Chapter 9: Awakened

"I was right," Locke whispered in my ear, in case any train passengers were accidentally listening. "And you once brushed off my observations as obsessive paranoia."

"That I did, until your idea of a Nyufalng insider held water. Now we've unmasked him." I paused, as people entered the train, passed us, and took seats further down the down car.

"We lost track of his allies, but he himself remains on the radar," Locke said softly. The train's rumbled help drown him out. "Maybe Edgar called us here for something about continued surveillance."

"Whatever he wants, he said we might be here for a while. Just like old times, we're on a mission." We'd given some notice to the commerce guild who managed Quildern's Dennalty Plaza, the location of our vending booth. Given our reputations, the business brokers asked no questions and granted us extended leave. The booth was closed down.

The train stopped near Figaro Castle. We grabbed our bags and departed for Edgar's dwelling. "Celes." Locke maintained his cautious whisper. "What if we encounter the guy? Will he get suspicious of us feeling like so about him?"

I pulled on my head scarf, a modest disguise. "We'll have to avoid him, and act like we're strangers. For that very reason, Edgar asked that we meet in the basement. Such encounters are less likely down there."

Sure enough, we reached the castle and made for its western basement without incident. The King awaited us in a workshop, which was empty. The lighting was dim, not so much that we couldn't see, but dim enough to suggest the room was closed down. As we entered, he closed the sliding doors. "You made it. Perfect."

"That we did. So what's this plan you have?" Inquired Locke, gazing through the small square windows in the workshop doors, just to make sure nobody uninvited was watching.

"As Celes no doubt informed you, she tracked the evasive Nyufanlg suspect to the Tarlappus Inn's room 414, and overhead the man converse with a guest inside. The guest called him 'Sergeant', as in Sergeant Morris Tanrevilt." Edgar recounted my successful spy op, which I'd relayed to Locke. "I sent a person to inquire about the guests in 414. There were four, registered under the name Jim Canavielle. They left two days ago, but we still have their man in our sites."

"And you want us to keep tabs in him?" asked Locke. "That's why you want us here indefinitely?"

"In part," answered the King. "I doubt his comrades have left. They likely just changed hotels, to avoid overstaying in one place and raising suspicion. We should watch him, as he might lead us to their new temp hideout, but I also considered a new angle, something that could lead us to his allies even sooner, maybe."

"What's that?" I was curious. Edgar's eyes twinkled, as they did when his brilliant ideas became practices. For some reason though, he was uncertain about this one.

Edgar pointed south. "Remember how Leonard contacted us from Albrooker territory after fleeing the town? We used this to track him upon landing, so we could rush in to save him, just in time."

Locke scratched his chin. "Right. A radio gauntlet that he lifted off his dead jailor. What about it?"

"Odd are that Tanrevilt is using a similar device," Edgar explained. "After Celes confirmed the man's cover alias, I recalled the gear Leonard stole from Albrook's dungeon. I stored it down here, so I could further examine the Nyufalng's level of communication tech." Edgar reached into his coat and pulled out a hollowed cylindrical object. "Our techs in rad-coms were able to pinpoint what kind of signal frequency is used by this device. Should Tanrevilt use his, we've got our sensors aimed on that very signal, and will not only track the source, but track whatever incoming or outgoing message interact with it. That will pinpoint the location of his allies on the transmission's other end."

"You never cease to amaze me Edgar, even after all these years." Locke gave the King a back pat. "So, why have us here, if you can track him and his unknown comrades using rad-com signal homing?"

"Because there's no guarantee he'll use the device anytime soon." Edgar slowly rotated the armored radio cuff in his fingers. "He obviously didn't use it when Celes followed him, choosing instead a face-to-face chat. This high-grade, long-distance communicator is not commonplace. He'd not use it in public places in board daylight, lest that blow his cover."

The treasure hunter leaned back against the dingy stone wall of the workshop. "So we take turns watching him," Locke gestured at himself and I "should he pay his friends a visit at their new hotel."

"Partly," the King nodded "but also since the likely hood of tracking them is much higher, a confrontation is also more probable. You have experience fighting pung thoshidai, the Nyufalng's deadliest."

"Once." Locke massaged his cheek. "I got a whiplash from that gray-skinned slime bitch, and she was hardly at her best back then. You presume those jewel-bearers are here in town?"

The monarch faced me. "That man you stumbled upon outside of Cid's place could very well have been Dyal'xern the Air-smasher. I'm not taking any chances that he wasn't. And your tangle with those two Nyufalng women outside Maranda proved even their average members pack a punch. Even if their best are not here, I want my best going against this opposition."

Locke snickered. "And I don't even have a military rank, yet you've labeled me among 'your best'. I'm deeply moved. So, what about the rest of 'the best'? Did you inform your brother, Cyan, Terra, and the others about your plan to find Tanrevilt's associates?"

"Yes, about the rad-com tactic. However, with the exception of Cyan, I did not ID Tranrevilt's alias. That will come later."

"Yes," I agreed, "when the time is right. Did you get us rooms?"

"I did, and to lower the risk of encountering the suspect, I got rooms for you at the command center. The guards on duty are expecting you." Edgar checked his watch. "And I'm expected in the conference room shortly."

"Oh, right. You're giving a speech to the press, something to explain this recent military boost." I recalled a detail from Edgar's last telegraph message. "Good luck. Your honesty should pay off."

"Don't say too much, just what needs to be said." Locke winked at the monarch. When Edgar slid the workshop doors open, he was about to walk through, but stopped himself short. "Oh Edgar. While I'm here, you said something about a riot in a southern distract of town. What's new with Leonard?"

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"Almost done?" Leonard called from the living room.

"Almost," I answered from the bathroom, preparing the bandage wraps I'd stored in a medicine cabinet next to the sink. I wadded up the padding and joined him.

He lay on his stomach, stretched out on my couch. The bruise on the lower right side of his back still swelled an angry reddish-purple. Even laying on that side was painful for him. As such, he was consigned to sleeping on his left side and stomach.

I pulled up a cushioned chair and took a seat. "You're lucky it was an offset blow, or else you'd have spinal damage. You'd not be walking, that's for sure."

"Tell me about it. I had little hope of finding the person who did it. Odds are, he or she didn't even know I was there." He spoke in shallow breaths, as if deep ones aggravated his wound.

"But odds are also high that he or she got busted when the troops raided the plaza to quell the riot," I offered, sliding the bandages under his abdomen and around his waist. These particular wraps applied the right kind of pressure to his injury.

Leonard hissed his through clenched teeth. "Whoops. I guess I pulled a little too hard on the wrapping." I eased up, securing the bandage in place. "Shall I get more pain killers?"

"Fuck that shit. I've been idle enough today," he groaned. "I'm missing work and blitz lessons, so I'd like to be as mobile as I can, even if it's just walking around the street outside." He pulled down his t-shirt and sat up, slowly. His lips curled and his eyes winced a he shifted his weight.

"As mobile as possible eh? That's not very much." I laughed. "You should hold off on moving around more than necessary."

