Frustrated, Connell considered that possibility. His friends? Hmm…

Connell shook his head. Out of the question. He didn't really have any close friends, come to think of it. Unless one counted a few of the local shop owners who treated him kindly. They were patient old men who treated all the villagers about the same way. So they probably didn't count.

For some reason, the other children in the village chose not to mingle with him. No, that wasn't entirely true. Connell didn't understand them, and honestly didn't care. None of them had any sort of appreciation for music. To them, the most pleasure came from playing outside in the forests all day. Unlike Connell, they did not understand the beauty of the forests. Connell could not comprehend why anyone would willingly run around, screaming and causing such commotion as to stir up the tranquility and serenity of the peaceful wildlife.

The other children were loud, destructive, unappreciative, and generally annoying. Or at least they were last time he'd checked. Once Connell had tried to be a part of the cliquish groups, but he found he just didn't fit in. They were simply too crude. One of them had even started teasing him. The other boys made fun of his slight stature, pale skin, clothing (especially his hat), and the fact that he was a musician. Boys weren't supposed to be interested in that sissy stuff, they'd told him.

They said that Connell's entire family was weird. That was very mean of them. Ceely had managed to find other girls about her age to play with, but Connell had never found a way to fit in. Ceely would stay out late with her friends, and stumble back into the house in the evenings, covered in dirt. She didn't seem to mind the dirt. To Connell, it seemed sort of gross. He believed that cleanliness was a virtue.

It wasn't as if Connell didn't like being outside and having a good time. He often wandered into the depths of the forest, to contemplate and listen to the sounds surrounding him. The symphony of the woods was simply enchanting. There was the soft buzzing of the insects, the sweet calls of the birds, and the gentle whispering of the wind through the foliage.

Connell and Ceely could play for hours sometimes. Ceely liked to imagine she was the great pirate woman Raquel. She even had a large stick that she would run around chasing her 'enemies' off with. She pretended she led a large army of men who followed her every whim. But even though she stole and raided many villages, she felt that Raquel was searching for her one true love. Who was played by Connell. Raquel's love was François.

François was a virtuous man whose music had brought him to catch the eye of the pirate woman. His songs had also brought him to the attention of Raquel's arch-nemesis, the princess Marielle. Marielle was Raquel's equal in every way except her birth. Raquel had no family, and had used her skill with her sword to attain power. Marielle was born into nobility, and was in line to inherit her father's throne. Under the careful tutelage of her fencing master, Marielle had become an expert swordswoman in her own right. The two would have a showdown over who deserved François.

Early in his life, an old woman had cursed François. She had been a neighbor of his who was annoyed by his constant vocal practicing. His curse was that he could only speak in song. Every verse he uttered was music with rhyming couplets. Marielle had captured him, entranced by his beautiful voice and handsome features. She was wicked, though, and kept him locked in her castle like a caged bird, jealous that others would see him or hear him if he strayed from her watchful gaze. He was hers alone.

When the siblings would play-act their scenario, Connell would climb to the high branches of a tree and call forlornly for someone to release him from his miserable captivity. Cecelia, stick in hand, would storm through the forests, heading towards the source of the sound. Any offensive branches or underbrush that stood in her way were quickly beaten down. She could smite any enemy that crossed her path. Finally, after many battles, Cecelia would reach the tree, at the top of which sat her brother.

Of course, in no story does the maiden get the man she deserves that easily. She first had to find and destroy Marielle. One of Ceely's friends would jump down from another tree, ambushing Ceely and challenging her with another stick. The two would battle, threatening each other and bragging of their own magnificent victories. Raquel had liberated nations and beaten burly men, who now bowed before her superiority. Marielle was the champion of her country. Her ultimate triumph had come from her besting her fencing master and killing him in the process.

Eventually, Ceely would wrestle the stick from her attacking friend. The other girl would be defenseless at this point. Stick pointed at her throat, the enemy would call for Connell to come down from the tree. Connell, on cue, would carefully climb down through the hazardous branches. He would croon to the fallen girl, saying that he wished her no harm, just an escape from his prison. Raquel would confess her undying love for him and thrust her stick towards the opposition. The other girl, clutching the stick in her hands, pretending it had struck her heart, would mutter an angry curse and act through a suitable death sequence, coughing on imaginary blood.

