FFOG3 Chapter 1

Imajin is a traveling merchant in the country of Osyllia who picks up a stowaway while leaving Osmirii--Kyson, the one-armed monk. He then has his gold stolen by Giuseppe Drakenvort, a master thief; this gold was going to be used to pay off the debt on the rovers that make up his caravan to Lord Ellis Duvronne.

Upon arrival in Eijopi, Imajin is confronted by Duvronne; Kyson, Stubbs (Imajin's chief mechanic), and a mage named Calaria are taken hostage and the rovers are reclaimed until Imajin can pay off the debt. When Imajin is unable to do so, Duvronne employs a giant mechanical suit to punish the group. They destroy the suit and Duvronne is killed by Stubbs, who knows Duvronne too well to let him live.

The group is then arrested by Eijopi's authorities and taken to see the Caliph. Since magic is forbidden in Eijopi and Calaria made use of it during their fight with Duvronne, Kyson takes the blame in her place. He is taken to a magic-testing lab and meets Vizier Hal'amek, who quickly realizes that Kyson is not a mage and decides to question how much he knows about the labs, as Kyson had discovered one under the monastery where he trained and nearly gotten himself killed as a result.

Imajin, Stubbs, and Calaria are taken to a jail house in the meantime. Their counselor turns out to be Giuseppe, who has taken the job to make amends for the trouble his stealing has caused. During the trial, they stage a daring escape due to the unwitting help of Ifrit. After finding Kyson in the midst of a battle with Hal'amek, Giuseppe mimics one of the Vizier's teleport spells and takes them all to safety.

Chapter 1: Let's Make a Deal

Chapters in Final Fantasy OG III archive

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Ditto McCloaker

It is the apex of night. Few sounds disturb the sands. High above, gleaming white like a celestial scimitar in the starry blue sky hangs the moon. Below the desert sand is as white as death and sparkles like thousands of tiny diamonds.

Down below, a caravan, like a train of a few small apartments on treads, worn with dust and sand and time but decorated with a few elaborate items and hanging with ornate rugs hinting at a wealth of cargo inside, makes its way across the sands, pulled along by a team of armored and elaborately-secured Desert Chocobos.

Have you ever thought of the merchants? Their lives are rarely chronicled, but enterprise can require every bit as much cunning and nerve as one who braves the seas. However, even sailors reach land eventually, and there relax between voyages.

The merchants never rest.

Over a dune, several heavily robed figures ride up on night-black Sand Chocobos, loaded down with weapons. Evil intent lurks in their eyes. Spotting the caravan, the leader makes to go down the dune and his compatriots instinctively follow.

Down in the head of the caravan, the rider on watch duty sitting awake perceives the dark riders cascading over the crest of a dune towards him. Quickly his hand reaches for a rope and tugs.

Back in one of the compartments, recumbent on a mount of ornate and colorful pillows lies a small figure, one arm curled up under a head. In the walls of the compartment, which are covered in rich and expensive trinkets, jewelry and cloths, a bell rings. Without the slightest jar of awakening, the figure springs to life. Without even peeking out the windows, he scrambles up and out of the compartment and onto a mount in the cool night air.

Up on a raised mount at the back of the caravan, the lithe little figure sights the small horde growing larger and swivels the turret around towards them. The warning shot takes two riders clean off their mounts and cause a few other Chocobos to rear up and run away in fear. Following up, several other shells charged with Fire Magic hurtle through the cold night air into the horde. The caravan suddenly lurches forward and picks up speed, as the Haste Magic Component kicks in. Soon most of the riders are chasing from behind, which makes them much easier targets for the shells.

A wrinkle, however. As the regular Chocobo riders fall back other shapes pull forward and quickly make pace with the speeding caravan. Apparently this cadre of Thieves were ahead of the usual pack. In addition to these vehicle's speed, their carapaces deflect harmlessly the Fire Shells.

The caravan veers sharply downward into a rocky crag followed by the mechanical pursuers, and the regular-shod gang are left far behind. The caravan maneuvered up onto the high ground and stops for battle. A few passengers get down, weilding weaponry. Their vehicles unable to handle the incline, the pursuers grind to a halt and dismount and scramble up towards the traders on foot.

One clever Thief breaks away from the struggle and circles around the upcropping and sneaks towards the caravan and it's cache of wealth. He grabs hold of a handhold and swings himself up onto the running board, and makes for the door into the interior. A shadow falls over him, however. His gaze raises slowly to see a small, athletic figure standing up on the roof over him. Suddenly a pointed shoe swings up into his face and sends him careening over the side of the caravan, into the air, and all the way down the rocky upcropping.

Down at the ground, the Thief's fanatical greed and outrage bring him back to his feet with startling speed. He fingers a Chackram and proceeds to sneak around the hill again. He hears the sound of pebbles and spots his opponent down around his level, scrambling over some rocks for cover. With deadly speed the Thief sends his Chackram whistling through the icy air after him. He waits, listening for the sound of blade cutting flesh. A few seconds later, he sees the Chackram coming back towards him, and he holds out his hand to receive it.

Too late the Thief realizes that the chackram took a few seconds too long to turn around and return. And that this, therefore, isn't a return flight.

A few minutes later, the Thieves party has lost the battle and the caravan is safe. The little leader rushes over and spots his hired mercenaries standing around ominously. They part way for their leader as he pushes through to his friend who had first alerted them to the attack. There's no blood, thankfully. He grabs both sides of the prostrate person's face and shakes.

"Come on, awaken! Tell me you're alright! It's Imajin! We won! Are you alright? Do you remember your name? Tell me your name!"

The prostrate figure's eyes opened and the lips sputtered to life.

"Imajin...? That you? My name? Oh, it's..."

Luiigii of the Pipes

"...not coming to me..."

Imajin lowered his head. "Take him to the mage's trailer," he said, without looking up. "Tell her that it is just a concussion. Some Telin herbs crushed up in a cup of Chai will do the trick, if she does not want to waste her magic again."

He pushed himself up and walked back to his own compartment without another word. A man grunted behind him as he lifted the watchman, but Imajin didn't falter in his step until he had come to the entrance of his little, traveling shack. He stopped a moment and pressed a hand to its surface. It was hard wood, sanded smooth not by human hands, but simply by its occupation. The other apartments were bland save for the carpets that made up the doors and windows and the trinkets that all but exploded from the openings; everyone in the caravan was aware what a single night out here did to anything carved into this wood, but Imajin's was different. Across this wall, broken only by the portal through which he came and went, was an intricate carving of a fierce battle between two of the legendary Djinni--one of ice, and one of fire. It was a considerable pain to keep the carving intact, but it reminded him of a painting he had owned long ago... his first sale.

Imajin lifted his hand to the gossamer cord that hung next to the rug pulled across his trailer's entrance. A quick tug and it rolled itself up neatly, granting him passage. He coughed patiently toward the far, darkened corner of his shack and said, "It is rather rude to sit out of a battle that even your generous host is engaged in."

There was a cough in reply, and before Imajin's eyes a man appeared sitting cross-legged in the shadows. He was somewhat taller than Imajin (though not a hard thing to do) and even sitting down his head came dangerously close to some of the more priceless things hanging from the ceiling. His garb reflected a style popular in Eldonsorth, a port town to the west with a monastery in the mountains nearby. "I was otherwise engaged," he replied. "When meditation be as motionless as a stone, as silent as a breeze, you know?"

"No."

The man nodded as if he hadn't listened and uncrossed his legs. "So tell me then, Imajin. What does your caravan do to stowaways?"

"We bury their legs in the sand, cut off their hands and leave them with a canteen. But it is full of sand."

“I’m already in the clear, though.” He waved his right hand toward the left side of his body, and it wasn’t until then that Imajin noticed that the man didn’t have a left hand, or a left arm for that matter.

“I am willing to spare your life,” Imajin said, a bit confused as to why he hadn’t noticed the missing limb sooner, “If you would do me a favor, sir. By your method of hiding I can assume that you are trained in the art of the monks. As such, you would know something about mental discipline, yes?”

The man’s expression grew frustrated at the word “mental”, but he attempted to cover it. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a very small case of memory loss.”

“Then it’s just a bump on the head from your little fight, isn’t it?”

“He was not hit on the head. This was caused by something else…” Imajin turned slightly and grabbed a golden figure from a shelf by his head, depicting, of all people, himself. “The bandits we fought bore the mark of the Vizier in charge of these lands, Hal’amek. He is a man notorious in his study of magic. Alone, he has devised at least three dozen new conjurations that are as simple to use as a Fire spell to someone with the arts.” He licked his thumb and tried to wipe a mark from the figurine. It didn’t budge. “I was hoping that you might be able to look inside our watchman’s head and see where those memories went. More importantly, I want to know what caused them to go.”

The man was definitely frustrated now, but still trying to hide it. “We don’t do that. It’s a…internal mental discipline. I honestly don’t know what would make you think so.”

“It was something I heard. It is a pity, all the same.” Imajin sat down and picked up a can of varnish and a cloth. “In any case, I was not serious about our treatment of tagalongs. We will take you to Eijopi. Until then, you may be our watchman until he gets better.” He glanced up. “But I will need your name, of course.”

“Kyson,” he answered, offering his hand.

Imajin let the hand hang and first grabbed a string hanging from the ceiling above him and pulled it. A chime could be heard from outside. Then he took Kyson’s hand. “The guards have been signaled and will not attack you.” He clasped the hand very hard. “Kyson, do not ever invade the sanctity of my home again.”

“I apologize.” Kyson pulled his hand free and slid out of the compartment. The rug snapped sharply across the doorframe behind him.

He waited outside the trailer, stretching his legs. It was too cramped in the little man’s “home.” Water and food had been scarce as well, as he had only risked taking some when no one else was around. On the other hand, it would be worth it to get away from them…

Two dark-skinned men approached from the rear of the caravan, leading a Sand Chocobo that had survived the battle with the bandits between them. “What did Master Imajin say your job would be?” one asked while still approaching.

Kyson put his hand under his chin in mock thought. “I think it was, “Have some food and wine and enjoy yourself.””

He was ignored. “The watch cart is that one.” He made the final steps to Kyson and motioned to a trailer near the center, with a chair, shade, and telescope fixated on the roof. “This Chocobo is yours if we need you to go out on foot anywhere—“

“Assuming you can ride,” the other man said, staring at his left shoulder.

“When we get to Eijopi, you’re free to buy it from us if you get attached.” He passed the reins to the other man and started toward the watch cart, motioning for Kyson to follow. “Come. I’ll show you how to use the rope system we set up.”

Masamune

With the matter of the stranger dealt with, Imajin left the comfort of his quarters to survey the damage. The rear caravan rover had taken the most abuse during the scuffle with the bandits. Unfortunately these sort of attacks had become more and more frequent. It made Imajin long for the days of his childhood, when the desert cities were more prosperous and traders needed only minimal protection. These days a merchant had to maintain a small army just to stay in business. It was terrible for business.