"Yes Nurse Branford. Get a popsicle stick and I'll say 'ah' next." He leaned forward, moving his weight off the back injury. "So what's for dinner?"

"A dinner-in-bed, if you'd like." I touched his forearm.

"And suppose I don't, preferring a dinner at the table with you?"

"You'll get that, until your back demands otherwise." I waved a finger. "Then, its bedtime."

His face relaxed into a smile. "I'll be sure to prevent that, for as long as I can. So what's on the menu?"

"Nurse Branford just happens to be Chef Branford as well, and tonight's delicacy is..." I paused dramatically and made for the kitchen. "Grilled cheese with bacon."

Leonard joined me, his mouth drooping open with a wide smile. I thought he would slobber all over the kitchen's linoleum floor. "She knows my personal favorite."

We at in companionable silence for a couple minutes, until Leonard spoke up. "So, as my day consisted of a hot bath and several meds, what did you accomplish? More than me, I hope."

I put down my soda can. "Yes. That's a given. I had a lesson with Sabin, paid a visit to his cottage where Relm and Gau have taken residence, spent time with them, and came home. Oh, I stopped by the moogle mines one the way."

"Oh?" Leonard paused between sandwich bites.

"I'd been curious how Mog was taking his failure, ever since we escaped Umaro's blizzard and left him confused in the mountain forest," I explained. "Mog's gotten reclusive. He blames himself a lot, as you can probably imagine. He feels bad for the other moogles. His caging of Umaro forced them to compensate with overtime, so he understands the stress he ultimately placed upon them."

"After hearing him browbeat Sasquatch firsthand, he'd better feel shitty. I'm glad he's finally gotten hint." Leonard's voice lighten up. "Still, his apology was true, so Umaro has no excuse for that blizzard attack, especially against you, since you never fucked with him. Talk about overkill retaliation."

"That another factor with Mog," I pointed out. "Because Umaro attacked me for just associating with Mog, the moogle now fears that Umaro will return, and go after the others. Mog's worried for the safety of his kin."

"Well, that is expected, given the yeti's assault on you, but what are the odds that Umaro will return to the mines for such action?" The Narshean bit onto his bread crust. "Even if he tried, militia troops are still guarding the caverns, with anti-beast technology."

"That is true," I acknowledged. "But Mog was unconvinced. He's more experienced with Umaro than any of us, so I'll trust his opinion on this matter." Despite his long string of errors which resulted in caging Umaro for his own ineptitude, I had a renewed sense of trust in Mog's judgment. His heartfelt apology to the yeti greatly restored his character, in spite of it falling on deaf ears. Just the way Umaro spoke to us before unleashing that blizzard was unnerving. The yeti was getting smarter somehow, and had learned lessons in vindictive sadism somewhere. We both doubted this was natural. Someone or something had put new thoughts in his mind, and that mysterious person or thing had it our for us.

Leonard wiped bread crumbs from his lips. "So what now? How does he prepare for a potential encounter with a vengeful yeti, one you're not even convinced will take place?"

This was a good, honest question that deserved such an answer. Unfortunately, neither Mog nor myself had one. Until Umaro resurfaced—assuming he even would—the answer would remain elusive.

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"A week of sitting around on standby. Not fun." Qaurjaeda crushed an empty soup tin in his fingers. "And you get all the fun down in the city."

During our excursion in Figaro City, our transport airship crew had scoured the countryside for a closer gathering point. As luck would have it, they'd found a place in the hills east of the capital. It was far enough away to avoid detections, but close enough so that we could access it from the metropolis. Their timing was perfect. We'd left the Tarlappus Inn three days back, without a new place to stay in town. Our plan was to radio the airship and request a rendezvous. They'd already moved the vessel before we'd even asked.

For now, the airship was our 'hotel'. I was certainly tired. The vessel was a good five miles out from the city limits, and it was up a hill to boot. Chocobo wagons only went so far up the trail, and we couldn't get too close with a coach-master in tow. A halfway trip was the best we'd get.

Dyal'xern and Baokiydu fared well, being pung thoshidai with enhanced stamina. Goda-Gorshim and myself however were spent. I flopped down on a pile of burlap sacks the moment we entered the ship. The nap lasted until dinner, after which I crashed again.

Earlier in this day, Baokiydu left for the town and met briefly with Morris to discuss lodging arrangements. Our mole hadn't yet found an affordable hotel where we could blend in, but he did brief us on a major happening in the town. The Sensorian returned with a newspaper which proved such.

"We might have more fun around the corner, or perhaps, less fun and more business depending on how you see it. Look." I offered the front page to the Grav-wielder.

He gawked. Chewed pieces of poultry fell from his mouth. "Fuckin' hell. The cat's really outta' the bag now."

The public was growing increasingly skeptical with Edgar's tax for military spending. The popular question was 'why?'. Why was their own monarch charging additional taxes, especially so soon after completing the waterworks upgrade and rendering that taxation void. They demanded to know just who he planned to fight, since there was no more Empire of Cult of Kefka to disrupt the peace.

Cornered with his reputation on the line, Edgar took the only real choice available to him. He gathered the press and told them about some 'obscure paramilitary movement called the Nyufalng'. He said 'one of our own was kidnapped by this organization but managed to escape, informing myself and my companions about this menace'.

The goddamned Narshe Coward spilled the beans on his experience down in Albrook, just as we predicted he would. And now, Edgar Figaro had spread that story to the Figaroan public. The unwelcome spotlight was moving towards us. While the newspaper story said little about our movement, Edgar surely knew more than he revealed at the conference. We ourselves knew details not covered in the paper. How long before those things got out? He wouldn't keep them a secret forever.

At least we had Morris working inside. They didn't suspect him. His chat with Baokiydu verified this.

Sdalsyra pulled up a folding chair and crossed her legs. "Still, they can't do shit if they can't find us. They don't about Morris, never mind us, and I seriously doubt they'll try infiltrating Albrook. We've got our towns guarded against such intrusion, even if it means turning down prospective recruits form Tzen and Maranda."

Dyal'xern sipped a mouthful of tinned vegetable soup. This Vessel has its own cooking utilities. "Plus, we have people in those two city-state on the lookout for additional Returner spies, if they try such again."

We still had many chances. They knew of us by names, but our presence here was still under warps. Even if we became prime suspects in the next act of mayhem, King Fuck-aro would have no idea where to start looking for us. We'd move freely about undetected, right beneath his nose, hiding in plane sight amid the capital's population.

I scooped out some bean soup from a tin canister. "So, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Hibernating. It's a fucking bore." Qaurjaeda gnawed chicken meat off the leg bones. Bits of the poultry stuck between his teeth. "I think he's been the least restless of us all." He pointed at Chithagu, who was curled up in the far corner of the ship's upper hold. Empty sandbags had become his makeshift bed.

"Those resonating pulses have been something." Sdalsyra twisted the top off a bottle of lemonade. "The radiance doesn't feel any stronger up here, just miles from the source, but even down in Albrook they felt shitty. Maybe I should be glad there's no added intensity."

