Introduction:
These are a collection of short stories about Locke's journeys and adventures with the Returners in the years before he had to save a certain green haired magitek riding witch. I'm putting each story (and hopefully future new ones) as "chapters" but please don't read them like that. They are each individual stories that don't run together like chapters, with no linear storyline planned. I tried to keep as accurate as possible to the game itself, but if I missed something, please bring it to my attention. Any feedback is good feedback. Enjoy!
-Lost Treasures-
Locke checked the clock on the wall. Only 25 more minutes before he could board the ship from Nikeah to South Figaro. He was anxious to get back to Narshe to meet with Arvis, his liason with the Returners, but the clock wouldn't move any faster no matter how hard he stared at it. He gave the barkeeper a nod, and the man refilled his drink before moving on to another customer.
An old raggedy looking man stumbled into the café and tripped over his own feet, falling right into Locke's lap. "GAH!!!!" the man screamed, "get away from me!" In a hustle the man jumped to his feet, took a few steps back and looked frantically around the café at everyone now staring at him. He seemed to panic trying to catch his breath before he nervously pulled the bar stool out and sat down next to Locke.
"I… I'm sorry," the old man slogged through his words. "You just startled me."
"I startled you?" Locke questioned, "you're the one who fell into me." Locke gave the whole scene a slight laugh, giving the old man his trademark grin. There was no harm in this man, and accidents happen. "You seem a bit jumpy, have a drink. It'll make you feel better."
"Thank you, thank you," the old man nodded. Locke waved over the barkeeper again, who placed a full glass in front of the old man. "I can not stay too long, I must make the ferry to South Figaro," the old man said, tapping his fingers on the side of the glass.
"No worries," Locke replied, "we've got plenty of time. I myself am headed for South Figaro as well."
"Are there going to be a lot of people on this boat?" the old man asked.
"Uhhm… I'm not too sure," Locke was a little caught off guard by the strange question. "You certainly are an odd person if you don't mind my saying. Would it matter if there were lots of people aboard?"
The old man quickly looked around the café again intently before he leaned up against Locke whispering in his ear, "I'm being followed."
Locke tried not to laugh. Clearly this old coot was delusional. "Being followed by who?"
"Assassins… from the empire," the old man nodded as if that action would prove his story true.
Locke's Returner senses jumped up, but he kept his cool and outwardly appearance. "Assassins? From the empire? I've never heard of such a thing."
"Clearly you don't know Gestahl as well as I do," the old man continued whispering, keeping his eyes away from the treasure hunter to keep sentry on the room. "They've been chasing me from Albrook."
"Albrook you say?" Locke kept his act up, making it look as if he didn't really believe the crazed man, although for the most part he truly didn't believe a word of it. "And how do you know Gestahl so well that you're positive there are assassins coming after you?"
"Because I know one of his most precious secrets."
Now Locke's senses really heightened. Lunatic or not, maybe this man had some sort of valuable information. "Most precious secrets? You mean like the combination to his sock drawer?"
The old man turned and locked eyes with the Returner for the first time since he stumbled into the café, "I know the location of a treasure that gives him great power."
"Great power?" Locke echoed.
The old man nodded, "The power to control life and death."
Locke laughed, "The power to control life and death? You're speaking nonsense old man."
"Go ahead and laugh, but you would be fearful if you saw what I've seen with these very eyes." The man broke his stare from Locke and looked again around the café to check on anyone suspicious. "I've seen Gestahl call back the dead."
Locke suddenly lost all the laughter in his voice. His good spirit ribbing with the old man disappeared. It's as if a weight had just fallen on his soul. "Call back the dead?"
"With these very eyes that's exactly what I've seen," the man's voice dropped suddenly with an added spike of coldness to his tone. "I was with Gestahl through the caves as his guide when we found the glowing rock, the most magnificent thing I ever seen. Who knows how long it's been there, it must be beyond ancient."
Locke tried to race through every story, every urban legend, every housewife's tale he could think of about a glowing rock that could bring back the dead, but he couldn't remember a single one. He had been looking for a story like this ever since the massacre at Kohlingen. He felt his life depended on a way to call her back.
"Ho ho," the old man elbowed Locke playfully, "I can see this story has some interest to you."
"Yes… very much so."
"It has much interest to Gestahl too. I'm the only one left who knows where this rock is located. It's such a well guarded secret that the Emperor hasn't even told his generals it exists!"
Locke chocked on his breath for a moment. Had fate finally started to fall his way? "And that's why—"
"That's why there's assassins after me," the old man cut in. "Gestahl doesn't want anyone else to know his true power. I have to find a safe place to hide."
"Once we get South Figaro, I know a place in Narshe where you can stay. Very secluded, no one will ever know you are there," Locke tried to put on a smile, yet couldn't help but let his emotions pour onto his face. All he could see was Rachel lying silently in her bed. Just the thought began to tear at his heart.
The old man looked at the clock. "Narshe? Then we'd better get going before we missed the ferry." The old man reached for the still full glass in front of him and began chugging down the contents loudly with an exclamatory sigh of relief when he finished it all. "Come young man, we've got to hur—"
Suddenly the old man stumbled backwards and dropped to the floor. His breathing became violent, and he grabbed at his throat, gasping for air. Locke jumped to his feet in shock. He had seen something like this before: Poison! Locke dropped to the man's side, trying to get his head up, but the old man squirmed vehemently on the floor, tossing away from Locke's arms.
"Help! Please! Someone help!" Locke cried as a small crowd of café patrons had gathered around the old man. "Someone get this man a tonic! A potion! Something! Help!"
The patrons all looked around at each other, shrugging at Locke that they didn't have anything. The Returner looked to the barkeeper for help, but the man behind the bar was nowhere to be found.
It suddenly dawned on Locke. The barkeeper was the only one who could have touched the old man's drink. There was an Imperial assassin, just as the old man had said. Locke knew the old man's time was extremely short. He grabbed the dieing man by the shoulders, screaming out loud, "Where's the treasure?! Please man, where is it?!"
The old man looked as if he tried to say something, but he could only gargle out gibberish. Tears started to form in Locke's eyes, not for the death of the old man, but for being so tantalizingly close. "Please! Don't die on me now! Where is the treasure?!! Old man! Please!!! NO!!!"
But it was too late. The old man gave one final wheeze of terror, before his eyes shut and his body became still. Locke gave out a wail in sorrow, tears fully streaming from his eyes. The crowd of patrons started to file out of the café slowly to get away from the grisly scene.
Locke dropped his face to the floor, trying to regain his composure. The old man was right about the assassin. That must mean he was right about the treasure. Locke took in a deep breath and was finally able to collect himself. From the drying tears on his face came a small glimmer of hope: Rachel could be saved.
