Disclaimer: I don't own rights to the game, the characters, anything—as much as I wish I did.
A/N: I didn't actually write these with any purpose other than upping my word count for NaNo, and that in itself just goes to show how interesting Largo can be. Read on, skeptics.
Spoilers: Largo's past.
Dust rolled lazily from the wheels of a lone caravan creeping its way down the worn road to Baticul. As the city drew into sight, Badaq straightened his back. He jerked the reins of the two bipedal reptiles that were pulling his coach. A smile formed across his hardened features as the dazzling violet clouds of sunset framed his hometown perfectly. Home, finally. It had been a long journey through the desert, but now he could come back to his beautiful wife, Sylvia, and his beloved daughter, Meryl. They would be thrilled to see him, as usual. His job as a caravan guard kept him away from his family, and though it pained him, their smiles at the end of a long day made it worthwhile. After all, he couldn't give up now; his title of the Lion of the Desert had earned much respect from travelers, and he received heavy tips from his clients.
Almost there. He urged the pair of monsters faster, but they were unwilling to speed their pace, the toll of both fatigue and hunger causing them to lag. Badaq noticed their pain, and he let the supple leather straps fall slack in realization.
"Come on, almost home!" he cheered them on lightly. The city was fast approaching, then he was at the gates. A soldier fresh for the night shift verified his passport and identification, then allowed him through with a passive wave.
Badaq rode to the town square. His house was not far; it sat practically on the docks (at his wife's request—she loved the ocean). The normally jovial air of the city was dulled. On any weekday, this would not have been strange. However, today was Loreleiday—most of the citizens had tomorrow off from work, so it was a popular time for late-night parties.
Badaq's grin only grew wider the closer he got his home, his family. How pleased little Meryl would be when he showed her the souvenir he'd brought from Chesedonia! The trading post was a haven for all manner of odds and ends, and he'd found just the right gift for his precious daughter—a cute doll that came with extra clothes so that it could be dressed and redressed. He couldn't wait to see her face light up when he showed her!
Badaq halted the beasts with a gentle tug on the reins. The two monsters slumped down gratefully. He removed their harnesses and led them to the backyard, where he tied them to a wooden beam. As he rounded the corner of the small cottage, he noticed that there was no light on inside. They must have gone to bed early. No matter, Sylvia certainly wouldn't mind waking to see him, and she would probably even fetch Meryl as well, despite he baby's reluctance to fall asleep in the first place.
After securely hitching the leashes to their respective posts, Badaq fed the reptiles and supplied them with water, patting each on the head and murmuring his thanks to them. They purred rustily under the man's broad palm and wolfed their hard-earned meals.
He made his way back around to the front of the house. He tapped the door lightly. When no answer came, he knocked more firmly, but there was still no reply. Frowning, Badaq jostled the doorknob and called to his wife.
"Sylvia, my dear, are you home?"
There was no response. One more try.
"Sylvia, Meryl, I'm home! And I've brought a present from Chesedonia for my precious little daughter!"
His strong bass voice died in a ghostly echo. They hadn't heard him? Badaq peered through the window of the door anxiously, but the blaze of sunset rendered the interior of his home a fathomless black in contrast. Cupping a hand around his eyes, he tried again to see past the darkness.
"Meryl! Father's home!" He grasped the doorknob once more, but the perspiration that coated his hand caused it to slip from the highly polished brass. He ran a finger down the edge of the door frame, then levered his great girth against its weakest point. After a few tense seconds of muffled grunting, the door finally gave way and swung open.
He grew frustrated as the ten seconds that his eyes took to adjust to the dark formulated more of the grotesque scenes he was struggling to force from his mind. He blinked once more, then gasped at what he saw.
The house was empty. Everything was in perfect condition, and it caused him to blanch with fear inwardly. Surely this was some joke. It would all be fine.
"Sylvia, honey? Meryl?"
Badaq cautiously stepped toward the bedrooms at the rear of the building. The kitchen, bathroom, and den were immaculate as far as he could see. It had to be a joke, some silly prank just for their amusement, right? Nothing was wrong. No. Nothing at all.
Right?
The two bedrooms bore no evidence of upset. There, on his left, the bed in which Sylvia and he slept was made, the dressers and full-length wardrobe also in flawless order. Meryl's crib was where he had last seen it: pulled from the other bedroom so that it was within three feet of Sylvia's side of the bed.
Badaq backed away slowly, his gut contorting viciously. It wasn't normal. But it had to be. Sylvia never cared to do housework, putting her child and husband before the petty stereotypical "woman's work" outside of what was absolutely necessary.
Right. The city was safe. Nothing could have happened. They were somewhere in Baticul, shopping, maybe, or still waiting to surprise him somewhere. Somewhere! That's it. He could ask one of the guards. Surely they saw all who came and left the area without fail.
Badaq locked the door behind him and glanced around for the nearest guard. There! Someone always had to tend to the docks. Always.
"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen a woman with a baby girl around here lately?"
"No, I'm sorry, sir." The questioned guard saluted Badaq swiftly. "I only just arrived for my shift about a half an hour ago."
"Oh, I see. Thank you," Badaq said deeply. He bowed graciously and turned on his heel. What now? Surely they would turn up. Of course they would. Why yes, of course.
He returned to the house again, unsure of what to do. Anything was just better than standing around. He paced through every room of the house four times, then exited and encircled the entirety of their modest plot of land and came right back inside. With a ragged sigh, he finally collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.
He closed his eyes, ruffling his cobalt hair absently. She was too down-to-earth for something silly like this, he knew, but he so hoped he was wrong. Anything else would be toward the negative. No. Nothing like that. Mustn't think like that.
His eyes snapped open at the thought of what could happen in the future. What if he was blamed for their disappearance? He'd be banished from Baticul! He had a job here, was well known and trusted by the citizens of the royal city! The thought of moving and rebuilding those friendships sickened him.
It was then he noticed the dusk sun. It doused itself in the Abberian Strait, the last few rays grasping at the waning day.
Slowly, he reached into one of his voluminous pockets and pulled from it the doll he'd bought for Meryl. He almost felt tears in his eyes as the last strands of denial faded.
The doll's eyes were the same color as the sunset: blood red.