"And you're not even feeling the actual events," I put in. "I was caught amid one tremor the day after we arrived. There's no telling when the next quake will hit, or how strong it will be. Even the Moihzadu felt them a little, and he's got no pirusymn stone to augment his essence." Goda-Gorshim was also alseep. His limited stamina was spent trekking back here.

A door opened in the corner behind Chithagu. Baokiydu emerged, along with a Nyufalng Captain. After addressing the officer, the Sensorian regarded us. "Okay all. I've gone over the notes I swapped with Morris when I saw him earlier today. If the Returners can't find us, they can't prove our existence to the Figaroan people. Any claims he makes about us will go unvalidated, and doubt will grow that much more."

Qaurjaeda tightened his fist, snapping the chicken bone in two. "And his goody-goody rep goes bye-bye. We'll piss and shit on whatever is left."

Dyal'xern snickered. "Play the locals' doubts to our advantage. This might be easier than we first thought. And let's not forget another hazard to their health roaming around."

"What about the Divine's wounds?" Sdalsyra rubbed her pirusymn stone, as if just thinking about that subject caused a throbbing in her forehead. "His rep may wither, but the Divine's vitality could wilt even faster. It will start here for sure."

"Unfortunately, that's the one factor we can't so easily control," admitted the overweight Sensorian. "We'll deal with that next, first thing after we get a new base of operations down in the city. Morris is already on that one. We'll play it by ear from there, one step at a time."

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"And today we accomplished...nothing." Locke twirled a ring-shaped throwing discus around his index finger. Our spy work on the Nyufalng's mole turned up nothing. The man went out to dinner and proceeded on with business as usual. Whatever he was planning, there was no shady act in which to catch him.

The rad-coms people also gathered nothing. They deciphered the signal used by the Nyufalng radio gauntlet and programmed their sensors to trace any signal of that frequency in town, and even so much as six to seven miles beyond the city limits, in case Tanrevilt went out in the sticks to make contact.

The base was mostly dormant at this hour. It was dark, most of the daytime staff had left, and the graveyard shift was about to begin. Locke and I would hit the sack shortly, after a few drills we sought to practice.

Gau gripped a battle hammer with two hands. I held my Starto blade. "Ready? Here I come."

I stepped toward him with a stomach-level thrust. The shaft of Gau's hammer pushed my blade upwards. I back-peddled, in time to avoid the hammer's butt end. But Gau put some forward momentum into that shove. His motion carried him towards he, more than my back-step pulled me away. The hammer shaft was right up against my chest. "Right between the pretties," Gau laughed. "Had you moved any less, your ass would be on the ground. Now, I'll charge you."

We put spacing between us. Gau raised his war-hammer and charged. When he closed the gap, I shuffled to my left, his right. My aim was to laterally cut at his mid-section level, but his weapon's shaft once again came up and blocked my strike. Additionally, the hammer face was inches from my own. "Care for a facelift?" ask the young Private.

"Not with that." I sheathed my sword. "Your reflexes are something. All that time on the veldt really prepped you."

"Oh it's more than that," he stated proudly. "I know the footwork of the Doman sword arts that General Garamonde taught you. I know the patterns, and can predict what a practitioner will do in a given environment, where they'll move, how far, and where they'll try striking."

This came as no surprise. Cyan, who Gau addressed by rank, had been the young man's first mentor in systematic fighting styles. Sabin was a close second. As Cyan was much older, he was a father figure to the wild boy, and Gau took in Cyan's words more deeply.

"Is that so? Come at me again." I stood in ready position. Gau charged once more, and I side-stepped yet again. This time, I withheld my counter attack, letting Gau block a strike that didn't come quite then. I side-stepped once more, and was almost behind him, then swung out with my right leg, catching his. "And down you would go. Remember, I know more than the Doman arts. I'm an ex Imperial. The Gestahlians had styles all their own."

"Right, and I'm much less familiar with them," admitted the Private.

"To be fair, in this post-Empire world with even House Virnone defunct, there's little need to memorize the fighting styles of a dead regime." I gave him a back pat. "Still, knowledge is power."

"Imperfect, but impressive." Cyan's aged voice filled the training room. "Lady Celes. Ye can rest. Sir Locke, you're up."

I took a seat as Locke stood. He carried the Atma weapon, but something else was the focus of this drill. "Ready Gau?" he asked.

"Ready as I can be." The teenager gripped his hammer defensively. At Cyan's word, he rushed the treasure hunter, who stepped backwards diagonally. With a quick smooth motion, a crescent boomerang sailed from his hand.

It got close, but not close enough. Gau raised the hammer's tip and pushed away the curved weapon. It wobbled and returned to Locke's hand. At this point, he lifted Atma before himself, using the broadsword's length to his advantage. Gau's shorter weapon clashed against the sword's glowing tip, as if to shove the blade aside. This was accomplished, only for Locke to announce, "Careful. The small, subtle attacks get the job done while you're thinking about the larger ones."

The treasure hunter waved his boomerang. While Gau parried the larger sword, he was open to the smaller projectile, something easily overlooked. He shouldered the battle hammer. "Damn. What you don't see can really put a dent in your face."

"Better to learn here than out in the field." Locke gently tossed to boomerang upwards.

Gau had developed his physical strength and stamina during his years in the wilds. Those were his greatest assets back then, the only factors that promised him survival all that time. When Cyan and Sabin first brought the feral boy into our circle, his offense was remarkable, though his defensive talents were quite ridiculous. With organized training from Figaro's finest, the young man could polish his weak points.

Already seasoned from dozens of Returner ventures, Gau would make a fine soldier. I could see him running with a military career, knowing he'd stick with it. He'd found his niche, which had been right next to him for the last three years, and then some.

Cyan observed the clock high on the training room wall. "T'is getting late. We'll go ten more minutes, then retire for the night." We all agreed. Gau swapped the hammer for a shield and lance, then we heard something.

It sounded like a low distant rumble. "What the hell?" Locke gazed about. "Another earthquake like those we've heard about yet haven't experienced?"

There was silence. Cyan was about to provide instructions for our last drill when a second rumbling filled the room. This was louder. I felt the room shake beneath my feet. Then it stopped. "If so, it's a bunch of short come-and-go tremors." I braced for the next one.

Suddenly, the alarms buzzed to life. The red hazard lights on the upper walls began flashing. "What happening?" Gau almost shouted, competing with the alarms.

Cyan rushed to the double doors on the far side of the chamber, motioning for us to follow. He shoved the doors open. In the hallway, red lights and ear-grating buzzers continued. Colonel Jerom Frennard was on a hand radio, pressing the device close to his ear.

"Colonel, what gives?" Cyan practically interrupted Jerom's response.

"Something's attacking the complex General, a monster of sorts."

Locke and gazed at one another, reading our mutual thoughts; did the Shediarah creatures reemerge?

"What? Where?" Cyan asked commandingly, from both alarm noise and urgency.

