FFOG3 Chapter 2

After being assisted by Civan, a soldier from the northern continent, the group sneaks back into Eijopi in an attempt to find passage across the sea. However, they're attacked by Mog along the way. After severely wounding him, they escape via Civan's ship.

In Truvia, the group makes passage to Battant, the capital of the country, in order to explain their situation to the Queen-Empress. While stowing away on a cargo train, they are attacked by Zimon, a former Truvian lord who went insane and became a bestial monster. Leading a pack of Chocobos, Zimon knocks them unconscious and drags them to his cave; Giuseppe is sent away to deliver a ransom to the Queen. However, Calaria manages to send a message to Chocobo the Djinn for assistance. Chocobo proceeds to infiltrate Zimon's pack.

At the cave, Civan and Kyson are separated from the others; Zimon offers them a chance to join him, but they refuse and their fight continues. Imajin, Stubbs, and Calaria are grabbed by the Chocobo pack and overhear their plans to kill Zimon and the rest. The Djinn Chocobo protects them until Zimon shows up, upon which they strike. The bard, Franz, steps in and soothes the Chocobos with music, then escorts the group to Battant.

Civan arrests Zimon and sends him to the palace dungeons. While Imajin searches for Giuseppe, Kyson and Stubbs make plans to enter the dungeons and speak to Zimon; they are joined by Calaria, having now learned the danger she is presented with for being a summoner. At the same time, Worthengraut the Unnerving arrives at the palace as a representative of the northern countries to attend a banquet set for the Queen.

Franz infiltrates the banquet via the band Frogsong and attempts to assassinate the Queen-Empress, but Civan and his superior, Luth, protect her. Franz is taken to the dungeons while Kyson, Stubbs, and Calaria are leaving, Kyson having offered Zimon a second chance without the others' approval. Franz tells Civan that the Queen-Empress is working with Vizier Hal'amek and had his family killed, raising Civan's suspicions. This is confirmed later in the banquet, when the Queen-Empress announces an alliance with Osyllia, right before being kidnapped. The Queen-Empress's bodyguard, Talia, instates a full city lock-down.

Kyson, Stubbs, and Calaria stumble upon Imajin, grievously injured during his search for Giuseppe by a man with glowing red eyes. The fatal wound has not affected Imajin at all, however, and it is determined that he has been zombified, with no apparent cure. Civan arrives and relays to them news of Hal'amek's arrival; the group decides to make their way to Auberon through Barren, with Civan and Kyson trading places so that Kyson can continue his work with Zimon.

Chapter 2: Just a Monster

Chapters in Final Fantasy OG III archive

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Lupus

Imajin cringed as his body forcefully tore apart, ready to transport through the atmosphere. His limbs felt like they were being bent in the opposite direction they were supposed to go, and his ears pounded with what sounded like a million voices speaking at once. His eyes felt as if someone's thumbs were pressing them into his skull as hard as they could, and in front of him he could see nothing but a swirl of light and colour as all laws of the Universe were discarded and magic merged all into one. Occasionally he could make out something he recognized; the spires of the palace in Osmirri blurred into the crunching gears of the Floating City he had only seen in books, which in turn blurred into the Lighthouse of Eijopi...

His stomach shifted as he suddenly felt himself falling. He closed his eyes, and then--

***

He regained consciousness sometime later, his mind taking a few seconds to remember what had happened.

If this is what mages go through every time they teleport, then...

Imajin opened his eyes and looked up. He was lying on a bed in the corner of a one roomed house. From the looks of it the owner wasn't rich; it was scarcely decorated with humble belongings, but it felt cosy. Across from him, on rugs laid out on the floor, laid Kyson, Stubbs and Calaria, fast asleep.

"Finally awake, are you dear?" a woman's voice said, surprising him.

He glanced over at her. She was a thin, aging woman standing at the sink with a plate in one hand and a tea towel in the other. She smiled at his look of confusion.

"Who are you? Where is this?" Imajin asked rapidly. "Where's Giuseppe?"

"My name is Maram. You're in my house. And if you mean the tall fellow, he went for a walk," she replied immediately.

Imajin swung his legs off the bed and stood up. A sharp pain flashed up his back and he groaned. "What happened?"

Maram shrugged and turned back to the sink. "I don't know, dear. You'd best ask that friend of yours when he gets back. He brought you here." She turned back. "Are you hungry?"

Imajin shook his head.

"You don't have to lie to me, dear. You've been out of it awhile. Have some food."

She glanced at Imajin knowingly. Imajin was half way through shaking his head again when his stomach rumbled loudly. Maram laughed. "Are you sure?"

"I guess I could eat something," Imajin conceded.

Maram nodded and walked over to a pot on her stove. She started spooning out soup from the pot into a bowl.

"So how long have I been 'out of it'?" Imajin asked, trying to make conversation.

"Well, you've been here all night, dear," she said, bringing the bowl over to the table. "Before that, I don't know. Your friend brought you here last night but you were off with the fairies then. Sit," she commanded, motioning to the seat at the table. "Eat."

Imajin nodded and sat down. He picked up the bent spoon and dipped it into to the soup.

Suddenly, the door of the small house opened and Giuseppe appeared. He took one look at Imajin and let out a sigh of relief. "Imajin."

"Giuseppe," Imajin replied curtly. Despite all the thief had done to get him and his friends out of trouble, he still didn't quite trust him, nor forgive him.

Giuseppe took his top hat off and tucked it under his arm as he entered the room. "You're okay. I was worried."

Imajin snorted. "I wasn't aware a teleport spell leaves you unconscious for half a day. It seems sort of inconvenient."

Giuseppe smiled lopsidedly. "Well, about that. I sort of... teleported you a few meters above the ground."

"Only a few?" Imajin retorted, rubbing the side of his torso where pain still lingered.

"It seems you were right about him, Giuseppe," another voice said, as a figure emerged from behind the thief. His clothing immediately told Imajin that he was some kind of foreign military leader, perhaps from up north. On his hips hung a sabre and a pistol. "Stubborn 'til the end."

Giuseppe entered the room and walked over to where the other three lay on the floor. "I just hope these three are okay too... Time to get up!" Giuseppe shook the three sleeping figures. The sleepy grumbling from the corner told Imajin that his other companions were fine.

Imajin turned his attention to the newcomer that had just entered. "And who is this?"

The man nodded his head in Imajin's direction. "My name is Civan. I work for the Queen-Empress. I'm on the annual peace keeping trip; you know how it is..."

Imajin looked suspiciously towards Giuseppe. "Why do you trust him? He could be anyone."

Giuseppe chuckled, but Civan answered for him. "We've met. It was a long time ago... and I wouldn't call us friends. In fact, back in those days I swore I would get his head some day..."

"That sounds familiar..." the slurred voice of Kyson came from the corner. Imajin nearly snarled.

Civan smiled. "Anyway, you should see the wanted pictures they've got of you guys. Pretty lifelike. I identified Giuseppe immediately."

"That can't be good for my career," Giuseppe sighed.

"Well, they've got some different name under your face, but I could tell it was you."

"How did you find him? I assume the Caliph has got men searching everywhere for us," Imajin asked.

"Ahh... it's all about being able to see the trails of a teleport spell. It's a handy ability."

"You can do that?"

"Well... no. But one of the men on my ship can. He saw the trails in the sky yesterday, and the Caliph told me you had escaped in a similar way. And because of the laws, you don't exactly have people teleporting every day in Eijopi. It's just a matter of putting two and two together." He glanced at Giuseppe. "Anyway, Giuseppe just finished telling me your story. No wonder the Caliph is looking for you."

"Of course he is," Imajin said. "But he won't find us for awhile hopefully. Where are we anyway?"

"Eijban."

Imajin nearly choked on his soup. "What?" Eijban was a small town directly to the east of Eijopi. That meant they weren't as far as he'd originally thought.

"Also my fault," Giuseppe said. "I never claimed to be a magician. I only did what I could."

"Jus' be glad we ain't down the neck of a volcano!" came Stubbs' voice from the corner. "We're still alive, ain't we?"

"You won't be for long if you don't get out of here," Civan replied. "Your likenesses are posted all over the city. And probably every other city on the continent by now, if the Vizier's persuasive abilities aren't exaggerated."

"And you?" Imajin asked. "Why haven't you reported us yet?"

"I was considering it before Giuseppe told me your story. That's why I came all this way after all. But my loyalty is to my home, not this place. I may speak with the Caliph from time to time but I don't like him."

"So what do we do?"

"We leave," Giuseppe said, matter-of-factly.

"We?"

Giuseppe sighed and looked at the floor. "I fear this gentleman thief may have bit off more than he can chew this time. They may not know my name but they know my face. But more importantly... more importantly..." He looked up at Imajin. "A man is his morals. I saw it, you did too. Whatever the Vizier is up to..." He trailed off.

"He's experimenting with magic," Kyson finally said. "Testing resistance. It's practically torture, he doesn't even care if they die. It can't be legal."

"So what now?" Calaria asked.

Civan frowned. "I don't pretend to be involved with this, but my crew and I are sailing north to Truvia before heading home. The Queen-Empress isn't the kind to listen to southern monarchs, so you'll be safe there for awhile."

"What do you get out of it?" Imajin asked.

"I never did like the Caliph... I don't really think the Queen-Empress does either. And," he added with a half-joking sigh, "anything that keeps Giuseppe alive long enough so he can pay back what he stole from me."

"Then we should leave now. We can think about what we're going to do next when we're out of the Vizier's reach."

Imajin got to his feet, his soup long since forgotten. He hurried out of the house, followed by the others.

"Your boat is docked in Eijopi?" Imajin asked Civan, looking towards the west.

"Yes. It's only a few miles west to the Eijopi walls. There's no real danger until then. Just try to keep your head down."

Giuseppe turned to the thin, aging woman who now stood in the doorway of her house. "Thank you Maram. I never steal from ladies but if I did..." Giuseppe flipped his top hat onto his head. "I'd make an exception for you."

Maram smiled.

"You might want to keep that top hat off, Giuseppe," Civan interrupted. "It's fairly nicely drawn on your wanted picture."

Giuseppe complied reluctantly.

Kinoko

Ifrit... why? How could he have found his cave?

Calaria couldn't help but think about what just happened. As Stubbs, Kyson, Imajin, Giuseppe and the newcomer, Civan trekked back to the Eijopi port, she used this time to think. She also knew that one day, she would see Ifrit in her dreams and he probably did see her at that courthouse. If he brings it up, she'd have to explain.

She felt for her rod in its hiding place. Good. It was still there. No one would be able to find it.

Her hand went up to her head, due to her having a headache from that rather shoddy, she might add, teleportation spell. Well, he wasn't a mage. She was used to them due to having traveled with her parents who used them quite a bit, but having a non-mage use one was quite... interesting. The others seemed to be reeling from the teleport spell, and she couldn't help but hide a smile.

But something bugged her. Why would Kyson let himself be taken by the Vizier? Did he know something about what was going on regarding the Vizier? Granted, she's done her own research on the Vizier while she spent her time in Eijopi... but what reason would Kyson have to get involved? Did the Vizier do something to him, too?

She knew. She knew that if Giuseppe hadn't used that teleport spell to get them out of there, she'd be dead. She knew what the Vizier did. She had a feeling that her parents were taken by him and he did what Kyson said he did to them... she'd have to ask Kyson if the Vizier mentioned anything he shouldn't have in his presence.

Calaria sighed. Her curiosity really did get her into trouble this time.

"Hey, Calaria!" Kyson called to her. "You're starting to slow down!"

Her thoughts broken, Calaria came back into the real world, finally noticing how far behind she was compared to the others. She made an effort to catch up.

Luiigii of the Pipes

From the rooftops a figure watched as a group of six people entered Eijopi, five of them wearing rather concealing robes. The sixth clearly wasn't from around here, and since he was headed for the port he likely wasn't planning to get further acquainted with the area.

They had waited until dusk to enter the city. With both merchants and consumers heading home before the embrace of night, the streets were thicker than one could think possible. No one paid attention to the group therefore, and it was a snap to reach the private dock Civan was using.

No one paid attention may have been the slightest of exaggerations, though...

Civan glared at his ship, though it was a fruitless gesture. His crew had all gone below for the night and the expression was utterly wasted on a vessel that could provide no excuse for his crew's idle manner. He sighed and made his way down the dock.

The rest started after him, but a purple object dropped out of the sky between them and Civan. It twirled a spear while still crouching from its landing, then embedded the point in the sea-worn planks. "Hello," Mog said, glancing up at them. "I'm afraid convicts aren't allowed beyond this point."

"Mog, listen..." Imajin began, but was cut short by the spear tearing free of the dock to point at him.

"Listening isn't in my nature, despite the outlandish size of my ears, kupo. You all have five seconds to lay down on the ground. And seriously, next time try to look a little less inconspicuous."

Civan was frozen with indecision. He could easily strike the moogle from behind and end this problem, but attacking a lawkeeper of Eijopi would have political ramifications beyond what he could imagine. And who were these people anyway, to put this question on him? Before he could decide the answer to that, Giuseppe nodded to him; he also understood the consequences Civan would face and that it would be in his best interest to just go wake up his crew and get ready. So he did.

Mog rolled his eyes. "Come on, kupo. You seem like good people under all that criminal element."

The group slipped out of their robes, save for Calaria who only pulled up her sleeves.

"Whatever..."

Mog blurred through the air, leaping and kicking Imajin directly in the chest to send him flying away. Stubbs lunged at Mog from the side and clubbed him over the head with his rifle, breaking it in half, but Mog shrugged it off and tripped the old man with his spear. He jabbed the pole end of the spear into Stubbs's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. He jumped onto Stubbs's chest, then ducked as Kyson went flying over him. Kyson spun in midflight and grabbed Mog by the lip of his helmet, dragging him along. As they hit the ground, Kyson's legs kept going and kicked Mog facedown into the ground.

Stubbs got to his feet wheezing and grabbed the pieces of his rifle from the ground, trying to jam them back together like poorly cut jigsaw pieces. Giuseppe ran to join him, pulling Civan's saber (which he had stolen as a joke), as Mog turned his predicament to his advantage by jumping from his position and bringing Kyson up with him. He threw Kyson at the peak of the jump toward the two men, who both jumped away (Stubbs accidently rolling off the dock), then came down on Giuseppe before he could react.

Calaria held up her hand toward Mog, but Imajin caught her arm on his way back into the fight. "We can't use magic here," he said. "They'll be watching for us." Calaria nodded, though disappointed that she wouldn't be able to help; satisfied all the same, Imajin ran to the water's edge to grab Stubbs. Calaria turned to head for the ship, but Mog leapt off of Giuseppe and landed in her path.

She was suddenly scooped up from behind by Kyson, who took a flying leap over Mog's head. Mog scoffed and jumped up to meet them, kicking Kyson away and sending Calaria flying to the ship. She cursed her luck and gritted her teeth for impact, but was caught by Civan before that moment could come. He set her down gently, then motioned for her to follow him to the crew's quarters.

Above, the battle continued...

Masamune

A shot rang out across the deck.

Everyone looked up in shock to see the shot's origin. Civan stoof from the deck of his ship, holding out his still smoking pistol. Mog who had only seconds ago been in the middle of warding off both Imajin and Giuseppe, reached behind himself and on to his back. Sure enough... there was a hole in his armor. Blood was already dripping out of the wound. Stubbs came up from behind and butted the moogle's head with the end of his rifle, knocking the Eijan defender out.

"Want me ter finish him?" Neezer asked.

"No. We'll leave him," Imajin said hesitantly. "It won't take long for the authorities to find him."

"Then let's get off," Civan bellowed. "The crew is ready to leave!"

Giuseppe, Kyson and Neezer made their way on to the boat. Before Imajin joined them, he stepped by the moogle and pulled a potion from his pack. He poured the contents of the potion on Mog's wound. With that, he quickly followed his companion on the boat. The ropes were released and the ship started drifting away from the port.

Stubbs rested his hands on the railing at the stern of the ship. "I reckon dat'll be da last I see of Eijopi."

Calaria nodded sadly. "I always wanted to climb the Lighthouse of Eijopi. I guess I never will now."

"And who do we have to thank for that?" Imajin snapped as he turned to Giuseppe. "We almost got killed several times, thanks to you!"

"Imajin..." Kyson warned softly. "This is not the time for this."

"No! I think it is!" Imajin continued undeterred, too enraged to listen to reason. "Everything I ever worked for. My life, my work, my dreams! Gone! Just so you could pad your little pocket!"

Civan unsheathed his sword. "I'll have none of this on my ship, Mr. Imajin."

Giuseppe put his hand on Civan's hilt and had him lower the sword. He turned to Imajin and for once, his smirk vanished. "I am fully aware that you hate me, but you ought to be grateful."

"Grateful!? To you!?" Imajin retorted incredulously. "What? For ruining everything?"

"Grateful for saving your life," Giuseppe continued calmly. "Lord Duvronne wanted to see you fall. Had I not taken the job, someone else would have. A someone who places no value on life. Had I not been the one who did it, she would have. And she would have succeeded and you would have been dead."

"I'm glad you're such a martyr," Imajin scoffed.

"You were not the only man in debt," Civan explained. "Lord Duvronne owed quite a sum of money and a lot more than just a safe-full of gold. He wanted your rovers and your gold, not just one or the other."

"Which is less than legal, of course," Giuseppe added. "But he was desperate. So when I offered a price far below my usual pay to steal your gold, he was more than willing to claim the rovers as well."