"Stubbs!" Imajin shouted as he pulled himself up the ladder to the rear vehicle. "Stubbs, where are you at?"

A head popped out from below deck. It was an old wizened face, marked with half inch-thick glasses, a smoke-covered face, with intensely thick wrinkles and a nose that was quite comparable to an old pickle. Neezer Stubbs had been the mechanic for these caravan rovers since before Imajin had acquired them for himself. The man had been something of a built-in commodity and indeed, the man was rarely ever seen outside of one of the rovers. He was not a warrior like most of the caravan, but his knowledge of the rovers kept the sometimes rowdy mercenaries from ever bothering him.

"There you are," Imajin said sighing. "What's the damage?"

"Damage?" Neezer sputtered angrily. "Ye only blew der damn furnace with yer bloody chase. Der whole shrackin' t'ing gon' need a rebuild! I keep sayin' dis rover can't keep up wit' der other ones!"

The foul temper... ah yes. That was the other thing that kept the rest of the caravan members from bothering him too much.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to fix it, Mr. Stubbs."

"Don't ye give me dat shrack," Stubbs growled angrily. "Dis is gon' take a week to fix! Hey! Git back 'ere!"

Imajin was well on his way, however, as it was always his way with dealing with Stubbs. The man was lethal in large doses, after all. He had more immediate concerns, however. Just before the bandits made their appearance, he had swore he saw a shadow slip into the rear rover. This was a cause for concern, because the rear rover may be the slowest, but that was because it was the largest. As a result, it was the store room for most of the caravan's inventory.

The minute he stepped down into the storage chamber, he knew something was wrong. He heard some muffled noise and following the sound, discovered one of his hired guards bound in ropes hand and feet with a gag around his mouth. A quick glance at the area didn't seem to reveal anything wrong with the room. Imajin ripped the gag out of the man's mouth.

"What happened here?"

"The gag..."

Imajin pulled the gag out, which turned out to be a rather ornate handkerchief. Stitched in it, in a a fancy style were the words, "Wrong Room."

He swore and threw the cloth down and ran out of the storage chamber. As fast as his legs would allow, Imajin ran back to his own quarters at the lead rover. The mercenaries, mounted on their chocobos, reacted with curiosity to see their employer running so recklessly. They took to following him, sensing that their might be some sort of trouble about. This in fact, turned out to be quite the case.

Imajin found his safe sitting open with a single card leaning up against the back. Written on the card read simply,

"Courtesy of Giuseppe Drakenvort, Gentleman Thief."

"Where is that man," Imajin raspingly asked his men. "The man with the concussion?"

"He is ah... missing... sir," one of the mercenaries answered. "We were about to tell you."

"How?"

"He ah, managed to smooth-talk our mage... and slipped away."

"Smooth talked... Missus Evere? She's seventy years old!" Imajin exclaimed.

"Yessir. She said she feels like she's at least fifty now."

"Get the caravan moving at full speed again," Imajin barked out. "With that much gold, he won't be able to beat us to Eijopi, even if he goes by chocobo."

"But Mr. Stubbs said-"

"Make it happen!"

"Yessir" the mercenary replied as he and his companion left Imajin alone.

Vorpal

Stubbs cursed loud enough for the entire caravan to hear, but went about his duties, working as fast as he could. Everyone in the caravan hustled about, from one place to the other, It normally took a half-hour to get the caravan moving again once it had stopped, but they didn't have that kind of time.

Kyson had been left alone after the call had been made to overtake the thief on way to Eijopi. He stood with the Sand Chocobo he was given, and watched as men and women dashed from one place to the next.

"'ey! You there!"

Kyson looked around, and saw behind him a watchman mounted on a Sand Chocobo.

"Yeah, you! What are ya' doing? Get on the Sand Chocobo and get a move on! We need four scouting parties to go ahead of the caravan and catch the thief!"

"But I have not ever ridden a Chocobo before."

"Are ya' kidding me? What is your excuse? This your first day?"

Kyson restrained himself from answering truthfully and mounted the Sand Chocobo quite masterfully even if he had two arms.

"Wait," the watchman said, "Where are your goggles?"

"I must've forgotten them."

"Well then you’re lucky I have an extra pair." The watchman threw the goggles to Kyson. The goggles were a bit harder to put on with one hand than mounting the Chocobo.

"All right, let's go," Kyson said, and the two men were off to join the rest of the scouting team.

---

Imajin paced in his quarters. Every few seconds he would reread the card left in the safe. Courtesy of Giuseppe Drakenvort, Gentleman Thief. Imajin cursed the name, and then wondered why the caravan had not yet begun to move.

A mercenary entered and stood at attention.

"Report!" Imajin shouted, he had no time for any formalities. Time was not on his side.

"Sir, we have sent four scouting teams of four on Sand Chocobos down four different Chocobo trails that look the most promising to be the thief's. The battle earlier left a lot of tracks, so it was a little hard to determine."

"Good! Have they left yet?"

"Yes, sir! I saw them off approximately five minutes ago."

"What is he left on foot in a different direction than the four went?"

"We've scoured the entire area with our high-powered binoculars. If he went on foot, we would have spotted him."

"Then what about this caravan? When are we going to get this blasted thing moving?"

"Stubbs said that we should be moving out in abou--" the mercenary was cut off by the lurching of the floor, and the rattle of the engines signaling that the caravan too, was on the move.

"Good. Good," Imajin said to himself, then noticed that the mercenary had not moved. "Yes? Is there something else?"

"Well, one thing, sir. Did you say that the guard who was tied and gagged was in the storage chamber?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"We did not find anyone tied up in the storage chamber. And we took a census, and we are missing none save the lad with the concussion."

"Well then he must've gotten free on his own."

"We asked around, sir. No one said they were the ones bound or that they helped the fellow who was bound."

"But, that doesn't make any sense!" Imajin pounded a nearby table with his fist. The mercenary took this as his cue to go elsewhere.

Imajin slumped in his chair and contemplated how this all could fit together. “It just doesn’t work. How can there be no gagged guard?”

Imajin poured himself a strong drink, but only a few sips worth. He took a sip. He sat up. “Unless that Giuseppe was the gagged guard! Then that means that,” he paused then he slumped back down into his chair, “that the gold was in the storage chamber.” Imajin took another sip.

“The man with the concussion, though,” Imajin began to ponder another question. As he did, he sloshed what remained of his drink about in his glass. “What role does he play in this? Coincidence? Accomplices?” He took a final swig, and placed his glass down.

Then another thought hit Imajin. The mercenaries had done a census, and that had to have included the Chocobos, yet they didn't mention any missing. That would seem to be a necessary component of this entire puzzle.

"Then he must still be on the caravan!" Imajin smiled. "And now that the caravan has begun to move again, there's no escape."

Imajin grabbed an intercom and announced: "All hands! Begin an entire sweep of the caravan! I want no nook or cranny left unsearched."

We'll see how you deal with this, Gentleman Thief, Imajin thought to himself as he grabbed for his glass, but found it had nought but a few drops when he went to take another sip.

---

Kyson's scouting team took the desert path headed toward Eijopi. The scouting team was several kilometers ahead when the sound of the caravan’s many engines roaring to life came across the desert trail. Kyson and three other mercenaries blazed along the well-trodden trail. Off in the distance was a Chocobo rider, and they were gaining.

Luiigii of the Pipes

The Chocobo and rider were still some ways off, but its four pursuers could make out the creature's black tail feathers, waving gently in the desert wind. Gently, but a bit too rhythmically, Kyson noticed. The feathers did not droop at all, but stuck straight outward like knives.

One of the four spurred his Chocobo ahead and came parallel to the fleeing bird. It turned its head to look at its pursuer and elicited a gasp from all three watchmen. Kyson stared in shock; the Chocobo they had been following was not that at all, but a lizard built very similar. Even its dusty black scales were shaped like a Chocobo's down.

The beast hissed at the rider next to it and belched a mouthful of green liquid into the Chocobo's face. It faltered immediately and hit the ground wracked with spasms, taking its rider with it. The rider kicked away from the writhing creature and rolled behind a dune as the lizard turned and sprayed more acid in his direction.

Then it noticed the three still racing toward it and shot a curving arc of the ooze in their direction. Kyson dropped the rein and grabbed his mount by the back of the head, then shoved its head down sharply. The Chocobo lost its balance and stumbled to the ground just under the arc. The other two riders simply cracked their Chocobos' reins, spurring the birds into a quick hop and flutter above the attack. Unlike Kyson's, their birds were still standing.

He would have to remember that next time...

Kyson was quick to get his bird back up, but it seemed he hadn't need to worry. The creature was standing where it had been, head tilted back and making a gargling sound as more acid foamed in its mouth.

"What's it doing?" he asked.

The nearer of the two watchmen replied with, "It is making more acid. Now would be our best time to kill it."

Kyson glanced over at the Chocobo that had been hit with acid. It already lay motionless...dead. "Maybe we should just run?" he offered.

"If we do not kill it, it will follow us back to the caravan."

"But what about the rider? Shouldn't he--"

The watchman shook his head and took out his rifle, then shot at the lizard's foot. It jumped in shock and bucked its rider into the air. A skeleton fell out of the robe on its way back down and shattered against the desert floor. The lizard immediately stopped its gargling and ran to the skeleton, using its tiny hands and caustic spit to weld the thing back together.

"We call them Tokabos," the watchman explained. "They carry those skeletons around to trick vagabonds into following them, thinking they are not alone in this damned desert."

"It is rather shameful that we fell for its trick," said the one who had lost his mount as he approached them, filling his own rifle with gunpowder. "I suppose the search for the thief took our minds away."

"Do not bother," said the other, grabbing the prior's rifle. "It is one of the thick-skinned species." He passed knives to his two companions and took one for himself. "Do you remember where the weak points are?" After they nodded, he turned to Kyson. "Just wait here. We will not need you for this." Kyson nodded as well.

The three approached the Tokabo slowly as it continued its work. It watched them with one eye, but seemed not to react otherwise to their presence. At least, it didn't react until they began to flank it. It shrieked at them and spun in place, whipping all three with its tail. The attack sent them flying in opposite directions and to a harsh landing on their backs. The beast charged at the one who had been on its right side and took a flying leap, landing on his chest. He gasped in pain and, since his arm was free, swung his knife desperately as he started to scream. The lizard's mouth drew close, breathing poisonous air into his own face, and just as it was about to snap...

It heard a snap of a different kind, followed by a curse. "Come on..." Then another snap. "Come on..." And another. "Come on, you stupid compulsive son of a..." It cocked its head around and saw Kyson kneeling by its skeleton, breaking all of the joints it had just put back together. It cried in panic and leapt off the watchman's chest, running now toward Kyson.