Jerom put the radio to his ear and listened. The Colonel finally looked up. "It's penetrated the northern perimeter and is coming this way. Right now it's in the armory."

Perfect. Something broke into the military complex to sabotage our weapon stash. No wild random beast would do such, let alone traipse this far into an urbanized city. The Shedairah creatures were back.

Locke took the Colonel's arm. "Can you describe the monster?"

"A large white furry humanoid. That's all I was told."

That description was quite familiar. Was it...

We continued onwards, flashing red lights and grating alarms adding visual and sound effects the whole way. A few more rumbles echoed through the complex, each one louder and more vicious than the last. The doors to the armory hung wide open, one of them was dented, the other torn from its hinge. Beyond them was...

No, I couldn't believe it. But the description had been correct.

"All hypocrites vanquish." Umaro beat his chest, standing to his full height over seven feet tall, biceps as thick as a human heads in diameter.

Locke cursed a full blue streak, while Cyan muttered less vulgar exclamations. Gau and Jerom stood puzzled.

"Vanquish! Vanquish hypocrites!" Umaro roared, downing out the alarms for a moment. Broken shelves and scattered pieces of equipment lay strewn about the weaponry room. Shields were dented, swords and shaft weapons were bent, helmets and chest plates pierced and broken. The raging yeti grabbed a table of boots and lifted it above his head. Armored foot ware spilled off, clunking to the tiled floor. With a grunt of rage, the wooden table was flung at our party.

It missed us, and slammed against the far wall, one leg snapping off. Beyond the newly emptied floorspace, I could see a downed soldier crawling along. It was 2Lt. Paul Edderbricht. For the moment, Umaro didn't take notice. But the Lieutenant was very much in harms way. Crawling slowly would not get him out.

"Yeti Umaro!" Cyan gripped the Sky Render's handle, but hadn't yet drawn the blade. "Cease this madness. You're in our circle. This is dishonorable treason."

"You make treason. Mog make treason and you follow," growled the Yeti with more fluid grammar than I expected of him. He grabbed two handfulls of various bludgeoning weapons. "You liars now die."

Jerom and Gau raised their shields. We took cover behind them as hammers and maces crashed into our defense wall. Jerom took the most of it, having grabbed a tower shield before storming in here.

Paul was still crawling away at a slug's pace. We had to get him out of here, somehow getting around the Yeti between us. But, just as I started planning for such, footsteps sounded in the armory, barely audible with the buzzing alarms. Extra troops filed in, pulling the Lieutenant to his feet and hauling him away. Three others carried lightning guns aimed at the wild snow beast. Their aim placed us out of the firing line. "General Garamonde, shall we fire?" asked one of them.

They were wise to ask before unleashing their beams. It was a known fact that Umaro was part of the Returner circle, even if he currently claimed otherwise. None of us wanted to harm the Yeti, even if he didn't return the feelings. But Umaro was a present clear and present danger to all of us. Cyan was thinking as fast as he could.

"Low intensity," bellowed the General. It will stun but not kill."

At his order, the troops adjusted the lightning blasters and aimed all three cannons unleashed zigzagging white bolts into the ranting, hulking Sasquatch. Umaro staggered for a moment, but remained upright. The lightning beams held steady, but he grabbed a rack full of helmets and swung it at his opponents.

The beams died immediately as headgear sailed about. Two of the gunners used the guns themselves to block the helmets. The third man took a blow direct to the face, the helmet bashing him between the eyes, the cannon falling form his grip. Umaro's thick fur somehow insulated him from the low-level energy.

Jerom grabbed a flail from a toppled shelf and threw it horizontally at Umaro's legs. The spiked ball wound itself around the yeti's ankles, but he broke the chain with minimal effort.

"Flashers," Locke yelled suddenly. "Find one."

Understanding instantly, we split up, forcing Umaro to choose which of us he'd chase. It was Locke who yelled, "Got it. Brights." 'Brights' was a combat codeword. I shielded my eyes as the flash grenade lit up the room in a white void. Umaro was stumbling about, dazed from the non-lethal flash tool. Still, he was not contained, as he stomped about in rage without focus. A white orb appeared in his hand, and it glowed blue.

"Thy blizzard orb." Cyan recognized Umaro favorite relic. If he couldn't see us, he could just aim ice storms wildly about. As if the weapons hadn't been damaged enough already.

Cyan ordered Jerom to help evacuate the wounded in and around the armory. They went about the task, as Gau, Locke, and I dealt with the potential mini blizzards. Locke threw his full moon discus as the shining blue ball. It struck, yet merely bounced off, covered in ice crystals.

Gau leaned in. "Distract him. I'll go in from behind. Maybe I can knock him out."

I echoed his plan to Locke. We scraped our blades against each other, getting the dizzied creature's attention. An icy wind blew towards us, and we split as the ground tiles froze up. Gau was behind the yeti, leaping for a knockout blow. The hammer came up and was pressed down.

Umaro groaned. "Sneak but no good." Gau jumped back in the nick of time. Umaro's elbow nearly creamed the youth straight-on.

More soldiers entered the armory. I could tell from their faces they were all newly enlisted rookies, and I could tell they were nervous and unsure of the situation. No older than Gau, they took inspiration from the young Returner and found their nerve. Two large shields held point while auto-crossbows and drill pikes were trained on the Sasquatch.

"Pull back!" Locke raised his hands and motioned at the new team. "Don't kill him." The rookies hesitated, confused.

Umaro turned his fury on them. "Retreat now!" Locke's ordered with Cyan's commanding urgency, having no other choice. The blizzard orb was shining.

While they looked about with indecision, I charged a light Shock into my sword. It wasn't a full charge blast obviously, but was be enough to draw Umaro away from the deliberating rookies. I raised the Strato and shoved forth. The visual effects were almost lost amid the red glares of the hazard lights. But the whirling image nailed Umaro in his lower side. This drew him towards me, and the young troops were easily ushered out thanks to Locke's added prompt.

The blizzard orb shone a cool frosty blue. I'd seen this before, and prepared to guard myself. Crystallized ice shards were sprayed randomly, some in my direction. Using leftover Shock energy, I parried the ones heading toward my position. They were small, until larger ones the size of skulls came rushing in.

I took a blow to the stomach, which was negated a lot thanks to the protective vest I'd used while sparring. Still, I was pushed back and lost my footing. My back thumped against the wall, dislodging a box from behind. I slumped down, catching my breath as the box landed at my hip.

For some reason, I knew the contents were worth a look. It was a first aid kit, with bottles of potion, tinctures, bandages, and even a small jar of ether.

Ether...

Umaro turned his icy storm on Locke next. The treasure hunter dove back beyond the wreck of a large shelving unit, as chunks of ice crashed against the shelf components, each chunk exploding in a white mist on impact. Cyan rushed back in with his Sky Render drawn. He took a stance which he only assumed before using a certain technique, the Doman Stunner Pass. He thrust forward, twisting the katana blade, producing a needle-shaped lighting effect that nailed Umaro right in the naval region.

