Like all stately homes in Galbadia, the Lerwick estate was a tribute to its owners past glories. As the three of them passed through the foyer they were flanked on both sides by a dozen suits of armour, ranging from chainmail hauberks and full plate to the steel and crimson uniform that Duncan's father had worn in Timber. On one wall hung a series of broken shields, each bearing the family crest of an ancient nobleman who fell to a Lerwick's blade and on the other was mounted the severed heads of a shocking range of monsters. Duncan privately believed the dragon trophies to be fake, but had never fount sufficient motivation to inspect them closely. The conference room was little better; a large oval table dominated the room, its marble top etched and lined with gold inlay and again the walls were coated in miscellaneous junk. On the far side of the table stood a rather short man, with rakishly good looks despite the grey that streaked his hair. 'Duncan, Duncan... It has been too long son. Why, if it wasn't for this nasty business, I expected the next time I saw you would be at the wedding.' He walked swiftly around the table to gather Duncan up in a bearhug, laughing happily. What he said was true enough, Duncan admitted. If he had it his way, he would have never returned... 'Good evening Father. I trust that you are well... and Mother, of course.' Anyone who had known Duncan's laxness at Balamb would be shocked to see the change in his bearing. His voice had taken on a decidedly upper class air and he stood as straight as a soldier on parade. 'But please, treat me as a professional asset, at least for now. There will be time for pleasantries later, I am sure.' Not bloody likely, Duncan added mentally. He continued speaking, hoping to deflect his father's attention away from himself. 'I would like to introduce two of my team; Eika Munashii, a former student of mine at Balamb Garden, and Rachel Zoran, a comrade from another Garden. Both are fully trained SeeDs, as are the rest of my team.' His father bowed elegantly to each of them, before offering them a glass of wine from the table. 'Honoured to make your acquaintances, my ladies. I am Field Marshal Constantine Ruthane Lerwick, commander of the 3rd Army Corps and vice-leader of the most enigmatic Faction. It is my pleasure to welcome you into my home.' His gaze drifted slowly from one girl to the other, stopping to stare deep into their eyes... and beneath the pompous geniality, it was easy to see the cold hardness in that gaze. Constantine had made his name on a dozen battlefields over the years, having worked his way up from a lowly Lieutenant to being the commander of one of Galbadia's most decorated military formations, a feat achievable only through supremely skilled leadership and a certain degree of ruthlessness. Duncan stayed silent as his father chatted with the girls, trading small talk over their training and equipment as the hours wore on.
Finally at 2300 hours, once the entire team had assembled and were seated around the marble table, Duncan cleared his throat. 'Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow SeeDs and patriots of Galbadia.' Once again he spoke in a clipped upper class accent akin to his father's and addressed everyone at the table, including a pair of purple-clad soldiers, senior members of the Faction according to Constantine. 'Tonight, SeeD will carry out the final act required of us in our contract with the Faction. In short, President Vinzer Deling of Galbadia is to be publicly assassinated in such a manner that does not cast blame on either of our institutions.' He paused for a moment, casting a wary gaze across the faces of his team. He doubted any of them would be surprised by the announcement, as they were all smart enough to understand how deep they were in by now. The two purple soldiers were unfazed, sitting to attention beside the Field Marshal. The opaque steel visors on their helmets hid their features perfectly, but Duncan didn't need to see their faces to know who they were. The Presidential Security Agency was an army unto itself and a major political force in its own right; how the Faction had managed to tame Galbadia's dreaded intelligence agency was a mystery to him and he wasn't sure if their presence boded good or ill for the success of the plan. While his father had assured him that it was Deling's own extreme polices that had driven the PSA into the arms of the Faction, he couldn't help but wonder if the Mauve Shirts had an ulterior motive.
'To that end, I would like to propose two potential plans, each to be weighed up on their merits and a decision made by my team of SeeDs.' That was likely to ruffle a few feathers, he suspected. The Faction had thus far been quite specific in the way their orders were to be carried out; indeed, the Timber raid was almost a carbon copy of the attack plans they had outlined to him. Of course that hadn't stopped Duncan from making a few changes to suit his own needs, but they needn't know every little detail... However the expected interjection from his father never came, which made his job easier at least. 'The first plan involves engineering mass civil unrest as a distraction, allowing a small team to assault the President during the planned parade tomorrow evening. This plan has a good chance of success as the President's close protection team will be isolated from the main body of troops at the parade, allowing that team to achieve their aim without undue bloodshed.' He didn't add that there would be plenty of bloodshed going on anyway, as the Galbadian soldiers guarding the parade took on the rioting mobs. 'Mass unrest is traditionally rare in Galbadia, but a combination of badly written propaganda in the wake of the Sacking of Dollet and a growing number of outspoken liberals being arrested over the last few months have disillusioned the people. A few doses of psychogenic gas in grenade form would create paranoia and mass hysteria in the crowd, a tinderbox ready to be sparked off by a few SeeDs in the right place.' The plan essentially called for a mass riot in the middle of the city, a situation that would spiral rapidly out of control for the government. The effects of the gas would fade after a few hours, long enough for the Faction to seize power in a fairly believable manner and for SeeD to escape the city. The major drawback was the inevitable loss of life in both the Galbadian Army and the civilian population, although Duncan personally felt that it was the lesser of two evils.
'The second plan... the second plan is to destroy the Presidential float during the parade. Conventional explosives would be unreliable, both due to the military-grade construction of the vehicle and the presence of strong paramagic generators shielding the President's seat.' He silently praised the Faction for their highly detailed intelligence reports, most likely compiled by the PSA. Hell, they had probably built the damn float in the first place. 'The only option is to coat the vehicle with thermite gel and firebomb it. The float, along with all of its passengers will be melted in minutes, allowing little chance of survival. It is not a pleasant way to die, but it is... thorough. This plan also gives us the best chance of avoiding additional casualties and would allow for easy exfiltration; operatives can simply blend into the crowds as they flee the scene.' Duncan took a deep breath after he finished the brief, wondering just what he had done to earn this assignment in the first place... After Timber, he had expected to be demoted or turfed out of SeeD altogether. Ironic really, how he had gotten the exact opposite and now found himself outlining plans for the most ambitious - and risky- operation that SeeD had ever undertook. He forced himself to meet the eyes of his team as they mulled over the decision they had to make, fighting down a sudden desperate need for nicotine. His voice returned to normal Duncan as he addressed the SeeDs. 'So... you lot, opinions. Do we lynch Deling in front of a mob, or do we burn him alive?'