Kyson rolled from his knees into a crouching position on the balls of his feet. As the Tokabo lunged at him, he fell backwards and braced himself with his hand, then swung his legs straight into the beast's chin, snapping its head back. Kyson continued his backwards flip and landed on his feet, then gave the lizard's snout a right hook, snapping its neck to the left. It staggered... Kyson kicked its head with the left foot, snapping its neck back to the right.

The creature still stood, however. As Kyson prepared to finish it, it stepped back and drew acid into its mouth for a final attack. Kyson backed away at the sound, but before it could spit, the other two watchmen jumped up. They grabbed its arms, lifted them up, and stabbed it through the unprotected armpits. The Tokabo fell with convulsions as the acid leaked out of its mouth, prompting them to back away.

They immediately turned and ran to their fallen companion. He was breathing heavily but waved them away, saying it was only a broken rib. Kyson knelt down next to him and closed his eyes, summoning a white aura around himself. He touched the man's forehead and the aura faded.

"That should hold you until your old mage gets here."

"She already is!" The wrinkled Missus Evere ran toward the group with an odd spring in her step and her white robes rippling behind her, most likely still riding the side effects of the gentleman thief's comments. She leaned down next to the injured man. "Heavens... you boys need to learn to play more carefully, hmm?"

"Has Imajin seen the Tokabo?" The man speaking turned to look for the caravan. Apparently the old woman felt a lot younger, as it was still nearly a kilometer away. "I take it no?"

"No, no. They'll be here in just a minute, don't you worry."

"We need to check on the other three search parties. If they were following Tokabos as well, they may be in trouble." He whistled for his Chocobo, leaping gracefully onto its back. "Watch him, please." He scanned the desert for any monsters that could reach her before the caravan did, and concluded that there were none. "You two, mount up. I'm taking the west group. You take north, you take south." He pointed to Kyson at south.

The three rode off in their respective directions. Missus Evere shook her head and watched them go. "Too much excitement these days... what has this world come to?"

Ditto McCloaker

That monk.

"I believe he went with one of the search parties," said the befuddled hired arm.

Imajin stared sightlessly. Of course he had. He went with the search parties. That Imajin himself ordered. Him and whoever his accomplice had been. His confederate might well have been one of the original hired guards. Realization hit him like a cold dawn.

It was as if his mind had been seized by spirits other than his own. Very stupid spirits.

The diminutive merchant screamed a scream that would have cowered vicious dogs. The guard stammered back in fright at the little figure's frenzy. Imajin kicked his desk over so viciously it splintered, and swiftly ascended a ladder up out of the compartment, and with the wind whipping at his robes screamed into the cold desert night that if the Thief, whatever his name was, fell into his hands again, a thousand Djinns could not save him from the merchant's wrath.

Two hours later...

Two hours later, a guard entered Imajin's compartment to report that the search parties had returned, empty-handed.

"There are two missing," muttered Imajin, who sat slumped in his elaborate chair staring at the floor in a cold fury.

"Sahib?" replied the guard.

"If you take a census," hissed Imajin, "you will find that the new recruit and probably one other guard are missing."

"No, sahib," smiled the guard, glad to have good news, "All sixteen have returned safe and sound, though one Chocobo is missing!"

Imajin looked at him sharply. "All of them?"

"Ahyes!" said the older, grizzled desert fighter happily.

"He came back? Where is he? Take me to him!" Imajin's eyes shined like two eerie golden lamps. He grabbed his newly cleaned chackram out of it's security box.

The rug that served as the door to the living quarters snapped open and Imajin strode purposefully in as the guard shuffled in behind him. He stood for but a second before pointing across the compartment and shouted "Guards, seize that man!"

After some initial surprise and confusion, some of the guards got hold of their scimitars and soon had the Monk surrounded.

"So," intoned the merchant with fury, "you came back. Perhaps you were so amazed at your luck that you thought you would try and see if you could make of with my entire caravan?"

"I did not steal your property," said the Monk levelly.

"I find you concealed in my compartment after a raid by Thieves, and then find my goods stolen from my safe... by coincidence?"

"I assure you," repeated the Monk, "I did not steal your goods."

"You left this by my safe," said Imajin, flourishing the little card, "and this in the Inventory carriage," and pulled out the handkerchief with "WRONG ROOM" embroidered in stylish foreign script.

"I have never seen those," repeated the Monk.

"You tied up one of my guards and-"

Imajin stopped in midsentence. The one-armed Monk looked at him calmly.

His stupidity ended for the night, Imajin stepped forward and fumbled with the Monk's robes and laid bare his shoulder. No arm was there found.

"...You were not the man in the back of the carriage, and you could not have tied him up with one hand." Imajin looked at him levelly.

"And you came back." The caravan rumbled a bit as it's treads rolled over a dune. The lanterns swung a bit casting shadows around the dimly-lit carriage. Doubt again crept into Imajin's eyes.

"I want every guard to remain in here," said Imajin slowly. "Nobody in here leaves. If anybody tries to leave, kill him." He gestured for the Monk to follow him.

"It would be outrageous that anyone would have escaped while we were in motion," he said. "It is very likely the Thief is still on this caravan. Kasim," he said, incidating a security guard he had worked with before, "Do a survey. One of the men in here may be a confederate of this Guisseppie. Find out if any of the men in here are unknown to the rest. Monk, you come with me. We are going to search this caravan from top to bottom, and try to find out if there is a Thief in here who can prove you innocent." He picked up one of the small, primitive firearms from a guard. "Try nothing funny."

The Monk nodded.

A half an hour later, the two snapped open the frail, rickety door to the last carriage...

Masamune

Imajin stepped out of the last carriage shaking his head. Unbelievable.

"There were no reports of movement while we were inside the individual carriages, right?" Kyson asked.

Imajin sighed, "No. Nothing."

It didn't make any sense. The thief had to still be in the caravan. The search turned up nothing and even the investigations into each individual mercenary had turned up nothing. Missus Evere even watched every single hired on helper be unmasked to see if they matched the identity of the man who 'wooed' her. That was futile anyways, as not only did she say she was at a loss to describe any of his features, but that she would never give him up anyways. This only further annoyed Imajin.

Worse yet was that the whole caravan was talking. Only a select few had known about the gold... but any one of the mercenaries who had half a brain would have figured out something expensive was stolen out of Imajin's personal quarters. It didn't take much to assume it was a large part of Imajin's personal fortune.

Sure, he had money in a few select banks, but...

He'd been carrying a large sum of it to Eijopi for a specific purpose. One final payment and these rovers would have been his property. And if the mercenaries were aware of just how bad of a position Imajin suddenly was in...

"So what now?" Kyson asked. "If he's not in the caravan, Eijopi is the closest place he could go."

But he had to be on the caravan. But where?

The search parties turned up nothing. There were only two possibilities...

"We go to Eijopi then," Imajin replied sternly.

"After the thief?"

"There are two possibilities. Somehow the thief is within the caravan, somehow undetected," Imajin explained, though seemingly doubtful of this. "The second possibility is that he indeed did leave the caravan and is waiting for us in Eijopi so he can claim the gold once we arrive."

"So wouldn't going to Eijopi be falling into his trap?" Kyson asked.

"Unfortunately yes. We seem incapable of finding our thief or the gold," Imajin explained as he rested his arms on the rails of the rover. "He will not make any move to reveal himself until we reach Eijopi, at which point we must be absolutely prepared to catch him when he acts."

"So two more days then..."

"When we get there... I'll want you and Stubbs with me."

"Why us?"

"I feel you are the only two in this caravan I can trust. Even dear old Evere can't be trusted now that she's infatuated with that thief."

---

The next two days of the journey passed with great tension in the caravan. Neezer Stubbs continued working on the rear caravan, completely oblivious to the events going on. However, the mercenaries watched Imajin with a suspicion of what was going on. It was growing to the point that someone would merely have to whisper mutiny and the whole lot of them would be banding together.

Or perhaps it was merely Imajin's own paranoia. He had found himself keeping Kyson close to him. The gentle spirit the monk maintained kept Imajin somewhat secure, since he felt that the one-armed man could be trusted. So when they finally arrived at Eijopi, he was both relieved... but anxious at how the next events would unfold.

The City of Eijopi was the largest on the continent. It lay on the northeastern part and sat nestled inside a bay that allowed desert trader from Osyllia in the south to trade their goods with the northern continent. Because of this, Eijopi was a richly diverse city filled with the going ons of Osyllians, Mogs, Gelvians, Truvicans, and sometimes the rare Elvidian. The Eijans of the city enjoyed the rich cultures and made good on it with a variety of stores, shipping services, and whatever else they could use to take their cut of the profit from the various merchants.

For those wearied by the emptiness of the sea or the wastelands of the desert, the sight of Eijopi was always a pleasant view. All sorts of vegetation was carefully grown throughout the city and constantly attended to by the gardeners and geomancers living within the city. On ever corner of the main path leading to the port, vendors would tout their products. It was always a good chance for the weary traveler to enjoy some fresh fruit and meat after surviving for weeks on rations.

Imajin went into the city accompanied only by Kyson and Neezer. They had already waited half a day outside the city to see if the thief would make his move. However, Neezer desperately needed parts and without being able to just give him the gold, it required Imajin being there to secure them on Stubbs behalf. The head mercenary, whom Imajin still trusted, was given explicit orders to not allow any member of the caravan to go into the city until they had been thoroughly checked to make sure they weren't smuggling any of the stolen gold into the city.

It was an imperfect system, but they still had no idea just how long the thief was willing to wait to make his move... or if he ever would.

The three of them weaved their way into the marketplace to find a parts vendor. As was almost customary in a dangerous city like this, the three of them were armed. Kyson needed only his fist, but Imajin kept his chackrums neatly attached to his waist on both sides, and Neezer had his questionably large rifle strapped hastily to his back. Had they not been such an oddly mismatched group, they might have even looked intimidating. Too bad that wasn't the case.

Luiigii of the Pipes

Stubbs was first to stumble away. When Imajin stopped him, the only response he received was thus: "Der most importn't part is some shrackin' liquor. Ain't had a drop 'n days."

"I think I would appreciate my mechanic being in the right mindset while he works."

"Eh? 'n what better mindset is dere?"

Imajin frowned at this, but he realized it was in his own best interest to just let the man continue to the pub. He turned to Kyson, about to say something, but forgot it entirely in the next second. Kyson was sitting on the curb with a pained expression and his hand clasped to his forehead.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing." Kyson waved him away and stood up a moment later, with only a trace of his former expression now on his face. "That guy just...gives me a headache."

"I am aware that he can be unreasonable, but--"

"It's not that. Listen, just don't worry about it. Where's that bazaar?"

"Very well... This way."

They continued through the town, following the scent of salt and the cooling sea breeze; neither unwelcome after a four-day trek across the desert sands. Music, plucked joyously from the strings of a set of setars, accompanied their entrance. The smell of food drew a growl from Kyson's stomach, but Imajin was more composed.

