One Small Rock and a Ripple

By Michael K.

The grim windmill stood, isolated by the vast plains of Fovoham. It seemed like no one had been there in ages-indeed they hadn't. The supplies were rotten; whatever was left was quickly eaten by the infestation of rats. The old wood of the mill was rotten as well, slowly decaying into nothingness. Just like all things did. Much like Wiegraf's revolution.

Revolution? He thought, bitterly. A dream. A mere fancy. Maybe,... even an illusion. Maybe Miluda was right. Perhaps I am too optimistic.

There was no time to think about that now. About Her. The Hokuten were on the move. The remaining Death Corps would soon be slaughtered. Have to act fast.

Wiegraf entered the old windmill, carefully shutting the large wooden door behind him. He stood there for a moment.

Three soldiers. My soldier...? Why do they fight? Why?

The shadows hid him well; It was few minutes before one of them- their leader? What was his name?- spotted him. "Whose there?!" He shouted, griping the hilt of his blade. The other two followed his lead, staring warily at the figure. The man pulled his sword; his dark green cape stained with blood and mud; battle and filth.

That's all that left.


"Huh?" The man stepped closer, "Answer me! Step into the light!"

Wiegraf took a single step, his sword unsheathed. He glared into his cold eyes. Ah, yes. Golagros, it was.

"Wiegraf?!" The man, Golagros, took a step back, nearly dropping his sword.

Wiegraf's face twisted slightly in amusement. Golagros was usually one to keep a calm posture. "Yes, Golagros. Wiegraf."

Golagros straightened up; the lackeys sheathing their weapons, standing at ease. Pulling their weapons on the leader of the Death Corps would have gotten them killed a year ago. But in these times of crisis...

It no longer mattered. Death at Wiegraf's hands was no different then the death they would soon face at the hands of the Hokuten.

Wiegraf shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Just focus. Wiegraf shifted his eyes; scanning the room. " Why did you kidnap the girl?" Wiegraf broke the tense silence, his eyes resting on the battered, tied up girl 'resting' in the corner of the mill.

"I needed a hostage to escape" Golagros answered, coldly.

"If that was the case", Wiegraf snapped, " You could've let her go later." He paused for a moment. Mercenary. All of them. Are they losing sight of our cause? Now, it was Golagros..." What,.... now you, Golagros?" He added, his cold stare returning to face the young Captain of the Death Corps.

"Your putting me with Gustav?" His voice grew condescending, as If he was speaking to a child, " Think. The Death Corps lost most of their men and are surrounded by the Hokuten. She was our only ace in this hole to get us out of this." He turned his back on Wiegraf, looking down on the girl, dirty and exhausted. "Because,.... because she's a Beoulve."

Wiegraf felt several things at once. Anger? No, too weak a word. Hatred. So simple a word,.... so complex an emotion. Hatred, but for what? For everything. This world. The Nobles that corrupted it. But, most of all, for himself. His inability to change any of it. His revolution had failed; nothing has changed. Such,... weakness. Wiegraf hated weakness. The weak cannot change anything; he was weak. He also felt hopelessness. What was the point, now that's Its over?

What would Miluda do?

The thought lingered in his head for sometime; an eternity for him, a few seconds for Golagros. His little sister. Far more blood thirsty. Yet,... not as ambitious. Why? Their strengths, their weaknesses, they all evened out together. Together, they were perfect. Unbeatable. Strong. Wiegraf, the Leader, Miluda, the Commander. They were the brain; the Death Corps their body.

What went wrong?

That doesn't matter. What we do now will help our cause. Even If we die, our actions will set the gears of destiny in motion. Our lives are worthless. All that matters,... Is the future.

Wiegraf finally looked up from his muddle of thought, staring into Golagros' icy blue eyes. Why couldn't he understand? "What good is escaping? Even If we do escape, we'll get caught sooner or later and be in their power! We must make it so our children don't have to go through what we did." Wiegraf paused for a moment. What was the parable,...Miluda told me? When we were children.... She....

Look Wiegraf. If you throw a small stone into water, It may make only a ripple at first, but someday, It'll be a wave. Never forget that....

Wiegraf hadn't understood his sister's cryptic message. Yet, It seemed more clear then ever before. Miluda...

"A small stone may make only a small ripple at first," Wiegraf continued, " but someday, It'll be a wave. Even If we have to rust away here!"

Golagros, overcome with emotion, exploded, " So, you will have us die?! For what, Wiegraf? Your cause? Is your cause so important we must sacrifice all we have?!"

Wiegraf shook his head. Golagros was a decent leader, but often selfish. Not willing to die. Not even for the Death Corps. "Not in vain. Take as many Nobles with you as possible!"

"Ludicrous!! We'll die like dogs!"

"No,... there may still be survivors at Fort Zeakden. If you join them, you may get something!"

"They're probably dead already...."

The wooden door creaked open, another low-ranking Death Corps soldier entered. Wiegraf turned to face her, ignoring Golagros, neither bothering with a greeting of any kind. What Wiegraf heard, he dreaded since the war begun. Deep in the back of his mind. It-

"......They were all killed. No survivors."

Wiegraf looked to the floor, his words a near whisper. "Then,...Miluda...?"

"Dead, as well."

"Miluda killed....." Wiegraf echoed, feeling as though he wasn't there. He wasn't hearing this. He was outside, outside his body. Outside the world, looking in. Looking in on this curious little dream that didn't exist. Maybe.....

It does exist. Miluda is dead.

Wiegraf, the Leader. Miluda, the Commander. A Team. The perfect Team. With her, he was complete. With him, she was complete. Now, a part of him was dead, with her. Did she hate me? Despise me? Respect me? Admire me? Or,.....

Did she love me?

The words ravaged his mind, time seemed to stop as Wiegraf stood. All this.... For what? What did she die for? Me? The Death Corps?

What would Miluda do?

Those words. She sometimes said.... I was too much. Too much love? Is there such a thing? Wiegraf's sadness began to decay, being replaced by...

"Its just a matter of time before the squad gets here. What should we do?" The soldier inquired.

"Alright. Retreat!! You heard, Golagros, go to Fort Zeakden. Leave,.... the girl here."

"They're here! The Hokuten!!" A guard screamed.

" Damn. Already?" Wiegraf looked up, facing the tired faces of his soldiers. Faces that had given up on life.

What would Miluda do?

Indeed, what would Miluda do? Wiegraf mused. The only thing that mattered to me, taken by the thing I hate the most. What would Miluda say?


Vengeance, Wiegraf echoed. The world, the nobles, they would all pay. His brown eyes narrowed. Blood would be spilled. Lives will be taken. Not for the Death Corps, no, not any more. That doesn't matter. Only one thing matters. I cannot die. Not until she's avenged. "I'll stop them." Wiegraf muttered, not to Golagros, more of a statement directed towards himself.


"I gave you your orders!! Go to Fort Zeakden with the others!" Without another word, Wiegraf left.

Golagros turned, facing the girl, and his soldiers. "I'm not going.... No way I'm going to die!"


Look Wiegraf. If you throw a small stone into water, It may make only a ripple at first, but someday, It'll be a wave. Never forget that....




Author's Notes: This Fanfic is devoted my two favorite characters in Final Fanasty Tactics: Wiegraf and Miluda. This story just deals with Wiegraf's anguish over the death of his sister, sort of a look into his mind. I always thought of the Death Corps as the "heroes" in FFT, fighting for equal rights while the Hokuten fought for power. Anyway, just email me and tell me what you think (I think I did pretty good, considering this is my first fanfic!).

Michael K.'s Fanfiction