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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: ffmldob01.txt

Dear Old Blade
By Troy Thomas

Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy Tactics, its settings, and
its characters are the creations and property of
Squaresoft.

***

'"Chaos and Uncertainty are found
everywhere," said the Messenger. "You
are its enemies, the Fathers and
Mothers of Order and Conviction."

The Ten Disciples, in unison,
replied, "We are now blessed! We
shall ride to conquer Hell!"

"Our enemies must fall and the earth
must bleed, for only then shall our
Lord be free to purify the world with
the life force of our adversaries,"
said the Messenger.

"We shall not inhibit our righteous
wrath!" replied the Disciples. "We
shall bring to the world Heaven. With
Heaven, the coming of our lord is
ensured!"

"Forward, children of his Lord. Free
our Saviour," said the Messenger.'

This is the concluding and sole surviving passage of 'The
Final Book of the Messenger', a twenty century old text
found in an old ruined Faran Temple by Professor Alazlam
J. Durai (currently residing in Magic City Gariland).

***

Chapter One

A boy sat under a tree, enjoying a warm eastern breeze. He
watched the sky, infinite and reflecting.

He innocently smiled, his face youthful and cheerful.

Aside the boy lay a sheathed sword. He frowned at it,
because he knew one day he would have to use it.

Despite his misgivings though, he would purposely enjoy
his last moments as a boy. He would sit under the tree,
and smile, reflecting of the sky.

The boy's first name was Wiegraf. He sometimes wondered of
its origins. He had asked his father many times its
meaning, but the man, quiet and bookish, injured and
introspective, usually answered, "Long ago, there was
somebody our ancestor once knew, who deserved a better
fate."

Wiegraf was the youngest son of the proud Ruglia's,
defenders of the Magic City Gariland, servants of the Duke
of Limberry.

Wiegraf Ruglia sat under a tree, watching the nearby river
flow. He wondered of its speed. How fast and strong it
was.

Where did the river lead? He couldn't see, for it bent out
of view behind a forest.

Standing, he then picked up his sword, walking from the
tree to a road, which was the road to his home, the Magic
City Gariland.

As he walked, he noticed a tired and large family, slowly
and sorely dragging a near dead mule beleaguered by what
he presumed to be the whole family's worldly possessions.
However, despite the sight of such a family, it wasn't to
Wiegraf peculiar, as the road was entirely dominated by
such countless groups.

He could only sadly sigh. The city of Gariland was being
invaded by refugees from a war to the East. He again sadly
sighed, since very soon in the foreseeable future, he was
to be sent to the academy, where he would train to be a
soldier.

He noticed no one took notice of him. 'It's the sword,' he
quickly presumed. 'It's the Ordalian soldiers. They must
kill them without even blinking.'

The military-state Ordalia had just the year previous
invaded deep into Eastern Ivalice territory, taking the
long war to a higher level of intensity.

Being Ivalice-born, Wiegraf knew the soldiers of Ordalia
were not human, and, perhaps, barely animal.

"You son of a bitch!" was the loudest of many insults
tossed over the heads of the refugees.

Turning his head, he saw a scuffle break out between two
men. He didn't know if either of the two had been the one
to shout out what he had just heard above the din, but he
did understand he could not allow the men's' tempers to
flare.

Quickly walking to the men, Wiegraf asked, "What is the
problem here?" He watched the two men, who both turned to
him, each with an expression as though ready to tell him
off. However, upon seeing Wiegraf, and his clothes and
sword, the men's' expressions changed from anger to
surprise to submission.

"Nothing... m'master," said the man closest to Wiegraf.
"We were just having a conversation... and we..." The man
hastily mumbled whatever else he had to say.

After listening to a mumbled apology, Wiegraf forgave the
pair, who promptly disappeared in separate ways into the
crowd. 'They're afraid of me. Damn those Ordalians!' He
looked around, and, to his own surprise, saw there were no
refugees near him.

Feeling ashamed, despite not having done anything to
deserve the feeling, Wiegraf suppressed the urge to blush.

Deciding he no longer wanted to be in the crowd, he began
hurriedly approaching the city gate.

Reaching the city entrance, Wiegraf turned around to look
at the river of refugees, seeing it bent out of view, far
in the distance.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Turning, he saw it was one of
the gate guards.

"Young master, we'll have you inside in one moment," said
the guard.

Wiegraf saw the man look dismissingly at the refugees.

The guard said, "They've been here for weeks. Some of them
have even made little homes here outside the gates!"
Acting as though what he had said was a joke, the guard
derisively laughed.

"Pretty soon, if they don't get into the city they'll all
decide to make shelters outside the walls," said Wiegraf,
to his surprise, since he felt he didn't want to speak
with the gate guard. "That's what happens in these times."