That is to say, he was much more distracted. Hundreds of people milled the streets of the largest bazaar on the southern continent. Rich or poor, young or old, everyone could find something they needed (and millions of things they didn't) here. Though Imajin loved the sight of a bustling city, he was pained to see it this time; if only the caravan could have been unloaded, he would be sharing in all these wonderful prospects as well.

A young setar player winked at the two men as they passed her; Imajin waved courteously, but Kyson stopped altogether, looking in her direction. He started toward her, saying, "What do you mean I've--"

A shout drew his attention back to the center of the bazaar. Three men with swords brandished high came running in from the port. The merchants in the square grabbed for rugs hanging above their stalls and pulled them down, as if they could hide. Kyson was about to ask why no one was smart enough to have a weapon on them, but Imajin grabbed his arm and dragged him into an alley behind the setar players, who were fleeing ahead of them in the same direction. Kyson shook free and ran back the other way, Imajin shouting at him to stop.

He came to the entrance of the bazaar and saw one of the men slice through a rug with his sword, revealing the people within. He raised his sword...and was struck from behind by a purple blur falling from the sky. He slumped forward across the stall he had been trying to rob, his sword-holding arm bleeding from a puncture wound but otherwise unharmed.

The other two turned to the blur, which landed on the ground and became the shape of a very short man in purple armor with large, decorative spikes. He held a spear at least twice as long as himself, which he pointed dramatically at the two bandits. They charged him together, but neither got a hit in. The man jumped over one and then swung his legs out, kicking the thief in the back of the head and to the ground. The man turned and wounded this thief the same way he had done the last. Kyson was more interested in his face; though masked, he could see that it was actually white and furry. From there he could deduce that the spikes on his helmet were, in fact, gigantic ears. A moogle.

The final bandit backed away from the moogle, keeping his sword high. The moogle stared at him a moment, then rushed forward twirling his spear in a wide circle. He struck the man repeatedly with the staff end of the polearm; knees, stomach, face, side, thighs, shins, nose. A final, incapacitating stab to the man's sword arm, and the fight was over. The moogle surveyed the scene, taking an extra look at Kyson to make sure he wasn't planning any robberies either, and then leapt to the roof of the nearest building and disappeared.

Kyson turned and found Imajin at his side. "I tried to tell you," the little man said. "That is why we do not need weapons here." He stopped himself and glanced down at the chackrams on his belt. "Err, in this bazaar, at least."

"Who was that?" Kyson asked, taking a final glance in the direction the moogle had fled.

"His name is Mog."

Kinoko

A young woman in a dark cloak had seen the events in the bazaar of Eijopi unfold with her deep-blue eyes. She had seen that particular moogle in action before, but not from up close.

Her reason for being in the bazaar at this time of day was to look at today's shipment of goods. She knew that at the stalls she had visited in her time here, their wares were different day by day. When the setar players started fleeing, she knew what was going on and found a place to hide. She knew that robbers came into the bazaar often, trying to steal the wares people were trying to sell.

A shout had caused her curiosity to peak within her, and she had to look. She saw two men, one running back towards the bazaar and the other shouting at him. The one running back must not have been familiar with the city. Finally, the moogle had showed up and made short work of the would-be thieves. Then she saw it bound to the roof of the nearest building and it was out of her sight.

...something about these newcomers intrigued her. She was always one to sate her curiosity, and decided to follow them...despite knowing that her curiosity mostly got her into trouble.

Masamune

"Ach, where y'two been?" Stubbs asked when he finally reunited with Kyson and Imajin. A half-empty bottle dangled from his right hand. He had to hold himself up against a wall to keep from falling over. "I found der parts from a feller in der tavern. Says he'd giv' a spe'shurl deal to a Misterrrrr Imajin."

Kyson waved his hand in front of his face, "Phew man, I think you had too much to drink."

Imajin was less concerned about that. "What man was this? Did he have a-"

"Eyepatch, a slight limp in his walk, and a clearly Truvican accent?" asked a man as he walked out from the same alley Stubbs had emerged. "Why yes. Yes I did."

Imajin swallowed. "Lord Duvronne. What an unexpected surprise."

Lord Ellis Duvronne was indeed a Truvican, as evidenced by his pressed and clean jacket, with his breeches and tights, buckled shoes, and the ever-traditional wig worn by true men of Truvican fashion. This look was somewhat unusual given the eyepatch and Duvronne's sea-worn face. He carried with him a long cane to help him walk, due to an old leg injury. With him were a few less finely dressed fellows, also from Truvia.

"Aye, Mr. Imajin. I see you made it to Eijopi!" Duvronne replied with a grin. "But I hasn't yet heard word of your caravan entering the city. Strange thing that, eh?"

"Small difficulties," Imajin said through a fake smile. "Mr. Stubbs and I were going to bring back parts so we could bring in the caravan."

"Is that so?" asked Ellis. "I wouldn't want to think perhaps you meant to do your selling and sneak out with paying off what you owe me. I would be most displeased with that. Isn't that right, Stubbs?"

Stubbs, still intoxicated, nodded absent-mindedly. He was a Truvican who'd spent most of his life raised in Eijopi. He'd spent his life working on Rovers, so when Duvronne sold the rovers to Imajin, Stubbs was a package-deal. A conflict of interest perhaps, but Imajin knew that if push came to shove, Neezer Stubbs would be on his side.

"I'll have the money," Imajin replied steadily.

"Now I doesn't like liars," Duvronne said shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Word has it that the Gentleman Thief plucked your belongings?"

The merchant faltered. "I- You know how rumors tend to be."

"Aye," Duvronne replied. "And too often, rumors like that turn true." The Truvican snapped his fingers and his men suddenly were upon Kyson and Stubbs. "So I'll just keep some insurance."

"Hey boss, what about dis gal?" one of the thugs asked as he emerged from behind Imajin. Trapped in his arms was a young woman, clearly an Eijan.

"Take her too," Duvronne replied.

"Hey! I've never seen that woman before!" Imajin yelled.

"I want my money by tonight," Duvronne replied, ignoring the merchant's pleas. "You know where to meet me."

"We'll be fine, Imajin," Kyson said calmly before best pushed away into the alley out of sight.

Imajin briefly considered attacking. He knew it was useless though. They were outnumbered... and he knew that Duvronne was stronger than he looked. That thief... that thief had to be caught. It was the only way now.

---

Later, after being blindfolded and led through the cities; Kyson, Stubbs, and the young woman were deposited in a dimly lit basement.

"Ach, me head. T'hell happened?" Stubbs groaned. He was somewhat sober now from being roughed up and slightly more aware of what he was doing.

"You apparently led us into a trap," Kyson said a bit annoyed. He turned to the young woman. "Why were you following us?"

The girl, a bit shaken by the whole experience, didn't answer.

"Bah, shrack her. We gonna get outta here 'r what? I want my gun back."

"What's your name, miss?" Kyson asked, ignoring Stubbs's latest swearing fit.

"Calaria... Calaria Negime," the woman answered. "The man you were with. There was something about him. I wanted to ask him something."

"Haha! Good luck't dat now!" Stubbs cackled. "Ol' Ellis won't dink twice as killing us if da boss don't cough up what 'e owes."

"Then perhaps we need to find a way out," Kyson replied as he stood up. "It's a bit dark in here, do you have any matches, Neezer?"

Neezer pulled out a ratty pack of matches. "Just'a few. Don't use 'em all, I need 'em fer my smokes."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kyson replied as he struck one of the matches and illuminated the room.

Fred_Of_The_Bed

Imajin lost no time on his way to find the thief. There wasn't much for it-he was going to need some help in tracking down the thief with no recent leads. He didn't even consider the mercs- the chances of getting them to help were astronomically low. No, he needed help from someone who knew the city.

But first, a number of things bothered him. How did Duvronne catch wind of such a rumour? His crew had not been let into the town, nor would have Stubs blabbed about it, intoxicated or not. Kyson was with him, too, so the thief did make it into town before him! How he had managed to eluded Imajin, but thankfully the day was still young and there was a number of things to try before nightfall.

Imajin climbed a ladder to a rooftop covered by a canopy, and rung a bell on a long, rectangular floor table. Soon, the armoured moogle he had seen killing the three bandits was on the sceene.

"Mog the magnificent, defender of Eijopi, at your service, kupo! Now, make it snappy." the white faced creature said both excitedly and impatiently at the same time-there were other authorities in Eijopi, but none had quite the same pressure to be on time as the super-hero-esque Mog, and thus Mog found it deterring to be sidetracked from making his rounds.

Imajin rubbed his temples... asking for help as opposed to barking orders was not his forte. "Mog, I need to know anything you know about the thief Giuseppe's whereabouts. If you don't know anything now, that's fine, but I'll pay you 5,000 Gil to be my eyes, and er, ears for the day."

Mog laughed. "You'll have to do better than that. I make 500 gil by the hour, sir. Besides, even I've never even seen this guy, kupo.

Imajin rubbed his eyes. "Listen, Mog, lives are on the line, here. One that isn't even in my cadre. An innocent." Imajin looked on Mog's face and realised he'd hit the right button as his calculating merchant mind had planned.

Mog scowled. "And yet you're only willing to part with 5,000 Gil? Typical. Fine, Kupo. You've got yourself a deal."

Luiigii of the Pipes

With Mog scouring the city, Imajin thought it best to try and earn the money another way in case Drakenvort was never found. There were many ways in Eijopi to earn money, but none that could earn him the amount he needed in the time he needed it. Save one.

He found himself standing before the Princess's Purse, a building that stood apart from all others in the city. Four domed towers stood at each of its corners, glistening in the sun with golden shingles. A red-curtained doorway led him into the only casino in all of Osyllia. At one end were primly dressed Osyllians and guests standing around tables with card games that Imajin never had time to pick up on. He instead went to the other end, where the rows of slots were found. Not many people dwelt on this side, knowing their chances lay better with games of strategy than games of luck.

Imajin was, unfortunately for himself, a very wise gambler. He had already set aside the 5,000 gil he would owe Mog by the end of the day, as well as what was necessary for provisions and to bail Stubbs out of the local prison after his latest drunken row.

Assuming he could pull Stubbs out of Duvronne's iron clutch, of course.

Considering how little he had brought from the caravan, Imajin had a meager total of 100 gil for use, and nothing in the world could convince him to use more than that. 100 gil bought him a whooping two tokens from the immodestly dressed woman behind the exchange counter. He turned and eyed the slots carefully.

There was nothing to it, though. He could no sooner pick out a lucky slot than pluck clean a Chocobo in under a minute. He resigned to the machine nearest to himself. He dropped the token in and pulled the lever, setting an intricate set of gears into motion. Steam fizzled from the top of the machine as the reels stopped on Seven... then Seven... and then a lemon. Imajin grabbed the machine by the sides and shook it. He leaned his forehead against it and tried to will away his frustration; the gods clearly weren't smiling on him today.

"Tough break, friend," a voice said behind him, but Imajin was still too angry to turn. "There's always next pull, though."

"Yes..."