"So why help us, then?" Kyson asked. "Duvronne has his rovers and his gold."

"He went too far," Giuseppe replied simply. "I wasn't about to let an innocent get killed as a result of my work."

"You mean me," Calaria replied. "Only now we're all exiles of Eijopi... and likely Osmirii as well."

"When it's convenient, I can take you back to El Vida, Miss Negime," Civan offered.

Calaria nodded, but said nothing.

Imajin was still fuming. "I can't believe you all are buying this."

"It 'bout fits up wit' Duvronne's kinna business," Stubbs said. "He'd slit any throat to make a buck, 'specially if he's got people pushing down on him."

"Only one problem," Imajin replied. "The Duvronne Family is one of the richest in the Merchant Guild. They're practically a small country unto their selves in terms of how much they own! They're not someone you bully."

"And there's the problem," Civan replied. "There's been strange things in the air with the Merchant's Guild. Some sort of confederacy or syndicate. Whatever you want to call it, they're calling the shots. Nobody knows why they are though."

"Even the Thieves Guild may be involved," Giuseppe added. "Though not many of my cohorts would be smart enough to realize it."

"And what does this have to do the Vizier and the Caliph?" Kyson asked.

"Nothing. Everything. Who knows?" Civan replied with a shrug. "I just know the Queen Empress is extremely interested in finding out what all of this adds up to. I suspect she'd very much like to hear your story, Mr. Imajin."

"Well, what have I got to lose?" Imajin replied bitterly. "I've lost everything else."

"That's the spirit!" Giuseppe replied with a grin. "Why don't we head below and see about our quarters, eh?"

GORE-ILLA

The ship sailed calmly over the ocean waves without further incident. Late in the night Imajin found himself unable to sleep and began to roam the deck of the ship. Everything was at peace and quiet. Too peaceful and quiet. Imajin found that he missed the scorching air and wold have traded the clear ocean breeze for it. He saw the peace and quiet only as the calm before a storm that was likely to tear apart the remains of his life.

Imajin managed to shake off the morbid thoughts, but he still found himself unable to sleep. However, he eventually saw the sun rise over the horizon. And it illuminated the coastline of their destination. Imajin wasn't sure things would ever be as good as they used to be, but he did start to find some hope that things just might get better.

***

Truvia's port city of Grandia was a coin of two sides. The main area was, of course, the city. It appeared to be a peaceful area, filled with Chocobo-drawn carriages. However, past the outskirts of the city lay a forest teeming with wildlife. It was like two opposing nations, the city of man and the animal kingdom, set side-by-side.

A figure rushed through the forest, hoping from treetop to treetop before stopping atop a rocky hill. Though he acted in the manner of a beast, this person was a man with a name. The name of Lord Zimon Gorenicusto III, a name he had not used in years. Now his human identity was hidden behind unbelievable amounts of shaggy hair. His clothing was the skin of Umaro, a rare ape-like creature of the icy depths. A pair of giant axes hung loosely from his belt.

A flock of Chocobos were loitering about on the hill. Zimon gave a quick ringing of his bells to call the Chocobos into order. He immediately noticed a gap in their ranks. "Where is Bethany?" he demanded. One would think that after living in the wild for decades, Zimon would have forgotten the human tongue. Yet he preserved his vocabulary for all these years and used it whether speaking with man or animal.

The Chocobos immeidately began sniffing around at Zimon's order. Zimon soon picked up the scent of Bethany the Chocobo with his own nostrils. He ran off in pursuit, with the Chocobos following in his rear. He hastened his pace, as the scent of the Chocobo was mixed with the smell of freshly-spilled blood. Zimon soon ordered the Chocobos to stop; he surveyed from a tree branch as a flock of hunters moved on the ground. One held in his arms a dead Chocobo- Bethany. Zimon gritted his teeth in anger. But he also remembered that he had also gone on similar hunting expeditions in his younger days.

Zimon let out a feral cry. The hunters turned and looked up in terror - the same look of terror which Zimon remembered had once been frozen on his face. "The Beast-Man Gorenicusto!" the lead hunter shouted. "It can't be, h's an urban myth!" Zimon knew very well that his story was used to scare young children. One hunter, before he died, had sputtered out how his parents told him that if he wandered off into the forest at night would be taken by Gorenicusto, the nobleman who went insane and ran away to live with the beasts. Zimon smiled. He didn't want to leave these hunters disappointed. With a snap of his fingers, the flock of Chocobos descended and attacked the hunters with a fury never before shown by any other of its kind. Zimon waited a moment to take all of this in, then descended with his axes in hand to finish the leftovers.

The land of beasts won another victory against the land of men.

Lupus

The sun had just risen when the ship came gently to a stop amongst the Grand Port. Imajin watched sleeplessly from the bow as still-sleepy dock men and stevedores turned their attention from the other myriad of ships needing to be loaded and unloaded, and readied the newcomer's ropes securely. He frowned as he looked at their unfamiliar faces, doing familiar jobs he'd seen on the other side of the sea. They looked peaceful and quaint. Two words that would probably describe the whole city, and almost the polar opposite of Eijopi.

The port city of Grandia served its purpose perfectly. As a gateway between Eijopi and the entire country of Truvia, it had a mixed culture and many different people from all walks of life roamed its many streets. It was rich -- the surplus of trade would make any city so -- and many wealthy people found the mixture of sand, sea, forest, mountain and sun perfect to settle down amongst. Any other man would've jumped at the chance to live and work in such a place. Indeed, Imajin couldn't help admire the place. But it wasn't his home. He had nothing here.

Behind him, Stubbs, Calaria, Kyson, Giuseppe and Civan, as well as various crew members, made their way to the deck and off onto the pier. Besides Stubbs, he barely knew these people. And yet here they were, in the same situation, a situation they barely knew anything about. And yet, as he watched their faces, he realized they didn't show as much hesitation as he felt. Kyson looked relieved if anything, and he walked beside Calaria as they chatted and pointed out things. Calaria was from El Vida, one of the most beautiful getaway resorts in the world, and yet she still admired the scenery of this new place. Behind them, Stubbs, Giuseppe and Civan were involved in a conversation, but less concerned with the surroundings. Civan had probably seen this place many times, Stubbs, though raised mostly in Eijopi was born in Truvia at least had knowledge of the area's customs and scenery, and Giuseppe... well, he didn't know anything about Giuseppe. Except that he wouldn't mind to see him injured.

"Come on, Imajin!" called Giuseppe back to the boat. "You can't stand around moping all the day."

Imajin grunted and jumped off onto the pier to join them.

"So what are we doing next, then?" he asked as he reached them. "Go and look for jobs?"

"If you like," said Civan. "But I want to try and arrange a meeting between some of you and the Queen-Empress, remember. So, as soon as we can, we should head to the capital. If the Queen-Empress isn't there, at least there'll be her personal advisors who will know what to do."

"It'll be good to see the old capital again," said Giuseppe, happy at the arrangement. "Forgive me if I might leave you there, though. You could say I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Not only will I forgive you, I'll cheer you on," Imajin said bitterly, then sighed. "So, more travelling."

"I thought you would be used to it. Being a merchant and all," said Giuseppe.

"At least back in Osyllia I knew where I stood. I knew how things worked. I knew who people were."

Stubbs laughed. "Boss, light'n up wills yeh! This is Truvia! The place't gave birth ta me!"

"Let's get it over with, then."

Civan nodded. "I let my crew know where we're going and to wait for me. They have no problem hanging around in Grandia for a few days. No work and they're getting paid to do it."

The group made their way ahead to where Kyson and Calaria were watching several large steam powered machines shift cargo.

"Are we leaving yet?" asked Kyson as they arrived.

"Yes," Civan replied. "No point wasting time seeing the sights here. You can do that later."

Near the large archway that lead from the port into the busy city, a short man stood near a large carriage headed by two warking chocobos. Civan lead them over, and passed the man a few golden coins.

"Where to, folks?"

"Well, our destination is the capital."

The man laughed. "It'll cost you a bit more than this, sir, if you want to go that far."

"That's fine. Just take us to the opposite side of town."

The streets around the docks were particularly busy in the early morning, and the man sitting at the reigns had to shout angrily at people to get out of the way more than once, especially in the narrow side streets. It was an uneventful journey, passed mostly in silence, and nearly an hour later the crowd thinned out, the carriage stopped, and the group got out.

"It's a long walk to Battant, folks! Are you sure you won't pay up?"

Civan nodded. "I'm sure. We're talking the train."

The carriage man guffawed again. "The cargo train, eh? Well, good luck with that. I'll still be here for the next half hour if you come to your senses."

"What's wrong with the train?" Calaria asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

"Nothing," replied Civan. "It's just a local ghost story. A man dressed in animal hides who runs through the countryside and attacks hunters and farmers. A month ago the cargo train left Grandia and never arrived at Battant. They found it derailed and destroyed somewhere just before the forest pass. People blamed it on the so-called 'Beast Man' protesting the destruction of the animal's habitat for the track."

"And he doesn't really exist?"

"Well, it's definitely possible," he admitted. "But the train has taken thousands of trips. It's just as likely that it was an accident."

"Say what you will folks!" the carriage man interrupted. "It's your lives not mine."

Civan nodded. "Thanks for the trip anyway."

Ahead of them lay the exit arch that lead out to the countryside, and ultimately the large mountain that blocked the view of the sprawling capital city. And next to the exit lay the train station, easily identifiable by the clunking and hissing sounds that filled the air. Few people loitered around this place, save for labourers carrying cargo to load onto the train. Next to the train stood a menacing looking man who was shouting orders to the workers.

"When is this train leaving?" Civan asked him, managing to find a place between the shouts to catch the man's attention.

The conductor looked Civan up and down, his eyebrow raised. "Any minute now. We're just getting the last imports from Eijopi loaded."

"My friends here and I need to get to the capital. We're thinking about sitting in with the cargo."

The conductor smiled. "Not scared of the Beast Man, then?" He allowed himself a laugh. "But anyway, that's not allowed. This is cargo only."

"I'm sure the Queen-Empress would approve." Civan showed the conductor identification from his jacket pocket. The conductor nodded.

"Very well. Get on board now, we leave in two minutes." The conductor immediately turned and began to bark out orders again.

Civan jumped up into a half full storage carriage and motioned to the group behind him to follow. Besides Stubbs and Giuseppe, they looked more confused than ever. "There aren't any seats; this is a cargo train after all. But it's speedy and will get us to the capital faster than any Chocobo carriage would."

One by one they got into the carriage and found a place to sit against the walls amongst the crates and boxes. Two minutes later, and the train started to move, gathering speed as it left the city and began through the farm land just outside of it.

Calaria found herself staring back. Everything was moving too fast for her, someone who was definitely not used to it. They had just arrived at a city an hour ago and already they were off to the next. Oh well, she thought. I guess sight seeing isn't too much of a priority right now…

Across from her, his small frame almost hidden between two crates larger than him, Imajin sat moodily looking at his feet. Calaria tried to sympathize with him; she knew he had lost almost everything, at no fault of his own. But a nicer attitude surely wouldn't do any harm in such a situation.

In any case it was a long trip to the capital, and she was still tired from the previous few day's events. Calaria lay back against a sack of beads in the corner of the carriage, and closed her eyes.

She was woken later by the train's piercing whistle.

"What's going on?" Kyson asked, looking out the side panel of the carriage. Calaria could see the forest pass just ahead.

The train desperately tried to slow down, but it was too late.

Luiigii of the Pipes

Zimon smiled to himself as he watched the plight of the cargo train unfold. A blue dragon had swooped down from the sky and plucked the engine clean off the tracks, taking high into the sky. A moment later, the engine smashed against the earth and burst into flames. It was never easy to persuade a dragon to assist him, and the dragon usually got bored within seconds of doing so, but the payoff was always worth it. Zimon watched as three men desperately pulled themselves free of the flaming remains only to be picked off by the dragon and swallowed whole. With that, the dragon disappeared into the sky.

Zimon turned and walked to the cargo compartment to see what he could justify taking. Hopefully some medicine; one of the Chocobos had taken to limping despite a lack of sprains or broken bones. He shoved his massive fingers into the crack between the compartment door and its frame, grabbed hold, and ripped it off with one go and tossed it away. Six startled faces stared back at him.

That was unexpected.

He reached for his axes, prepared to make an example of these fools that would shut down this railroad once and for all. By the time he had gripped the handles mere milliseconds later, one of the men had scooped up a considerably large package and hurled it at Zimon. Zimon caught it, but was surprised to see a well-dressed man snap his fingers and throw an equally large item, despite his more diminuitive frame. This one hit Zimon hard and threw him onto his back. He rolled backwards onto his feet and, before any of them could move, shouted, "1000 Needles!" The fur of his Umaro pelt stood on end, each one seeming to duplicate itself and then fire that duplicate into the compartment. Another one of the men jumped to the front of the cart and took all of the needles upon himself, deflecting them with concealed armor.

Even more unexpected.

A fireball flew at him from the left, but Zimon sidestepped it; the lone female of the group had thrown it, and was already preparing another. Zimon started toward her first, but a bullet suddenly pierced the pelt he was wearing, getting caught just short of his skin. This came from an old man to the right with a gun, preparing his next shot. Next to him was a short man who was digging through the boxes frantically. Suddenly feeling very overwhelmed, Zimon grabbed his whistle and blew it. The two men who had thrown the boxes were coming toward him now, and the man who had absorbed his attack was drawing a sword from his side. Zimon turned and ran.

Unexpected? He hoped so.

They were all foolish enough to follow. Zimon kept going, grinning to himself as he ran into the forest and weaved past tree after tree. A whirling disc shot past his head and turned around right in front of him, then shot past the other side of his head. He stopped a moment and waited as a large tree branch dropped where he would have been had he continued running, then started up again.

Then he heard the rustling and, sighing with joy, turned to face the group of six. They had been moving toward him, but abruptly stopped as dozens of Chocobos zigzagged through the trees, striking them at every pass. They staggered onward, trying to get past the barrage, but one by one they fell. The last of the six, the man who had survived the 1000 Needles, crawled his way to Zimon's feet and stared up into his face. Said face seemed to flash for a second with recognition, then blanked as he too passed out.

The Chocobos promptly halted their stampede and turned as one to face Zimon. He stepped over to each body and checked the pulses, one by one. Each was still alive. He pondered for a second if he should just kill them outright, but then chose against it. Had it not been for his Chocobos, these people could have taken him. That alone intrigued the former lord to consider that man could defeat animal.

"We'll take them home," he said to the Chocobos. "Perhaps throw them a banquet. If things don't go well, then they'll be the main course." He stopped and pondered, fighting back his primal instincts to allow some human cunning into his musings. "But hostage situations are so much more interesting." He pointed to the smaller man who had lifted a box; that kind of proportional strength could be dangerous when he woke up. "I want one of you to take that man to Battant. I'll leave a note in his pocket telling the Queen-Empress to cease use of this track, or these five, including..." He reached into the pocket of the man who had fallen at his feet and pulled out a card, "Civan Farfarel, will be executed at sundown." He clapped his hands, urging the Chocobos into action.

Kinoko

A voice found its way into Calaria's mind.

"Wake up!' it cried. The voice sounded familiar to her... She opened her "eyes", realizing that she was in the world in which she can commune with the Djinni.

"I... I'm here," Calaria murmured, rubbing her head. All she remembered last was being run over by a horde of Chocobos. She looked around. Two Djinni were here: Chocobo and Ifrit. She knew exactly what Ifrit wanted. But she didn't know why Chocobo was here.

"Miss Calaria," Ifrit greeted. "I need to ask you a question."

"Go ahead," Calaria replied.

"I saw you in that courtroom where I found Jacob Duvronne, who stole my gold. However, he insisted that he didn't do it. Why were you in that courtroom?" Ifrit asked.

"Things got a little complicated, dear Ifrit," Calaria answered. "I ended up in a bit of a situation where I had to use my magic, otherwise I would not have survived. My skill with the rapier only goes so far, and that monstrous travesty needed to be stopped. That ended up breaking one of the Eijopian laws, and I was to stand trial." Calaria clearly did not want to tell the Djinni what her real fate might have been. "Someone else really stole your gold in order for you to cause a distraction, so the people I was with and I could escape."

Ifrit looked hurt. "Why didn't you summon me? Surely I would have come to your aid!"

"...in front of all those people?" Calaria asked. "In a land where magic is forbidden? I would be jailed for life, Ifrit. That was actually the best way to bring you there, now that I think about it. Thank you for coming to my aid, even if it was indirectly." She bowed to him.

Ifrit bowed back. "Thank you, Miss Calaria. Please ask for my assistance when you need it." With that, Ifrit vanished, having gone back to his world.

Calaria turned to the Chocobo. "What brings you here?"

"Well," Chocobo said simply, "I can be of aid to you."

"How so?" Calaria asked. Maybe to her current situation?

"I've been hearing your internal voice saying 'Chocobos' a while ago," Chocobo answered. "I thought you were summoning me, but I never got that chance. But I was brought here, only to see you appear on the ground. What's going on out there?"

"Oh," Calaria murmured. Then in a louder voice, she said, "My friends and I were run over by a horde of Chocobos, led by this man in a fur skin. That must've been what triggered it." Calaria thought for a moment. This gave her an idea. "Chocobo... If I get the chance, I'm going to summon you. But not anywhere near me--you'll appear in a place quite close, and I need you to join that horde of Chocobos this man's got. Get any information you can. If they listen to him that well, then there might be a chance you'll be discovered if he sees you. Be careful. I'll summon you when I get the chance."