"Humph, and then they'll be nice little citizens of
Gariland, right?" the guard asked. "If you ask me, the
Ordalians should've killed 'em all! Would've saved us a
hell of a lot of trouble!" The guard seemingly remembered
his rank, only when Wiegraf frowned. "Pardon my language,
young master."

Another guard walked up to Wiegraf. "Master Ruglia. We've
a way into the city. If you'd please come with me."

He was led to a door protected by four armed guards, each
who had intensity carved into their faces.

"If you'd just wait one moment before going through,
Master Ruglia..." the guard said.

Wiegraf turned to the man, who seemed a bit sheepish.

"I was only hoping to make a request of the Lord Marquis
Ruglia through you... We're all stretched down here, if
you get my meaning. We're in need of extra men." The
guard, seeing Wiegraf's impassive response, then quickly
ushered him through the door.

After entering the room behind the door, which was hastily
closed behind, Wiegraf was then approached by a young man,
who was a head taller than him.

"You went there again," said the man. "Father would be
most displeased if he heard of your excursions to there.
He already has enough problems. I will not allow you to
add to the already growing number of issues he has to
solve!"

Wiegraf saw it was only the man and he in the room. He
blushed, as looked at the eyes of the young man. "I'm
sorry, brother," he sheepishly said.

"You should be at school, preparing for your entrance
exams for the military academy," said Wiegraf's brother,
assuaged by Wiegraf's remorse. He paused, and then said,
"Father is pleased though. A week ago, Professor Durai
spoke highly to him of you. He said he expects you to do
very well in whatever you do."

The blush disappeared from Wiegraf's face. He then looked
embarrassed, as though uncomfortable with the praise.

A door to a hallway opened. A young man entered. He made
sure to close the door, as though his business was of the
utmost secret. He walked to Wiegraf's brother's side.

"Sir Eberhart, there is an emergency at the Igros
mansion," said the man. "Your presence is immediately
requested." The man looked at Wiegraf, recognising him.
"You are also to come, young master."

"What is the matter?" asked Eberhart.

The messenger replied, "His excellency, the Lord Marquis
Ruglia, while in meeting, suddenly collapsed. He is now
suffering from terrible fever."

"Oh no," said Wiegraf. He looked at his brother, who
seemed a bit shaken by the news.

Eberhart breathed deeply, and then looked back at Wiegraf.
"Don't worry, brother. Our father is Lord Detonar Ruglia.
He is the greatest warrior in the land. No man could bring
him down when he fought the Ordalians in battle, and now,
no mere fever shall extinguish his life."

Wiegraf felt himself wanting to believe Eberhart's words.
However, he knew the father he knew was different from the
father of Eberhart's memories.

The messenger walked to the door, opening it. "There is a
carriage outside for the two of you."

Following his brother, who had quickly and steadily left
the room, Wiegraf entered the hallway, where there was
nobody. At the hallway's end, there was the exit, guarded
outside by two strong looking guards.

Walking past the two, despite his fast pace, Wiegraf found
himself unable to keep up with Eberhart, who, by the time
Wiegraf made it outside, had already climbed into the
carriage.

After entering the carriage, Wiegraf looked at the face of
his brother, which expressed an almost unnoticeable wear
of worry. He thought, almost despairingly of himself,
'Father's not the only one with far too many
responsibilities.' He looked away from Eberhart. 'I have
only selfish worries.'

He had looked out the window, seeing the people of the
city watching the carriage pass. 'They know our crest...
We Ruglia's are not strangers to this city, so they never
take such an interest in our business. But why do they now
so intently stare at our passing?' He then thought,
realising a possible reason, 'Have they already heard of
Father's collapsing? Rumour must travel so quickly...'

"We'll go to my home first, Wiegraf. I have one final
errand to do," said Eberhart, suddenly.

Nodding, Wiegraf returned to his thoughts.

The streets were quickly travelled, and Wiegraf watched
person after person be left, each disappearing so quickly
behind a bend, each left to their own lives. However, he
couldn't help noticing all who saw the carriage hid no
interest, denied no evidence of seeing, and perhaps
knowing, the reason for the carriage's obvious haste to
the mansion of Eberhart's home.

When arriving there, at his brother's home, which was had
in the past been Wiegraf's childhood home, he was
astounded at the mansion's size, both large, dwarfing the
nearest buildings, and small, reminding him of the days
when he had played the games of childhood. 'How can this
surprise me?' he wondered. 'I'd seen it everyday since I
was born, before Mother passed away...'

The carriage slowed.

"You've been gone from your ancestral home for quite some
time," said Eberhart. Stepping out of the carriage, before
leaving to the mansion entrance, he turned to Wiegraf. "I
propose for you to not be too surprised at any changes you
may, and probably will find."