"Have a token." A gloved hand held itself in front of his face, holding a single token in it. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?" Imajin turned, but no one was there. The curtains at the entrance were rustling, so the man had probably left already. Imajin sighed and patted his pocket... and stopped. His other token was gone.

No... the one he had just been handed was his token. He turned it over and saw that a very tightly folded piece of parchment was stuck to the back of it. He pulled the paper off and unfolded it quickly, then read: "For the gold. Sorry about the mess with Duvronne; hope helping your friends get away repays you that part, at least. Courtesy, your friendly gentleman thief."

Imajin was at the entrance in an instant, his hands grasping his chackrams but not yet pulling them off his belt. The streets were crowded with their usual goings-on, and Imajin was forced to accept that the thief had gotten away. Again. He scowled and ran back to Mog's signaling building.

---

Light didn't help any with the basement's appearance, though their new perspective was good motivation to get out all the faster. It did also reveal a wooden door set within one wall, a few rusty steps leading up to it. Kyson passed the match to Calaria and strode up the steps. He tapped the door with his fist.

"Probably locked. No problem, though. I can--" The match went out. "Light another, please."

The light came back.

"Eh? What're y'doin', girlie?" Stubbs said from behind Kyson, but he didn't turn to ask. He pivoted on his right leg, then swung his left into the door, kicking it clear off its hinges.

A card flew off the door and fluttered in the air a moment. Kyson caught it and twirled it in his fingers to read what was on the front. "This door unlocked courtesy of Giuseppe Drakenvort." He crumpled the card with a scowl and tossed it into the hallway, then turned to call for his companions. "The guards will be coming and--"

Calaria snapped her hand shut abruptly and pulled it into her sleeve, but not fast enough to hide a puff of smoke creeping between her fingers. Stubbs was eyeing her, though it was hard to tell with his goggles on.

"What was that?"

"She never took'n another match," Stubbs said.

"Oh..." Calaria looked around. "Um, yeah, the first one never went out. I just turned to look around and I guess I hid the light."

"That ain't what I saw."

Kyson considered asking what the old man had seen, but his better judgement took over first. "The guards will be coming. We need to move."

"'N what'll we do if they does find us? Yev got yer fancy marital arts, but I ain't got m'rifle."

"It's martial arts. But just stay behind me, I guess."

Stubbs grunted and crossed his arms, then he and Calaria followed Kyson out into the hall. They rounded a corner and nearly tripped over a pair of guards. They were bound together and gagged, and both seemed to be unconscious. On their laps lay a set of hand-held claws and a rifle. Another card was stuck in the ropes, this one reading: "These guards bound and gagged and those weapons provided courtesy of Giuseppe Drakenvort."

"Imajin ain't gonna like dat..." Stubbs said, grabbing the card.

Kyson slid his hand into the claws, which had been propped up for what he could only assume was his own convenience. "At least you got your rifle."

Stubbs spat and picked up the rifle. "It'll do. But we ain't leavin' tills we find mine."

Kinoko

Curiosity had led her into trouble, indeed. Calaria now found herself walking with these men in what appeared to be a large house. She barely got away with having used magic among these foreigners, but she knew that the time would soon come where she would have to reveal her powers.

The group walked quietly through the house, finding that even the lowest of floors were rather large. They had tried every door they found, only to find that there were nothing in the rooms. They eventually reached a set of double doors, and a door off to the left. Kyson kicked down the door and it revealed a large open room, full of weapons. In one corner, there stood a rifle.

"'Ey," Stubbs interjected, "that'd be my rifle!"

Stubbs went after the rifle, but Kyson and Calaria stayed back, just a moment. Just then, Kyson called after Stubbs, just after he picked up his rifle, "Get back here, now! This was too easy..."

Just then, Calaria shrieked. Thugs had appeared behind Kyson and Calaria and now had the three of them trapped in the room. Kyson started fighting them off, digging his claws into one and then kicking another in the face.

Meanwhile, Stubbs was having trouble getting his rifle to fire. "You stupid thing... work, damn it!" Suddenly, a loud noise was heard in the room, and one of the thugs started hopping around on one foot.

"You stupid old man!" the thug shouted. "You damn well shot me in the foot!"

Meanwhile, Calaria was in a whole different situation. While Kyson and Stubbs were able to defend themselves, to an extent, she was practically defenseless, especially since she didn't want to reveal her power. The thugs forced her into a corner of the room, grinning evilly and chuckling.

"I'm sick of this," Calaria murmured. "Might as well." She opened her arms in front of her. "Fire!"

The five men in front of her were now on fire. In a panic, they ran out of the room. The other thugs engaging Kyson and Stubbs had seen this scene and their eyes widened. They took this as a sign to get out of there. One of them even muttered, "This is not what I had bargained for."

"I knew it," Stubbs said. "You're a mage!"

"Somewhat," Calaria admitted. "Now, I think we should get out of here before they alert their boss."

Masamune

Imajin and Mog finally met on top of one of the Eijan buildings. The sun was already beginning to set, which did not bode well for the others. Escape was not something he would have considered a smart thing for them to be doing, since Duvronne was not a man to take so lightly...

"What did you find?" Imajin asked, wasting no time.

Mog muttered and handed over a card which read: 5000 Gil To Search For Me? And They Call Me The Thief?

"I'm really getting sick of these cards," Imajin grumbled. What kind of person has time to pull off deceptions and leave a card behind. It was maddening.

"I did find something though," said Mog. "I had a run-in with some thugs. Turns out Ellis Duvronne has been engaging in some mercantile ventures of questionable legality in the old lighthouse beside the east docks."

There were two lighthouses in Eijopi. There was of course the new Lighthouse of Eijopi, which stood a colossal fifty stories high, effectively dwarfing any other building in the world. It had been built some fifty years ago on an island just off the coast. The fire that burned inside it burned so bright that it could pierce the deepest of fogs.

The old lighthouse was not nearly so impressive. It was centuries old and had a comparatively dim light. It occupied the old part of the city, in the eastern side, that now served only as a locale for the city scoundrels and ruffians. It was said that not even the Thieves Guild bothered with that part of town. Which would make it odd that Lord Duvronne would choose to make business there...

"Are you absolutely sure of this?" Imajin asked.

Mog frowned. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have told you."

"Well then let's go."

"Sorry sahib, but East Side isn't my territory," Mog replied as he headed towards the edge of the building. "Looks like you'll need that gil more than I will, but next time I don't work for charity."

With that Mog nimbly jumped off the building and was gone. Imajin looked at the card Mog had handed him and wadded it up. Why did Giuseppe have to pick him?

---

"Ha! Dat showed ya!" Stubbs cheered and then spat a wad of black gunk on the ground.

The three stood outside the building and surveyed the surroundings.

"A lighthouse?" Kyson said curiously.

"Shrack! East Side!" Stubbs grunted as he readied his rifle. "Why t'hell did it have ta be East Side?"

"What's wrong with east side?" Kyson asked.

"What AIN'T wrong with East Side, ya mean. And dat's NOTHING."

"It's not exactly the most reputable part of Eijopi," Calaria explained.

"You sure seem to know a lot about Eijopi," Kyson remarked. "But you're not really Eijan, are you?"

"... no," Calaria explained. "I'm actually from El Vida. But I come to Eijopi so often, it's like a second home."

"Sure, dat makes sense," Stubbs grumbled. "But how 'bout dat magic? The old Potentate outlawed magic in dis city when I was a tike."

"Imajin mentioned a Vizier studied in magic," Kyson added. "From the desert cities, I suppose."

"Shrack, you don't know nuttin do ya?" Stubbs said scratching what little hair he had. "Dat Vizier is bad news and it's lucky for Imajin Eijopi is too peaceful to do anyt'ing 'bout it."

"Are you guys sure this is the best time to talk politics?" Calaria quickly interjected as she raised her finger to point at something

Kyson and Neezer looked where she was pointing.

"Shrack!" Neezer hissed.

---

Imajin was in sight of the lighthouse just in time to see his two companions and the woman backing away from something he couldn't see. As he rounded in closer, he was shocked to see what appeared to be a giant mechanical monstrosity. It stood at least fifteen foot high and stood on two mechanical legs. Every time it moved, it did so extremely loudly and with a great deal of steam emerging from its joints. Out of its back was a stream of dark clouds, indicating that somewhere inside it was being kept going by steam. At the very top of the contraption was a rider's cabin. And sitting at the helm...

"Escapees, eh!?" boomed the voice of Lord Duvronne, somehow enhanced by the contraption he was in. "I know how to deal with those types!"

Imajin ran into view.

"Boss!" Stubbs shouted, "'bout time!"

"Have you got the money, Imajin?" Duvronne demanded, halting his machine for a moment.

Imajin said nothing.

"I didn't expect so! Then it was good I already seized your caravan to make up for it!" said Duvronne through the contraption's voice amplifier. "If that's the case, merchants who have nothing to sell have no reason to live!"

Stubbs cocked his rifle and shot a glance at Calaria, "You best run along, miss. Dis ain't gon' be purdy."

Calaria stood her ground. "His thugs already saw me use Fire, I think it's too late for that."

"Fire?" Imajin asked, not looking away from the contraption.

"Long story," Kyson interjected. "Neezer, is there a way to stop this sort of thing?"

Stubbs shrugged. "T'hell I'm s'posed to say? I only fix stuff, not break it! Ask da boss, he breaks da rovers plenty."

"Well if that's the case," Imajin replied as he readied his chackrams. "My strategy is not getting killed."

"Aw shrack."

Duvronne started pulling levers and the contraption started nearing them again. From the sides, two mechanical arms emerged from either side. One arm had razor sharp claws and the other was very much like a cannon from a ship.

Fred_Of_The_Bed

Duvronne chuckled as the gears of the machine's huge legs lurched and the weapon motors hummed and spun into life. The bipedial machine lumbered forward, toward the group as they jumped out of the way. The machine's upper cup-shaped body spun on its axis rapidly as the machine rammed into the lighthouse, causing some debris to fall from the lower tower near the doorway.

Duvronne grinned devilishly. "I knew you'd come, Imajin. Any last words? Too bad!" The robot moved in reverse while the cannon fired. Kyson attempted to hit the dirt but was blasted into the lighthouse wall sideways and backfirst. He slumped down to the ground and slowly attempted to rise as Duvronne readied the claw. "One down already? I'd thought this might be a bit more fun!"

Imajin sprang into action, tossing his chakrams for Duvronne's scalp. Imajin shouted, "Quick, Neezer! Aim for the legs!" as Duvronne ducked and the chakram flew back to him. Neezer aimed and fired his huge rifle right at the back of the knee joint, jarring the machine and forcing the claw-harpoon to miss and smash into the lighthouse instead. Kyson climbed it with his one arm and shimmied up the cable to the top of the machine. The Dome spun wildly, throwing him off into a rooftop and spinning the claw around dangerously and loudly. Neezer fired another shot near the feet and oil spurt out from the machine. Calaria, seeing her chance, set it ablaze with but a word and a gesture. The flames danced up the leg of the machine, rendering it immobile.