Once the other girl closed her eyes and let her head slump on the dirty ground, Connell would turn terrified eyes to his rescuer. Raquel would offer him her hand, which he would refuse. She questioned his rejection, confused. François's heart was not to be won by a woman of violence. Raquel insisted that she would do anything if he would only return her affection. To demonstrate her reformation, she would throw her sword into the farthest depths of the forest, never to be wielded again.

That is, until the next time. Ceely was never happy with the ending. Connell always did it wrong, she said. François never went with the spirited Raquel. He thanked her for freeing him, but he said he could not live with such a fiery tempered woman. He walked away, grateful and liberated. Raquel would yell after him, disappointed.

The anguished, heartbroken woman's cries became those of a angry girl. Ceely screamed at Connell, telling him that he had messed up again. She wanted Raquel to get her man, not be left in such a miserable way. Connell argued that François was not the sort of man to be taken in by the woman's obvious roughness. A truly skilled and beautiful musician wanted a woman of at least the same caliber.

Connell never meant to upset Cecelia that much, but he couldn't help himself. They re-enacted the scene countless times, with several different variations on the story's specifics. It always ended the same. Cecelia's friend would be as upset at Cecilia herself and tell Connell that he was wrong also. Afterwards, Ceely ran to her room in the house, and cried. Connell would apologize to her; she would tell him between sobs that he just didn't understand, and end up slamming the door in his face. Connell tried not to be hurt by her actions because she was young and didn't understand what she was doing.

Ceely was too young to go with him to Greenhill. Connell considered his other possibilities. His mother needed to stay to take care of his father. Mrs. S and her husband were busy with a new baby. None of the kindly old shop owners had the stamina, much less the incentive, to make the journey. All the travel-hardened men he had asked in the inn had only laughed at the phonologist's request.

Who else could he ask?

"Ceely, let's go back home," Connell suggested.

"But Connell, you didn't find anyone to take you to Greenhill," she argued.

Mystified, Connell narrowed his eyes. There must be some answer to his difficulties. Maybe, just maybe, his parents would let him go by himself. He told Cecilia as much.

She shook her head. "No, Connell. They won't."

"Then tell them that I did find someone to take me!" Connell blurted out. Realizing what he said, he opened his mouth to quickly withdraw his words. He couldn't blatantly lie like that to his parents. He hesitated, wondering if they would believe him.

Cecilia stared at him. She blinked her big green eyes. "That… That would be lying!" She looked completely shocked.

As the elder child, Connell tried teaching the Cecilia basic rules of life. One of the most important was to be honest all the time. One should never lie, because lying to others is the same as lying to yourself. And he had just suggested that his younger sister lie for him! That was wrong.

"Ceely, I've never asked you to do anything like this for me before," Connell heard himself saying. Wait! What was he thinking? Everything was wrong. Lying was bad. Making his little sister lie on his behalf was worse. His mouth continued to move, ignoring the protests from his rational mind. "Please, do this for me. Otherwise, I'll never be able to help our father."

"I…" Cecelia averted her eyes. "I don't know, Connell. You always tell me that lying is wrong."

Stop me, please! Connell wanted to say. But the evil part of him that had taken over continued, heedless to his thoughts. "Please. Just this once."

After a long pause, during which Ceely trailed her foot slowly across the inn's floor, thinking, Connell prepared himself to plead once more. "It's fine then, Connell, if you say it's okay. I'll lie. I trust you! You're my big brother!"

Connell bit his tongue, silencing whatever words wanted to be spoken. Ceely was unpredictable. One moment she would be against his ideas, and the next she believed him explicitly. She shouldn't be so gullible.

Silently, he bowed his head. He prepared himself to do a very bad thing. Finding hidden strength within himself, he looked at his sister, nodding. "Let's go," he announced, offering her his hand. Taking it, Ceely gave him a concerned look. The two left the inn.

The head chef watched them leave. "What did those kids want anyway?" he asked, drying a plate with a clean rag.

"Seems that there boy wants someone to take him to Greenhill," a patron muttered, chortling to himself.