The yeti grunted, but his orb did not falter its attack. A long icicle speared out, repelling Cyan and dislodging the right shoulder guard from the General's armor. Umaro slowly beat his chest again. The Stunner hadn't worked for long.

"Gau!," I called. "Use this in Umaro's face!" I picked up the bottle and rolled across the floor to the young Returner. He grabbed it, read the label, and smiled. He got my plan, but could he pull it off?

Locke rushed to Cyan's aid. The General wasn't badly hurt, and could stand on his own. He and Locke engaged Umaro from different angles, with Gau behind the beast. The boy raised his weapon and bashed Sasquatch again. Umaro turned from the two older men and faced the younger one directly.

"I said you not triumph." Umaro aimed his blue sphere, just as Gau tore the lid off the ether bottle. The boy leaped up and shoved the open container in the beast's open mouth.

The thick plastic bottle crumpled in the Sasquatch's jaws like tinfoil. Umaro's orb still glowed its frigid light blue. Another wind brushed my face. Suppose ether, even that large an amount, proved ineffective?

"You...get...me...wrathhhhhh..." The white-furred creature lumbered at Gau. A thick hammy arm lifted upwards, the hand making a fist. "I...make...you...allllllll..." Umaro's voice trailed off. The blizzard orb lost its glow, and somehow disappeared completely. The yeti's next roar sounded like a tired rasp. The alarms were more audible. Finally, Umaro's legs gave way, he fell on his chest, then on his face. He lay unmoving.

Locke walked up cautiously. "Is he dead?"

Gau knelt over the snow beast and put his ear to the creature's back. "No, just asleep in semi-hibernation."

I stood and joined them, while Cyan sheathed his katana and rubbed his forearm. "T'is bruised, but no more."

Before we knew it, the red hazard lights stopped flashing, and the alarm buzzes were silenced. "Goddamn! It's can't be, yet it is!"

Edgar Figaro stood in the armory's doorway. He'd likely been sleeping when he got the message, and dressed in haste. His long blonde hair was loose, and his striped nightshirt was half-tucked into a pair of black fatigue pants. His chosen shoes were quite out of place, dress loafers, easily slipped on since they had no laces.

"I was afraid of this, in the back of my mind." The King shook his head, looking down at the yeti's prone form. "He chose the perfect time as well. At this hour, the streets are mostly deserted. Few would see him roaming the town, if anybody."

"He's getting smarter, somehow." Locke picked up one of the lightning cannons. Ice crystals covered the artillery device, some wedged into its tiny grooves and notches. "If it's gonna see more action, it should see repairs first."

Bent weapons and broken armor was one thing. Those could be reforged and welded back together. But damaged pieces of advanced technology were something else, as those contained moving parts and electronics. Umaro's rage had clearly broken a good share of lightning guns, auto-crossbows, and bio-scanner scopes, all of which required replacement parts of they were to regain their use. Happily, the bio gas grenades were untouched. There was no risk of poisonous fumes.

"My Leige. You should commend young Sir Gau." Cyan grabbed the teen's hand. "You valor and courage brought this madness to a quick end."

"She found the bottle and suggested it." Gau pointed at me. "I just took the last step." Gau shrugged off the hero's commendation, though I could tell it wasn't out of humility. His mind was elsewhere. "I thought Umaro was a friend."

"He thought such about Mog," Locke put in. "But this goes way beyond Mog's old bullshit. His apology was rewarded with an assault against him and Terra, who did nothing to the yeti. That itself was inexcusable. Nothing could even remotely sanction this." He spread his arms out, gesturing widely at the mess.

"What now Highness?" asked Cyan. "We must do something with Umaro while he's under."

Edgar frowned in a lop-sided expression. There was no easy answer. "We'll have to cage him up, for something he actually did. I want to know why he turned on us, and who or what instilled such in his mind. Vengeance like this isn't part of his nature."

But now it was, evidently. The tight circle of action-forged Returners had just been breached, in a time when we needed each other once more.

change in s & n

"First things first, we get settled in," said Goda-Gorshim in his typical whisper. "Then we do what we've been doing, feed the fires of resentful skepticism."

"If the King's labeled us the bad guys, the public may want proof. He's got none." Dyal'xern adjusted his top hat. "Doubters will demand evidence, which he can't produce. This should be fun, if we play the mindset right."

The four of us walked through the wooded hills east of Figaro, along a semi-visible mountain trail. It wasn't really marked, just a dirt path between two timberlines. Most of the trees were shedding their leaves, a sign of the autumn season.

I agreed partially. "Yes, the man's credibility will go to shit, but what about the greater underlying problem with the Divine's vitality?"

"Ajalni, what's happening in the town? Or more precisely, what are we planning to create?" Baokiydu asked, knowing the answer. "Total destruction of the hypocrites' reputations. That will intensify any differences between the people, pitting loyalists against doubters. The former group will be rife pickings. We'll have enough donors to make a swimming pool in Yitahdri's dome."

I laughed. "Right. I hadn't thought so far ahead."

The Moihzadu spoke up. "I read a side story in that newspaper Tanrevilt supplied us. It said that many town youths have run away from home, fearing their parents will coerce them into the army. I wonder how true that is."

"Patriot parents eh?" Dyal'xern cracked his knuckles. "If it's true, they're probably much like their counterparts back home in Jrysthovuh. I hope they exist up here. We don't need an excuse to make them bleed. Their own kids despise them."

"They'll be more than acceptable targets. Make 'em priority targets," added Baokiydu. "They who believe themselves infallible and beyond corruption are the source of corruption. The brightest light brings the darkest curse."

I brushed my hair back. "We'll take a huge bite out of the Figaro population if patriot parents are that widespread. But even if every last one bleeds out, will that help the Divine enough?"

"You're asking the wrong guy." Baokiydu shrugged. "But if not, we'll cover the difference with our enemies in the Council back home."

"Ambitious, my friend." Dyal'xern patted the Sensorian's back. "Just don't get too ahead of yourself."

"Why?" Baokiydu frowned at the Air-smasher. "Because that will put you in second place, something your ego won't accept?"

We said nothing and just shared a laugh, even if Baokiydu didn't mean it as a joke. I couldn't always tell.

The buildings of Figaro city loomed closer. Another mile in, we'd possibly find a chocobo carriage outpost and get a ride into town.

We walked for another five minutes. Baokiydu suddenly raised his hand. "Hold up."

"What?" rasped Goda-Gorshim. The Sensorian did not respond. He squinted, looking about.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

The hefty Sensorian still didn't reply...until the next moment. "PULL BACK!"

Something landed on the ground before us. I tried following Baokiydu's abrupt command, when everything was engulfed in brilliant white flash.

change in n

I was still piecing all this together, all the revelations that occurred in twenty minutes or less.

I'd been at the dojo with Sabin. He discussed Umaro's return the previous night, literally breaking into the command center's armory. Gau shoved a bottle full of ether into the yeti's mouth to sedate him, and Edgar had Umaro caged in a special holding cell under the castle.