By this point Duvronne was less than content, and, spinning the cockpit, opened fire on the three still on the ground. Imajin sped toward the lighthouse, while Calaria ran further toward the pier and Neezer rolled for his life. Neezer was eventually blasted into the wall of a nearby house and slumped down unconsious. Duvronne readied the claw again as one chakram embedded itself in his backside and a ball of flame whizzed over his head. Duvronne pulled out the chakram and snapped it into two, and then aimed the claw at Neezer. He fired as quickly as possible, but it was deflected by another claw--that of Kyson, who has just jumped from the rooftop to deflect it. A flaming chakram hit the cable, snapping it.

Duvronne, not yet beaten, pulled out from underneath his console a pistol, and spinning the cockpit again wildly, began to unleash carnage upon his opponents. The house that Neezer lay up against crumbled and bricks rained into the air. As the dust settled, the enemy was nowhere to be seen. "Could they have gotten that far away already?" thought Duvronne. His was suddenly buffeted with chakrams from the roof of the lighthouse. Imajin stood there, out of Duvronne's range, pelting him with the sharp blades as the machine shook from below. The machine began to topple over, and Duvronne realized it was time to gather reinforcements. He smashed the "ejection" button, but it did not function. He found, however, that there was a card on top of it.

Duvronne went numb and his pupils shrunk. He suddenly flared up in rage and yelled, "Giuseppe, you double-crosser!" Duvronne jumped from the machine, rolling on the ground and drew his sword in one quick motion. Looking upon his fallen walker, it was apparent that Kyson had forced it over by kicking the back of the knee joints until it toppled over, and that he, Calaria, and Neezer had been hiding under the machine.

Duvronne smiled madly as he locked eyes with Kyson. "Congratulations, corpses. You've succeeded in making Lord Ellis Duvronne mad. "

Luiigii of the Pipes

Cane in one hand, sword in the other, Duvronne hobbled his way toward the three behind his fallen machine. Kyson started toward him, but Stubbs grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. He took aim with his rifle and fired.

Even despite his usual lack of sobriety, Neezer Stubbs could be favored as an excellent marksman. During those few occasions that the caravan had stopped and Stubbs had not been required to fix it, he would set up his empty bottles and take shots at them to impress Missus Evere. Needless to say, he could make the old woman swoon a hell of a lot more than Giuseppe ever could.

Which made it all the more confusing for him when his bullet didn't even graze the withered lord approaching them.

"He deflected it with his sword," Kyson said, rubbing his chin.

"Err, course he did," Stubbs replied. "Yeh gonna stand ther all day?"

Kyson started forward again, ducking under a stab from Duvronne only to get jabbed in the chest by the cane and fall on his back. Imajin had since skimmed down the side of the lighthouse and threw a chackram at Duvronne before he could bring the sword to bear, then pulled his knife as he rushed to the battle. Before Imajin could get there, Duvronne dropped his cane and caught the chackram.

"You realize, Imajin, that this is your fault," Duvronne said as the smaller man stopped out of the sword's reach, holding the knife between them. "If you had just paid--"

Kyson kicked Duvronne's good leg out from under him. The crippled leg didn't hold and he fell to his back, but amazingly kept his momentum and rolled back onto his feet. Calaria threw a fireball at him, but he parted the flames with his sword and only his wig caught fire. He cast it off in disgust.

"That girl is interesting. What would you do if I turned her over to the Potentate?" Calaria gasped at this and backed toward Stubbs. "Leave her to the fate he has in store for mages? After all, she ain't part of your entourage. But could you live with your guilt for getting her in--"

"Why are you still talking?" Kyson punched Duvronne hard across the face. He was rewarded with a slash across his left shoulder that left him wincing.

"What are you saying?" Imajin asked.

"The Potentate don't react kindly to people what hides mages either. If you doesn't want to get caught up in that mess, you'd best start doing what I--"

Kyson tried to kick Duvronne from the side, but was thrown backward by Imajin's chackram as it hurtled into his chest.

"Let me finish a damn sentence!"

Imajin took the opportunity to rush Duvronne and knock the sword from his hand. He pointed the knife at the man's heart. "So far you've only given me a good reason to kill you."

"And what about your rovers, then? You doesn't even know what I've done with them."

Imajin tried to keep his expression straight, but knew his concern was showing. "Err. Well, then you had better start telling."

"We'll trade, whatsay? You put away the knife and I'll--"

A shot rang out and Duvronne collapsed, his good leg bearing a fresh bullet wound. Calaria gasped as Imajin whirled around. "Stubbs!"

"Move on over," Stubbs said, loading another shot.

"No! What do you think you are--"

"Move!" Stubbs fired again, barely giving Imajin time to jump aside.

Duvronne shook as the shot went into his gut. "Neezer!" he gasped. "What are you doing?! Doesn't you remember? Doesn't you remember when you used to work for me, and--"

"Can it." Stubbs strode forward, loading a third shot. "I ain't wastin' words on you an'more." He pointed the rifle at Duvronne's chest.

"What about my employers, then?! You knows how they'll react when they finds out! Stop now or--"

Stubbs let his gun speak for him.

Imajin stared in shock. His mouth started to move, and before he knew it he was standing tiptoe up to the man, shouting up into his face. "Why did you do that?! How are we supposed to find the caravan now?!"

"He wouldn'a tole yeh, boss. Jus' waitin' fer yer guard ta go down."

"And how would you possibly--"

"I knew Ellis better'n you. Or worse'n, I s'pose. Yer just gonna have ta trust me on this'un."

"Maybe next time you decide to execute someone, you could warn the young girl to turn away," Kyson said, walking over. They all turned to Calaria, though she seemed composed, if not nervous from Duvronne's comments about the Potentate.

"Well, Mr. Stubbs," Imajin scoffed. "Since you have decided to put our fates in your hands, what would you suggest for us next?"

"Simple." Stubbs strapped his rifle to his back. "We get the hell outta Eijopi."

Ditto McCloaker

"That would have been a good idea, yes," said a very deep voice from behind them. A voice that had Civil Service in it. Not the nice, paper-shuffling kind. This was Public Relations.

The whole party slowly turned around.

Of COURSE guards would show up. A giant mech had just stomped unbidden through town and nearly smashed up an important part of lighthouse. And, as far as the guards were concerned, these three had fought it, rather than doing something civic-minded, like politely informing the local constabulary, which in Razul's keyhole-sized view of the world, was Complicity.

Two hours later the whole party was shoved into the Chambers of Judgement of Lust'rous Potentate, the local popular nickname (never used in his presence, of course) of Caliph Kalamar Kuskus al-Eijopi, Prince of the largest trading port in the deserts.

The Caliph, middle-aged and grim, sat cross-legged on seven tasseled cushions with a book in his lap. He was in his afternoon clothes and pointy-toed slippers. He had all the look of a man who had been expecting a Prince's version of Cutting Off At Noon. The Caliph was not an unfair or a particularly cruel man. But given the responsibility of a major city to run, he took a dim view of unexpected disturbances.

He slowly and calmly slipped an ornate book-mark into his book, shut it, and set it aside, then raised his eyes at the bunch.

"Very well," he said. "Who would like to go first?"

Imajin was wondering how one went about swallowing one's tongue.
Kyson's expression clearly expressed the notion that he was too young to die.
Neezer's responded that he wasn't, but he still didn't wanna.
Neezer's Finger instantly pointed at the girl, as Age attempted to push Beauty ahead in line.

"I should clarify," said the Caliph. "I meant first to explain, not first to the chopping block. That may possibly wait til later."

Every tongue started going at once. The Caliph raised his hand again.

"Who is the leader?"

Vorpal

The four conferred with each other a bit, and then Imajin responded, "I suppose that would be me, though, I don't see the importance of such a title as leader."

"Well," the Caliph took a long pause in speech, but reopened his book and began writing in it again, "when it comes to 'gang' violence, we like to know who the leader is. That way they can be punished appropriately." The other three party members sighed for relief, while Imajin started sweating a bit more than usual. "That does not mean, however, that all those partaking in the disturbance will not be dealt with." The feeling of relief left all of them.

The Caliph closed his book again, placed it aside, and got up and paced back and forth. "Eijopi is a city of laws," he began, "and it is by those laws that this city stays together. We are inundated constantly by traders from barbarian lands where they follow no laws, and if they had their way, this city would be pillaged and burned into a faint memory in people's minds. That being said, these laws protect you from being punished immediately. You are to be provided counsel, and you will face your charges at a later date. If I were to have my way, I'd send you back into the desert from whence you came, and let the Tokabo's have at you, or better yet, exile you all to the God-forsaken land of Barren, the valley of the dead. Lucky for you, though, you have the law to protect you."

"So, this is not the trial?" Kyson asked.

"No, this is more of a hearing. I inform you of your rights under Eijopian law, what you are to be charged with, and your future court date. I will then allow you to see your counsel, set bail, etcetera, all the privileges of a law-based society. Then on your court date, you will be given a fair trial afterwhich you will be found guilty and subsequently hanged."

Calaria gasped, but Neezer said, "A whole lot more fair than other places in tha' world."

"Indeed," the Caliph agreed.

"So what are we charged with?" Imajin asked.

"Oh, murder, destruction of city property, bribing and distracting a city officer while on duty, use of magic and/or magical items, possession of weapons in a prohibited sector, and littering."

"Littering?"

"Well someone has to clean up that giant mess!" The Caliph almost had lost his cool but quickly regained it, "You will be tried in two days' time. You will meet with your counsel at the jailhouse, and if you have the money to pay bond you can do that at the jailhouse as well."

Luiigii of the Pipes

"Before you go, we do have a special circumstance in regards to the use of magic, you may be aware. To ensure that the one of you who did use magic was placed within a cell that could not be, say, melted or blasted out of, I would very much need to know who used the magic."

"You just said that we are not required to divulge such information," Imajin said.

"Well, in that case I would not be required to provide you with the rights of our laws, such as your counsel or an opportunity for bail. Our security supercedes the law in this."

"What evidence do you have that there was magic involved at all?"

Unfortunately, Calaria's expression at this point was much more telling of the truth of the situation. She had heard what the Caliph did to mages, and she couldn't control herself. The Caliph stared her directly in the eye. "The charred remains of Lord Duvronne's wig, of course, was brimming with the aftereffects of an incantation. Was it simply a Fire Rod someone smuggled in, or--"

"I cast the spells," Kyson said, having also noticed Calaria's panic.

"Idiot!" Imajin hissed. "No you didn't!" He turned to the Caliph. "It was a Fire Rod, just as you said. My acquantaince was kicked in the head a few times by--"

"Really, now," the Caliph interrupted. "If he says he cast the spells, by all means." He stood and motioned for Kyson to do the same.

"Wait!"

