Moss covered the walls and floor. The air was damp and cold, bars of steel separated the halls from the chambers. Guards stood at every cell, but one particular prison was heavily guarded.

A single bunk lay dusty upon a corner of the room. The chamber was dark, only lighted by the dim torches of the hallways. Dust and mold covered the floors. It was a typical kind of clan prison.

The only thing that wasn’t typical was the prisoner in that special cell. The nu-mou was curled up in the blankets, wryly lamenting his fate, chuckling to himself.

The cell bars creaked as a bangaa entered. The nu-mou sat up, smiling serenely.

“You’ve been locked up here for ten dayss now, Ezel Berbier. What have you got to ssay?” The bangaa was evidently here to interrogate this nu-mou called Ezel.

“Well, the cell’s a bit drafty, my bunk should be a bit thicker, I do say.”

“Sstop fooling around, Berbier, and tell me what your alliance is doing!”

The bangaa towered over Ezel.

“Oh, and this place smells filthy.”

The bangaa snarled, grabbing Ezel by the collar of his tattered purple robes, lifting the nu-mou into the air,

“After ten dayss of keeping you prisssoner, iss that all I get?” He slammed Ezel against the moldy walls. “’Thiss plasse ssmells filthy?!’”

“Be careful with the head, Gaa’mont. I’m a sensitive man, you know,” Ezel croaked, even after the pain that shot through his back.

Gaa’mont roared on frusteration, throwing Ezel to the ground. He stormed out of the cell, not before he spat on Ezel. After hissing something to the guards, he shot a hostile look to the nu-mou on the ground be fore walking away, muttering curses. Ezel struggled himself up, and dusted his robes, smiling with distaste.

“And I thought I outsmarted Brint and Galmia….”

“Anything?” The Viera asked as Gaa’mont walked into the room, arms crossed. He stood by the door, looking at her.

“If he were not our enemy, I would praisse him for hiss loyalty.”

“Unfortunately, he is. That gives us reason to kill him.”

Gaa’mont and the Viera turned their heads to face an outline of a human lurking in the shadows.

“Zout!!!”

Pierre slammed his fists on the table, followed by spitting out a stream of curses in French. (Some really offensive ones, judging by his brother, Devange’s expression) A few torches illuminated the meeting room, and a round table sat in the middle. Xia sat at it, with a grave expression on her face. The viera could not understand what Pierre was saying, but got the intention of those words. Devange set down his guns and approached the storming Pierre.

“Whoa, calm down, Pierre, calm down.” Pierre glared at Devange.

“How can I calm down when our leader is imprisoned by those cursed terrorists, and we are sitting here, able to do nothing but brace ourselves for an attack?!”

He snarled once more, and punched the wall, causing a few splinters to arise on the wooden barrier. Devange looked surprised once more, and backed away. Pierre unsheathed his katana and sliced a chair into half, not being able to satisfy his anger.

“We seem to be waiting for the greatest assault, and Lente’s been blasted off to god knows where-“

“Lente is in another world, recruiting the prophecy’s warriors.” Xia was standing up, glaring at Pierre. The ninja glared back. For a second he looked like he was going to point his katana at the fencer. He stormed out of the room, not looking back. Fifty-million expert-classed manpower, marching towards Benervia…….

All the Alliance has is fifty-thousand members, only one-third of them being white mages or healers. All of them stationed at Benervia palace, waiting for the Viera leader, Lente.

Benervia palace did not give any benefits. It was the worst place to defend, worst place to hide, and the worst place to be supplied. Yet the base of the Alliance was here. With so little force in their hands, symbolism and trust was all they had. Hope counts, if you consider the less realistic ones.

It wasn’t a war. 15years after royalty’s absence, and corruption had sprung out from everywhere. The Judicial system was falling, yes, but this was the first open assault, not counting amateur terrorizing and theft. They still attended to social meetings, had pleasant chats with their enemies, and tried to damage dignity and pry out information all the way. Brute force, clan wars, that age was over. Social power, trickery, gambling, and the trust of little-knowing civilians were needed now.

Now, the greatest problem faced the alliance.

Will they survive this?

Xia strapped her Minerva plate on over her purple alliance uniform. She pierced in the two earrings of the viera, and brandished her Femme Fatale. She ran her fingers over the supple, cimson blade.

“Isn’t that supposed to be the Legendary Warrior’s?”

Devange stood by the door, with a raised eyebrow. Xia smiled.

“I’m in charge of it until she comes, or until I die.”

“Everybody hopes we’ll survive this. Don’t make jokes about that. You mind offend you-know-who.”

“Gaa’seth just might not care.”

Xia walked to Devange, stopping in front of him. Devange raised an eyebrow. Xia put an arm around him neck and pulled his lips to hers. Devange raised his other eyebrow. After some awkward seconds, Xia pulled away softly.

“To die a lip virgin, I will not.”

She opened the door and stepped out.

“Fight well, cowboy.”

After that, Xia left Devange dumbstruck and frozen.

The Zanmato slashed through countless enemies. Another white mage down……. Pierre eyed the situation as his Masamune and Zanmato cut through armor and flesh. The majority of the alliance’s white mages have fallen….

“Argh!”

Something knocked over Pierre as he plummeted to the ground. He sharply turned his head only to see a black light, reversing everything in the background. He had seen this before.

It was a seam.

It was Lente.

She was here.

Nice time to open a seam.

“Gaa’seth!! Gather some gadgets we need to build a fort!!!”

Pierre called to the Bangaa as he stood up. He did not see the fighter run up behind his back.

The kwigon blade cut through his stomach.

“Ultima Shear!!!”

The fighter was in a second, leaving Pierre clutching his abdomen. He kneeled on one knee a the seam opened into a portal. He saw chocobos running toward it.

“If I survive this, Lente, I will make sure you’re in the slammers.”

With that, the young man collapsed, picturing the saddened face of a viera.