Attacking Mog and I was over the line. Attacking the base, and all the troops within, was beyond rational. Mog's idea that Umaro had acted on outside influence was even more plausible.

I was about to start a blitz drill when Celes burst into the training hall, claiming our presence was immediately needed. Before I could ask, she answered; Tanrevilt's associates had been found, and were heading for the city.

Sabin and I were in a stagecoach in the blink of an eye. I asked how they'd located the mole's allies, and she offered a rundown.

Locke had suspicions, ventured out of town to verify them, and got confirmation. Shortly after Cid's death, Celes spied on the mole, secretly following him to a room the Tarlappus Inn, where a guest called him 'Sergeant' behind a closed door. Presuming the Nyufalng insider used a radio like the device Leonard used down in Albrook, the rad-com techs homed in on that particular signal, tracking both ends of any transmissions on that frequency.

It paid off. The techs got a fix on the location of Tanrevilt's allies. They were out in the eastern hills. The rad-com people also heard the brief conversation. While it was all in Jrysthovuhn, there as a particular word that stood out. Morrington's.

Morrington's was a cheap hotel to the west of Figaro Castle. Tanrevilt had found his comrades' next lodging. Now they were heading over to check in.

But they'd never make it. Our plan was to stop them, before they entered the city where they'd easily jeopardize civilians. We'd use whatever force was needed, while taking them alive.

Suppose they notified their inside man of our interception? Celes informed us that Edgar was on top of that. As we spoke, he himself was handling the mole.

I ingested all this info. It was quite a bit, and I wanted to know more when the time came. Sabin somehow made a connection that went right over my head. He presumed that Morris Tanrevilt's alias was uncovered.

Celes verified this and was at liberty to share his undercover pseudonym.

I still couldn't believe it.

Locke and Gau rode along with us. Cyan was training the new recruits. Ziegfried was assisting him, having recovered from the injuries received in the clash down near Albrook. While vast manpower seemed a given, timing was of the essence. By the time we got a large party for this interception, the enemy would already be inside the town. In any case, a huge party might draw their attention beforehand, and they'd retreat. Their trail would be ice cold again.

Jerom Frennard was leading this team. The objective was to surprise the enemy, neutralize them with non-lethal tactics, and imprison them. This was to be a fast, simple mission.

A forgotten mountain trail connected the capital to the incoming menace. We took positions amid the trees on either side. Celes carried a bio-scope, which not only tracked lifeforms beyond our vision, it also gave readouts of their energies. Her visual confirmed four separate beings, just as the Tarlappus registry confirmed four guests in Tanrevilt's chosen room. One had a reading output slightly above a normal human, on par with the average monster. The next had greater ambiance, fitting a low-level superhuman class. The last two registered extremely high. Only espers reached that level, and there were no espers in the Nyufalng. That left only one alternative.

Pung thoshidai, those mega-powered beings with oval jewels in their foreheads.

The four soon appeared in the mountain trail. A tall man and a heavyset man in trench coats and top hats, a young female, and a fourth individual dressed in a hooded tunic. This person's gender remained unknown.

The others were easily identified. The female was Ajalni Voldruine, the teenage girl with a monster tongue. The fatter man was the Sensorian Baokiydu, whom Leonard claimed was his primary jailor. The taller man was Dyal'xern the Air-smasher. "Celes glared the at tallest of the bunch. "That's him, the guy from the apartment complex, right before Grandad was found..." She didn't finish.

"Steady," I reminded her. "Think clearly, and we'll nab his ass." She agreed silently.

Jerom would instigate this ambush at the right moment. That moment approached, as the four Nyufalng beings obliviously walked into our designated ambush zone. The cylindrical flash grenade sailed up and away from the Colonel's gloved hand. We looked down.

"PULL BACK!" shouted a gravelly voice. The mountain trail was illuminated in brilliant light for a second. Baokiydu had seen, heard, or smelled us at the last moment. But there was no turning back, not for us.

Locke stood from cover, raising a noise-blaster horn at the opposition. Baokiydu stumbled about, dazed from the white flash. He lost his balance at the honking noise, his highly-acute visual and auditory senses overwhelmed, for now. Dyal'xern ran to his dizzied companion.

Jerom gave the codeword for non-lethal gas grenades. He, Locke, and Celes tossed some egg-shaped bombs at the two Jrysthovuhns. The bombs hit the ground and spread their white misty fumes, as the space around the mutated pung thoshidai duo blurred and rippled. The white mist dissipated into nothing. The grenades had failed.

No, they hadn't. Dyal'xern was the Air-smasher. Of course he could neutralize the sedation gas.

"Ajalni, Goda-Gorshim." The towering pung thoshidei called back to his other two partners, saying a Jrysthovuhn word I couldn't understand. The teenage girl and the androgynous 'Goda-Gorshim', less dazed form the flash and horn honk, started fleeing.

Gau and I sprung into action. He went for the mystery person while I followed the girl. With a head start, she pulled a device from her jacket, a radio.

"No you don't!" I ran past a small dead tree, breaking off a slim branch in passing and tossing it at the girl. It somersaulted through the air, bashing her in the shoulder and throwing her for a loop. This allowed me to catch up.

Regaining her balance, the teenager spun to face me, pocketing the radio and reaching into her coat with her free hand. "Terra Branford. Your kind should be extinct from this world." Ajalni produced an exotic weapon from her coat, some kind of hammer with a needle point in its tip and a hooked claw on the back side.

"Well I'm still here, and you're coming with us." I held the scimitar firm, watching not only the girl's hammer weapon, but her mouth as well. My plan was to disarm the girl and place her in a sleeper hold.

Her first move was a tongue thrust at my legs. I jumped aside, charging the girl. She raised the hammer as I swung down. Weapons locked, I grabbed Ajalni's right wrist in my left hand.

Normally this grapple could subdue an opposition of her size, thus it was an impulse move. Not so much with Ajalni Voldruine. While my physical strength slightly eclipsed hers, her tongue exponentially eclipsed mine. Only when my fingers tightened had I realized this.

I swayed back when she opened her mouth. The long snaking tongue missed my face, but the weapon lock was undone. Without the pressure of my scimitar, she could use the hammer-talon however she chose. I barely caught a glimpse of her shoving the butt end into my chest.

Even through my gold armor, I felt the blow. Air was forced out my throat, and I collapsed backwards, losing my grip. The Nyufalng girl smirked and fled east, away form the city.

I fell to my knees and doubled over, espying Gau take on the mysterious Goda-Gorshim. The young man took a familiar stance, something unique to him, something he'd crafted during his veldt years. I'd seen it many times, as it foreshadowed a full-body tackle, something even the unconventional Nyufalng would not expect.

But Goda-Gorshim indeed expected such, and rushed the young Returner. A knife appeared in Goda-Gorshim's hand. S/he closed the distance, cutting Gau's cheek with the agile blade.

The young man lost his pouncing stance, and his focus. The Nyufalng person exploited this, threw Gau to the dirt, and raised the knife. I gasped as the point was thrust downward.

