Memories...

"BOSS!"
"MISTER PRESIDENT!"
"BOSS!"
"RUFUS-!!!"
The voices seem to dip as he fall, facing the sky; the flying magnificent fortress that had been his home for the past four to five years get smaller while the sky got larger, his face still locked into a shocked expression before he begins to black out from the force of falling. He can still hear someone calling his name...

-fus...rufus....Rufus?

"RUFUS!"

December, 2622
^"Politics"

The young blond haired boy blinks, shaking his head as he turns his attention from the window back to his father, startled he knocks over his fine crystal wineglass onto the table, spilling water from it. The young boy blushes deeply and tries to pick up his mess while his father hisses and other people around them gasp or giggle softly to themselves at the scene. The Marriani Rouge was the finest restaurant in Asrond, with a nice view of the surrounding landscape that was otherwise harsh and unkempt. The City itself, however, was like a brilliant bright gem, with crystal fissures for skyscrapers and lights lining up all the buildings lighting them up like a million beacons. It was the City of Lights for a reason after all. And the boys father owned it. They, owned it. But not just this city, all the cities. "Hmp...I see you were 'daydreaming' again, Rufus George-Alexander Tenik," chastised, the deep, stern tone of the older gentleman, the voice of his father, Alexander the Thirteenth Tenik. He sat across from Rufus, wearing the family trademark white suit, 'The White Lotus'. He was leaning over the table, hands propping up his chin, and with piercing blue eyes that seemed intent on watching the young Rufus Tenik's every move. The glare he received from his father was like if he were an insect which his father had not yet decided on crushing with his foot, or squeeze down slowly, and intensify his 'squirming'. This caused Rufus to panic even more, not wanting to be squashed, the eleven year old boy grabbed a bunch of napkins and tried picking up the spilled water.

"Enough of that, your suit is expensive. You're only making it worse." his father sighed, snapping his finger which beckoned forth a waitress and waiter. The waiter pulled Rufus back, away from the table, while the waitress picked up, removing the sheet, drying the table, and then slid a fresh one on before setting their candleware and re-lighting the white wax. The waiter all the while swatted water from Rufus's jacket and then slid him back to the table before leaving with the waitress. Rufus turned from them to his father, then bowed his head in shame. "Sorry...Father." he says, still embarrassed. Alexander sighed again, reaching for the bottle of Ancient Elven Wine and produced another chilled glass for himself. "Tis quite alright son; we all need to learn 'humility' at one point in our lives, so say the Beijionese. Best to get the 'humility' out of the way before you become a man." Replied Alexander, who took a sip from his wine.

Rufus, with a nervous look in his eyes, glanced up at his father. "Th-the Beijionese? I've learned that the Emperor may be giving the Islands off their coast their independence in honor of the Princess's Sixth Birthday, but my tutor says its likely since the Empress 'stepped on his toes' so to speak." Rufus chimed, a little red in the face as he smiled softly. His father took another moment to sip from the deep red wine before setting the fine crystal glass onto the white tablecloth. "Oh? I believe the term is 'went over his head', which means she continued on without his permission, boasting of this prattle of independence and left the Emperor with little choice but to comply, and discreetly hiding this 'chip in his armor' by stating it will be in honor of his young tot. However, I doubt such a thing will happen in the long scheme of things. The Beijionese are proud people, almost stupidly so. They are willing to fight to the last limb for anything, or sacrifice themselves rather than taste the defeat from their enemy. The Emperor is doubly arrogant, and I'm sure he won't allow this 'dream' to happen in the next twenty or thirty years; however long he lives. Suffice to say, I hear the Empress is not feeling so...well these days."

Rufus seemed confused, contorting his face to express such. "I..haven't heard any news that the Empress was ill, Father..." he muttered. Alexander's eyes narrowed, and his right brow raised as he stroked the well trimmed thin blond beard under his chin. "Oh? Well, if you haven't yet my son, I'm fairly sure you will very soon." The man smiled. Rufus cringed, turning to the window. He didn't like his father's 'Business Smile' as he came accustomed to calling it. He made it on various occasions like when the Head Maid didn't press his shirts the way he wanted them, or when one of his T.I.R.S. Agents had come by with some very bad news. It was also the face he made when his Mother went 'away' or whenever he asked him about her.