Chocobo nodded and disappeared. It was time to make her return to reality.

---

Calaria came to, but she kept her eyes closed. She felt herself bobbing, most likely she was on top of these chocobos. She had to be careful. She had never done an internalized summoning before, but now was the time. She focused on what she did when she summoned, but kept it all inside. She internalized Chocobo, and released it. Hopefully it worked, and hopefully it wasn't detected. Her energy spent, she fell back into unconsciousness.

---

Zimon, his herd of Chocobos, and the people he captured finally reached their destination: A cave blocked by a big rock, which only he could move. Beyond that cave was his haven, his home.

Fred_Of_The_Bed

Chocobo the chocobo substantiated into reality and shook out its head. The transportation between dimensions was rarely a pleasant one, and this was no exception-Chocobo checked that his beak and feathers were in the right places, preened itself, and then set off to work-or would have, had it not thought of something, first.

Gee, Chocobo isn't the most creative of names, is it? How's about Hobooco? That's... better, at least. Now, to blend in.

Hobooco waddled towards the smell of Chocobo. Being the chocobo djinn, he thought it wouldn't be too hard for him to fit in with the creatures he was the spiritual representation of. He thought the hard part would be to convince them to not give the game away to their master immediately.

He was, of course, dead wrong. As he entered a large grove where the thirty or so chocobo resided, the chocobos welcomed the polite spirit with open arms as a fellow chocobo, but he quickly realized that he was not only half their size, but that they were particularly bloodthirsty-between bout of yelling "crush humanity, wark!", and "feasting on prisoner tonight!", small scuffles and even brawls broke out between the savage lot. It was pretty obvious to Hobooco that food had not always been particularly easy for these Chocobos to find.

A particularly huge chocobo with reddish-orange and yellow plumage approached Hobooco. It spoke. "You there, pipsqueak! What's your name, WARK?!" As it shrieked, the ground and trees nearby rumbled. Hobocco simply replied "My name is Hobocco. I'm a chocobo who used to be a pet of some abusive fatcat, but escaped quite recently, and followed the rumors to find this place, wark! I'm looking to know what to do to strike against the humans next, wark!"

The enormous chocobo boomed in laughter as if Hobooco was a child talking to a violent revolutionary. "Fwa har bwahr har! Listen, tiny, I'm Bohocorro, and what I say goes around here. You're either very stupid, or gutsy, or both, but either way I like you. All you have to do is wait right now-the boss man is gonna get them steam trains shut down, WARK! (rumble) We got prisoners, and the fat lady on the seat is gonna throw a fit over it. We ain't givin' em back unless the train is de-railed too, wark!"

On the other side of the cave, the unconscious Calaria was taking in the information. Nearby, Imajin was the first to awaken, and might have fallen off the chocobo if he wasn't hogtied to it. Checking to see if anyone had weapons, he noticed they'd all been removed. Zimon, the brute that he was, grunted loudly as he tied a yoke to his back, got down on his hands and feet, and pulled. The boulder shifted and rolled off of its embedded position - it moved downhill, but it was easier to move it back up and into the rut than out of it.

Zimon untied the ropes, and realized that Imajin was already awake. He considered that he'd need to wait for the rest of the diverse crew to awaken, and decided to use this opportunity to speak with Imajin to pass the time. Having fought the crew, he was quite impressed, and was itching to talk to his worthy opponents.

"...and another thing! Just what are you doing taking random people hostage? If it was just us, you'd be fine, but now that you've taken Civan and sent Giuseppe away, the Queen's going to bring hell down on this anthill! What were you THINKING?!" Forty seconds after unbinding Imajin's mouth, Zimon could consider the itch QUITE scratched. "Enough!", he boomed, as the last of the group awakened and noticed they were entirely unarmed. "You're going to have to go it by foot-there are a number of booby traps in this cave, and you must follow my directions exactly to get inside, alive. And you are going inside."

Everyone looked at each other incredulously. Neezer grinned to himself and whispered to Imajin: "No weapons, but 'e was kind 'nuff to leave some traps for us t'play with... It'll be lik' takin' candy frum' a baby, that's wot!"

Imajin gulped, wishing he could reciprocate his companion's optimism on the matter, but failed to, miserably.

Luiigii of the Pipes

"Traps to play with?" Zimon said, turning to Stubbs. "You're first, then."

Stubbs nodded, unconcerned that he had been overheard or at his new fate. He was an expert at detecting how things worked, and, despite the fact that he rarely chanced upon them in his former line of work, that would include traps. A rope stretched across the ceiling probably released a swinging mace or an axe when one end of it was disturbed by a wayward footstep; a discolored stone in the floor could be the trigger to that rope or its own set of problems, such as a bed of spikes. Of course, this apeish man would be too unsophisticated to have any good traps, and it would be easy to trick him into one.

"Why don't you let me go first?" Kyson said, raising his hand for attention.

Stubbs hissed at him. "Pipe down, yeh shrackin' idjit!"

"What difference would it make if you went first?" Zimon asked.

"I can make a deal with you. If I get through without triggering any of your traps, then you can respect us enough to stop using us as hostages."

"Hell, I could do it," Stubbs grunted.

"You're a mechanic, Neezer. It's hardly fair."

Zimon nodded. "Fine. Have at it."

Kyson turned and stepped into the cave. A few steps in, it stopped abruptly; a pair of tunnels went off to the left and the right at such an angle that very little light went with them. Kyson paused, eliciting a grin from Zimon. Then Kyson walked through the wall in front of him, and Zimon swore.

"Another fake wall?" Imajin asked, recalling the one that led to Hal'amek's lair.

"It's probably Blue Magic," Calaria replied. "How can we tell when he's reached the end?"

"He already has... No one's supposed to know that the wall is an illusion. The other paths would have led to my inner room, so I hardly think this was fair. Have fun with the Chocobos." Zimon grabbed his axes and lunged toward the wall. Before he could get through, Civan came at him from the side and knocked him down the left tunnel.

Imajin, Stubbs, and Calaria started after, but no sooner did they than the myriad calls of, "Wark!" filled the air and a pair of Chocobos darted out of the forest. Seeing them unarmed, the larger of the two eagerly rushed forward. The smaller one abruptly ran in front of it and crowed loudly. It continued to crow at the big one, then twisted its neck abruptly to face Calaria. She nodded slightly... and it kicked her in the chest, sending her flying into the cave wall. Imajin and Stubbs rushed the small one, but the bigger one leapt over it and kicked them both away.

Civan, meanwhile, had the tables turned on him as he constantly dodged away from Zimon's axes. His armor had been dinged in a few spots and he had a grazing cut on his unprotected forearm, but otherwise he was doing a fair job. Unfortunately, Zimon was forcing him further down the tunnel and away from his associates, no doubt into a trap at this rate. That wouldn't do, so Civan turned and ran headlong down the tunnel; at least now he would be able to see the traps.

The snap of a trigger sounded, but Civan kept running. It turned out be the right thing to do, since a log dropped from the ceiling where he would have been at a more leisurely pace. Zimon, unarmored as he was, was forced to stop however. Civan kept going, some crude arrows shooting toward him at one point, then two more logs, and finally a wooden door set into the stone wall. He kicked it open without thinking (fortunate, since the handle was coated with poison) and ran into the inner sanctum.

It was as simple as one would expect from a cave. A straw-filled mat sat in one corner, carefully placed away from the fire pit in the other corner. Some trinkets lined a poorly built shelf along one wall, which confirmed Civan's suspicions about the man's identity, at least. On the other wall were an extra set of axes, and next to those was Kyson, holding the skeletal remains of an arm.

"I thought he was going to let us go," Kyson said, still staring at the bones in his hand; they seemed to be held in shape by twine.

"You made him angry when you figured out his trick. Hand me an axe."

Kyson set the arm aside and grabbed one of the weapons. "Do you know who he is?"

"Lord Zimon Gorenicusto the Third. When I first became a soldier, I was assigned to his contingent. Somewhat pleasant to work for. Then on one of my days off, there was some kind of incident on a hunting trip of his. We never saw him again. The legends about beastman Gorenicusto started popping up, but we just assumed it was coincidence that he disappeared and this creature appeared at the same time." Civan took the axe and hefted it. "Whatever he is now, though, his life isn't worth ours. If he can turn a pack of Chocobos bloodthirsty, he's not the man any of us knew. Just a monster."

GORE-ILLA

"Monster?" Kyson and Civan spun around as they saw Zimon enter. "No, I am no monster. I am an animal!"

"You're crazy," spat Kyson.

"You look familiar. Have we met before?"

Kyson glared. "I travelled alot in my youth," was all he said, and he glanced towards the skeletal arm.

"Hmph. It matters not," said Zimon. "You have proven yourself to have the instincts of your animal ancestors, so you have two options. One, I kill you all. Two, you join my animal tribe. Forever." After a few moments, he added, "Your friends can join, too... assuming the Chocobos haven't already ripped their bodies apart."

Kyson and Civan remained silent.

"Fine then. Let me tell you a bit about myself- and how I came to discover myself. They would have you think I'm some insane savage. Heh heh. You see, it started decades ago in my teenage years. I was on a hunting trip with the sons of my father's associates. We stuck to the trail as usual and only attacked Chocobos. But then one of us got a fancy idea... to wander off from the trial over to the frozen cave where the monster was seen. We thought we owned the island. But we were brats, spoiled after being spoonfed money and compliments all our lives. It's sickening to even remember those days.

But I digress. My companions brought me to the cave. I found myself overwhelmed by fear and sobbing. So the others taunted me and left me at the cave's entrace while they proceeded further on. Soon I heard roars. I heard screams. I heard flesh being ripped apart. I felt so vulnerable. I was chubby, weak, all I had to protect me was money, and some low-level blue magic. I ran off, weeping into the forest, not just because I feared the most but because I felt so vulnerable. I was a human in the world of animals... and I realized that I was the weaker specimen.

I decided to perfect myself, to become like the animals- cold, brutal, tearing anything apart just to satisfy my hunger. That's when I met the Chocobos. They took me in and let me travel with them. In time I surpassed them in prowess and was able to command them. Then I trained them in turn, to become my very own army and unleash their full animal potentials. I saw the potential in the animal kingdom. The mind, the will of the animal is so much more powerful than mankind. But man still used this animal world as a dumping group, as a place to sap resources from! I could not stand it anymore.

First I decided to give myself one final test to see how I had improved my animal self. I returned to that cave, and I attacked the Umaro. As you can see," he patted the Umaro skin on his back as he said this, "I passed that test. I have no ape-men for you to fight; but I will teach you to fight society, to fight man's reign, to let nature and alll her creatures to prevail!"

"Now, my fellow animals... What say you?" said Gorenicutso as he polished the head of his axe.

Luiigii of the Pipes

Imajin, Stubbs, and Calaria were tied to posts at the far end of the grove where the Chocobos had gathered. Since they had awoke, Calaria had tried her best to explain how she knew the one Chocobo while at the same time not coming out and saying she was a Summoner; after Kyson had relayed to them the Vizier's interest in Summoners, she had become protective of the secret, even before her newfound friends. The issue was complicated by the fact that she seemed able to understand the birds (as the djinn sent a mental translation to her), so she had hastily put together a story about having learned the Chocobo language in Mage School. Neither men bought it, but neither pressed the issue either.

The Chocobos had brought out some sort of large vat full of a smelly brown liquid. Stubbs identified it immediately as some sort of liquor and eyed the vat forlornly. Imajin wondered at how creatures without opposable thumbs, or even hands, could carry the vat. But then, that also begged the question of how the creatures had managed to tie him up... "A sense of organization and a penchant for alcohol? They seem to pick up more of the ape-man's traits than he does of theirs," he mused to Calaria, knowing that Stubbs wouldn't care much for a theological analysis.

"That can't be a good thing," Calaria replied, squinting at the effort of following two conversations at once. "In my experience, humanity and innocence never go together. I'm sure you've noticed the same?"

Imajin nodded. He had tried to run a fair business his entire life, but there was always someone else who didn't. And admittedly, he may have sold one or two pieces of Fool's Gil in his time...

The Chocobos slurped at the liquor, becoming noticeably more aggressive with each gulp; they began to push each other out of the way and bite each other just for the fun of it. The small yellow Chocobo that Calaria had identified as her friend was the only one not participating, as he instead watched the large orangish one.

"The big one, Bohocorro," he sent to Calaria, "he keeps mumbling Zimon Zimon Zimon Zimon Zimon... I don't know if he's cursing or what. Hang on..."

Chocobo stepped over to Bohocorro and clucked for his attention. "What does Zimon mean?"

Bohocorro spun and knocked Chocobo off his feet with a strike of his wing. "You stupid, Hobooco? Zimon's da boss-man. The stupid, dirty ape... Thinks he's... thinks he's controlling us! Ha! We're controlling him! And one'a these days..." He snapped his beak shut over an imaginary Zimon and chewed slowly.

Chocobo stood up and shook the dust from his down. "That's insane. Why would you even consider that?"

Bohocorro stood confused for a moment, then stumbled over to Chocobo and leaned on him conspiratorially. "Y'know what, Hobooco? Yer *hic* 'xactly left. Err, right. It is insane... to wait." He pushed himself off Chocobo and staggered over and into the vat of liquor, causing a clamor from the others.

Chocobo started after him, trying to explain that that wasn't what he meant, but several other Chocobos shoved past him and jumped into the vat. Bohocorro rushed them and kicked them back out, then let out a thunderous cry that paralyzed everything in the grove--barring himself, of course.

"Gentulbirds," he squawked. "Mmm thinkin' s'bout time we... uh... we..."

As Bohocorro tried to remember, Chocobo shook himself and crept over to Calaria. He glanced over at the other two humans, then back at the Chocobos, and spoke up in perfect El Vidan, "Zimon is the man who kidnapped you. But it sounds like the Chocobos are preparing to kill him."

Calaria gasped, while Imajin and Stubbs stared at the bird. "That's terrible!"

"Why?" Stubbs grunted, turning his attention. It was easier than trying to decide why the bird had talked. "Feller's been a right bastard to us since the moment we saw 'im.”

“Imagine if you built a whole bunch of machines and then they tried to kill you.”

“Machines can’t move by themselves.”

“Shut up!” Chocobo hissed. Bohocorro had gathered his thoughts about Zimon and was now finishing a speech that had gotten his brethren’s attention. It was punctuated by a whistle—the same one Zimon used to summon them.

“So next time ol’ Zimon comes ‘round here…we shows him what’s boss!” The Chocobos whooped and cheered, spurred on by their inebriated minds. “And let’s start by eatin’ the hostages!”

More cheers. Chocobo cursed and started gnawing at Calaria’s binds. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Sounds like bourbon-battered human is on the menu tonight…”

***

Zimon gave a short whistle in the direction of the grove, then turned around and lunged to his left, dodging an axe blade. Kyson leapt from a tree that the animal had fallen near and onto the ape-man’s back, attempting to crush his spine. Fortunately for Zimon, the Umaro’s thick pelt absorbed most of the impact. And as large of a man as Kyson was, Zimon was larger still… He reached back and grabbed Kyson’s ankles, then tripped the monk and brought his feet up into the falling figure’s back, returning the favor.

Zimon stood up, then ducked again as Civan hefted the stolen axe and threw it at him. Zimon picked it up where it had landed and threw it back to the knight, who fell backwards from the weight. Zimon chuckled; this was almost fun.

Naturally, the duo had refused his invitation and now Zimon was doling out their reward. They had been doing a much better job of it, however; it had taken considerable effort just to get out of the cave and back into the forest, where he had room to maneuver. It had helped, but not by much.

These two were different from the usual human scum that he killed. Those had been hunters, predators who were so sure of their position at the top of the food chain that they forgot that not all animals kill for food. These two had been captured. They were the prey, fighting not to take a life, but to save their own. It was a cruel irony that Zimon had ended up in the exact same role he had tried to abandon all those years ago…

A cruel irony that went unnoticed in the heat of battle, though. Zimon took a moment to whistle again as Kyson and Civan got back to their feet. He cursed the Chocobos when he received no response. Damn things were probably drunk again… He drew his twin axes and hacked his way through the forest, hoping to reach the grove before the other two caught up.

He did accomplish this goal, but what he saw there caused him to freeze in his steps. Kyson and Civan, unprepared, all but tripped over themselves to stop as well and fell past Zimon. At the opposite end of the grove, Chocobo was fighting off the others, who had become desperate to get to their meal.

“Stop!” Chocobo shouted (further addling Zimon’s mind). “I’m a god! I’m your god!” Chocobo had no trouble fending off his more mortal kin, but there were a lot of them and he was beginning to wear down. Bohocorro was sitting back and watching, and Chocobo knew exactly what that meant. As soon as he let his guard down…

As perplexed as he was, all Zimon could think to do was whistle. The Chocobos stopped and turned to face him, all staring blankly. Zimon tensed, not having seen this sort of behavior before. Finally, the big red-orange one crowed and ran over to him. The beastmaster relaxed… until the Chocobo’s foot connected with his chest, knocking him onto his back.

Bohocorro screeched and took a flying leap toward Zimon, landing with his legs on either side of the man. He bent down and bit at the pelt surrounding him, trying to tear through it.