"The three of you shall remain here until my bailiff arrives to escort you to the meeting with your counsel. Rest assured that I have not left anything of value in here, but if it makes you feel better to kick my cushions around, you are welcome to do so."

He pushed Kyson through the door at the back of his chambers and passed through himself, audibly locking it after he had done so. Stubbs and Imajin both jumped to their feet, Stubbs going for the other door and Imajin starting to pace. Calaria sighed, partly from relief and partly from guilt.

"Locked solid," Stubbs muttered.

"Well what did you expect?" Imajin snapped. "Can you pick the lock?"

"I ain't yer fancy gentlesmen thief, boss."

"There is not even a bookshelf in here," Imajin grumbled. "Just these cushions!" He kicked one for effect. "Why could that fool not just keep his mouth shut?!"

"It's my fault," Calaria said. "I'll just tell them that I was the one who used magic and not him."

"You cannot do that, young miss."

"Don't call me young." Calaria pulled down her hood to show them her slender face. "I'm probably older than you are."

"Very well. Stubbs?"

"Yeh can't be doin' that, missy."

"Why shouldn't I? Like I said, it's my--"

"Whatever reason our esteemed stowaway had for claiming magical power, it is up to him to deal with the consequences. Hopefully they will realize that he lied and throw him out... after we have gotten away as well, of course."

---

The Caliph's judicial palace was set within a small mountain on the southwestern end of Eijopi, part of a larger mountain plain across the coast of the southern continent that was largely responsible for the creation of the Osyllian Desert. As Kyson was pushed down the hallway that led from the back of the Chambers of Judgement, he had come to the conclusion that the palace had been left behind and the mountain had begun, possibly because of the metallic floors and walls. The situation was beginning to give him a bad case of déjà vu.

"Long ways to go for a holding cell," Kyson said. He got no reply.

As they neared its end, the hallway expanded to the width of a small room and was stopped abruptly by a wall that seemed to be a giant mirror. A tall, black-skinned man in purple robes was standing there. The Caliph made his way around Kyson and shook the man's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Halazeem."

"It is my own pleasure, I assure you," the man replied. He turned and strode to Kyson. "Young sir, I am Halazeem Ameknemin. Perhaps you know me as Vizier Hal'amek?"

"I've only heard the name."

"Halazeem has come from Osmirii after I informed him of your, err, "gift"," the Caliph supplied.

"Isn't that a four-day trip?"

"Teleport spell. Haven't you mastered it yet? No matter, come with me." He turned and stepped through the mirror. The Caliph nodded for Kyson to do the same.

As Kyson stepped through the illusionary mirror, his déjà vu intensified. Lining the walls of this new room were dozens of cots, each occupied by a single figure. They seemed to be wearing uniforms, as each one was wearing either a blue robe and pointed, yellow hat or a white robe with red triangles on the hems.

They were all dead.

Hal'amek was standing right in front of him. "Before we go any further, I need to know which form of magic you specialize in."

"Um..." Kyson glanced at the figures, his eyes ultimately settling on one of the pointed hats. "Yellow?"

Hal'amek blinked. "Yellow? Do you mean black?"

"Maybe?"

Hal'amek frowned. He stepped forward slightly and extended his arms outward. "Cast a spell on me. Right now. I'll see for myself."

Kyson nodded and held out his hand. Before Hal'amek could react, he curled it into a fist and swung it into the man's chin, knocking him backwards. He turned to run through the mirror, but was stopped suddenly in his tracks with a spell. The Caliph stood just inside the mirror, watching.

"Where are those laws that protect me now?" Kyson asked.

"We have made one exception to stay at peace with Osmirii. At least I openly ban magic so that it will not come to this."

Hal'amek stood and stepped between the two. "You aren't a mage, are you?"

"I'm glad I'm not," Kyson said, struggling to go forward. "This is a magic-testing lab, right?"

"And what would you know about those?"

"There was one under the monastery I lived at. I found it the one day, and when the masters found out they tried to kill me. They're still trying to kill me."

"Quite sloppy of them. I'll see to it that they have their donations cut."

"It must have been the girl who used the magic," the Caliph said. "She seemed rather on edge during our meeting. I can go collect her."

"Not now. Bring this one to my study with me. We need to determine whether he knows too much to be kept alive."

Masamune

Some hours had passed in the cell while Imajin and his companions waited for their court session. Coming up with any escape plans had amounted to nothing, because none of them could come up with a plan that would result in them leaving the city outside of a casket.

One of the guards suddenly whacked the bars with the end of his nightstick to knock the three out of their trance. "Visitor for yas!"

Imajin perked up, "Thank the gods, it must be from the Merchant Guild!"

He didn't recognize the man however. It was a finely dressed gentleman though, of this there was little doubt. He was dressed in a proper Gelvian attire that consisted of an overcoat that covered him from his neck to below his knees. Underneath he wore a fancy waistcoat and clean and pressed trousers, ending with a pain of recently polished boots. His top hat was carried underneath his arm, as was customary when one was in-doors to do.

The man stepped inside the prison cell as the door closed behind him. His face was one would expect to have been the basis of those idealized statues popular in Gelveer. He had the dark slicked black hair, the insufferable little mustache that suggested a hint of an adventurous spirit, and the constant smirk that made it obvious this was a man who always got what he wants.

He nodded to Stubbs and Imajin. "Good day, gentlemen." He then took Calaria's hand and bowed down a bit to kiss it. "And a very good day to you, il mio tesoro."

Calaria took back her hand and blushed, "Ah... you too, sir."

Imajin tapped his foot impatiently, "Yes yes. The Merchant's guild, right?"

"Not quite," the man replied as he handed a card over. "And you're quite luck I'm not."

Imajin glanced at the card and didn't even need to read it. One name stuck out right off. "You!" he growled as he lunged towards the man, but was restrained by Stubbs who had read the name over his employer's shoulder.

"Yes. Giuseppie Drakenvort," he replied, but not loud enough to be heard by the guard. "I see I've managed to give you quite a bit of trouble."

"Come to gloat, eh?" Imajin retorted.

"That, sir, is not how I work," Giuseppe replied without losing a beat. "I do feel a bit guilty to see you land in this much trouble. Of course, Thieves Guild rules does not permit I return my profit. However, I do feel somewhat responsible for this."

"Somewhat!?" Imajin exclaimed incredulously. "This is all your fault!"

Giuseppe waved his hand dismissively, "Please, had it not been me, Duvonnes would have found someone else. At least I did it without killing anyone, as many of my peers are known to do."

"Nice ta know yer so decent 'bout it," Stubbs replied, spitting on the floor in the process.

"Just get out of here," Imajin replied. "We don't need you."

"Hey!" Calaria interjected. "I don't know anything about what he's done, but I wouldn't mind his help!"

Giuseppe smiled, "Like always, women bring clarity to confusion. Of course, I cannot help you directly break out of jail. I will, of course, have to provide alternate means of escape."

Imajin grunted. "I am a card-carrying member of the Merchant Guild. They won't let me hang."

"I somehow doubt that," the thief replied. "Seeing as how they're providing the prosecutor for your hearing."

"What!?"

"Indeed. I hear it may even be a relative of the Duvonnes family," Giuseppe continued. "Eijan court cases are never fair, just amusement and an example for the public."

"So jest whatcha got in mind, son?" Stubbs asked.

"Just be ready for the cue," the thief replied. "If I told you now, you would mess up my plan. One last thing though. Where is your friend?"

"He... was taken away," Calaria explained quietly. "For using magic."

"Odd. He doesn't seem the type," Giuseppe replied. If you plan to save him, you'll have to do everything I say tomorrow. No hesitation, understand?"

Imajin nodded reluctantly. "Fine. What then?"

"Then you all will leave the city. Gods permitting, we will never meat again," Giuseppe replied. He glanced at Calaria afterwards and added, "Though if it meant seeing you again, I would gladly risk anything."

"You're too kind, sir," replied Calaria.

Giuseppe turned and summoned the guard. After the door had been opened, he glanced at the prisoners with a look of contempt. "Those criminals are going to die tomorrow. Give them something decent to eat."

"Y-yes sir!" stuttered the guard.

The thief walked away with a grin. Being a thief was so much easier when everyone assumed you owned the world to begin with.

Kinoko

"I do not trust him at all," Imajin declared. "He is the reason why we are all here in the first place."

"Unfortunately," Calaria replied, "he seems to be the only way we can get out of here."

"There has to be another way!" Imajin replied.

"There's nothin' we can do 'bout it," Stubbs interjected. "Either we be bustin' out of here place and be executed something bad or other, or we trust dis guy and get out safe."

"I'm sure he... won't betray us." Calaria tried to assure Imajin that everything will be okay. "Besides, it's my fault we're here."

"No, it was not your fault," Imajin replied. "It is the fault of that thief!"

'...he doesn't come around easily, does he?" Calaria asked.

"Nah," came the simple answer from Stubbs.

---

Vizier Hal'amek, the Caliph, and Kyson were walking towards the Vizier's study.

"You know," Hal'amek mused as they were walking along, "I would really love to get my hands on a summoner. I would love to figure out how they can call Djinn."

"I've heard that summoners typically have horns on their heads," the Caliph replied.

"Yes, that is true," Hal'amek replied. "However, I have heard of people who can summon without a horn. I recall this couple whom I had captured--the woman was a white mage. It turns out that her lover had come for her and he was a black mage. It turned out that when they were in dire danger, they were able to summon. They didn't have horns."

"How is that possible?!" the Caliph asked incredulously.

"That's what I want to find out," Hal'amek answered. "I need summoners, so I can see if I can transfer that power onto non-summoners and see if they can get the power to summon Djinn."

"Vizier," the Caliph said, "I'm sure you're well aware that summoners are really hard to find."

"I'm aware of that," Hal'amek replied. "However, if by chance that we do encounter a summoner, make sure he or she is captured alive. We may never get this chance again."

"Yes, my lord," the Caliph answered.

Now Kyson wondered why the Vizier and the Caliph had just mentioned all of this in his presence. Surely they thought that he was going to die. Not a chance!

Fred_Of_The_Bed

"Tell me everything you know." The Vizier had gotten straight to the point as soon as the two of them had gotten comfortable in his study. It was a ridiculously high room, surrounded by walls upon wall of bookshelves. There was what could only be assumed to be a sleeping quarters above the room, as there was a door leading into it, but there were no stairs.

"No." Kyson retorted, and gambled that the Vizier was a patient enough man not to obliterate him outright. He didn't, and Kyson continued. "I saw the mages in the other room, y'know. Independant of whether it's magic users you experiment on or just anybody, you don't have any trouble with killing. Considering I'm in your hands, how can I expect not to be killed after spilling my guts? If I didn't have some sort of insurance I'd have punched a hole in your gut then and there." Kyson laughed, shrugged, put his feet up on the table, and leaned back in his chair, arm behind his head.