"What an odd child," the chef remarked. "First he enters a cooking contest, almost wins, and now he's traveling. I swear that kid's got some serious issues to deal with. His whole family's a little kooky. Never know what to expect from them. I heard the head of the household is bedridden with a nasty case of tonedeafness."

"Tonedeafness, huh," the other man muttered.

Connell opened the front door of his house. Stepping inside, he began to feel funny. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

"You okay?" Ceely asked, concerned. Connell answered by plunging ahead into the main room.

Penelope Pritchford sat alone in the room, poring over a book on operatic cadences. She was so caught up in the book that she didn't hear the two children enter. Cecelia coughed and she looked up, startled. "What? Oh hello, Connell, Cecilia. Did you have any luck?"

Silence filled the room. More accurately, no one spoke or moved for several moments.

Nervously, Connell listened to his heart beat. The thumping was loud enough to hurt his ears. In fact, the steady hammering started scaring him. From the strange looks his mother and sister were giving him, they could probably hear it too. What if they could? That would mean his mother already knew that he was prepared to lie to her. But how could she? He hadn't even said anything yet.

He needed to say something. Standing here just made him look guiltier. Clearing his throat, Connell focused on steadying his breathing. "Well, actually…" His heart pounded in his chest. His voice caught in his throat. "Y-yes, I did. I found someone to escort me to Greenhill City," Connell's voice trailed off. Maybe she hadn't noticed his hesitation.

"Really?" his mother asked. All his hopes fell. She knew he was lying.

"Of course! Why do you think we were gone so long? Connell was making plans with this big guy!" Cecilia chimed in helpfully. Her eyes glittered. "The guy was really nice, even though he looked scary. I bet he could beat up a lot of nasty bad guys. He'll protect my big brother."

Connell looked at her, shocked. She was lying and enjoying every moment of it! And it sounded so true. How did she do that? It was terrible. He would give her a good talking to after all this was over.

"That's great news, then!" Connell's mother exclaimed. He flinched, afraid that he was somehow hurting her irreparably through his dishonesty. "Let's get you packed, then. When will the man be coming by to get you in the morning?"

"Um…" Connell's mind raced, trying to come up with something.

Ceely grinned. "He told Connell that he wasn't the babysitting type. He expects Connell to meet him at the inn bright and early tomorrow or else he's leaving him behind!" She giggled, finding her story amusing. Her brother glared at her, worried that she was overdoing it a bit.

Penelope sighed. "I guess you're growing up, Connell. Well, the least I can do is walk you down there tomorrow morning."

She couldn't come! If she came, she'd surely find out the truth. He spluttered, frustrated by how difficult this whole lie was becoming. "Mother, it's time I set out on my own. I'll say goodbye to you here. I can walk to the inn by myself." He cringed, knowing that she'd insist on coming.

"I'm so proud of you, honey! You've become such a brave young man. I won't come if you don’t need me." She smiled warmly. Rising from her chair, she ushered both children into Connell's room.

Several hours of packing later, Connell lay in his bed, thinking hard. A few years ago, he had traveled to Harmonia to study. But this was different. This time, he was going completely by himself into unknown territory. He didn't have a safe feeling. Something bad could happen.

His thoughts were suddenly scattered by a soft knock on his bedroom door. The door creaked open a few inches, and a small, blonde-haired head poked in. "Connell?" a little voice asked. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," Connell answered, sitting up. Ceely ran into the room and jumped up beside him on the bed. She wasted no time in grasping onto his nightclothes and pulling him into an almost painful embrace. He put his arms around her too, glad for her presence.

Something warm and wet touched his neck. Cecilia's blond locks tickled his chin. She shuddered, gasping inaudibly for air. He realized she was crying. Not the sort of crying she did when she was angry or when she hurt herself. This was different.

"Ceely," he began, and stopped. He didn't really know what to say. She was terribly upset and he didn't know why, or even if it was his fault. Should he apologize?

She mumbled something into his shirt and shuddered again.

"Ceely, what's wrong? I can't hear you if you talk into my shirt. It muffles the sound. Look at me. Please."

She titled her face upwards, revealing a reddened face streaked with tears. Her eyes were crimson. Her lip trembled as she repeated, "You can't go!" Another sob wracked her body and fresh tears sprung into her eyes.