Gau snarled, while the enemy remained upon him. I caught my breath enough to stand. By then however, Goda-Gorshim was up and following Ajalni back along the trail.

change in n

For Grandad.

Maybe...

The Nyufalng's Air-smasher lived up to his title, nullifying the gases in the bombs. Nonetheless, we had other tricks up our sleeves. I began charging a Shock Thrust. Locke drew another boomerang and charged it.

He tossed the curved weapon as I thrust out. The surroundings of Dyal'xern and Baokiydu became fuzzy, blurring the two Nyufalng super-soldiers. Locke's boomerang hit the void and bounced off harmlessly. My Shock aura slammed into the fuzziness, causing no effect to the enemies. The distorted 'bubble' covering the two mutations absorbed the Shock's energy.

"Is that all, Returner shits?" Dyal'xern taunted from behind the airy force-field. I felt a chocking sensation in my throat. Locke coughed a few times, feeling the same shortness in breath. We stepped away, just to breath clearly.

That provided an opening for us. A lightning bolts sizzled, striking the Air-smasher in the stomach and sending him backward several paces. "Give up Nyufalng," ordered Jerom, his lightning cannon aimed on the tall Jrysthovuhn. "Surrender for your own good."

So lightning could pierce Dyal'xern's force-field with no problem. His vacuum effect was gone. We breathed freely again.

But, something else replaced it, a sensation of intense heat, as though I were standing next to an open blast furnace.

Baokiydu was still down, but his red pirusymn stone glowed brightly. He was repelling us with a heatwave technique, one so focused that it left his clothing intact.

Jerom was feeling the heat worse than anyone, as his gold plate armor was conducting the Sensorian's heat wave. He tried the lightning gun, only to claim, "Heat overload." My Strato was next to heat up. I had to drop it, as Locke did his Atma.

"I got him!" Sabin, who'd been in the rear, burst from the timberline, full Aurashield guarding his person. He jumped on Baokiydu, jabbing his fingers into the Sensorian's neck.

The obese Nyufalng member growled in response. A long jagged spike burst from his palm, and he shoved it into Sabin's arm. The Aurashield resisted at first, but the pung thoshidei shoved harder, piercing the shield enough to give Sabin a flesh wound. The younger Figaro brother winced. Our weapons remained in the heat field, too hot to grasp.

The heat was exhausting as well. Sabin's Aurashield was flickering, on the verge of giving out. As the overweight Nyufalng being tried stabbing Sabin's leg, the martial artist made a desperate move. He grabbed both of the Sensorian's hands and yanked him upwards. Sabin's forehead rammed Baokiydu's nose, once, twice, then three times. The pung thoshidei grunted with each headbutt. His red pirusymn stone ceased glowing, and the temperature was dropping back to normal.

"Locke. Noisy." The Prince used the codeword for a noise-blaster application. Locke grabbed the horn, shoved it in Baokiydu's face, and let the honk blare.

Jerom took hint and pulled his bow-gun. He used its flashlight in Baokiydu's face. The fat Nyufalng's eyes and ears overloaded once more, Sabin delivered the final blow, another headbutt. The Sensorian groaned one last time, before going limp.

"Is he down?" Locke asked. Grabbing his broadsword, then dropping it. Atma wasn't cool enough just yet.

Sabin pressed his fingers into Baokiydu's neck. "I'll keep him down. Get the shackles."

Behind the fallen Sensorian, Dyal'xern stood shakily. He'd thrown off his hat and coat, revealing his (presumably) traditional Jrysthovuhn garb, in shades of blue. Jerom approached, bow-gun raised. "You're coming with us."

As he stepped up to the Air-smasher, Dyal'xern suddenly regained his balance. His image blurred once more. "Give your King some head and fuck off." This blur plowed into Jerom, throwing the Colonel back a ways. Dyal'xern had faked fatigue, luring Jerom in, then repelling him. The lanky Jrysthovuhn leaped up, hovered on a blurry 'platform' in midair, then jumped east, after his departed comrades.

I'd been sweating for a while without realizing it. Baokiydu's heatwave was a formidable technique. However, in this fight, his mutated vision and hearing proved weaknesses, not strengths as they typically would.

Jerom got to his feet, his armored chest plate heavily dented. "One out of four suspects detained. Let us be grateful we got him."

"I'll say. He's one of their greatest. We'll need heightened security with him." Sabin rubbed his bleeding arm. "Just a scratch, but...get a bandage."

"Over here!"

It was Terra's voice. She stood near a thick oak tree. Gau was propped up against the trunk.

Locke and I joined her. Gau's face bore a long incision, but his stomach was a bleeding mess. "A stab wound?" I asked.

"Yeah, and it's deep. I tried a Mantra, but the bleeding didn't slow." Terra shook her head. "What about you?"

"Sweaty, but still in once piece." Locke pointed over his shoulder. "We got Baokiydu down. They didn't all get away."

Gau tried standing, but Terra forced him down. "Don't stand. We'll get a medic wagon. Move too much and you'll bleed out." The youth complied reluctantly.

We captured Baokiydu, but Gau looked horrible. Even for an abdominal would, this looked bad. He needed immediate medical attention. Still, despite his oddly severe wound and losing the three other Nyufalng operatives, this mission was a success. One prisoner would be enough. Two, if Edgar pulled his move right.

change in s & n

"They were onto us," I panted. "They knew we were coming."

After fleeing the ex-feral child and the half-esper abomination, Goda-Gorshim and I rushed back toward the airship, ever grateful the crew had relocated it before we set out. I radioed the crew and explained the Returners' ambush. They started prepping for takeoff right then. Chithagu was sent out to meet us along the way, giving the Moihzadu and myself a ride. I had energy to spare, but Goda-Gorshim was spent. His low stamina never proved so detrimental.

Speed mattered. While the ambush party was small, we couldn't risk extra backup joining the interception. Even Dyal'xern and Baokiydu hadn't charged their essences in full. Baokiydu went down quickly from the flash bomb and noise-horn. Dyal'xern tried his best to force away the assailants, but when I glanced back, the Air-smasher was following us alone.

They had Baokiydu. The Sensorian pung thoshidei was now in Returner hands.

"What? How?" Qaurjaeda blinked several times.

"Hell if I know." Goda-Gorshim sat on a tin box to catch his breath.

Dyal'xern looked back and pushed the vessel door closed. "I had to bail. Baokiydu practically ordered it." He kicked door in frustration. "They have him."

"It's not your fault," Sdalsyra explained. "If you stayed, they probably would have you in their clutches as well. One hostage is better than two."

As the engines were revving upon our hasty, unplanned return, the airship immediately lifted off once the door was latched. Chithagu looked up curiously. "What now Morris?"

Damn. In the rush to escape, the undercover Sergeant never came to mind. My dense battle steed was thinking angles I had not. "I...don't know." If they were onto us, were also hot on his trail?