Redirecting his attention outside, he noticed it was beginning to snow. The brilliant lights of Asrond added with the drifting snowfall made him feel more at ease, and the young boy unbuttoned the dark vest's top button under his white jacket.

"-But enough with that. Come now, it is your birthday after all. And you are not like most eleven year olds now, aren't you? Heh heh." Alexander boasts, clapping his hands as the waiters came rushing in with several platters of five star, classy dishes that would cost more than some people made in a year around Galiavan. As they set the dishes, Rufus turned to his Father again. "Why is that?" he asked. Alexander turned his attention from a waiter who was setting a plate of a thick, bloody, exotic steak before the elder Tenik, and looked upon innocent Rufus's gaze. Pretending as if he had not heard his boy, Alexander asked without any subtlety: "Why is that? Because its your birthday of course! Or did you mean to say, what is that? In that case, it's a fine steak cut from the most exotic and dangerous of Dragons in Domescadia, seasoned in-"

Rufus shook his head, face stone serious. "Why am I not like most eleven year olds?" he asked, clarifying the question. Alexander drew his gaze away from the boy, focused on his steak as he lifted his fork and knife, and plunged them into the thick steak with a mighty SHINK that shook the table slightly. No hint of anger crossed the elder man's face as he casually began cutting his steak. "Oh...why the answer to that is quite simple, Rufus. I'm almost disappointed you'd ask such a moronic question~" as he continued, he dragged the knife across the plate, causing Rufus to shutter from the blood chilling noises emanating from the knife's serrated edges scraping the surface of porcelain. "I mean, really, my Son, do you even know who we are? We are the descendants of the Great Knight, Sir Nick; protector of the continent of Gailden, as told by our founder, Rufus Alexander Tenik, for whom you are named after. Rufus was the first being who established the Tenik line you know. He was the one who negotiated with the War Gods, keeping them out of humanity's affairs. His grandson would create 'Tenik Industrial' which has survived to this day and has made many of Galiavan's people happy, and prosper."

Rufus frowned. "But, what about whats been happening in Rolan and Domescadia? I've heard many farmers and villagers were not so happy with us being there..."

To this, Alexander sighed, but continued cutting his steak. The rich red meat oozed with juicy and bloody fluids as he seemed to cut into the steak, harder. "Alas, not everyone can be happy with what we have been blessed to give them. You should never pay mind to the uneducated and those who are 'blind' to the vision of progress. Their concerns are meager, without the ability of provoking curious and logical thought, and utterly damnable by their frivolous nature. Such, things are without worth in the greater scheme of things. I mean, look at this way son: If I snapped the wing of your favorite toy plane, would you throw it out, or keep it?"

Rufus looked pale, but answered nervously: "I-I'd...keep it. After all, I could fix it-"

"-Fix it? What if I had thrown the wing away, leaving you only with a 'single wing' plane? What use is a plane if it only has one wing, hmm?"

"But what if it was sentimental-"

"-Ah yes! Sentimentality, the number one cause of the halt of progress. No my boy, you would the plane away, and buy or build a new one. If it is broken, it is garbage. Why hold onto something that cannot be properly used in the long scheme of things? If it can be mended, you fix it. If it cannot be fixed, you throw it away. These people you refer to are 'broken' my dear boy, and I am trying my best to fix them with the T.I.R.S., however, I'm fairly sure by this point they are 'beyond repair'. They are resilient, but in time they will fold. As Teniks, we are responsible for securing the worlds progress and safety. This planet is ours, an of no doubt that we own everything in this world and the skies above. We have lawful ownership of these lands for over 600 years, and the Teniks have fought strong and hard to maintain this legacy. But we have been sidetracked my child, for we were not speaking of the 'matters of the people' but why you are different, am I right?" Alexander asked, not looking up as he finished cutting the meat upon his plate.

Rufus simply nodded.