"Ceely, I-" he started. She pushed away from him and pounded lightly on him with her fists.

"You're just going to tell me that you have to go! That you need to do this to help father! You think you're the only one that can help. And that you're old enough to go by yourself and leave me behind!" Her voice was almost a yell. Connell hoped it didn't wake their parents. Waking up to his sister's tantrum would not be a pleasant experience. "You're wrong, Connell! WRONG! And you're selfish!"

He blinked. "Selfish?" The rest of what she said seemed to be more or less correct, but he didn't think he'd acted selfish.

"Yes, you're selfish! Have you thought about me at all?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "No you haven't! You're so busy worrying about father that you haven't bothered to think about me!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, baffled. Sometimes she just didn't make any sense.

She sighed, sniffling. "What am I going to do without you? You're my big brother. You're my hero. I need you here with me."

Flabbergasted, Connell could only watch his sister. After all the fights she started, now she was acting this way? He couldn't say anything. Confusing did not begin to describe her.

"Don't go," she said simply. From the inflection of her voice, he wasn't sure if that was a statement, a request, or a demand. Perhaps a combination of the three. Regardless, it wasn't open to questioning or argument. Cecilia had spoken, and her words were final.

Her grief-filled eyes met his clear ones. She saw his reply in his eyes, and her expression changed. Her shoulders slumped and she frowned miserably. "I'm sorry," was all Connell could manage.

A spark of hope flickered in her face, but was quickly extinguished. "I can't change your mind, can I?"

Connell shook his head.

"So this is the last night you'll be here?"

He took a deep breath. "I'll return as soon as I can, Ceely. I promise."

She was silent for a minute. "Can I sleep here tonight?" she asked expectantly.

After disappointing her so many times, Connell couldn't help but give in to her last request. "Sure," he answered. A weak smile appeared on her face and she snuggled up beside him.

"I love you, Connell. You're the best big brother in the world, even if you're leaving me. I forgive you." She closed her eyes.

Falling back onto the pillows, he found himself exhausted from that little discussion. He stared at the ceiling, not ready to sleep but tired nonetheless.

About half an hour later, Ceely's breathing had taken on the slow, regular rhythm of a person asleep. Her tears had dried and she looked almost serene with her blonde hair coiled around her young face. Moving quickly but quietly, so as not to disturb her, Connell crept off the bed. Pulling off his bedclothes, he put on real clothing, comfortable walking shoes, and his favorite hat. He grabbed his bags and walked silently to the door.

Regretting his hasty departure, he traversed the room once more. Stopping at the bed, he knelt and kissed his sister on the forehead.

"Goodbye, Ceely. I love you too," he whispered. She twitched and he worried for a moment that he might have awakened her. But she only rolled over in her undisturbed sleep. He smiled, knowing he would miss her too.

Connell snuck out of his house and through the peaceful village. There were no human sounds to be heard, only those of the forest at night. No lights lit the way except the pale moon and its neighboring stars above. The stars were beautiful, shining brightly. Once he had heard a legend about some stars, each representing something special. It had been a lovely tale. He wished he could still remember it.

Stopping at the entrance to the village, Connell took one look back at his home. Pain filled his heart. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to take these final steps. Sighing, he looked out at the long path ahead. He stepped forward bravely.

Hours passed. Connell found that walking long distances with little to watch besides the road in front of him was boring, not to mention, tiring. He glanced back to check and see his progress. The village and its familiar forests were long gone, obscured by alien woods.

Exhaustion forced Connell to stop walking. He hoped Greenhill wasn't much farther. Falling to his knees, he realized how heavy his eyelids were. He had been awake too long and needed sleep desperately. Part of him urged him to continue onwards, since he was in an unfamiliar area, with unknown dangers. But he found he couldn't make himself move, much less stand.

Connell collapsed on the ground, head resting on his bags, body curled up tightly. His eyes closed just as several curious creatures sprung out of the nearby underbrush. Had he stayed awake for only moments longer, he would have heard the unmistakable scurrying of very large rabbits' feet on the ground, headed towards him. But Connell fell asleep almost instantly.

The rabbits approached the slumbering boy, axes readied.

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"Connell" and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami. This chapter was posted on January 10, 2000