AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another posted, updated chapter...more to come next week, along with the conclusion of Part I - Connection (Enishi)!

Part I - Connection (Enishi)

I remember a story I was once told about the man who wrote a certain famous play.

The man sitting down at his Millionaire’s Desk started to pen out his play, and finally reached the climax of it.

To be, or not to b-

One of the most memorable lines of all dramatic literature to be ever placed in any library across Vana’diel, being penned…

And the writer stopped to sharpen his pencil.

Would it have turned out differently if he hadn’t had to hesitate?

I wonder about that sometimes.

"All right men, get ready." My voice crackled through the orangish-yellow linkpearl that was secured to my armor, just below my neckpiece. "Once we are inside, total silence. I would rather not wake any dead that might happen to be wondering about."

Just an hour ago, I had tried on the armor that Satamanda had just gotten back from the Juenoan alchemy department. Apparently, in preparation for our mission, the alchemists had applied some sort of experimental oil into the joints that was supposed to reduce and remove virtually all friction, in order to make my unit and me move soundlessly in the depths of the Necropolis.

A smile broke across my face as soft chuckles flooded the pearl. After a brief moment, I turned serious again, killing all chatter.

"Invis up."

With that, I reached into my small pouch on my side, and pulled out a small, semi-opaque jar. I then proceeded to unscrew the metal lid before dipping two fingers inside, feeling the sticky powder inside trap itself onto my fingertip pads. As I pulled my fingers out of the mysterious material, and exposed it to the light where the materials caught my eye, I finally saw what the big fuss about this stuff in the Juenoan alchemy department: the powder shimmered in the air for a moment, and then turned my fingers completely invisible to my eyes.

Wow...those Jueno alchemists sure know how to make one hell of an invention when they want to.

Gradually, I then started to rub the powder all over myself, making more and more of me disappear, until finally, I was totally invisible to anyone -or anything- that happened to pass by. Before I had left, the alchemy department was sure to warn me that both the oil and the powder would dry up and flake off within a couple hours time, or if I made excess movement such as drawing my sword and/or fighting. Their warning words now made sense to me, in the context.

After a few moments to mentally prepare myself, I started to focus on the task at hand.

Out of the four entrances to enter into the Necropolis from, I had drawn the northern most one in the dice roll lottery with the rest of my unit, which was totally fine with me. With any luck we would all find nothing and therefore I could then go back home to my office and Mog House quickly.

Taking one last, straining deep breath, I then started to head down into the crypt. Immediately upon descending the whitish steps, the stench of death raped my nostrils, instantly banishing any sense of life from them. Getting to the bottom, I realized that the rotting, decaying bodies were each barely a foot underneath a marble slab, with few, if any, tombstones to mark who these people were. The graverooms were lit up with a series of candles along the walls that never seemed to go out, or ever seemed to grow any shorter no matter how much time may have passed.

Quietly and efficiently, I then started to probe each of the rooms that I came to as I descended further into the labyrinth, with the only excitement I could find was maybe a rat here or there. After about an hour of searching and exploring, I found myself in front of a huge wooden door, locked into a stone wall with a door handle partially broken off the front. The brass hinges were rusted over, and it looked like no one had dared to venture up to or beyond this point for a long time.

With a slight recklessness, I immediately grasped the remains of the handle, and tried to open the door as slowly and carefully as I can to prevent any noise from being made.

Well, tried.

Instead of opening quietly as I had hoped, the door instead creaked open with a loud screech. If I wanted the element of surprise...I had now just lost it.

Pushing the door all the way open, I now stepped into the room, and with one hand on my blade, quickly found out that instead there was no one there. Taking the whole room in at once, the first thing that I noticed was that there were three other doors leading into this room, presumably from other wings of the place.

The archways of each of the other three doors were decorated with what looked like to be some sort of sculpture or relief above each, set against candles that served to cast a grand majestic glow upon each of the figures. Around the room, I saw perverse version of a purple woman with ice on her lips, a fiery red beast whose very skin seemed to ignite the air around him, and a monster who had the tide flowing around his blue body. Looking up above my own door, I found a bearded old man with a gaze that could probably even make the bravest Galka shiver in fear and obedience. The paint on these figures was chipped and cracked, as if someone had painted them long ago and then forgot about them, leaving these reliefs to slowly die at the end of time.

Even if I didn’t know who or what these beings were, they were truly a sight to behold.