"So they teach more than just martial arts at the monastary. I think you'd find it trickier than you'd expect to subdue me with one punch, but that's besides the point. What's this "insurance" you speak of, anyways? You might find that I have ways of extracting information you're not equipped to deal with." The Vizier smiled and stared directly into Kyson's eyes, attempting to intimidate him.

For the record, Kyson was in fact intimidated at this moment, but he didn't skip a beat regardless. "Listen, I told you I saw a Lab in my monastary, right? I saw things they wouldn't have wanted you to see. The first floor was enough to get me on the masters' deadlist, but that wasn't all there was to it."

The Vizier's eyes widened substantially. He rubbed his eyes and looked towards Kyson is annoyance. "I must retire to my chambers to think about this. In the meantime, you can remain here, locked up. You can tell me your conditions later-as I do assume, you do have conditions."

Kyson looked at him quizzically and spoke: "Uh, locked up? What do you mean?"

"Get cushy."

Hal'amek stepped to the side of the circular room and muttered an incantation. Hundred of big, heavy books from all over the perimeter of the study came out of the shelves and formed a spiraling staircase, moving upwards and back down again like a turnbuckle. Hal'amek rode it to the top, and saying another incantation, sent the metal books to the nearest spots. Kyson attempted to move from his chair he'd leaned back on, but to his dread found that he was irrevocably stuck to it, and that it wasn't going anywhere either.

Luiigii of the Pipes

The Royal Courthouse of Eijopi was, as with the rest of the building it was attached to, beyond extravagent. The ceiling, made of glass so that there was hardly a shadow to be found, stretched endlessly upward; to prevent reverberation special padding had been affixed between the panes that composed of the roof.

In the room's southwestern corner, Calaria sat between Stubbs and Imajin on a wooden bench, their hands bound. At the center of the room, behind a sort of desk that was probably only useful for being pounded meaningfully by a fist, stood a thin man with a sharp nose and long blonde hair, perfectly straight but otherwise untouched. He faced the so-called "Chair of Judgement" to their left where the Judgemaster would take his place. Motioning to the man with her hands, Calaria asked, "Who's that?"

"Jacob Duvronne," Imajin replied stiffly. "The son..."

"...his son?!"

"Don' fret, missy," Stubbs said. "Them two hated each n'other. He ain't holdin' no grudges."

"So will he--"

"He is not going to help us," Imajin cut her off. "It would be no surprise if he used the "taken my poor father away from me" approach to win."

"Why d'ya think da Merchant's Guild sent 'im?"

"That should be no surprise," the Caliph said as he approached, cutting off Imajin's own answer. "You killed a rather high ranking member of the guild. Without him, they will be hard-pressed to reach their quota this year. In fact, Eijopi feels the same way, considering that his primary trade was between us and Truvia."

Imajin cut into the banter with, "Where is our associate? He is on trial as well, as you said."

"Ah, yes..." The Caliph turned to Calaria. 'He is refusing to come unless he sees one of you. Miss Negime here, in fact." He held out his hand to her. Calaria sighed; he must have realized the truth. She stood up, ready to accept her fate.

"No one is going anywhere," Giuseppe said, catching the Caliph by the wrist and waving Calaria back down. "The trial is ready to begin, and they of course have a right to be here."

The Caliph shrugged. "They are yours then, Counselor de Varmanda." He turned and took a seat at the opposite side of the judgemaster's chair.

"de Varmanda?" Imajin coughed as Giuseppe took a seat next to him.

"Joseph de Varmanda, yes." He lowered his voice. "Many people know the name of Giuseppe Drakenvort. You three are part of a small group that can put a face to the name, and I would like to keep it that way."

"As you wish."

"What exactly is your plan?" Calaria whispered over Imajin.

Giuseppe offered her a warm smile. "To stall."

---

Kyson closed his eyes and calmed himself, using his immobilization as an excuse to meditate. He wasn't sure what he would tell Hal'amek when the man returned; as far as Kyson knew, everything he had seen in the lab would've been exactly to the man's specifications. The conversation about summoners had given him something to play off, but he would have to be pretty lucky to pass that off as coincidence. Still, it was better than nothing.

"...conditions, ha. Even he must realize that he'll be dead by..."

Kyson glanced around, though hard to do when one could only move his eyes. Hal'amek was nowhere to be seen. So much for negotiations... Kyson abruptly fell backwards, the chair giving out under him and himself then rolling out of it. He stood up with only the slight resistance of the lingering spell and turned to see Hal'amek standing in front of the door out of the room.

"Well then. I'm willing to listen."

"Why?" Kyson rubbed his neck to relieve his stiffness. "You're just going to kill me anyway."

Hal'amek raised an eyebrow. "An unfair assumption."

"You just said you would."

"I did no such thing."

Kyson was perfectly capable of having an intellectual conversation with others, but it usually easier to just let his fist extend his message. He swung at Hal'amek's jaw, but only nicked it, his hand being deflected slightly by some invisible force. As Kyson pulled his fist back, Hal'amek held up his hands, both covered with frost. "I've taken the liberty of wearing a Guard Ring since your last blow against me." He pointed his hands at Kyson and sent the ice spearing into him, freezing him to the ground. "I should think it's safe to assume that whatever you saw in the lab, you didn't understand a bit of it. So yes, we can end these foolish negotiations." Hal'amek's hands became covered with crackling fire, which he let wash over Kyson.

"I understood what you were doing to that girl," Kyson said, summoning his strength to ignore his fresh pain. "Probably what you did to all those mages out there."

"And please tell me, whatever did I do?"

"You cast spells on her constantly, making her absorb them. You were trying to turn her into a monster. But you were--"

"Felt some attachment to her, maybe?" He disappeared, his voice now coming from behind Kyson. "For the record, I was trying to turn her into a Djinn. You heard how interested I am in them." Kyson turned only to be thrown through the door by a beam of electricity. "Also for the record, now you really do know too much."

Kyson rolled to a stop between the rows of mages. Hal'amek entered from his study and pointed to the two on either side of him. They sat up from their deathbeds, ashen faces turning to him. This really wasn't turning out to be a good day...

---

The judgemaster grumbled and placed a hand on his forehead for what he thought was the tenth time in these past two hours. The three people sitting on his right had clearly done everything they were being charged with, but this Joseph de Varmanda was dragging out some tiny flaw of logic yet again. Bluffing his way through the entire proceedings--he hated it. He clapped his hands once sharply, his metal gauntlets clanking together to fill the entire room despite the acoustic dampeners. "Mr. Duvronne, I am begging you to ask me to hold this man in comtempt."

"Joseph" raised an eyebrow. "I'm merely looking to discern the truth, sir."

"I would be glad to," Duvronne replied.

The judgemaster prepared to clap again, when he noticed a shadow covering Duvronne's desk. He glanced up, then lunged off his chair abruptly and into the young man, throwing them both as far away from the desk as he could. If those assembled had not been so preoccupied by these new theatrics, they might have noticed that Giuseppe was smiling.

The glass roof shattered with a horrible noise. As the remaining shards plummeted to the ground still some distance away, something very bright and red was falling with them. And large. It landed with a thud on all fours that shook the tiles of the floor from their spots. It was covered in blood red fur and had two curving grey horns protruding from its otherwise human head. It glanced around with glowing yellow eyes, then roared at the people who were huddling away from it or all out running for the exit. "WHICH ONE OF YOU IS JACOB DUVRONNE?!"

Giuseppe turned and walked back to his three companions, careful not to draw the creature's attention.

"Boss," Stubbs was saying. "Ain't that one'a them genie thingeys yeh had doodled on yer rover?"

Imajin turned to Giuseppe instead. "What did you do?"

Giuseppe smiled and held up a card like his others. Unlike those, however, this one said: "Courtesy of Jacob Duvronne, Gentleman Thief." "Perhaps you've heard of Ifrit. With a little help, I discovered his cave within the Osyllian Desert. You can guess the rest."

"You stole its gold?!"

"Yeh sure get 'round, don'cha?"

"I would say that I did it all for you, but he was on my list. The Thieves' Guild ignores no bounty, no matter how big or small. And of course, assuming our mutual friend Jacob survives this, he'll be taking all the blame. What say we go find your chum?"

Imajin nodded, taking the lead as they headed for the Chambers of Judgement where they had last seen him. Calaria, however, stood and watched Ifrit as he leapt around the courthouse, grabbing terrified people and demanding their name. She stepped forward, about to call for the creature, when Giuseppe ran back in and grabbed her arm, delicately pulling her along with him. "You really don't want to be doing that, lovely."

It didn't take them particularly long to return to the chambers; the guards had all rushed to subdue the raging Djinn, and the corridor they used was obscure enough that none of them had passed through it on their way. The first door opened easily; the room was as sparse as before, except that Imajin and Stubbs's weapons had been graciously stored within. They grabbed them and used them to bust down the following door.

The corridor passed them quickly, until they reached its termination at the giant mirror. "Now what?" Imajin asked.

Giuseppe shrugged. "None of this is on any blueprint I've ever seen."

They didn't have to ponder long. A fireball flew through the mirror and splattered on the ceiling, turning the metal red with heat. Imajin and Giuseppe exchanged glances, each expecting the other to go first.

"Pansies," Stubbs muttered, strolling through the mirror with his gun set. A dozen gray faces, partially covered by hoods or giant hats, turned to face him. Kyson was at the other end of the room, holding a flaming bed between himself and more of the zombies. At the center of the mob was a black man, who instantly took note of Stubbs and pointed his arms outward. The zombies returned to their beds (assuming his or her's hadn't been destroyed while Kyson shielded himself with it).

Hal'amek turned to Kyson. "A friend of yours?" Kyson made no response, but dropped the bed and fell over unconscious. Hal'amek turned and started toward Stubbs, who fired a bullet into his shoulder. The Vizier didn't stop, but held his hand over the shoulder as it glowed green. The bullet popped out itself.

Moments later, Stubbs was thrown backwards through the mirror, Kyson following. Imajin started toward them, but stopped as Hal'amek stepped through. He recognized the Vizier, but only as a political figure in his own home country and an annoyance with his cadre of bandits. Hal'amek clearly didn't recognize in return. His attention went straight to Calaria.

"You were the mage, correct?" He was looking at her very carefully. "What can you do?"

Giuseppe promptly turned and ran. Hal'amek rolled his eyes, bowed the Calaria, and teleported to the end of the hall. "No witnesses," he scowled at the fleeing man. "Quite the coward, aren't you?"

Giuseppe smiled. "Hardly. Thanks for providing that last piece I needed to escape." He snapped his fingers and disappeared. Hal'amek shook his head. That wasn't magic. He ran back down the hall and noticed that the others had disappeared as well.

Hal'amek felt sick as realization dawned on him. That man had just mimicked his teleport spell. Even with four people in tow, they could have traveled dozens of miles in any possible direction. He sighed and rubbed his temples. With any luck, then, they ended up on the bottom of the sea.

Knowing that wouldn't be the case, he started back down the hall to find the Caliph.