The airship went east, away from Figaro territory. A glance in the rear-view monitors revealed nothing followed us. They were preoccupied, most likely gloating over their prized catch. I paced about the cargo hold restlessly. "Will they dispose of Baokiydu, or somehow try?"

"They need him Ajalni." Sdalsyra put a gray hand on my shoulder. "The need his answers to their many questions, and for that, they'll need him alive."

"And torture is out of the question. I'm sure they'd get all wet over torturing him, but suppose word got out regarding such," offered Qaurjaeda. "His reputation's hanging by threads already. Rumors of torture will be the final stone on the grave of his fabled benevolence."

"He's Baokiydu." Goda-Gorshim cleared this throat. "He's been through worse. The Council took both his hands and one eye. But he lived through that, all before his receiving a pirusymn stone. He'll prevail."

Their words uplifted me, somewhat. "And you did injure one of theirs, quite severely."

"As means to escape, yes," agreed the Moihzadu. "He's got far less status than the others. He's more expandable. They won't all be celebrating their 'grand catch."

We eventually cleared Figaro's domain, and were flying over Nikean turf. "We should contact Albrook." Dyal'xern headed for the radio chamber. "We need to plan our next move."

I followed him. "And maybe verify what happened to Morris."

We could not let this unforeseen failure throw us off course. The Divine hung in the balance, by frail hairs just like Edgar Figaro's Kingship.

change in s & n

"Okay, once more." I kept a neutral voice, eying the Nyufalng suspect across the table. Me a pair of troops brought him to a basement office for a mock interrogation.

"The others identified you as their accomplice. They gave your name, profession, and place of work. Now, unless there's another guy sharing all those traits with you, I'd say you were part of it." I put my hands on the tabletop.

"I'm giving you my word King Edgar, I had no part in this crime." The suspect raised his palms. "I support you, but I don't condemn those who question your authority."

He was right on that first part. He played no role in the crime, because there was no crime. We called him to this underground interrogation room regarding a fictional incident, in which fictional perps named him as their associate. This was done to keep him occupied while Jerom and the others ambushed Tanrevilt's friends out on the mountain trail. We searched him before he came inside, as was customary for all crime suspects. Tanrevilt and his radio piece were separated. If his allies tried calling him, they'd get silence.

"I'd like to believe you." I stalled, and would keep doing so until I got that one particular message. "But if you're telling the truth, why are they naming you as their man?"

Tanrevilt shrugged. "I...I don't know. Maybe they don't like me, and this is a revenge scheme for personal reasons. I mean, they're offenders right. Are you going to believe the words of crooks?"

"Their crime was done in my name," I said, buying more time. "They're anything but dishonest people. And a witness described a person with your looks and build among them. Even if you've got a double in town, I doubt he shares your personal details."

"It's a near lookalike," he gazed about. "And as I said, they applied my info to that person. It wasn't me. I'd think you trust me more than this. After all I've done for you."

He was giving excellent responses, not surprising given his role a Nyufalng spy. He still believed this was a genuine Q&A session. But I wondered if he'd eventually see through my act.

I had to keep the questions on, before he started asking his own. "Alright, they dislike you, and naming you as their man was their means of getting even. Why would they dislike you so much?"

"I don't know King Edgar. But like I said, I had nothing to do with this incident. Why are you keeping me here when I've already given you my word?" If this kept up any longer, he'd get suspicious.

"I just want to get everything I need from you direct," I said calmly. "It's all procedural, a standard measure."

He nodded. "And I've given you everything I know, just as you asked. I'd never hide anything from you."

You're hiding lots, Nyufalng insider. But I didn't say this, and just nodded. Thinking of my next delay tactic.

Someone knocked on the door. I opened it up to see Rodney Hayne in the hallway outside. I left the office, shut the door, and took the message.

Jerom and company had been successful.

I dismissed Rodney and went back inside the office. No more delays. It was time for the real business, considering real crimes.

"Can I go now, Your Highness?" the mole asked once I closed the door. He stood, but a trooper forced him back into the chair by the shoulders.

I hardened my face, and my voice. "Sergeant Morris Tanrevilt, you're under arrest for espionage, arson, destruction of government property, conspiracy to commit murder, and suspected kidnapping."

The mole froze, blinking randomly. Then, his own face hardened. "You're good, Your Royal Lowness. How did you find out?"

"I ask the questions, Morris. You were good for a while, fooling us all with your pat little back story." I said nothing of his ambushed associates. No reason to tip him off.

The pair of troops behind Morris yanked him up, holding his arms behind his back. He just laughed. "Joe D'isla never existed, but I did work in gemology for a number of years, before joining the Nyufalng." Shackles were place on Morris's wrists.

"You and your friends payed a visit to Zozo, where you got the two gangs to cooperate and attack the parade. When the gangs broke their truce, you killed them off, down to the last one. Am I correct?"

"If you know, why ask, Your Royal Ignorance?" Morris grinned mockingly. All the respect he'd given me over the past several months under his Joseph D'isla pseudonym were never sincere. His true abrasive attitude was now manifest.

"When our company approached, you were sent in for whatever reason. Your own companions beat your ass, so your beaten-while-captive tale would sound more authentic. Your quick recovery makes sense now. You're more than a fast healer. You're a Nyufalng." I pieced together his activities just before we found him on the Zozoan streets.

"Going in was my idea, as was the beating," admitted the unmasked insider. "You bought it, predictably."

I shrugged off the disrespect, as it was not surprising in the least. "You were never in South Figaro on vacation. You were kidnapping Leonard from his own back yard." My voice grew harsher and more stern.

Morris laughed. "So I followed him home on the train, and through the streets of the Brokmawer District. Then I drugged him with a needle and brought him to an awaiting air vessel beyond the city limits."

I seethed within, but getting answers allowed me to shelve the rage for now. "When you got radioed about Returners down south, you broke into the army complex and set that fire." His smirk remained. Enough was enough, it was time to cage the mole. "Soldiers, use the stun rods. Morris Tanrevilt, you're going nowhere."

The troops had no chance to use their tasers. They were suddenly thrown back against the wall behind. Long, stiff objects extended from the back of Morris's shoulders, and they were withdrawing back inside, their tips ending in sharp spikes.

Long sharp spikes. An old memory was fresh once more.

I'd been wrong. The Shedairah monsters hadn't killed the Narshean Lieutenant in the mining caves.

"You did it!" I snarled, my rage coming to the surface. "You killed Frank Maydecker in the Narshean caves, when he found you trespassing." Everything became crystal clear all at once. "You were looking for Umaro. You let him out, Terra chased you from his cave up north." I drew my Excalibur sword, having grabbed it before starting this interrogation, accurately presuming Morris would show his brutal side. But all these revelations were truly a surprise. "And...YOU TURNED UMARO AGAINST US!"

"Boo-fucking-hoo, Edgar Phony." Morris ridiculed my name. His shirt sleeves were ripped to shreds as more spikes burst out from his shoulders. The long bone protrusions were aimed at me, two on each shoulder. All four of them lanced at my position.