After climbing out of the carriage, Wiegraf slowly looked
to the front door. He didn't want to enter, for time in
his childhood memory had slowed, and he feared his
feelings of nostalgia.

The front door opened. Wiegraf saw it was again his older
brother who had opened the door.

Eberhart severely looked at Wiegraf, and said, "You show
too much hesitation for a Ruglia. Come inside, despite
whatever melancholy you may experience."

Obeying his brother, Wiegraf walked into the mansion,
following Eberhart.

"Your mother's family name was Olena, right?" asked
Eberhart.

"Yes," replied Wiegraf.

Looking at the room he had immediately entered from
outside, Wiegraf noticed nothing remained of his mother's.
'Eberhart always says _your mother_ too, as though she is
far away in the distance.'

He remembered the room as it had been, and compared it
with the room as it was before him. His mother had
preferred lighter, airier colours, while the room now had
a brighter, louder tone.

He wondered, 'I wonder if he even liked my mother. He
probably considered her too gentle, without any fight,
compared to the mother he had.'

"I want you to come with me, brother," said Eberhart. "You
have to see what I am doing to learn what will be required
of you in the near future. There also may be a task I'll
have you handle."

Wiegraf felt his heart start to beat faster. 'What is he
going to do? What does he want me to do?" He paused, due
to a terrifying thought, which suddenly brought him out of
his earlier musings of his mother, 'What if I can't do
what he wants me to do?'

"We Ruglia's are a family of soldiers," said Eberhart.
"We've fought for the King and country for hundreds of
years." Wiegraf noticed his brother's voice was filled
with pride and joy. "Now, due to our father's heroism in
the war, our family name is now no longer simply a peasant
and common name, but a noble and prominent name! We are
thought to be as heroes and saviours by the common, and as
equal and outstanding by the court and the King!"

'I'll only bring shame to our name,' thought Wiegraf.

"What is wrong?" asked Eberhart. He looked at Wiegraf with
annoyance, as though reading Wiegraf's thoughts. "You
don't seem to have any enthusiasm for becoming a
productive member of our society." He grabbed Wiegraf's
shoulder, and began leading him to a door at the room's
other end. "You've settled the matter in my mind. You will
do this task I ask of you. You'll do it well, and receive
an honour for our family from our noble Duke."

Eberhart opened the door, guiding Wiegraf into the next
room. "You have a great failing, my little brother," he
said. "Your body betrayed your mood. I saw within you
reluctance and doubt when sharing with you the duty our
family has been given by the very grace of Lord Ajora
himself!"

Wiegraf was then turned around by Eberhart so Eberhart
could look into his eyes. "You mustn't ever betray what
you are thinking! You have to always control what your
body does! Otherwise, our enemies would use your weakness
to injure our family." Wiegraf felt uncomfortable when
Eberhart began to cleverly smile. "Of course, I would
never allow anyone to ever bring harm to the anyone with
the name Ruglia. You needn't worry."

"Yes, brother," replied Wiegraf.

"Should you not be able to accomplish my little task for
you, you needn't worry about the future. I could have
Father send you to the country, where you would be safe
from harm," said Eberhart, his voice smooth and almost
mocking.

Wiegraf felt anger at Eberhart's words, but he quickly
realised his older brother was trying to lure out his
emotions. He defiantly looked into Eberhart's eyes. He saw
Eberhart still wore a clever smile.

"Yes, my little brother. You must always rise to meet any
challenge," said Eberhart, sounding as though he was
satisfied with Wiegraf's behaviour. He quickly turned away
to face another door at the room's end. The door had a
large lock, a strange shimmering silvery type which
Wiegraf had never before seen. "I keep a great treasure
within there. Thus, I feel it necessary to use a rare and
unbreakable lock."

"Mythril? I've seen pictures of it," said Wiegraf, his
voice shocked. "Why bother with what's inside, and not
just take the lock?" He then blushed, wilting under the
intense stare of Eberhart.

"When with strange company, keep private your opinions,
Wiegraf," said Eberhart. "You will not be in school all
your life. In our world, opinions will always show to
those who matter your true class." He then cleverly
smiled, and started chuckling. "The mythril would
certainly be a fine prize, but the treasure beyond is yet
greater!" He took out a key, giving it to Wiegraf. "You
must keep it safe, till it's in the hands of our Duke. In
the meantime, you also mustn't let anyone know you have
this treasure, for if its presence were to be made known,
we could quickly become victims of unfortunate
circumstances."

Wiegraf walked to the locked door, clutching the key. He
inserted the key into the lock, and turned it, feeling not
a simple bolt in the door but an entire jolt, which shook
the whole door.

"The door is itself an expensive marvel," said Eberhart,
still standing on the room's other side, where he had
given Wiegraf the key. "Thankfully, we never had to spend
a single cent in its construction, as this is the Duke's
plot."

