Slowly setting down my sword on the floor, I held my mother's pale hand to my chest with my other hand. "Drake..." she said, always with the proud look in her eyes and the trailing voice, "Knowe'th that you art my pride and joy, now head along, and complete thy task..." She trailed off once again, it's always the same phrase every single time, doesn't she ever get tired of saying the same things over?

I hath never once got tired of listening, I thought to myself, The land of Ivalice, now tattered and torn into factions due to the outbreak of Ramza Beowulve's "True History". Not only was the scholar Alazam captured and taken prisoner, there was no one to continue the Beowulve family name.

There was also nobody to take Duke Goltanna's place, King Delita has fell into depression ever since the suicide of Lady Ovelia. The two lions have fell, there was no more that can be done to save this corrupt land. Once the war has torn the world asunder, now it has been done once more, only now, we don't have our leading figures anymore.

I am just a mercenary, just another little thief, not some noble knight in shining armor that my mother thought me to be. My father long fled the world, perhaps he is residing in a better place right now? I kept thinking everyday with a chuckle. Nay, I thought, The dead shan't rise again, shall they? I continued down the road, the streets of Yardrow has never changed within the past 26 years of my life. Even the slums that I live in are rich in people, with different people, different faces, different individuals, life never gets boring.

That got me started. The people around me today seems a little more than usual. Is there anything going on? Anything suspicious? I glanced around quickly and found Old Gwen, my elderly neighbour who often takes care of my mother while I'm out earning my keep.

"Lady Gwen!" I exclaimed, with the same boyish mood that would cheer anyone up. "What's going on in these streets my lady? It seems to me a tad too crowded for a normal morning today!"

"Ah, Drake my boy" She said as she rised up to give me a pat on my head, Old Lady Gwen had a hunch ever since her age caught up with her. "There be a murder on the street my boy... Poor boy Johan found dead at dawn in the square!" She said with a little grief in her voice.

"A murder? What makes ye' think so my lady?"

"Some say it's to celebrate the coming of age of Duke Gollian's son. That wretched soul would stop at nothing just to make an impact in the town, now all us poor folks' lives are even in his hand!" at this point, her voice quivered with hate so much it was impossible to question her further, "I best be on my way now boy, good luck on your work today."

We waved goodbye, and I headed to the town square. The Yardrow square was actually more of a circle, which leads to four directions, North town, East town, West town and South town respectively. South town slums was where I came from, it was the wealthiest of the four slums, also the most helpful one around. We often go around helping the other 3 slums, sharing foodstuff if there was ever a need to, or taking care of their elderly and sick.

I headed over to the commotion in the center of the square, and squeezed past the nosy onlookers. There I found the dead body of poor Johan, a sweet chap from the West slums. We often traded hunting and trading tips, if there was a hike in prices, we would be the first ones to gain from it.

He now lay there motionless, laid on his back, with eyes open and hands frozen bent from his elbow out. Making a perfect 90 degrees with both his hands, as though someone have had him lift some cargo, frozen him in time, then toppled him over. His face pale with out a hint of blood, his clothes half torn apart in the torso area, the slash mark suggests a cutlass, and a beautiful cut it is, as though someone truly had frozen him in time and slowly operated the cut on him, then resumed time once again after letting him down on the floor.

I whimpered a little, a friend lost to the times, once again. I have had lost countless friends, but every time one of them disappears from my life, I always do what I do. I guess my part time job really takes after my father: An Undertaker. The only fault is that nobody will ask for an undertaker in times of unrest like these, too many dead bodies to do funerals for, and too expensive, even for the rich.

I half-kneeled down beside dear Johan's dead body, laid my hand over his eyes and closed his eyelids, before retracting them and held both my hands together near my chest. I closed my eyes and muttered under my breath "Peace be with your soul, dear friend of mine", with that done, I lifted his body over my shoulder and turned around. The onlookers dispersed immediately, as though giving way to a red-carpet guest.

I slowly marched, with the dead body slung sloppily over my shoulder, to the town entrance. As I marched, I could see some crying faces, some disturbed faces, some angered faces, but most of all the ignorant faces. Though I claim the slums to be a hearty and friendly place, the middle class areas onwards are filled with ignorant, apathetic people. I wish I can jest cut some bloodied morals into them thick skulls. I thought while I marched.

West of the town, about 50 yards away, lies a little hill. The hill used to be covered with flowers, then, I would take my love here and enjoy a hearty sandwich my mother has made for the both of us. But since the war started, it is now tainted is filled with rocks and grave markers. The once beautiful flower field now has foreign objects, I laughed at the thought of anyone that is sane enough to bring their love here for a picnic right now.

I dug yet another hole on the ground, set Johan's body down, and before covering the hole up, sat down beside the grave. With my back against the countless grave that I had made for the dead bodies of the friends I have met through my life. I looked into Yardrow, and immediately gazed upon the largest house in the city, the house of Duke Gollian. Though not confirmed, it was pretty clear who the culprit was.

Duke Gollian's Son is a man without morals, since young he was taught that human lives were his to take, and often found people to spar with him. Every time he wins, he slaughters the man he challenges; but every time he is beat down, the guards surround the fencing area and impale the poor challenged with countless spears. None have returned alive after facing him.

"That wretched brat's coming of age, I would not be surprised if he wanted a rubble of corpses, what say you Johan?" I said as I turned to face Johan's dead corpse, as though I imagined him to be sitting beside me and to smile back, grunting approvingly with a silly little smile.

His body was still in the little hole I dug, but his pale face slowly turned in my direction, and him, with a silly little smile, grunted approvingly.