Finally tearing my eyes away from the wall sculptures, I looked at the rest of the room. All I saw were several pits of what looked like to be made of powdered iron, arranged in a grid-like shape that filled the room, leaving just enough room for a person to squeeze in between them on a tiny, cracked and winding, stone walkway.

If a person chose that way to go.

Not bothering to waste time taking the path, I instead just ignored the path and started to walk over the pits, the only mark of my passage being my feet leaving twin fine imprints on the shredded gravel. I made my way slowly across the room, until my left foot was poised above the center pit of the room, and when I placed my foot down…

I fell straight through the pit, my body landing in a crumpled heap after a short drop onto a dusty floor.

Immediately, I sprang up, my hand on my sword’s hilt once again as my eyes took in the room quickly and my military training took back over.

But after a moment, I realized there was nothing here, just like in the room above me, and my hand relaxed on my weapon.

Slightly.

Spying a small tunnel to the right of me, I then turned into it and then started to travel down it. The path curved up and down a few times, and I almost tripped over a few narrow cracks in the ground as I made my way though. I noticed that the walls were made up of broken bricks, once more lined with those candles that never seemed to grow any shorter no matter how long they burned.

After traveling what felt like half a kilm, I finally come upon an awful sight.

Mixed in with the skulls and decayed bodies of people long passed that were just discarded here with reckless abandonment, were rows upon rows of machinery in front of me all pumping out gil currency with a quiet efficiency, depositing each individual piece into a giant sack. Looking beyond them, I could see that there were already several bags lining the walls already, most likely getting ready to be laundered out into the Vana’diel economy.

I started to make my way past the equipment, still covered in invisible powder and my armor oiled up, picking my way so not to brush up against anything. Once past all the machines, I happened upon a darkened, narrow passage with no end in sight set in the back of the room.

Could this be where the leader of this little enterprise is? If I could positively identify the person, I could then make a satisfactory report to the Archduke and hopefully get this little counterfeit ring busted up.

Traveling down this new path, I started to hear faint sounds of what sounded like a sword clanging against the ground, and...

A spell being cast?

Moving faster, wondering if one of the other members of my unit had been drawn into combat by whoever was running this operation, I instantly picked up the pace and hurried my way to the end, where my eyes fell upon two figures, encompassed inside of a new, even more expansive room.

One was a dark figure, his skin maintaining the dark tone of the dead, and his hair providing a sharp white contrast. He was a tall Elvaan -or at least used to be-, and swung what I recognized as a powerful two-handed sword, most likely a Zweihander. The abomination drew the sword back, keeping his empty, cold eyes focused on…

Her.

Sprawled out on the ground in front of the dark creature, her face was bleeding from a cut that ran down the side of her right cheek, and she looked like she was bruised pretty badly in several places from where she had been hit by the Elvaan. I watched as her fingers nervously flickered and started to glow as she tried to conjure up some black magic spell, but another blow with the flat of the monster's blade to the side of her head quickly snuffed that out.

Peering into her face, I saw that her eyes were wide with fear, her pupils quivering while totally focused on the being before her. Looking then at the rest of her body, I realized that she looked like the very life force was almost totally drained out of her, leaving behind only the tiniest husk of her being. The Elvaan, clearly enjoying what he was doing, swung against and smacked her chest, making her breath become laborious as she then coughed, spitting up a small amount of blood.

I tensed myself up, ready to intervene, but it was then that I paused.

Do I dare disobey my orders?

I was explicitly ordered to not interfere with anything that I might find here, but instead to report it all back to Jueno and the Archduke.

If I attacked this...being...I would be committing an offense that would be easily comparable to direct insubordination and even possibly treason, and would therefore at least net me a very neat dishonorable discharge along with -very possibly- prison for life.

Is this girl worth it?

She has caused me nothing more than misery back in Tavnazia, and I was still dealing with the fallout from that.

The Elvaan kicked her in her already bruised and damaged ribs, and I heard the sickening sound of a couple snap into pieces.

I should just turn around and walk away. No one would miss this girl, most certainly not me.

The undead creature then grinned, drawing his sword back over his head and then starting to swing it downwards to finish her off...

Clang.

My sword caught the Zweihander’s edge and held it still, just ilms above her tightly clenched eyes, doubtlessly expecting then end

"That’s enough. If you want to kill her, you are going to have to deal with me first."

-fin Chapter VII: Choices