Zimon cried out. He reached up and grabbed the bird by the neck to strangle him, but Bohocorro was unphased as he madly pecked away. Zimon struggled, but a feeling of dread was building up inside him. He could hear his friends’ cries from long ago, hear the Umaro’s bloodcurdling roar and the gnashing of its teeth. Sweat matted the fur of the Umaro’s pelt as Zimon’s mind filled with panic. He realized a little too late that he still had a lot of things to learn about the animal world…

A foot swung itself into Bohocorro’s stomach, knocking him away from Zimon. The bird screeched and pushed itself upward, then stared down its one-armed assailant.

Civan jumped up behind Kyson and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? He’s been trying to kill us for the last hour.”

“Then we’ve been trying to kill him for about the same amount of time.” Kyson shook his arm free and offered it to Zimon, who peered at it from behind his own hands. “At least we have something in common.” Hesitation fading, Zimon took the hand and stood.

Bohocorro let out a thunderous cry, only understood by his fellow Chocobos. “Humans! Die!”

Yami

A translation for Bohocorro’s indecipherable warking was unnecessary as it was understood perfectly from the ensuing encirclement of thirty-some chocobos and the thunderous stampede of sixty-some talons.

“Hope you don’t mind getting your old friends’ innards all over us,” muttered Civan to Zimon as he picked up one of the beast man’s discarded axes. “This is going to get ugly.”

Kyson’s gaze shifted back and forth between the axe in Civan’s hands and the razor-sharp beaks of the ferocious birds. Even if they put up the ugliest fight possible, could they still win?

“Is there any other way to stop them without hurting them?” Kyson asked Zimon hoping they wouldn’t have to resort to such a grisly option.

“I don’t know!” cried Zimon burying his head into hands. “They’ve never acted like this before!”

There is another option, thought Kyson staring at his left shoulder. It would certainly stop the stampede, but what about the safety of Civan and himself?

“WARK! WARK! WARK!”

“They’re coming!” shouted Civan whose voice was barely audible above the rumbling stampede.

Kyson couldn’t afford to think any longer; it was now or never. Kyson closed his eyes…

Then all was drowned out by the faint melody of a lute, the soothing notes of a lullaby.

“What’s going on?” It was Civan’s voice. “Kyson, is that you?”

Kyson opened his eyes. The chocobos had stopped. Their feral bloodlust was gone, and the dazed birds were looking around confused as the lute’s notes seemed to resonate ubiquitously throughout the forest.

“No,” replied Kyson looking around as confused as the chocobos in an attempt to ascertain where the music was coming from.

Then the lute’s melody stopped and faded out. Civan held up his axe, but the chocobos remained docile. Then a soft male voice beyond the circle of birds shouted, “Excuse me, but your leader would like to make it through.”

A few Chocobos on the perimeter obediently moved inside as a mellow Bohocorro entered the enclosure with a young blonde-haired man on his back. The man wore a dark green headband with a red feather sticking out the back. The headband matched the dark green cloak he wore over a white cotton tunic. He also wore a pair of black breeches and a pair of brown leather sandals, but the focal point of interest for Kyson and Civan was the wooden lute the he carried on his back.

For Zimon, it was something else.

“What?!” exclaimed Zimon. “I’m the only one who’s been able to ride Bohocorro! Who are you?!”

“Oh, my apologies,” said the man as he dismounted. “My name is Franz, I’m a traveling bard. What are you fellows doing all the way out here?”

“We’re on our way to Battant,” said Civan. “How about yourself?”

“Oh, trying to make it to the capital in record time, too?” Franz chuckled. “The queen-empress is returning tomorrow and the main road from Guardia to Battant is clogged with carriages, so I decided to take a shortcut through the forest…didn’t think I’d have to worry about chocobos of all things, though!”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” asked Civan narrowing his eyes. There was a biting suspicion Civin had about the bard suddenly appearing out of nowhere, but he couldn’t explain it.

“Oh, my father.” The bard stopped smiling and lowered his head. “He’s been ill for some time, and his condition has recently taken a turn for the worse. I wanted to see him before I perform at the Queen-Empress’s banquet tomorrow night.”

“I see,” said Civan, warming up to the bard slightly. “So I take it you’re the one who played that song earlier?”

“Oh, yes, the Chocobos’ Lullaby!” Franz smiled again. “I used to live on a chocobo ranch, so I played that song whenever the birds got a little out-of-control…”

“Kyson! Civan!”

It was Calaria. Everyone turned toward the gap in the herd through which Franz had entered as Calaria, Imajin, and Stubbs came running in.

“You’re safe!” cried Calaria.

“What happened?” asked Imajin with significantly less enthusiasm. “And who’s the stranger?”

“That’s Franz,” said Civan. “He’s a bard who’s headed for the capital, too.”

Then Civan turned to Franz and offered him a handshake.

“Much thanks for saving us back there,” said Civan with a smile. “You can travel with us if you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d be much obliged!” said Franz slightly taken aback by Civan’s sudden change in demeanor. “I’ll be sure to stop any berserk Chocobos if we run into any!”

“Where’s my shrackin’ rifle?!” barked Stubbs seemingly oblivious to everything else. “An’ why haven’t you killed this bastard yet?”

“Do want you want,” muttered Zimon as he stared at the ground emotionlessly.

“All right,” said Imajin with a smirk. “We’ll do this, then.” Imajin planted a kick into Zimon’s back knocking him to face-first into the dirt. Before Zimon could put up any resistance, Imajin pulled out the rope he had been bound with earlier, pulled up Zimon’s arms, and tied a quick but tight knot around the beast man’s wrists.

“Wow, that was amazing!” exclaimed Franz. “Are you guys a band of mercenaries or something?”

“Me?” asked Imajin with a shrug. “I’m just a merchant who’s tied a lot of knots for a very long time.”

“What are you going to do with me?” asked Zimon through gritted teeth, glaring at no one in particular out of fear for further punishment.

“We’re going to let the Battant Court system decide,” said Civan. “You’re going to have to wait and see what they do to people who derail several trains and murder several innocent people.”

“But firs’ he’s goin’ to tell where he put my damn rifle!” shouted Stubbs. “Or I’m gonna strangle him and find ‘er myself!”

“Oh, I saw a pile of weapons lying behind a bush back there,” said Franz pointing in the direction from which he had come from. “Bit of a conspicuous place to hide weapons, though.”

“There's no way I was carrying those things all the way to my cave,” muttered Zimon. “Besides, they would've never gotten them anyway being trapped inside my ca—”

A quick glance at everyone else’s glowering faces made Zimon realize it was a good time to stop talking.

“OK, so after we go back and get our weapons,” said Imajin, “Where do we go from there?”

“If we walk due north,” said Civan, “we’ll make it to the capital by tomorrow night.”

Franz hopped onto a chocobo and smiled.

“By chocobo, we'll make it by morning.”

Lupus

For the rest of the day they travelled, eventually leaving the forest for the great fields of Truvia. What was half a day's trip via train was now looking to be much longer, and they rode along on their chocobos sticking close to the railroad at the very likely possibility that Battant had sent scouts to see what was delaying the train. The sun began to falter for the day just as they reached the edge of the mountains. Fortunately, their new travelling companion Franz assured them that his song would keep the chocobos' strength up until they reached the capital, and their burly builds were just enough to comfortably sleep on, so the idea of stopping to set up a makeshift camp was discarded. Franz elected himself to stay awake, just in case the chocobos began to snap out of it and he had to subdue them again or Zimon risked a pitiful attempt at escape. But Imajin, suspicious as always and used to abstaining from sleep for long periods of time on his many desert crosses, declared that he, too, would stay awake.

By early morning they had nearly circled around the mountain that hid the capital from the south, and travelled by the border villages and farm settlements. In the distance they could see the beautiful sprawling city of Battant, cosily built into the cradle of the mountains. The ones in the group who had never seen or heard of the sight were awestruck; the palace of the Queen looked immense even from such a distance. It was perched atop a waterfall at the far end of the city, where it overlooked the rest of the capital with an air of authoritative elegance.

"We should reach the city in a few hours," Civan said. Even he, who had seen the sight many times before, couldn't help feel the grandness of the spectacle. Not to mention the relief of finally being in civilized territory again.

The closer they got to the capital the thicker the traffic of comers and goers to the city increased. By the time they reached the grand gate leading into the city, the air was thick with business and conversation.

Truvia was well known for being peaceful and innocuous, and Battant even more so. As such, the capital had strict laws on weapon possession, and while the penalties for breaking these laws weren't as harsh as they were back in Eijopi, they were enforced well enough that it was highly unlikely one would be a victim of crime within the city's walls. The countless gates into the city alone were manned with highly trained soldiers who made sure all visitors were free of contraband goods and unlicensed weapons. Not even the cleverest of smugglers could get by them, and the citizens of the city justly felt very safe and secure in their homes.

As the group's flock of chocobos passed through the main gate of the city, a pair of the soldiers stepped out.

"Welcome to Battant, home of the Queen of Truvia," one of the soldiers said, as he probably did several hundred times a day.

"We're welcomed to be here," replied Kyson.

"What are you visiting for? Any weapons on you?"

Civan nodded. "Plenty. But they're licensed."

The soldier was busy studying at the ragtag group. He particularly found Zimon of interest, raising one of his eyebrows at the strange clothes he was draped in. Zimon snarled in response. "Oh? Got your licenses on you by any chance?"

The other soldier tapped his partner on the shoulder. "It's fine, Will. I know this guy, he works for the Queen."

The man called Will looked back at Civan, giving him a quick look up and down. "Very well. Go on through."

He motioned to move onto the next group of people waiting to enter the city, but Kyson quickly stopped him. "Yes?"

"Did you happen to see a man on a chocobo enter here?" Kyson asked, instantly realizing how stupid that sounded. "Er... perhaps, unconscious with a note attached to him?"

"'Fraid not," was the reply. "That'd be something we'd probably remember."

Kyson turned to the others. "He could've come in from a different gate. He's probably fine."

"Or dead," Imajin suggested.

Zimon sighed. "He's not dead."

"And why would we believe you?"

"Can it Imajin!" interrupted Stubbs. "Theh's no point gettin' into an argument 'bout this righ' now."

"Now's a good a time as any."

"Stop fighting," Calaria said, but she was ignored.

"I'm getting sick of this. There seems to be a real lack of security as a group. Why would we trust the very same man who tried to kill us? He knows he's on his way to a dungeon somewhere, he'd say anything to get a lighter sentence. Trusting his word is lunacy, almost as insane as talking about this in front of a complete stranger."

Imajin nodded at Franz, who backed away. "Leave me out of this."

"I didn't know you cared so much for the wellbeing of Giuseppe, Imajin," said Kyson.

"Whether the person in question is my worst enemy or best friend doesn't make a lick of difference right now. It's the principles of the matter, and trusting the word of an attempted murderer is outside of mine."

Kyson reluctantly nodded. He had to concede that Imajin had somewhat of a point. "Zimon! You were telling the truth right?"

"Of course I was. I didn't kill your bloody friend!" Zimon spat, making use of the situation with another feeble attempt to break the binds on his hands.

"Who's the prisoner?" the guard called Will asked, thumbing Zimon. He'd been listening closely.

"The man who derailed the train yesterday," Civan said.

Will looked shocked, suddenly losing his relaxed demeanour. "So it was attacked. You should've heard the commotion; they sent out scouts late last night to investigate." He gave Zimon a sour look. "At least we can be assured it won't happen again."

"Indeed," said Civan. "By the way, we won't need these chocobos anymore. Is there any place we can put them?"

"Don't hurt them!" Zimon cried, seemingly forgetting that these were the very same birds that had turned on him the day before.

"Cool it," Will said, then called over a man just inside the gates.

The group dismounted their chocobos (Zimon only after a bit of a struggle) and the man took them away.

"There's no point trying to escape, but I suppose you know that, my Lord," said Civan. But he kept his hand on his sabre's hilt just in case.

The group entered calmly into the city, into the massive entrance plaza that was exceptionally busy in the early hours of the morning.

Franz stopped ahead of the group, turned, and bowed courteously. "Well, I'm off to see my father now. Thank you for the companionship and for not judging me too harshly for bending the rules a little. Perhaps, we'll meet again?"

He looked particularly at Calaria as he spoke, who said nothing.

"Perhaps we will," replied Kyson. "Goodbye, Franz."

Franz bowed again and headed off into the crowd.

"You can relax now, you're safe," said Civan. "I'm heading up to the palace to arrange a meeting with the Queen. If you take the street behind you for about ten minutes you'll come to a very nice inn on your left called the Ahriman's Rest. If all goes well I'll come and get you tomorrow morning, so don't wander too far." Civan pulled a few large gold coins from his pocket and handed them to Kyson.

"An inn eh? Pretty good treatment for a prisoner," Zimon said.

"You're coming with me," corrected Civan.

Zimon nodded, having conceded his fate. "Of course I am."

They said their goodbyes and headed off in different directions.

Zimon stayed uncharacteristically calm as he and Civan passed through the streets. Though the fact that Civan kept a constant hand on the hilt of his sword probably had something to do with it; plus, Zimon was brutish, not stupid. He had spent enough time in the city to know its army's efficiency and hell; he probably personally knew a good percentage of the city's force himself.

The two arrived at the base of a gondola lift, which lead all the way up the cliff to the royal palace. Zimon slumped down on one of the seats, and Civan pulled a well thumbed book from his coat, sitting down opposite the wild man as the gondola began to move.

For nearly ten minutes they sat opposite each other in silence as the lift rose above the rooftops of the city.

"You're married?" Zimon asked, breaking the silence.

Civan looked up from his book. "What?"

Zimon nodded towards Civan's hand. "Your ring."

"I am."

"Lucky you, then. It's nice to know that some things in life can still be good."

"A lot of things in life are still good for those who don't squander theirs."

Zimon smiled. "I remember who you are now. Only vaguely mind, it has been a long time."

"I'm flattered."

"Yes, cavalier Farfarel from the Auberon Empire," continued Zimon, with a grin. "I see you've advanced a few ranks since then."

"A few." Civan closed his book. "So, why'd you do it?"

"Why does one do anything?"

"Don't get philosophical on me. You attacked a cargo train."

Zimon shrugged nonchalantly. "We share this planet Farfarel. Not just with each other, but with nature itself. People need to learn where their boundaries are or face the consequences."

"That's a noble mentality. Fighting for the ones that can't fight for themselves."

"You could say that," Zimon said, with a hint of pride. "But its more than that. I told you back in the forest that I longed to go back. The sins and excess of mankind sicken me, and my life before was full of false adoration, just because I was born lucky and I had money. People listened to me but they didn't respect me. In the forest and fields I had a real home, and a real family. I had real respect. I was a leader."

"Your feathered friends didn't seem to think so."

Zimon flinched. The vision of Bohocorro leaping through the air at him was still fresh in his mind.

The gondola lift came gently to a stop inside the palace's entrance hall. There was a large clunk and the door slid open. Civan pocketed his book and stood up.

"Let's go, Zimon."

Zimon again lead the way as the two stepped out.

"So this is it, then," Zimon said as Civan beckoned over the entrance guards. "No trial?"

"I'll figure something out later. For now, just be happy you're still alive." Civan turned to the guards. "Take him down to the prisons. He's the one who has been attacking the trains."

Despite his tough demeanour, Civan could see a flash of something in beast man's eyes as the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him backwards down the hall. Remorse? Or was it fear? Maybe; the prisons below the palace were suitably dank and dreary, and Zimon knew as well as anyone there would be no escape from them.

The rest of the palace was completely contrary to the underbelly. It was lavishly decorated, with a portrait of a famous Truvian or an expensive artifact hanging from the wall everywhere one looked. It was also rather busy; as Civan walked the familiar halls, several people greeted him. This amount of bustle means the Queen must be arriving soon. Good.

He arrived at his destination a few minutes later.

"I'm here to see Lord Belzecue," he said to the guard outside the door. The guard nodded and stepped aside.

Inside, sitting at a desk, was a man dressed in a striking red cloak writing furiously. His similarly coloured hat, complete with a white feather, lay beside him on the desk.

He looked up as he heard the door open.

"Civan! You're back early," he said, lowering his pen.

"It's a long story, Luth."

Luth shrugged and indicated a chair on the other side of the desk. "We've got time."

"Longer than that. In fact, I'd like to organize a meeting with the Queen so I can give the tale justice."

"Good timing then, because she arrives today."

Civan nodded. "I could tell. The palace is busy enough."

"Well, lots of things have been happening. There's a bit of trouble with smugglers in the west, and several riding officers have gone missing or found dead. And just today I heard something about the cargo train from Grandia being attacked."

"I wouldn't worry about that anymore. We caught the one responsible for the train attacks; he's in the prisons now."

Luth raised his eyebrows. "Now this tale of yours has really caught my interest."

"Trust me, that isn't even the most important part. I've brought along some people who can testify against the Vizier."

"The Queen will be very pleased, then. I'll organize a meeting right away, after her welcoming feast this evening."

"Good," said Civan, relaxing. He felt the years of tedious goodwill visits to the southern continent had finally paid off.

"Let's hope the information of these friends of yours is worthwhile," Luth added, picking his pen back up. "But we'll see tomorrow, eh?"

That was Civan's cue to leave. Obligingly, he turned for the door.

"By the way, it's good to see you again," Luth said from behind him.

"You too, Luth."