Wiegraf opened the door, and then walked into a room,
which reminded him of a basement, as all the walls were
made of stone. At the room's centre was a pedestal,
holding a strangely shaped stone. He quickly took the
stone, placing it into his pocket. He then almost ran back
outside the room, hating the confining, dark, and
oppressive space.

"Close the door, brother," said Eberhart. "The stone is
known to be here at this mansion, behind that door. Thus,
we must keep up appearances. We must show those who want
it how the stone must still be here, despite being
elsewhere!"

Wiegraf felt in his pocket for the stone. He wanted to see
it in the light, but knew such would be a bad idea. He
instead turned, and closed the door. He heard it shake,
and then settle, as though it were again barricaded.

"There is a sword on the wall, brother," said Eberhart.
"Rusted and frail though it may be, it is alas a stepping
stone over the wild and flooding creek to which we've been
brought."

Wiegraf walked to the wall with the old and useless sword.
He took it down, expecting it to be heavy. He thankfully
found it to be quite light.

"Owned and wielded by our ancestor, the first recorded
Ruglia, who miraculously appeared out of nowhere to save
the honourable life of the Earl of Gariland." Eberhart
approached Wiegraf, staring at the sword. "It is a tragedy
this once beautiful and powerful sword has fallen into
disrepair and disregard while our name has risen into
light and prosperity! Why, some would even dare to
speculate our loyalty is symbolized by this dear old
blade, which has rusted and ruined, while our interests
are far too ambitious for our station!" He shook his head.
"No, we must show our Duke we are as devoted to protecting
him, as our ancestor was devoted to protecting his
ancestor, who had been the Earl of Gariland. We will bring
this sword before the Duke, repaired and re-forged, and
show for all to see our true commitment!"

Eberhart chuckled. "In other words, brother, the sword is
actually for show, to distract curious eyes from our true
business." He took the sword from Eberhart. "Father once
said to me this sword was blessed by God, but would a
sword touched by Him rust? I can't help but think it is
another fairytale, to make weak our resolve." He handed
back the sword to Wiegraf. "Anyway, you are to take it to
a blacksmith, who is talented enough so it won't insult
our lord with its presence."

"What is the stone? Why is it a treasure, powerful enough
to attract the attention of those already with power?"
Wiegraf slowly asked, bringing out the stone from his
pocket. He then withered under his brother's gaze.

"Are you a heretic or a fool?" asked Eberhart. "Do you not
remember the story of this stone from your lessons?"
Wiegraf turned his gaze to the floor, heat rushing to his
ears. "Although I am not as pious as our brother Hadwin, I
do know what this stone is! It is power, a blessed object
touched by the hand of our Lord's son, Saint Ajora."
Eberhart took the stone from Wiegraf's hand, waving it
under his eyes. "It is a Zodiac Stone, the Libra stone."

Wiegraf gasped. He stared at the stone, recognising it
from countless lessons on the history of Ivalice. The
Zodiac Stones, legendary and sacred objects used in
terrible wars between good and evil, always appearing in
times of great trials, to aid humanity in saving the world
from terrible evil. A feeling of dread arose in Wiegraf at
his last thought.

"Humanity can't save itself, brother, despite whatever
legends have been handed down in school," said Eberhart.
"The stones are legendary, but hold no power to save
anything, least of all the one species dedicated to
destroying itself with senseless wars and violence." He
shook his head, crossing his arms. "We've, the Ruglias,
have had in our possession two of these legendary stones
since the appearance of our famous ancestor, but they've
brought us nothing. We've worked for our own power."

"We've had two of the Zodiac Stones?" Wiegraf asked.

"Yes, but it's a secret, which must never be shared!" said
Eberhart. "We have enemies, who would take what we have
should ever such a secret ever be confirmed." He smirked.
"Such has always been suspected, showing that we don't
have stupid enemies."

"Why would anyone want the stones, if they don't have any
real power?" Wiegraf asked.

"I never said these stones have no power, brother," said
Eberhart, severely. "You must listen to ever word said to
you! Otherwise, you will be made a fool by clever tongues!
I cannot impress enough onto you your position, which is
important enough that people envy you for it! You are now
entering a new world with this task I give to you! You
must guard your position from every angle, from sword and
word, strength and secret!"

"The stones hold one power, which is itself enough to rule
this nation. The Zodiac Stones have the illusion of power,
the legend of being relics of the creator." Eberhart
powerfully smiled, exerting a stance as though ready to
strike Wiegraf.

Wiegraf looked down at the floor. 'The illusion of power?
Eberhart doesn't even need an illusion,' he thought.

"You felt intimidated, brother?" Eberhart asked. He
paused. "We should go," he said, laying a hand
reassuringly on Wiegraf's shoulder. "Father is waiting for
us."

***




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