water crystal from Mysidia to form an Alliance with our kingdom.”
A dark knight knelt down patiently as he received orders being read to him by the king’s Captain of the Royal Guard. The shuffling of paper was the only crisp sound amidst hushed whispers, stifled coughs and the general noise of a fearsome army attending an assembly.
Cecil stood with alert knightly grace as the king gestured for him to rise to accept the scroll.
“Lord Captain, you carry the honor and military pride of Morgatte as you resign yourself for this venture. Keep that in mind and may the moon gods wish you luck.” Zander Baigan, his military superior clapped him on the shoulder in an almost brotherly gesture before the dark knight slipped the scroll to its casing attached to his belt strap.
“Bring Morgatte the honor it deserves, Cecil.” King Odin spoke last before the lord captain respectfully answered, “Yes; your majesty.”
The highest ranked dark knight bowed once more and exited the doors of the royal chambers closely followed by his subordinates with head held high, confident stride, and with an aura brimming with so much pride and honor dedicated to Morgatte.
They were the kingdom’s finest aerial fighting force, the Red Wings.
And they were headed towards the aerodrome in the middle of flanking towers and pinnacle of the castle keep where Engineer Highwind’s airships await their conquest for the skies.
Cecil met Cid halfway on the spiral steps of the keep where the pinnacle’s aerodrome carries the ‘Enterprise’, Engineer Highwind’s main airship on its shoulders. The burly man with dark curly hair, middling in height, with a thick nose, square chin, bright blue eyes perpetually overshadowed by those ridiculous goggles was giving him a lopsided grin. “And yet another commission from the king, eh Cecil my boy?”
The dark knight removed his helm as a sign of respect and gave the older man a shy smile for his words. “I apologize in advance for any future dents on your ‘lady’.”
Cid laughed heartily, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t care to ‘em dents just bring’er in one piece. Anyhow may Lady Luck be at your side.” He said almost dismissively before giving him a somewhat fleetingly odd look that said, be careful you need it more than the airship.
A feeling of foreboding crept into his already jittery state of mind. The ominous telltale signs of something unfortunate to come were high and getting restlessly higher in the air… or was it just the moist, humid wind turbulence of an incoming storm? The engineer became uncharacteristically silent as he came back from the storage room to give the final tweaks and tune-ups the Enterprise needed as if a hostile confrontation was inevitable. Cid made particular attention on the airship’s defense and offensive machineries.
Cannons and heavy artillery shined almost like the object in conquest. Cecil wasn’t blind by the fact that His Majesty and his most trusted captain’s Alliance was nothing more but a euphemistic version of a siege. It seems old man Cid wasn’t fooled either.
Odin and he had a long way back. Being in the same age group was more of what they had in common. In a hierarchical society, they were monarch and Court Engineer. But behind snotty and prudish nobles they were the best of friends. “Aye, she’s ready for the ball. Make sure you are intact as she is when you return, dear lad.” Cid said affectionately before disappearing below the stone steps for the second and last time.
A slight crease of worry was now present on the ephemerally calm dark knight’s face.
Kain wasn’t even here to see him off. An imaginary dragoon had his arms crossed and leaned heavily against a corner pillar. Usually when Cecil was assigned on dangerous campaigns, his childhood friend would already be up here before anyone else.
Kain would even idle in an eerie almost nearly undetectable manner on that spot. He would always stand arms crossed and half-leaning on cold stone. And no one but Cecil would notice his presence.
Imaginary Kain just made a reassuring thump on his weakly aketon-lined shoulder. “Don’t die.”
He would step away and without a backward glance jump out of sight the same probable way he had come.
Yes, you too wherever you might be, Kain. He said in his thoughts as the sounds of approaching armored footsteps drew nearer.
XxX
“We would never surrender the crystal!”
He tried.
He really did.
He pushed himself even.
But negotiations were futile.
The Mysidians were not and were never fools to begin with.
“They refuse to surrender the crystal, what now Captain?” His second-in command asked.
As much as he’d loathed it…
You have ingrained my loyalty to Morgatte too much… Brother.
His expression of uncertainty and unwillingness to murder innocents were fortunately hidden within his helm. But that was what he really came for, right?
If they refused to surrender the objective of this mission…
Without the visible strain in his features he coolly stepped forward. “It is unfortunate to have come to this. Won’t you please reconsider, Magi Elder?”
The scroll, the official mandate of his king lay on a rumpled heap below the feet of the Elder. Focusing on that sight instead kindled the dark ruthlessness drilled on a full-fledged knight of his stature. They dared figuratively spitting on the will of his liege. That was unforgivable.
“We refuse to yield on such vile terms only fiends could even contemplate on committing!” The Mysidian Elder spat as if accidentally ingesting poison.
“I apologize, but you have just insulted His Majesty in the most outrageous manner. As a knight defending his honor I would have to force your surrender.” The Lord Captain of the Dark Knights didn’t feel the perfect fit of his weapon of choice on his gauntleted hand, before he was already charging forward with it, full plated greaves crunching reflexively, harmoniously with the chain mail, scraping on enchanted stone flooring.
The dark infused spear pierced through air, clothing, and cutting through flesh, blood, and bones.
He gasped.
He realized it was he who gave the sound of the injured, ironically.
The Mysidian Elder didn’t even flinch, took a step back, raised his arms in defense or even conjured a simple spell. He just stood there, passively fixing him a frighteningly calm and forgiving stare.
“Elder!” The Mysidian mages have arrived too late. They were but witnesses to a dark knight impaling their beloved leader and benevolent teacher who was rapidly bleeding to death.
The buzz of foreign machines disturbing natural peace, the unexpected aerial smoke bomb attacks had all but disoriented and disturbed them of their ability to counteract more modern warfare. The faux blitzkrieg was short of nothing but distraction.
The Red Wings had come not to barter or form an alliance… at least not formally to the Mysidian population. They were to be done secretly among leaders like the true nature and strategy of this campaign.
King Odin was already aware that no amount of peace talks, bribery or even black mail could sway the Mysidian Elder to surrender their crystal. He along with Cecil and just a handful of trusted Dark Knights and the Royal Adviser planned this fool-proof scheme behind closed doors. It didn’t mean that everyone present in the strategy meeting was in favor of it, however.
The Mysidian Elder was still strong enough not to crumble on his knees despite the shock of blood loss. He didn’t even look on his people or plea that they avenge him for this treachery. His surprisingly unwavering gaze continued to be locked with Cecil’s.
Blood-streaked lips moved. “Purge the darkness in your soul, dear lad. You are not destined for such a thing that taints you.”
They were his last words.
Cecil withdrew the spear and the dead body was asleep on its feet as it jolted a little when the retreating sharp weapon spilled more trapped blood. He gritted his teeth and forced the sudden sickness in his gut to abate. He could not afford to show emotion.
What was done was done.
He just hoped as he safely gathered the crystal and quickly slipped through the grasp of the devastated Mysidians into the hovering airship that this was the last crime he would commit in the name of his king for a very long time.
He had no idea that the nightmare has barely just begun.

(END OF PART TWO: PROLOGUS: Lunar Beginnings)
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Crescent Stigma