Civan briefly wondered what his newfound friends were up to, and whether they were ready to retell their story yet again. In any case, what happened next was out of his hands. If all went well he'd get a well-deserved trip back home, but the likelihood was that now he'd be more needed than ever. The balance of duty and family was tough to maintain... oh well, things would probably work out in the end. They always did.

But that was tomorrow. Civan exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Kinoko

After they all parted ways, Calaria was left with some time to think about what just happened. She'd have to check into the Ahriman's Rest later.

That bard... Franz was his name? She wondered why he came to their rescue all of a sudden. She was SURE that Chocobo had returned to the Djinni world during the Chocobo rush; she hadn't felt his essence since then. She'd have to summon him later to speak with him about these last events.

The capital city of Battant, in the Northern Continent of Truvia... she'd heard of this place. Granted, it doesn't have quite the feel of El Vida... at least, El Vida when she was a child, but it didn't feel too bad. It had a decent magic store, from what she heard.

And that's what she was going to go find. The magic store. This one was called "Mage's Potion". It was something she remembered from her parents when she was very young. They would tell her that it has incredible spells and great books of knowledge. Now she had the chance to find out for herself whether it was truly great or not.

Feeling the magic in the area in which she was SURE led to the magic store, she followed the magic through the city. Calaria was going to make sure to find time to try out her magic again. At least the magic laws are few, if not nonexistant, in Battant. She continued to follow the magic trail until she reached the store. Entering the store, the young summoner looked at the shelves, and noted a book that was of particular interest to her.

The mage took the book into her hands and felt the cover. She could feel the deep pulse of magic from within it. She took her index finger and trailed it against the edge of the cover. She HAD to have this book.

Calaria walked up to the shopkeeper, a wizened old man who was facing away from her, restocking his shelves, "How much for this book?"

The shopkeeper turned around. "Ah, a mage... it's been a long time since I've seen a mage in my store. Mostly it's soldiers from the palace, looking for scrolls to aid them in their battles. All the mages go to the more upscale magic shop. I never saw what was so great about that place."

"Could you point me to that shop?" Calaria asked, hoping not to offend. "It's just that I want to compare--I find this to be a perfectly acceptable magic shop."

"You flatter me, missy," the shopkeeper chuckled. "I can point you in the direction of it, sure. As for that book... I'll give you a discount. That book is normally 1000 coins, but you can have it for 100 coins."

Calaria gasped. "Thank you!" She resisted the urge to hug the man. He pointed her to where the upscale magic shop, The Diamond Orb, was, and then they bade each other goodbye.

The summoner held the book in her arms. It was as if she regained a part of her family back. That shop really was worth going to for her.

Calaria ran over to the Diamond Orb, purused its wares, and decided that while potentially useful, they weren't for her. Then it occurred to her that having a rapier would be a very good idea. She had left her rapier in El Vida, thinking that she could go back for it after this last visit to Eijopi. Clearly that wasn't going to be an option anymore. So she went to a weapons shop and bought one. She knew how to keep it hidden.

After that, she headed to the Ahriman's Rest, checked in, and went to read the book. She had to make sure that no one else got a hold of, or be reading the book, lest they find out more about her family.

Luiigii of the Pipes

As with most inns of this day and age, the Ahriman's Rest had been situated over a pub; the owner had thought himself quite clever by naming it the Ahriman's Quaff to fit with the inn's title. Kyson had wandered in after reserving a pair of rooms for what was left of their group. Currently three pints of the cheapest alcohol available sat before him, none of which had been touched in at least an hour. He was saving them for the right moment.

"Bugger 'em," Stubbs mumbled from across the table. At least as many drinks had passed through his lips already, and Kyson had had to swat away more than a few attempts of thieving. Kyson hadn't asked why the other man had taken post across from him when they had already spent several unpleasant days in each other's company and their company hadn't improved much since then, though it was becoming a serious consideration. Kyson's best guess had been that, since Imajin had surprisingly volunteered to search for Giuseppe, and Stubbs could hardly stand the company of women, the monk was his only other option. "'s'no point in buyin' it what's yer not gonna even drink it..."

Kyson didn't bother to answer. Stubbs wouldn't remember in thirty seconds anyway.

The Ahriman's Quaff had refuted evolution over the years; it did not account for the fact that the inn often took in families with children and not just lone wanderers, and stubbornly refused to change its atmosphere despite the fact that most other pubs in the city had already done so. Trouble was ripe in the air, and occasionally encouraged. For the atmosphere.

The monk had expected it from the moment he entered. There was a handsome girl, daring to sit by herself at the bar, her face framed by a long-brimmed hat tilted back on her head and the rest of her by a yellow kimono, spiraling orange suns stitched into the cloth. Rather than watch her, Kyson turned to watch the rest of the patrons doing so. By the time Stubbs had hit his fourth drink, a large man had walked up behind her. Kyson sighed. Humans... He grabbed a mug and, wincing with expectation, tossed it back. Stubbs whooped, and then scowled as Kyson grabbed the other two mugs in his hand and staggered his way to the bar.

The bulky mass that had made its way to the girl crammed its brain cells together for an all together alluring greeting and had gotten as far as, "Hey ba--," before Kyson kicked him over the counter. She turned and gasped, as if suddenly noticing either of their presences. Kyson's brain tried to point something out about her, but it had already crossed the threshold of intoxication and nothing clicked permanently into place.

He did notice her about to point out the two massive fists coming at him from behind, but by then he had managed to slip between them and smash the new assailant's jaw with the mugs, their contents splashing into his eyes. Realizing the potential for waste, Kyson turned and set the pints down next to the girl while the larger man tried to rub the alcohol from his eyes. Moments later he was hurled across the bar by a single uppercut.

Two more men were approaching in the wake of their friends. Kyson wound his way toward them, unable to even keep his feet beneath him. It shocked them all the more then when he was suddenly upon them, his single fist ricocheting between the two and his legs keeping pace. About this moment the monk realized that he was thus far the only one doing actual damage to pub and customers alike, something that wouldn't be lost upon the authorities. He kicked off one of the men's chest and tackled the other, driving him toward the most populated section of the tavern, then jumped off before anyone could notice that he was the one shoving so-and-so into so-and-so's drink and thus the one really deserving of a thumping.

As the battle royale broke out, Kyson turned and stumbled toward the door, grabbing Stubbs by the back of his shirt before he could join in the fisticuffs. He glanced at the bartender, who simply nodded; said bartender didn't honestly think he was paid enough to care who broke what and just kept polishing glasses. Outside the Quaff, Kyson set Stubbs down on a stoop and followed with himself.

"Th' hell wuz that?"

"Practice, Neezer." He grabbed at his head. "Ugh, headache's set in already..."

Stubbs tilted his head sideways in thought. "Mind elaboratin'?"

Kyson waved his hand, keeping his face down. "'s a...a form of martial arts. Before I settled down with the traditional studies, I had to pick up some extra skills, make sure I wasn't disadvantaged. They use drunken boxing in Caslun. It psyches the opponent out when they can't tell where you're going next or what with and when you're going to hit. And they can channel the alcohol into their ki to, y'know, make them stronger. Like when I hit that guy across the room."

"Sounds perfect fer me. But y'don't strike me as'er type."

"I'm not. But it's the best I've got so far, and there's no point in letting that go to waste..."

Stubbs straightened at the final word. "Speakin' er waste... What'd'je buy all three them pints fer? Didn' even drink the two..." he added for emphasis.

"At three pints things get really interesting..." Kyson smacked his temple a few times with his knuckles and realized that wasn't helping things. "I need to talk to Zimon. I think he's in my head."

"Eh?"

"Before I got up to save the girl, I was denouncing humanity."

Stubbs nodded without understanding and searched his person for a flask. "Eh, ol' Civan said they'd throw 'im in them palace prisons. I 'magine you'd get in easy if yeh just confessed fer all that back there." He waved at the pub.

"I think we've performed enough jail breaks for one month. Let's try getting in and out without raising trouble."

"'s crazy talk."

"Is that what you were doing?"

A third voice had joined the discussion; Kyson and Stubbs turned and looked up at the girl in the bright yellow garb. Stubbs pointed a lanky arm toward the pub. "That ain't no jail."

Kyson elbowed Stubbs and stood. “Ah…yes. Forgive me for not warning you, but—“

She smiled and cut him off. “You wanted free reign of the palace, right? Not for anything underhanded?”

“Depends on what we find when we’re in, missy,” Stubbs grunted, receiving a kick to his side.

“Just visiting one of the prisoners.”

“Well, they’re throwing a banquet to honor the Queen-Empress’s return tonight, and they employed me for the planning. They wouldn’t mind if I stopped in to make sure things were running properly with some, ah, assistants.” She glanced over at a nearby ironworks clock. “My airship’s docking soon, though. We need to go now.”

Kyson pushed away the dizziness from his intoxication and turned back to the Ahriman. “Lemme run upstairs first. I left something in the room.” He turned and, fortunate that he wouldn’t have to pass through the pub to reach the inn itself, headed up the stairs to their apartments.

It was lying in the cot he had set up for himself (better to let Imajin and Stubbs have the beds; he could manage lying on the floor for what it mattered), swaddled in a towel that he suspected the innkeepers wouldn’t want back now anyway—the skeletal arm he had found in Zimon’s cave. It was his.

Though Kyson knew that at some point he had to have been born, and that his parents probably raised him for some time after that, life hadn’t really started for him until he had traveled to Truvia some ten years ago, and wandered into the forest with the same preconceived notions of invincibility that all teenagers had. As such he was lucky to have left alive.

Someone with common sense would have just hated Zimon Gorenicusto from that moment on. Kyson strove to be uncommon, whether that meant punching a guy twice as big as himself or asking himself in the dead of night when the flash of the Umaro’s pelt entered his memory why Zimon had left him alive. So many other men were carved up by him without a thought. Now a new question wheedled its way into his mind; Zimon’s cave had been almost barren, with only trophies of his former life to brighten it. Why keep the arm? Was it a trophy…or a reminder?

Kinoko

Calaria had practically finished the book she bought in a few hours' time. She hadn't left the room or done anything else until she had finished the book.

A new world had opened up to her eyes. The history of her people. The legend of her powers. How that secret was guarded very closely and why they must be never revealed. How the summoners were sought after for their powers--to call Djinni.

A torrent of tears had followed the finishing of the book. Her eyes were wiser now. The El Vidan summoner was going to be more careful in using her summoning abilities. Now she knew why summoners also had to learn either white or black magic--to hide the fact that they were summoners. Either that, or also take up a weapon... which is what she did. She was the final legacy of her family. That's what she thought, anyway.

Calaria had no need of the black cloak...rather, what was left of it. She decided to use it as a bag to hold the book in. She was never going to part with the book, or let anyone read it. She did wonder why the shopkeeper let her have it at such a low price... could it be that only the summoners could read it? She was sure that the summoners who wrote that book would have placed safeguards on it so that not just anyone would be able to read it.

Putting the bag with the book into the other bag that she carried, Calaria walked out of her room. On her way down, she saw a familiar visage.

Kyson. He was unmistakable, considering he only had one arm. She called out to him.

He turned. "Calaria. It's nice to see you again. I didn't think you'd be in the inn."

"Well," Calaria replied, "Civan did say that he was going to see us in the morning if all goes well, right? So I'm still here."

"So I see," Kyson said. "We'll speak later; I'm in a hurry."

"Where are you going?" Calaria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"...I don't want to get you involved," Kyson firmly answered. "You saw what happened the last time."

"I... I can take care of myself," Calaria replied.

"Yeah," Kyson said darkly, "I can see evidence of that."

Calaria glared at Kyson. She realized that he didn't know about the fact that she also used a rapier to defend herself. She didn't have one when they had first met and fought alongside each other. She also had been holding back her magical powers, thinking herself defenseless. It usually worked... and then she'd finish them. Her magic was far superior, but she could hold her own with her rapier skills.

Then there was a flash of silver, and Kyson jumped back. Somehow, a rapier had seemingly come out of nowhere and would have been pointed at Kyson's neck if he hadn't jumped back. Calaria was the one holding the rapier.

"How is your skill with that?" Kyson asked as if that just didn't happen.

"I'm competent," Calaria answered simply. "I can hold my own."

Kyson sighed. "Fine. You can come with me." He started walking towards the stairs going down.

"Where are you going?" Calaria asked.

"You'll see," Kyson answered. He started going down the stairs. Calaria went to follow.

Director

A boat glided through the river that lead to the castle. Many overworked men were wheezing as they paddled forward. One man stood out, as he was taller than the others and was not rowing. He wore a bearskin throw cape and a stag skull for a helmet. The tall man shouted commands at his rowers to move faster. He was a dignitary invited to the banquet for the sole purpose of representing a part of the kingdom, the Frozen North. The Man had rowed down to the castle with his loyal men for the sole purpose of honoring his invitation.

"This is far enough", spoke the towering figure, "I vill go alone from here."

The soldiers looked relieved that they had to no longer had to row. The man picked up his Spear, which had taken many a life, and proceeded to walk to a nearby waterfall which was falling into the river. He looked up and clearly saw the castle above him...he would have to climb the cliff. He took out his spear and grabbed onto it. For seven hours he climbed.... he finally reached the castle, he put away his spear and then looked at it with amazement

"This is the most magnificent building I have ever seen. The Empress qill be quite pleased I have arrived."

The man walked into the banquet hall, and saw the Queen. He approached her, bowed down, and kissed the large Diamond ring on her finger.

"You may rise Worthengraut. The banquet will begin shortly."

The man's name was Worthengraut the Unnerving. He saw a seat marked for him and sat down...., the banquet WOULD begin shortly after all.

Yami

“Hello, sir, welcome to the Bab-il Hotel. How may I help you?”

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Franz Richter, and I have a reservation for a suite on the top floor.”

“OK, Mr. Richter, could you please wait a few moments while I find your paperwork?”

“Sure thing.”

Franz wasn’t going to see his father. Instead he was gazing at the short, black-haired receptionist girl behind the mahogany counter of the Bab-il Hotel lobby as she stooped over and shuffled through a filing cabinet against the back wall. Much to Franz’s dismay, her uniform (a white, long-sleeved shirt beneath a black, sleeveless vest and a navy blue knee-length skirt) was a size or two too large for her and didn’t reveal much in terms of her figure (except that it was a size or two too small for her uniform).

As the receptionist pulled out a manila folder and slid the cabinet shut, Franz shifted his focus to the paintings adorning the back wall. One painting that held his interest was depicting a fierce battle between two beasts, one of fire and one of ice. Before Franz could ascertain the two contrasting subjects, the receptionist had returned to the counter and opened the folder. She adjusted her circular, silver-rimmed glasses before reading the paperwork inside.

“Wow, you sent your pigeon in three months ago!” she exclaimed. “Did you know that you would be staying next to Frogsong?”

“Of course!” said Franz smiling pausing for a second until the receptionist smiled back. “Frogsong always stays at the four-bed, two-bedroom Olympus Suite the day of and night after the Queen-Empress’s return from her annual world government meetings since they’re always invited to perform at her return banquets.”

“Ah, I take it you’re a fan?” the receptionist, adjusting her glasses again even though there was nothing left to read. “I love them, even though I prefer the Magus Sisters—oh! A line! I’m so sorry! Hold on Mr. Richter, let me get you your key. Would you like a porter to help you with your baggage?”

“Nah, it’s OK,” Franz chuckled. “I’m only staying for a single night, and I’m one of the few people in the world that actually uses the hotel toiletries.”

“Haha, really?” asked the receptionist, setting setting the key on the desk, “I’ve always thought those things were such a waste, but personally, I love the smell of this hotel’s shamp—oh!” She had forgotten about the line again. “Sorry, sorry! Here, take your key, Mr. Richter! Enjoy your stay at the closest hotel to heaven!”

“Excluding the Bab-il Hotel in Gelveer,” said Franz with a wink before picking up the key.

“Hahaha, go! You’re going to get me fired!”

Franz smiled and bowed before he turned around and walked towards the elevator. The operator was a stout elderly woman who was wearing the same size-too-large uniform as the receptionist (which was of little concern to Franz).

“Enjoyed talking with Miss Claire?” she asked smiling as Franz stepped into the car.

“Claire?” Franz realized that the receptionist’s nameplate had not been anywhere on her face. “Oh, I mean…yes. I’m sure the guests love her.”

“Yes,” the operator sighed. “We’re all going to miss her.”

“What do you mean?” asked Franz.

“Today is Claire’s last day here before she departs for Vredebury tomorrow,” explained the operator. “She’s been working here for the past several months to save up tuition money for Vredebury University of Magic.”

“Oh, I take it she’s a Time Mage?” Franz had studied abroad in Vredebury about four years ago, and aside from the below-zero temperatures understandably shared by all Frozen North countries, he remembered that the mage university was the only school in the world that taught advanced courses on Time and Space Magic.

“Yes, she is.” The old woman chuckled. “A bit of ironic for someone who loses track of time so frequently, but I suppose I’m being a bit of hypocrite here, haha. Which floor, sir?”

“The fiftieth, ma’am.”

“Oh yes, the suites. Hold on a second.”

The operator flicked several switches on the panel on the elevator’s back wall before pulling the velvet cord that dangled from the car’s ceiling. The doors slid shut and the elevator jolted slightly before it began its ascent.