Alexander the Thirteenth rose a bloody cube of meat and finally looked upon the eyes of his son. Flashing, that 'Business Smile' again, Alexander spoke: "Because you are a Tenik, my boy. You are the next heir to this kingdom, and this is why I will be sending you away to boarding school. Once you've grown out of this 'humility' phase, I will shape an heir out of you yet!" And with that, he brought the steak to his mouth and began to chew. Once he swallowed that bloody piece silently, he dabbed his lips with his napkin and finished with: "Now eat your dinner."

Summer, 2639
^"Rebirth"

Rufus opens his large, bewildered eyes and gasps fresh, yet painful air. The sky through the broken canopy of fur trees and several naked pines was ultra bright with a dull white light one would normally experience from looking upon the surface of snow on a bright winter's day. Becoming dizzy from gazing at this irritating light, he turned his body towards his left and feels white lightning spark through his shoulder with a painful jolt, that is even too painful to comprehend and make words to. He heaved, gasping, but nothing came out. Wide eyed, and shaking her falls back onto his back and tries his other arm, gripping dead or fallen pine needles, pine cones and dark topsoil as he pulled himself back, towards the surface of a tree. Faint moans erupt from him, as he feels another jolt of pain tear through the joints of his legs, and his chest; his chest feels as though it is on fire, while his legs almost felt like they had been severed from the thighs. He looked to make doubly sure, and as far as he could tell with his blurry intensified vision, they were still attached. His otherwise pristine white suit was stained with green, dirt, and both fresh and drying blood. He remembered being thrown from the airship, the battle with Sephiroth not going as well as he had planned. He manages to press his back against the trunk of the tree, and reached up at the broken limbs with his less pain stricken arm, pulling himself slowly to his feet. "Gods...the HighWind...is it still flying? Are my men still alive?!" he thought, then the thought drained away as he finally found a voice, and let out a low, shriek of pain as his right leg creeked after putting weight on it. His vision blackened, and then after a moment he was awake again, face down in years of forest floor decay. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body, his hair coming undone in strands that splayed greasy like across his face, dirt splashed across his pallid features; the undersides of his eyes with heavy dark rings, his mouth slightly agape and spitting out blood and dirt. He may have survived the fall, but it was clear he wasn't unscathed and was far from any help. He had to push through this pain, as it was inconceivable that he would survive from such a great height, just to die like a worm. Like an insect.

...like if he were an insect which his father had not yet decided on crushing with his foot, or squeeze down slowly, and intensify his 'squirming'.


Rufus shakily manipulates his hand around a thick stick and brings it to his mouth. He bites down hard, huffing and puffing as he then dug his hands into the soft earth, and pulled himself slowly up. Creeks and cracking sounds erupted from his moving body as he bit down hard on the stick which prevented him from biting off his own tongue, as he screamed, intensified and grizzly sounds only partly muffled because of the stick. His vision went through a multitude of colors, kaleidoscopic images flashing and fading and mingling with his normal sight as he brings himself to his knees, then finally, with the aid of a broken tree limb like a crutch, his feet. Standing, at long last, sweaty and dirty, he backs against the tree again, and begins frantically tearing at the tattered bits of his White Lotus, using the strong fabric to bind makeshift splints against his left arm and right leg. Feeling incredibly hot and freezing at the same time, he removes his jacket and it falls behind him somewhere, and the President of Tenik Incorporated begins to trudged his way slowly through the woods.

As he made his slow progress, fueled mostly by his adrenaline, he realizes the stick is stuck in his mouth since he bit so hard into it, cutting his lips. He kept thinking of the HighWind, of Sephiroth, of the DarkSEED. He would need to get the Crimson Knight Brigade to take over the defense of Asrond and Danton, and he would need his T.I.R.S. to locate him. It would be easier if T.O.M. hadn't been killed, he wouldn't have fell if he were still alive. As he slowly began to familiar himself with the surroundings, he had to assume he was either in the Ithteca Mountain Chain, or the Guardian's Gorge, judging from the environment and all the pines. He could make out tall rocky mountains ahead of him, so he was fairly certain it was one or the other. This meant he could be close to one of two cities: Roughland or Ithteca.

He eventually stumbled into a dirt road, falling upon his knees painfully. Warm tears falling down his cheeks, he began to wonder if this was his punishment.


{BREAK TIME: Will complete and revise later}