Final Fantasy XII - Even a Stray has Pride

Part I: Childhood's End - A new friend

I was wandering in a woody road, in a hasty pace. The images of the trees were passing fast, before my eyes; I was spinning in total emptiness and I found this feeling delightful. Actually I didn't want to see one more clear image anymore.

How could he treat his brother like that ? We were calmly enjoying a cup of tea in our little terrace when Basch made fun of me. He had done that several times in the past, but this time I really felt something had burst inside my head and I was about to lose my mind. So... so I thought it was better to lose it outside the house.

I began to reach places that were unknown to my memories. All these green grounds and numerous flocks had no fellow landscape between all those I'd seen in the village surroundings. In particular, there were these squares of flowers, with a different color family each. Even the shapes of the flowers were different and finely arranged, in order to make a unique and strong-tempered impression to the observer. This vision, just a few paces away from the forest, was such a wonder. However, as I was running faster and faster, I progressively remembered something about the owner of the lands I was walking. I remembered a story of rivalry between my father and a farmer neighbour by the name of Karol Olszewski. He was rich, as he could sell all of his products with ease. He had a chain of workers at his orders and my father would always show that up and say Olszewski was a ridiculous coward who's only thinking of taking advantage of the others. This farmer and his men must have been gone long ago, by now. There was only the immutable picture of the past left ; and silence. I lowered my eyes and went on, like a challenger of the speed of sound.

I can still see my mother laughing. Of course, she has always been the first one to defend Basch, her beloved son. Who could be the reckless, heartless person who dared to criticize this perfect being ? All his words were wisdom, and all his jokes were funny. He was always the one who had the last word at home. So, saying I was clumsy and bad-looking could be nothing else than a brilliant joke, or a deceitful truth.

But that was unfair, unfair; and I threw a stone in rage with all the strength of my right foot.

'Kweh ?'

I stopped at once, and hesitated before raising my head towards what was standing in front of me. When I found myself running into a huge yellow chocobo, I let out a piercing girlish scream. I then heard a resonant laugh coming from above, but I was too afraid of the chocobo to venture a look.

'What is it ?'

As I was thinking of a calm way to get me out of this tricky situation, a short man with a white moustache came from nearby the farm. He had a straw hat and a very cruel expression that seemed to never leave his face: frowning, pursing his lips, and letting his dotted cheeks, all blighted by farm work, go red. Karol Olzsewski quickly stepped forward with a rake in his hand :

'If it isn't the Ronsenburg lice ! As ill-behaved as ever ! You're just as blond-haired, empty-minded as your father !'

The farmer was shouting at me as I was trying to avoid the rack he was attacking me with. I tried to explain :

'No, please, Sir, I... I...'

'Silence ! Not a single excuse will be accepted. The Ronsenburg family has caused too much trouble to mine to be able to be forgiven now !'

'I... I'm sorry, I know nothing about this...'

'Don't try to escape, you pitiful beetle !'

'I meant no harm, I...'

'Hey, Faaather, don't be too mean to him, will ya ?'

As I succeeded in avoiding the last – unexpected – attack from the farmer, and the chocobo was watching us like a referee would observe a sports match, the voice coming from above manifested again.