“Yes, Claire is a bit absentminded, but she’s still a bold and ambitious girl,” the operator continued. “She’s said that she wants to learn the most powerful Haste spell to travel to new places across the world in a matter of seconds, the most powerful Slow spell to savor the finest moments of those places, and the most powerful Warp spell to return to those places no matter where she is. She also wants to climb to the summit of Mt. Sudefort and cast Comet to ‘gaze in awe at the beauty of a thousand meteors streaking across the night sky and splashing into the Northern Sea.’”

Franz let out a small yawn and felt his ears pop, but the old woman didn’t notice and continued to talk.

“Yes, Claire’s told us that last one, word-for-word, hundreds of times.” She sighed. “I hope the best for her, but the world’s become such a dangerous place as of late because of that Osyllian vizier.”

“Hal’amek?” asked Franz, suddenly interested the old woman’s rambling.

“Who else? What other vizier lets bandits run amok in the country in exchange for military service? Osyllian bandits are the most depraved and soulless creatures on the planet who live solely to sate their limitless bloodlust and greed. And to think that Hal’amek has them under his command! He’s wanted to seize Eijopi back ever since Osyllia lost it in the last war against us, but I’ve heard that the newly elected Caliph has been willing to form an alliance with him anyway. It’s the vizier’s actions that have led to the recent persecution of innocent mages across the world and…”

The elevator jolted to a halt and the doors slid open.

“Oh, here we are,” said the operator and she exhaled deeply. “Yes, the world is full of problems right now, but I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure the queen-empress resolved most of them at the world government meeting this past week. She’s so young, but she’s a gifted orator and her charm has helped us out of several political quagmires. I suppose we’ll find out when she gives her speech tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Franz smiling at the irony in the old woman’s last statement, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” said the operator returning Franz’s smile (despite being unaware as to why he was smiling). “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Franz stepped out of the car into the brightly-lit vanilla-colored hallway that ran parallel to the elevator’s doors. As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, the bard glanced at the inscription on his room key.

“Room 5006.”

Franz turned right and walked down the hallway until he reached a door whose number matched his keys. Franz unlocked the door and walked inside.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the bard turned the lock and reached into his pocket pulling out a tiny glass vial containing a gaseous green substance.

Sorry, Frogsong, but your lead luteist is going to have to sit out tonight, thought Franz as he stared at the taped-on label on the vial, which read “Marlboro Bad Breath.”

And then your queen is going to die.

Lupus

The kitchens of the palace were amuck. Cooks and party directors alike rushed about with a mad frenzy, trying to get their last minute party plans in order. In the corner, desperately trying to blend in and look busy, were Kyson, Stubbs and Calaria.

Their yellow-garbed helper had delivered on her promise, for they were in the palace alright. But the kitchens weren't the dungeons, and trying to sneak out to look for them with several irritated supervisors overlooking their every move served harder than they had expected.

"We need to get out of here," said Kyson, looking ridiculous in his pearly white chef's costume that was supplied to them from their mystery woman. One of the arms hung empty at his side, and swung to and fro with every motion the monk made.

"You know where the dungeons are, then?" Calaria asked. Rather than alarmed, she had been somewhat amused when Kyson had revealed their plan to sneak into the palace to talk to Zimon. As for why, he couldn't give a reason that she could understand, but the actual idea of the infiltration was enough to convince her to come along. That, and the alternative was spending the night alone in an inn full of boozed up braggarts who wanted nothing more than to prove their manliness.

Kyson shook his head. "That's precisely why we need to leave. This banquet thing will keep most of the workers busy, and that'll give us time to have a look around."

"Okay. Let me try something."

Kyson frowned, but Calaria extended her hand anyway. A second later, there was a great crash on the other side of the room, and someone screamed.

"My oh my. The banquet will be starting any minute now, so this better be worth it!" one of the chefs cried, rushing off to investigate the sound along with almost everyone else.

Calaria smiled. "Let's go looking, then."

The monk nodded. "Come on, Stubbs."

Beside them, Stubbs grunted. While Kyson and Calaria had walked from the shelves to the stoves, occasionally opening a cupboard or two, Stubbs had taken the charade a step further and was actually at work preparing some sort of exotic delicacy. He didn't seem to want to leave his work half done.

"'s the only shrackin' time I've ever made wun dat hasn't sunk, or bin burnt, or..."

Kyson grabbed his shoulder to pull him around. "Another time, Neezer! Let's go, now."

Stubbs got the point, and the three left quickly through the unsupervised door.

Outside, the corridors stretched out in three different directions.

"Which one?" Calaria asked, glancing around. "And how do we get there without being seen?"

"Who knows," replied Kyson. "I don't really have a plan, if that's what you're asking. I guess we could start by ditching the uniforms."

"'bout dern time. Dis wun itches..." Stubbs said, pulling his chef's coat off. The others did the same, throwing the uniforms back through the door into the kitchen.

"Let's start with that one," Kyson suggested, pointing down the corridor to the left. "It leads down, and that's where the dungeons will be, no doubt."

The banquet had begun.

In the main banquet hall, a massive feast lay before the guests on a giant table. Hundreds of foods, from as simple and as adaptable as apple pie to the more specialized food prepared for visiting emissaries from far off, such as Malboro Ink Pudding. In the corner, the famous lute band Frogsong from Anglony played classic Truvian anthems interspersed with what sounded like their wilder originals.

The side of the banquet hall was a large arch that lead out to the courtyard, where even more food lay on even more tables. Sounds of laughter and the entertainment, which included a travelling group of Viera dancers from the east, came drifting inside. Visitors from as far as El Vida and Mogland - as well as plenty of famous Truvian faces - roamed the hall and courtyard engaging in conversation.

Civan sat quietly at the main banquet table, affably involving himself in small talk with various ambassadors. Though it wasn't his most favoured milieu, he thought he'd better be polite and come along anyway. Besides, it was what the Queen-Empress expected, and as such it was what his job expected.

He could see the young Queen Loccelia Auberon moving slowly down the table towards him. Every person she passed, another conversation she was thrown into. If it irritated her, she didn't show it; she looked as plausibly engrossed as someone could naturally be with every word said to her. But Civan never was too good a judge of someone's face; especially the one of a girl who had been trained since birth, almost 18 years ago, to be the people's champion of two entire nations.

Across the table from him sat a large, unnerving figure with a horned helmet; the sole representative from the Frozen North. His booming voice made his every word seem like a threat, though he chatted jovially while downing glass after glass of ale.

"This is a very nice palace. The Queen is also very nice, isn't she?" he roared at the tiny moogle next to him, who seemed to cower in his shadow.

"Y-Yes, kupo..."

"Yes, she is very nice. I vould very much like to live here! Perhaps even in this palace, if they can find room!"

He laughed, slapping his hand on the back of the human man on the other side of him, causing him to nearly choke on his food.

The lute band in the corner finished a lengthy eclectic piece, far different in style from any of the hundreds of other lute bands in Truvia. The guests followed with an obligated, mostly unenthusiastic clap - much like the ones they had been giving the band for the last five years, every time they played at one of these events. The band didn't seem too concerned, however, with their less than warm response. They smiled and bowed, and Civan caught a glimpse of the lead lute player as he shuffled to retune his instrument between songs. The familiar, young face of the bard Franz looked in his direction and nodded in recognition. Thankful for an excuse to leave the table and the quickly-approaching inebriation of the huge viking, Civan left his seat and made his way over to the band.

"Civan. I thought we may meet again, but I didn't expect so soon!" the bard said, reaching out his hand. Civan shook it.

"Of course, you said you were to play at the Queen's banquet yesterday."

"Well, it was just a hopeful dream, then," said Franz, his face going a bit red. "But I was in luck. Frogsong's usual lead lutenist is sick."

"And your father?"

Franz sighed. "He's as good as done for. I haven't the heart to tell him, though. He looked so happy talking about being there if I ever get married."

"Franz!" called one of the other musicians, the bass lutenist, from behind him. "Let's play The Cavaliers of Lheme next. You know it, right?"

"Of course I know it, Bastus. I've only heard it ten thousand times, growing up in Auberon..."

"Good," the other said. "We'll need a crowd pleaser to recover after the last few bombs."

"Maybe if you play it six times in a row," added Civan. "These people just want to hear songs they already know. They really hate your originals."

"Yeah," grinned the bass lutenist. "But that's half the fun."

He strummed the famous opening notes of the song, and Civan made to return to his seat. The large Viking man had managed to ensnare the Queen in a conversation.

"So honoured I am, Loccelia. So honoured..."

"And I assure you I'm honoured to have you here too, Worthengraut!" the Queen replied, beaming. Civan slipped back into his seat.

"You there!" the man bellowed at Civan. "The Queen! She is the most beautiful Queen in the world, is she not?"

Civan smiled. "I didn't know one man could get drunk so quickly..."

"I'm not drunk... hic..."

"So am I, Civan? You didn't answer," the Queen said, smiling at him. She was extremely fond of Civan, and hadn't had a chance to speak with him since she had returned from Auberon, what with all the hundreds of others she had to greet.

Civan nodded. "Good to see you, my Queen. Lot's of things have been happening."

"So they've been telling me. Luth said something about a meeting..."

"Yes," said Civan. "I brought some people from Osyllia... but why ruin such an important, joyous occasion with the news now? It can wait."

Loccelia laughed. "It's only me. It's not that important..."

"Don't be so modest, Loccelia!" the large man interrupted. "Up in the Frozen North, ve only vish ve had a Queen like you!"

"The flattery is unnecessary, Worthengraut!" the Queen blushed.

"Nonsense, I..."

He was interrupted by another round of clapping, this time a lot more enthusiastic. The lute band had finished The Cavaliers of Lheme.

"Rubbish act, ain't they?" said the small man beside Worthengraut. "Have to rely on playin' Lheme to get any real applause. It's like this every time..."

"I think they're great," Loccelia said, as the band started a new song. "They're different from the usual groups that get roped into these things..."

"Yeah, well, I was exaggerating, wasn't I?" the man quickly said. "They're pretty good really..."

The man kept talking, but his words slowly became quieter and quieter. In fact, all sound was getting quieter. All sound, that is, except lute band's gentle new song, which increasingly got louder. Civan frowned, wondering if he was going mad. Then he remembered. Chocobos running at him and Kyson, about to completely surround them...

Suddenly, realization dawned on him; he immediately rammed his fingers in his ears. The Queen looked up at him with a confused look in her eyes, but a second later they lost focus, and she collapsed. But there was no scream. All around her, the other guests dropped into their meals or off their chairs as if stricken by invisible sword blows. Civan dropped to the ground in a mock faint.

The music had stopped, and he could hear footsteps coming towards him. Civan risked opening his left eye. A pair of brown leather boots stood beside where Loccelia had collapsed only a few feet away. The man kneeled, a determined look on his face. He raised his lute. A glint of silver, and -

Civan swung his foot into the air, colliding with Franz's abdomen and knocking him over. Both men quickly jumped back to their feet.

"Civan. I don't want to hurt you..." Franz threatened, raising his lute. Civan could clearly see the tip of a knife blade extended from the end. Civan responded by promptly drawing his saber, which Franz seemed to not have seen. Franz blinked.

"Don't!" Franz yelled, thrusting forward with his lute, and Civan jumped back. He quickly realized it was bad move, however, as Franz now stood once again next to the collapsed figure of the Queen.

"What the hell are you doing?" Civan yelled.

Franz shook his head. "She deserves it! She..."

He raised his lute again, but Civan once again leapt forward and knocked him flying with his forearm.

"She's got my father... she killed my father. She killed my mother, and my little sister, and..."

"Think about what you're saying!" yelled Civan. "How could she have done that?"

Franz looked up at Civan. "You don't know anything."

"So tell me."

"Just don't stop me!"

"I'm going to stop you."

"No!"

Franz strummed his thumb across the strings of his lute. Several tiny darts appeared out of mid air and shot towards Civan, causing the knight to jump out of the way. By the time he got on his feet again, Franz was once again at the body of the Queen, about to drive his blade into her chest.

Civan drew his pistol and fired. The shot hit the body of the lute and knocked it from Franz's hands. It skidded across the tabletop and fell off the other side. Franz seemed to think the shot was for him, and ducked behind the table.

"You said your father was living here. That he was ill!"

"I lied! So what!?" came Franz's voice from the other side of the room.

"You were on the train," Civan said. If he could keep the bard talking, the spell would soon wear off of the guests and this would all be over with.

"Yes," the other replied. "I needed a way of getting into the capital with my weapons intact. When the train route didn't work, I thought I'd befriend the high-ranking Truvian I saw also get on the train in hopes he could bypass the weapons check..."

"But why? The Queen..."

"I told you why, Civan! Believe me or not, that's your choice!" Franz stood up from behind the table, holding his lute. "But you and I both know I've failed. Evil triumphs, and the good lose again."

He looked around; his spell was wearing off. All around him people were stirring and rubbing their eyes.

"What are you even..."

But Franz had strummed his lute again, and this time the darts caught Civan by surprise. They hit him in the chest and he was sent back crashing into the wall. Franz took a few steps towards the Queen's still limp form, but seeing the rousing figures around him, thought better of it and turned to run.

He had just made it outside when a huge whip of fire came out of nowhere. Franz desperately tried to avoid it, but the spell hit his legs, and he tumbled across the concrete onto the grass. He stumbled to his feet, hitting his head with his palm to recover his temporarily lost sight.

Ahead stood a man cloaked in red, rapier in his hand. The blade still had little trails of fire swirling around it from a recent enchantment.

Franz immediately tried to summon the darts again, but the figure swung his sword. A wave of fire crashed between them, disintegrating the darts. The man began to walk towards him.

"For attempted regicide you are hereby arrested..."

Another set of darts and another wave of fire. The man was only a few meters away now. Franz's sweaty hands gripped the lute as tight as he could, and lunged it forward.

The man in red was quicker, however, and he launched forward with a swipe that cut a gash into Franz's right hand and sent the lute high into the air. Franz immediately threw his hands up, and the man in red smiled, placing the tip of his blade to the bard's chin. "Thank you."

A crowd of guests had begun to gather at the archway, including the drowsy looking Queen.

"What happened?" one of the moogle guests cried, looking horrified.

"Nothing happened," Civan said, reappearing. He pulled the last dart from his chest armor and threw it to the grass. "Lord Belzecue's got everything under control. Go back to... whatever it was..."

Luth nodded, but the murmuring guests didn't budge. The other musicians had appeared at the arch now, looking at their defeated lead lutenist with shocked faces.

"The food is still fine," one of the Queen's advisers called. That seemed to convince a few of the more hungry guests to return to the tables.

"What... I..." the Queen mumbled, as she walked towards them.

"Apparently someone wants you dead. He nearly succeeded too," Luth replied. He looked down at Franz's face. "What should we do with him, then?"

The Queen looked absolutely baffled, as if trying to think why someone would want her dead. "I..."

"I'll take him down to the dungeons," Civan offered. "I want to know what this is all about."

"I already told you!" the bard cried, temporarily forgetting the rapier at his chin.

"Then tell me again."

Luth sheathed his weapon and Civan pulled Franz through the archway back into the palace.

Luiigii of the Pipes

Zimon stared at the ceiling of his cell, pulling his pelt tighter to make up for his lack of blankets. From the tiny window near the top of the prison's one wall, he could see the shuffling of Chocobo feet. The dignitaries had tied up their mounts above him; he found himself suppressing a shudder. At the sound of footprints, he rolled over to face Kyson, gripping the bars of the cell door with his hand. Stubbs and Calaria were further down the corridor, pretending not to listen. "Careful," he growled. "The monster man might bite off those fingers."

"Then the monster would get a mouth full of iron bar." Kyson looked the impediment up and down, then pulled. It failed to budge. "I need a drink, Neezer."

"'ve only got the bottle ah nicked frum that kitchin." Kyson snatched it away and took a tiny sip.

"Wait," Calaria said. "You're going to free him?!"

"Not necessarily. I'll just talk to him face to face."

"And when he thumps you over the head and walks out you expect me to stop him?"

Kyson gave her a nearly flat grin. "As I understand, you're quite capable with a rapier. But he won't kill me." He turned back to the cage and pulled his dismembered arm from under his belt.

Zimon froze as pieces clicked together in his mind. "Ah...ah, you were that boy, then?"

Kyson nodded and slipped the arm into the cell, then grabbed the bar and pulled at it again. Calaria glanced over at Stubbs, who seemed asleep on his feet, then turned back. "Would you care to explain?" she asked.

"No."

Zimon picked up the arm and bit his lip. "I didn't kill you because you fought back. Even then you were showing a proclivity toward conquering your humanity. But you fought fair, so I didn't keep you. Still too human." He nodded to the arm. "I took this as a mark; I thought I would recognize you without it when you came back."

"And a decade later, you still failed to make me a monster. You came closer this time though, if it's any comfort. But now it's my turn..." The bar buckled; Kyson eased it out of the ceiling and floor and threw it aside. "These people would kill you, Gorenicusto. I, however, am reciprocating your own offer. You can stop being a monster, join us, and start being a man again."

"I don't need compassion."

"You're going to need mercy soon, though. The two go hand in hand."

Zimon jabbed the arm through the gap and dropped it. "I'll take neither. You sit there and refuse to see the true monsters all around you? I'll take death over your life."

Kyson shook his head. "Tomorrow I'll tear out the next bar. You'll be able to squeeze free then. But when you do, I'll be sitting here. You might want to keep that in mind for your calculations tonight." Kyson picked up the first bar and slotted it loosely back into place, then grabbed his arm and walked out. Calaria shook Stubbs awake and followed.

As they neared the intersection where they had begun, Calaria took a few long strides to Kyson's side. "You know I won't let you free that maniac."

"He won't be free. He has the guilty weight of dozens of deaths on his shoulders."

"Don't try to mess around with me."

"I'll be there. He's not a monk, Calaria. He's got one fighting style and I've already worked out a counter-style to it. I can keep him down however long it takes."

"Takes for what? He's a murderer! Why are you even bothering with him?!"

"It's not his fault. His mind is shattered and there's some things you can't fix yourself. He needs help, not a noose."

"And what would you know about other people's minds?"

She could feel the cold running off him and shivered despite herself. "Plenty," he said.

"Civan will be--"

"I'll be?"

Kyson and Calaria whirled to face Civan and Franz, stepping out of a room behind them. Civan gave them a harsh look. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, yer Knightlyness," Stubbs said, picking up his pace through the corridor. "We heard there wuz a fancy to-do bankit and, meself bein' a fair cook if ah may say, figgered ah'd lend a hand in return fer some hansom' payment."

Civan licked his lips. "Err, I suppose a few of the dishes did taste a bit...spicy. Hurry back to the inn and get some sleep, though. It's bad form to yawn in front of a queen."

"Where are you taking Mr. Franz?" Calaria asked before he could turn away.

Civan made a face. "We can discuss that tomorrow." He turned and headed down the corridor to the dungeons.

As the trio stepped out into the night and trudged to the Ahriman's Rest, Calaria turned to Kyson and asked, "Are you going to release him too?"

"I'll have to hear his story first."

Retro Belmont

Aside from the abrupt fainting and assassination attempt, it was turning out to be a pleasant banquet. Dessert was served shortly after the guests finished their entrees to keep the mouths full with food and not of questions as to what happened shortly ago. Civan watched from his table as a group of five or six waiters carried out a giant cake from the kitchen. Similar to a parade, other forms of desserts were carried out on large platters, such as decorated pastries and what looked like a batch of the world famous Truvian Flan pies. Civan wanted to sample some, but remained fastly in his seat mulling over what just happened in the dungeons shortly before. It was then that he noticed Luth staring at him.

"Still hungry?" He said.

"Not especially."

"You have a troubled look about you." Luth put his drink down, "But this night has been equally troubled."

"You have to understand," said Civan, his voice now quiet, "that I initially had no idea what the bard was on about."

"Obviously the boy is mad." Luth said, his voice unwavering, "Did you learn anything helpful during the interrogation?"

"It is...difficult to say if it was helpful or not." Civan looked down. Something inside him felt uneasy. Was it guilt? Pity? He searched his feelings and still wasn't sure what to make of the information. Or what it might mean for the rest of them.

Finally, he looked up to Luth and told him, "But...there's something odd. He clearly planned all of this out, but normally it wouldn't make sense for a man to want to assassinate the Queen-Empress for nothing more than sheer mental instability. We're talking about a woman who in all of her life hasn't willingly harmed a single individual. A woman whose hands I would genuinely trust the safety of this kingdom in."

Luth nodded, and then took another swig of his drink. "You see. It is that sort of opinion that every normal person would have of our Queen. You just have to look at the character, what they've done. That is enough..."

Luth trailed off for a moment, but then continued, "Don't worry. I've locked up plenty of characters before, I've seen all of their types and heard all of their stories. Assassination isn't an entirely new concept, Civan. I'm sure the lot of them have their own reasons for trying to improve the world, it's just a shame it involves the death of someone, or usually, themselves."

"Indeed." said Civan, finally.

"Don't worry about it, alright?" Luth added.

"Alright." Civan echoed, only insincere, then he began to rise from his seat. "I think it best I go out for some air. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course."

He slid out of his seat slowly and rose and then walked around the group of exotic dancers performing on the floor, then headed outside onto the veranda. Civan rested his elbows on the edge of the railing and breathed in the cool night air through his nostrils. He looked up to the heavens. The moon was absent, tonight, and thus the night sky was filled only with stars. Civan breathed out slowly and closed his eyes, the night being his only solace right now. The added darkness was also a lucky circumstance for the two dark silhouettes below the veranda, their faces garbed in black pelts and fabrics and they crept towards the castle.

Meanwhile, things become much quieter inside as the entertainment exits the room and guests are encouraged to hush. The Queen-Empress then makes another appearance onto stage, accompanied by endless applause from the guests and staff. She stands upright in the center smiling politely and gives a short bow to them. The applause finally fades, and she begins to talk, a delicateness in her voice.

"Honored guests and citizens of Battant, I couldn't be more pleased with such a welcome from you all upon my return."

A second roaring applause then comes from the crowd, Worthengraut makes an effort to stand above the rest of them while calling out his love for the kingdom and the Queen in a drunken chant. He collapses backwards into his seat with a huge mug of ale, shaking the whole table. The Queen waits politely again for the cheering to quiet down before continuing.

"Battant... is like a jewel. Beautiful, sentimental, and worth protecting from those who wish to take it. It is my jewel of the world, a place where I can only call my home. My kingdom..."

Civan remained outside as he watched the speech, and was fixated on the events within. If he was not, then perhaps he would have heard the sound of the two figures entering through the window around the corner. Civan continued watching the Queen, and suddenly a feeling of familiar dread passed through him.

"People of Battant, I say proudly to you all that I have returned victorious from the World Government Meeting!" The applause wouldn't cease from the audience, but the Queen simply continued anyway.

"'For our new ally, Osyllia, shall lend us their aid!"

The applause stopped then, except for Worthengraut's. The guests were stunned, even all of the staff who were busy serving guests turned their heads at the time. Luth beforehand made his way behind the curtains of the stage and sighed distressingly as the news passed. Next to him stood a woman, equally unpleased. Civan stared at her from the balcony shocked, his mouth open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Queen looked out to her confused nation, smiled politely again, and continued on as if it were the same as waiting for approving applause to cease.

"Now, to confirm this alliance, I welcome my honored guest, Vizier Hal'amek, to speak to all of us."

The color drained from Civan's face then, and he recalled once more his encounter with Franz.

Start Flashback

Civan walked to Franz’s cell and stood there in front of the bars looking at him. He walks to the side and grabs a table and then a couple of chairs and brings them into the cell and closes it. They both sat opposite each other in silence. Franz's eyes looked tired, and angry. Civan crossed his arms and stared at him.

"You see I made good on my word. Here I am, now I would appreciate it if you told me what this was really about."

Franz remained silent.

"You weren't making sense earlier. How am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"I told you," Franz said, almost sobbing, "she murdered my family."

"Don't you dare be making this up." Civan stated, annoyed, "I know the Queen-"

"You know NOTHING!" Franz shouted, his hands grasping on the edge of the table as his stood up above Civan.

"Sit down." Civan said, flatly, "And don't you tell me what I do and do not know. Lying is-"

"I'm not lying!" Franz snapped. "She did it! She... She might as well have!"

"She did nothing. The Queen is innocent."

"So these days, you murder people within an alliance to the Vizier Hal'Amek and they call you innocent..." Franz spat in disbelief. Civan backhanded him across the face. Franz looked at the ground and didn't raise his head up again, but looked to be weeping silently.

"Spin your tales, Bard, but I will hear none of it!"

"I swear to you," said Franz, now raising his head up again with hurt in his eyes, "On my mother's grave, it is the damned truth."

Civan's narrowed his eyes a bit and concentrated on Franz's words. He sat down again.

"Now I want you to tell me all of it. I don't care if it's hurtful to remember or what, but this is a lot you're asking me to believe."

Franz snapped back at him defiantly, "Why should I care if you believe it or not?"

"How else could a man justify his own actions? You will tell me. If this is true, then by Gods you will tell me."

"Then..." Franz took a moment to find his voice again, "You'll know the truth of it. What you think of the Queen then is up to you."

"Better than leaving doubt in my mind to grow." Civan rubbed his temples. He then sat back again in his chair and locked his fingers together in his lap, awaiting Franz's story.

"Very well." Franz said, beginning to calm down again. "I don’t know exactly when it all happened, but not nearly long enough to haze in my memory. I was somewhat younger at the time, in the care of my family, a group of mages."

Civan looked confused already. "You're a mage..?"

"No. I was adopted, and I don't know who my real family is, nor does it matter to me now. Anyway, we lived peacefully for the longest time out in the countryside, remaining secret from most of the world. It was only until we were deceived and captured by Hal'Amek that we were exposed for being a family of mages. I, of course, was soon discovered to not possess any real powers, but that did not necessarily grant me right to leave. We were tortured for weeks. The rest of my family was used for experimentation as I could only helplessly watch them suffer. Hal’Amek wanted their magiks, so too, did your Queen. The first time I saw her, she met with Hal’Amek and they talked briefly. I could see her looking over all of the bodies of the exhausted mages and frowning at them. They must have been working together for something. Some…profit that the two of them could make out of the souls of these people. I overheard who she was when the Vizier spoke her name, but then I blacked out.”

“My Gods,” uttered Civan. “I knew that the Vizier had been experimenting with mages, but even the children?”

“It was the worst place I have ever been to in my life.” Franz shook his head slowly, “I can hardly remember the experience, which is somewhat of a blessing. But then something happened which I’ll always see in the most sleepless of nights.”

“What is it?” Civan asked.

"They were murdered. Right there, in front of my eyes, in cold blood. Shortly before, a small uprising between all of the mages contained there erupted, and they were all rushing Hal’Amek. He conjured something powerful up right there and unleashed it upon them, it was most likely something he had taken from those exact mages. My parents, running to embrace eachother and my sister, were also slain there. I had hidden somewhere else before, and I was in the sights of Hal’Amek, but then…” Franz stopped.

“Then what?” Exasperated Civan.

“I don’t know myself. There were two other mages still there, a black and white one. They clasped their hands together in prayer and yelled out something, a spell perhaps, but none of which I had heard my parents chanting. I couldn’t believe my eyes, their spell had created some sort of rift within the air, and from within it emerged a ferocious beast.”

Civan leaned forward, his voice serious, “I’ve heard of certain mages calling forth avatars from another world. Summoners…they’re called.”

“Yes, it was definitely a summoning ritual in defense of their lives…but.” Franz thought to himself, “I was too scared at the time to find out what happened, so I ran. And by some miraculous account, I escaped that hellish place. I never knew what became of those summoners, but it is possible, nay probable, that they still died.”

Civan remained silent.

"So now you see, Civan. That little operation of Hal’Amek’s is likely still in operation out there, somewhere. Possibly even more threatening to the lives of those with magic skills than it was then." Franz suddenly looked even more downcast, “But if his supplier were gone…”

“You mean…”

“The Queen-Empress likely has sold out her share of them. For what? Who could know. Who needs to know? I don’t, I just want her dead for being accomplice. The deed must be done, because once Hal’Amek is weakened, I’ll be out for him then.”

Civan stared down at the floor, all of his energy has left him. He suddenly remembers the party, the Queen, Luth, and everyone else. He slowly raised himself from his seat and walked towards the door. Franz called out to him.

“Civan! CIVAN! Wait!”

Zimon continued to listen quietly in his adjacent cell until Civan had departed, then went back to laying down.

End Flashback

The Vizier's speech clearly fell on deaf ears, and he wound up causing the guests to all boo and hiss at him until he left the stage. He didn’t care. Civan entered the room quietly and slipped into one of the nearby tables, avoiding grabbing the attention of the Vizier. Once backstage, the Vizier teleported out of sight. Civan breathed a sigh of relief for a moment, but then opened his eyes to utter blackness.

“Whoa!”

Civan looked around frantically, but couldn’t see a thing. Then he hears a scream from the stage, belonging to the Queen. He leaps out of his seat and rushes to the source of it, and hears the shouting of a familiar voice followed by the clang of swords. Civan takes out his and begins to approach the stage, and he hears two figures struggling in the dark. There is a flash of light for a second, possibly flame. One of them screams, and Civan smells searing flesh shortly after, then the sound of the dead man’s sword as it falls to the floor and rolls to Civan’s feet. He picks it up and looks on ahead, confused.

“Luth?”

The lights suddenly come back on, and the guests are looking around, terrified. Civan runs up to the stage and finds Luth standing over the body of a man in black, and begins to ask him what’s happened. Worthengraut instead shouts it out, "Vhere is da Queen?! You two, vhat has that man done with her? I demand to know!”

Luth finally looks up and around to the crowd and notices that they are all looking at him.

"I apologize, ladies and gentlemen. This time, the party really is over.” Was all he said.

Civan grabbed Luth’s shoulder firmly and looked up at him.

“Where is she?”

Luth sheathed his sword, "The Queen... is gone. A couple of these men forced their way in, but we’ve only subdued one. The other I suspect has the Queen.” He studied the body, “Professionals from a distant land. They were most likely ordered by someone to do this."

Civan’s head was spinning. So much was happening in one night, it hardly seemed real. Was there significance to it? A connection? Could someone have been plotting all of this? Certainly it could not have all been Franz, despite any amount of connections it seemed too ludicrous for someone to have executed such a plan. It must be coincidence, but the difficult truth was that nobody knew why the Queen had done what she had done, and now nobody could ask her because nobody knew where she was either. Amongst all of the confusion, another person, a woman, stepped out from behind the curtain and approached Luth. Civan had not seen her until now. She was a taller woman, garbed lightly in silver and blue armor, adorned with the royal crest and other decarations which made her seem like royalty in of itself. She also wore a white cape and boots, and at her side was a longsword in a red sheath. Her hair was long and blonde, but held up in a ponytail. She also wore a tiara which was unlike a crown but seemed to indicate that she was of high combat status. Furthermore, Civan was utterly intimidated by her. The glare he had received that had since switched to Luth was stern and direct. Civan didn’t doubt she could move boulders out of the way by ordering them to on a mountain path. But even still, Civan couldn’t help but think of her as beautiful.

“They got away.” She said to Luth, and then looked down the body of the kidnapper that Luth had slain a few moments ago.

“Foolish move, Luth. Now how are we supposed to track the other?”

“My apologies, Talia.” Luth looked at her and didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, like he could get used to that sort of thing. “It was dark, after all.”

“This is not why you’re who you are.” She looked out at the guests, who were still gaping, and then glared at Luth, “These people aren’t staring because you made yourself look badass, Luth. You have to get them out of here safely as I put this city on lockdown.” She looked at Civan again, “You are…?”

“Civan Farfarel. Knight of Battant.” Civan responded a bit too quickly.

“Well met, Sir Farfarel. I am the bodyguard of the Queen-Empress, Talia Alcander. And obviously there is a problem on our hands. Now then, it's up to you to alert the rest of the castle of the situation, and then head out to the border guards to tell them not to let anyone in or out. As I have just stated, I’m putting this city in lockdown immediately.”

Masamune

While the Vizier made his appearance in the palace; Kyson, Neezer, and Calaria made their way back to the inn. The stars were bright overhead and the three companions were exhausted by their excursion into the palace. Truvian nights were always cold and although all three were shivering, it seemed to be far worse for Calaria, who had spent her whole life in warm climates. Because of the cold Stubbs had lit up a cigar, giving a small amount of illumination to the party of three.

They were about a block away from the inn when Calaria suddenly walked straight into a hooded figure exiting from the alleyway between two shops. Kyson turned to help Calaria up, for the moment ignoring the stranger.

"My apologies, sir..." Calaria said in a quiet tone. For some reason she couldn't find her full voice.

The figure stood and turned to continue.

"Jes' a min't therr!" Stubbs snapped as he grabbed the man's shoulder. "The lass jest 'pologized to ya!"

The figure turned and for a moment the three were started to see what were three bright red eyes, but they quickly rationalized it must've been sparks from Neezer's cigar, because a second later the figure was a normal man, though his features obscured by the shadows. "My apologies, but I'm in a hurry," the man rasped as he released himself from Neezer's grip and continued in the opposite direction of the party.

"Yeesh, are all Truvians that rude?" asked Calaria with an itch of agitation in her voice.

"Forget about him," Kyson replied. "We're almost to the inn."

"Eh. Jest a tick," Stubbs interrupted. "Sumffin ain't right."

"Neezer..." Kyson started in exasperation, but sighed and didn't say anything else.

Stubbs ignored him and lighted a match as he entered the alley. As he walked in he knelt down he grabbed a crumpled old newspaper and wrapped it around a discarded plank of wood that was half-rotted from the dampness of the street. He made a makeshift torch out of the combination and discarded the match one he had lit the paper. It wouldn't last more than a minute, but it wouldn't hurt his hand and he wasn't planning on doing spelunking besides.

He didn't have to walk more than a few yards before he saw a peculiar shape lying among some old garbage. Stubbs knelt down to get a better look. Lying there, seemingly dead, was Imajin. Kyson and Calaria both gasped when they leaned over Stubbs to get a look. Before a word could be said, Stubbs had amazingly hoisted Imajin up in his arms and started walking to the inn.

"Stubbs, what-" Calaria began to say, but was cut off..

"Git' to the inn 'n have the maid get a bed ready!" Stubbs said harshly.

Calaria stopped a moment, somewhat shocked to hear Neezer snap like that. But realizing the severity of the situation (and that this was Stubbs after all), she ran ahead to the inn.

Kyson looked over his shoulder as he walked with Stubbs. "That man... no wonder he was in a hurry. Once I find him-"

"You'll end up like boss?" Stubbs snapped. "Ain't happening, kid. Go open the shrackin' door to the inn so I can get in."

In a matter of minutes, Imajin was set down on a bed and the maids were bringing in warm water to wash off the Osyllian. Kyson and the others just stayed out of the way, the three of them not exactly having much in ways of medical knowledge. One of the maid's son had taken off to get a doctor, though there was no telling how long that would take.

Or what good a doctor would do. After all... Imajin was awake, but not saying much. A great long gash was across his bare chest. It was a cut deep enough to draw blood. The only problem was - there was no blood. Not even on his shirt, even though the wound was recent given the tears in his shirt.

That and he had no pulse.

The maid, visibly shaken by this, just said. "I've never seen such a thing! It's not natural!"

Kyson nodded. "Understood. Let us know when the doctor is here. We'd like a minute alone, please."

The maid nodded and exited the room with one of the tubs of water. After she left, Kyson closed the door and turned the lock. After he was sure nobody was listening outside, he turned to the bed.

"Imajin?" he asked.

Imajin nodded.

"Boss, ya kin still talk right?" Stubbs asked. "That bastard didnae cut yer tongue out did he?"

"No, I still have my tongue," Imajin replied levelly.

"What happened!?" Calaria exclaimed. "You're... you're d- not... breathing."

"Yes. It would appear I've died," Imajin replied quietly. His voice sounded worried and frightened, but his face showed no evidence of that. "And I don't know what it means."

"How did this happen?" Kyson asked. "Who did this?"

"I don't know and I'm not sure," the Osyllian replied as his eyes drifted to the floor.

"Maybe you should start from the beginning," Calaria suggested. "What happened when you left the inn?"

Earlier That Day

While Calaria went shopping and Kyson stayed behind with Stubbs, Imajin journeyed into the city alone. His reasoning was perhaps flawed, but that Giuseppe... No matter how much he hated him - and he hated him a lot - he had to be sure he was alive. His hatred was not petty in the sense he would kill him. Only lesser men desired such empty vengeance.

He wanted Giuseppe to be alive so he could not only get his life back, but so that he could in turn ruin the life the 'gentleman thief'. Maybe after Drakenvort crawled about pathetically across the world, he'd learn a bit of humility. The sight of the thief scrounging to survive brought a slight smirk to Imajin's face. Just a [i]little[/i] bit of revenge was all he asked for, that's all.

The matter of finding him came first, of course. The only other gate he could have came through was the southeast gate. The city of Battant was the largest on the continent and as such walking to the gate would've been an all day fair. He had no intentions of skulking the city at night, so he dipped into what reserve cash he had and summoned a cab to escort him to the other side of town.

"Southeast gate," Imajin said as he boarded the carriage.

"Eh, but yeh's already at this gate," the driver said. He shrugged and shook the reigns, urging his two Chocobo team forward. "Luv'ly weather, innit?"

Imajin nodded absently. "Do people often use the southeast gate?"

The driver scratched his chin. "The nobs usually don't. S'kinda the gate that less'n common folk use. Security is real tight in 'dem parts, but ya gots more to worry 'bout on whose inside 'n whose out, if ye catch my meaning, sir."

"I see what you mean," Imajin replied. "Lots of crime, hm?"

"Eh? Lords no," the cab driver said, shocked he would even say that. "Just cuz yer poor don't makes ya crooked. Ya gotta be rich for dat. Nah, 'em dem parts ye're under the special eye of the da guard. Folk like Civan and Luth make it 'ell for people to make a livin' in dose parts."

"You live there, then?" Imajin asked.

"Aye," the cab driver glanced back and gave Imajin a puzzled look. "Yer from down south, right? Osyllia and such?"

Imajin nodded.

The cab driver shook his head. "Yer either dem stupid or dem brave. Folk don't like Osyllians. Any of the guards see yas in 'dem parts and they'll fink yer up to no good."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation at that point turned to the Queen-Empress's return. In a roundabout way Imajin learned that the Queen had been in Auberon and had just recently returned from a meeting with other nation leaders (or at least those who bothered to show up). The general expectation of it all was that she would be trying to find allies to go against Osyllia. That was the hope, in any case.

He also mentioned, strangely enough, that Imajin wasn't the only Osyllian he had seen come into the city. When pressed for more details, the cab driver mumbled something about client confidentiality and left it at that. It was later in the afternoon when at last Imajin arrived at the southeast gate. He paid the cab driver and asked if he'd stay just a bit. However the driver insisted he had to make more rounds and moved on quickly.

He found a guard in charge of the southeast gate quickly enough. There was dozens about them all over the place and all of them were regarding him with suspicion.

"Something you need?" the guard asked.

"Yes, yes. I'm wondering if a man passed through here. Dressed in a long overcoat, probably on a Chocobo and maybe even unconscious. He looked uh, Gelveerian I think."

The guard called over his superior and a few muffled words were shared. The guard departed, leaving Imajin to speak to the superior guard.

"Said you were looking for a Gelveerian, right?" the superior asked.

Imajin nodded. "That's right. Anything?"

"We sent 'em on through. Had to get off the bird, but he was in fine shape," the guard answered. "Said someone might come asking for him. I guess that's you. He left a card."

Imajin seized the all to familiar card and read it. [i]Mr. Imajin. It looks like the man-beast has caused us to part ways. I hope you make it to Battant alive, but I have business elsewhere. Until next time. Courtesty, G.T.[/i]

"Lovely," Imajin grunted. "Thanks for your help."

"Before you go," the superior guard interrupted. "You're with the other Osyllians, right?"

Imajin's brow quirked. "... yes. What do you need?"

The superior guard handed him a small golden scarab with a jewel encrusted in it. "The delivery your boss asked for is here, just like he asked. You're a bit early, but you must be the one to pick it up, right?"

"Of course," Imajin replied, trying hard to not inspect the scarab and raise any suspicions. "Have they told you our new location?"

"You're not in the Rasping Griffin?" the superior asked, then made a gesture indicating he said something stupid. "Er."

Imajin smirked, "Just testing. Maybe we better keep this one secret with those loopse lips, eh?"

The superior guard nodded. "Fine. I'll let my guards know to let you through." He saluted. "Glory to the Queen-Empress."

Imajin made no gesture and turned to leave, turning the scarab in his hand curiously.

End Flashback

"The guards were working with Osyllians?" Calaria asked, her mouth agape.

Imajin nodded. "It seemed strange at the time and I had to know why. In hindsight it was stupid of me, but after what that cabbie had said..."

"Apparently only that head guard knew though," Kyson noted. "Do you have the scarab still?"

Imajin shook his head. "After that, I headed back.

Earlier That Day, Late Afternoon

His trip back to the inn had been less eventful than his earlier excursion. The cab driver was quiet and responded to most questions with grunts. The whole trip was unnerving though. Every time Imajin glanced back, he thought he could see something... or someone move into the shadows. Missing this mystery person - if indeed there was anything - was infuriating and Imajin forced himself to watch the road ahead.

Since he was running low on Gil, Imajin ended his ride a few blocks from the inn. He paid his driver and continued on his way, putting his hand into his pocket and rubbing his thumb over the jewel in the scarab. It was a subconscious act, but it seemed to offer some ease to his mind.

The feeling didn't last long though. Every block he walked down seemed like an eternity. Something was definitely following him, he just didn't know what. He hastened his pace and rubbed the scarab harder and faster. What relief it brought him before seemed to only add to his anxiety.

He was nearing the inn when suddenly a hand reached from the shadows and pulled him into the alleyway. He was thrown several yards before he landed on the ground, bruised and his clothes tattered. His fingers were also bleeding from the scarab, which he had grasped in his hand when he was thrown. He looked up to see his attacker... a hooded man whose eyes flashed red for half a second. The hood was drawn back, revealing a tall, bald Osyllian man with a face covered with tattoos of varying religious significance.

"Disgusting," the man spat. "One of our own, stealing from the Vizier? Do you know no patriotism?"

"It was a case of mistaken identity," Imajin grunted as he weakly stood up. "If you want what's yours..." He reached in his pocket and produced the scarab, only now it was covered with blood.

The man's eyes flashed red, only this time it was not for a mere second. In a single stroke he produced his scimitar and slashed it across Imajin's chest, causing the merchant to fall back into a pile of garbage while clutching his wound. "You fool! You've tainted the scarab!" He kneeled down and pulled the scarab from Imajin's hand.

Imajin was more concerned about his wound. "N... no blood...?"

"Doomed to this world eternally, never to see paradise," said the Osyllian in a mix of arrogance and pity. "A fitting fate for a thief such as you. But since I can't have you following me..."

The last thing Imajin saw was the hilt of the Osyllian's scimitar.

End Flashback

"So was it the scarab or the scimitar?" Kyson wondered.

"I think it was the scarab," Calaria interjected. "I saw a symbol of a scarab like that... encrusted with a jewel. I just don't remember where, but it holds some kind of significance."

"I should think it holds some shrackin' significance!" Stubbs growled. "For the boss to git killed on account of it!"

"I'm not exactly dead Stubbs," Imajin corrected.

"But you're not exactly alive either," Kyson noted. "We already tried Holy Water. This isn't a simple zombification spell."

There was silence between the four until they heard some loud noises outside the room. Calaria quietly stepped out of the room for a few moments and returned.

"What's going on?" Imajin asked.

"There's a big commotion at the palace," Calaria answered. "There was an assassination attempt... and the Vizier is there. Osyllia and Truvia are officially allies."

"Shrackin' hell."

Luiigii of the Pipes

Civan entered the room behind Calaria and held up one hand as a means of silencing them. "As I understand, and I hope for your sakes' as well as mine, the Queen-Empress has only done this to protect Truvia. The army here is fine as far as standard combat goes, but Hal'amek specializes in magic, and there's no reason to believe he hasn't built his own army by that principle. Correct, Mr. Imajin?"

Imajin nodded slowly. He had pulled a new shirt on over his scar as soon as Civan entered, but it felt as if it was glowing brightly through the fabric for all to see. Not that immortality was a bad thing... Imagine the kind of profit he could make in that time...

"When Hal'amek attacked Ralstrom and 'formed an alliance,' Truvia realized that it would be next after the rest of the southern continent fell to Sultan Jezerek's regime. The Queen contracted El Vida to teach the army magical defense, but Hal'amek jumped the gun and turned his eye on Truvia first. Of course," he added before questions could fly, "Auberon did not sign the treaty presented at the convention, and we have quite potent magical defense protocols built into our army." He omitted the fact that El Vida had nothing to do with this, and the source of these protocols was still unknown. Franz's accusations rang through his head once more.

"So you think the Queen is going to sacrifice Auberon to save Truvia?" Imajin asked.

"Not sacrifice, just protect. It's a bold move, considering Truvia isn't even her homeland, and would strike a chord of generosity with her naysayers here."

"Or she jest lets Auberon fall," Stubbs said. "'n nobody blames 'er fer tryin'."

Civan glared at Stubbs, but underneath his mind toiled. Of all the people to come to mind at this point, Mog was the least expected. The poor Moogle was simply following orders, unaware of his Caliph's deceit, and had almost died for it at Civan's own hands. Did he want to end up the same way? "It's become irrelevant since her kidnapping anyway," he said, changing the subject. "It seems Truvia isn't as safe for you as I had hoped. I'm supposed to be locking down the gates, but if you four slipped past before I got there no one would take notice." He drew a map from his coat. "For now, Auberon will probably be your safest destination. We can move you again before the war starts, anyway. The airship docks are shut down, so you'll have to travel west of here and into the mountains." He drew a line on the map with his finger, curving significantly northward to a mountain trail before going back south to the section marked with his homeland's name. "With any luck, once the Queen is found I can take vacation to see my wife and daughter and remeet with you there."

"Can't we jest get on through 'ere?" Stubbs said, drawing a straighter line from Truvia to Auberon and crossing a large gap in the mountain range.

"You want to go through Barren?"

"Can't be worse'n mount'ins."

"It's a desert valley. There's maybe one settlement the whole way through. No food, no water..."

"We could take Chocobos," Calaria suggested.

"Then you'll have roast chicken for supper the first night, and that's it."

Imajin glanced at the rendition of Barren on the map, a fresh stain from Stubbs's finger outlining it. He had spent most of his life in the desert and didn't fear this one now, especially not with his...condition. Stubbs had been doing fine ever since Imajin had brought his caravan to Osyllia, and Calaria was from a temperate island. Kyson, though...

Kyson noticed Imajin's glance and shook his head. "I'm not leaving yet."

Imajin attempted to take this in stride, and almost made it. "Beg pardon?"

Now Stubbs and Calaria were glaring at Kyson too. "I'm going to see Zimon tomorrow."

This time Civan started. "Beg pardon?"

"Didn't you hear?" Calaria asked, keeping her eyes on Kyson. "He's quite the humanitarian."

"Apemanitarian, if yeh pr'fer."

Civan glanced back into his memory. "You bent that iron bar in his cell?"

"You told me Zimon was a good man yesterday."

"But--"

"Spoiled brat, yes, I know. But I looked at some of the decorations in his cave. Thank You notes from orphanages, plaques from resident charities, the honorary deed from a home for the elderly. He used to put the remainder of his money to good use."

Civan glanced down. "When we split up his will, he left my father enough money to build a home in Truvia, though he never did. My father had only served him for a year... But he's killed so many. He's--"

"A man like that couldn't become just a monster. If I can't help him, then you can bring him to justice. He's the least of your concerns at the moment, anyway."

"Kyson..." Imajin said.

"I stopped working for you the moment we set foot in Eijopi, Imajin. That was our deal."

Imajin raised an eyebrow, then offered his right hand. "I was going to wish you well. If my new situation offers me any side-effects of the same sort as this Gorenicusto, do promise that you will give me hope as well."

Kyson shook, abashed. "Of course."

"You can't just walk in," Calaria said, crossing her arms. "Hal'amek will know we were here."

"If his associate described me, he already does," Imajin replied.

"We're also in the middle of a lock-down," Civan noted, and received an appraising glance from Stubbs.

The mechanic turned his attention to Kyson, then back to Civan. "Yeh wanted a holeeday, eh?"

"Not right now! The Queen needs to be found!"

"Eh, but yeh're standin' 'ere yakkin' with us instead o' closin' them gates. Them nappers prob'ly got away already. Yeh could go after 'em with us?"

Civan scowled. "No wonder Giuseppe was so gung-ho to leave! You four are insane!" Though even he had to admit, his loyalties to the Queen would have to be rather strained for him to put these four's protection above hers...that spoony bard... He shrugged off his coat and passed it to Kyson.

"Take the mountain trail," Imajin said. "We shall be fine in the desert, but we have more experience than the two of you. We can meet in..." He glanced down at the map. "Barsilus."

"And you should know now," Civan went on, pulling off a boot, "if Gorenicusto is no different when you arrive, I will kill him directly and arrest you for aiding a fugitive in escape." Kyson only nodded, while another idea struck Civan. "Bring Franz with you as well. I have some questions I want to ask him."

***

One portly guard sat at the commoner's gate of Battant, picking his teeth with his fingernail, while another, skinny guard marched back and forth in a very guard-like manner. Three black Chocobos rode past, their riders moving too fast for recognition. Neither of the guards cared, and continued their true guardly duties of mouth-cleaning and ground-flattening. Moments later, Sir Civan rode up, though it took a moment for either of them to recognize him in Kyson's clothes, and it ultimately took the sword and pistol tucked in the belt and the shine of his breastplate under the shirt for understanding to kick in.

"S-sir!" the skinny one said, saluting and trying not to chuckle.

"A trio of thieves just left the city," Civan said, "and you were supposed to have locked these gates down hours ago."

"No one told us, sir," the fat one added, coming to attention.

"Do it now, then. I'm going to ride out in pursuit, but do not inform Lord Belzecue. He's already occupied with the kidnapping. If I don't return this way, assume I came in from the other gate."

"Sir," they said in unison. As soon as he was out of sight, they dropped their arms and went back to work, though smartly clamping a lock to the gate first.

Civan caught up with the rest, waiting in the forest just outside of town. Imajin nodded to him. "We can stop and pick up non-perishable foodstuffs at the next town before Barren. Stubbs and I know what will work."

"What about water?" Calaria asked, not accustomed to a lack of it.

Imajin grinned. "What do you know about Ice spells?"

***

As the sun rose over the palace, surrounded both by guards standing around and guarding and guards running around looking for clues, Civan strode alone to the palace. His left arm was in a sling and unmoving, and he wore both a rather large hat and a white breathing mask, on the pretense that he had fallen down the stairs in his exhaustion from last night and picked up a flu while his arm was healing, but that was no excuse to be absent on a day as eventful as this one. Everyone was too busy to stop and ask beyond that. Except Worthengraut, who had been following out of complete boredom and effectively holding a conversation with himself.

Kyson sighed.

***

Mog sat up in his bed at the First Eijopi Medical Unit, but it was no longer there. He was surrounded by darkness, save for three objects. Imajin stood to his right and Kyson stood to his left, both facing away. Behind him was a glowing blue point, which Mog didn't dare approach. He went to draw his spear, but it wasn't there; nor was his armor. He looked around, and felt his mind will his mouth to move.

"As Imajin and co. cross the deadliest desert known to man in search of safety, Kyson travels into the heart of the enemy to save a murderer's life." He paused, more words coiling through his brain. "Choose? Why choose? They're both going to happen. Stupid dream, I'm waking up now..."