Chapter 12: Strangled in Decay

I'd never had flashbacks before, ever. I'd been dealt grim, harsh reminders of nightmares long past, but those were simply that, reminders. I never felt like I was reliving the horror.

But now that all changed. Staring at the hefty Sensorian brought Shediarah back from the deepest reaches of my mind.

The smell of freshly spilled blood covering the walls and floors, the chocking stench of burning machines and half-incinerated corpses, the numerous forms of grisly death I'd seen while escaping the desolate complex, the dizziness I felt upon realizing I was the only survivor in a tactical assault on the jewel of Narshe's mining and military trades, and the symptoms of poisoning I experienced from the giant moth's poison needles all came back.

I was reliving the Shedairah massacre, an incident as gruesome as it was unexplained, a strategic neutralization of a top-notch military-and-mining complex pulled off by some unknown strain of smart monsters never recorded in biological science.

But the answer was now before us, smirking his full cheeks, his mismatched eyes twinkling in some kind of mockery. Like I didn't have enough reason to despise Baokiydu and his fellow Nyufalng militants already.

The smart monsters had been the result of the Nyufalng's mutation procedure, what they called 'augmentation' for simplicity. Injured people were given beast-like powers, and animals like Chithagu could get enhanced intellects, all possible through blood energy drained from captive enemies.

Long before we'd ever heard of them, the Nyufalng had already fucked with Edgar's domain, in a brutal and crippling way. Shedairah had been a vital resource for industrial materials like high-grade steel and petrol.

Now it was clear how Morris Tanrevilt recognized my last name. He'd been to Narshe before after all. When I showed him around the Rasnayffe District, we came upon a Shedairah memorial statue outside the library. Morris asked questions about the incident, questions I didn't want to answer. I brushed it off as a curious quirk.

But it wasn't. He was really curious about how much we knew, what we'd learned about the carnage which he and his organization had pulled off.

I saw red, and not just in Baokiydu's Pirusymn stone. Crimson flushed my whole field of vision. My senses were fired, and the hatred would not be contained. "Damn you motherfucker! You admit to the massacre!"

The Sensorian folded his arms. "What do you care about Shedairah, Narshe Coward? It was run by a greedy back-stabbing commander and the son of an equally crooked business tycoon. Or wait." He scratched his chin as though he were doing a stage performance. "They were you dad's pals. You miss them, don't you."

Typical that Baokiydu would make light of the massacre, going so far as to align me with Quentir Braslino and Major Blockhead. There was no use denying that connection, so I got to the point. "All those people you killed off."

"Drones and lemmings, following the lead of the money-grubbers and wannabe Gestahls. Blind ignorant sheep." The only emotion in Baokiydu's voice was joy in dehumanizing the Shedairah victims. "I guess it's only fitting that you'd shit your pants over them, Narshe Coward."

By now I'd gathered my thoughts more coherently. One thought in particular was coming to surface. "I was among them fat-ass. I worked at Shedairah. You almost got me killed!"

For a moment, the Pung Thoshidai said nothing. Unfortunately, this revelation served to humor him yet again. "Oh, that explains it. What a shame you got overlooked. The order was leave no survivors. So tell me, how'd you do it? Were you hiding in Major Bozwensc's underpants until the last moment? We verified his death, and Quentir Braslino's."

I looked around for something to grab and throw at the captive Pung Thoshidai. The device controller was in Locke's hand, and that would provide plenty of options.

I rushed for it, but he fended off my advance with his free hand. Celes was behind me, grappling my arm. "Control yourself Leonard. We need him alive and coherent if we're going to question him."

Somehow, she broke through. I stepped away from Locke and the control device, glaring at hatefully Baokiydu.

"Tsk, tsk," taunted the orange-skinned being in his gravelly voice. "You worked at a center of technology run by your father's pals. You really are you old man's son, Narshe Coward. Why else would you be employed among them?"

I could provide a truthful answer, even if it proved nothing to the Sensorian. "Shedairah supplied Narshe and Figaro with industrial resources, and my knowledge of minerals and machines proved invaluable at such a place. I did it to help undo the damage my father caused to Narshe."

My fucking ass!" Baokiydu snorted amidst laughter. "Working for your old man's fellow traitors and profiteers ain't gonna fix a damaged Narshe."

"Major Block...Bozwensc didn't always oversee base operations," I pointed out, trying desperately to avoid looking at the device controller. Despite his NCO rank, Sarge was experienced beyond the typical Staff Sergeant. He oversaw the initial operations at Shedairah. Only after his transfer down here to Figaro City did Major Blockhead take his place. The Major immediately elevated Quentir to his very own second-in-command.

Alas, Baokiydu was unconvinced. "A likely story coming from you, Narshe Coward. We've already spelled out how your old man's war profiteering was your own fault. You didn't kill the bastard when you had the chance. Nor did you or any of your 'innocent' Shedairah colleges take out Bozwensc and Braslino. You helped line their pockets, just as your King lined Gestahl's, and later Albrook's. If the Shedairah staff wasn't in on a grand scheme, they were just blind drones ignorant of reality. All we did was take out the garbage. You're in no position to put me down."

Another sharp retort was brewing. Before I could unleash it, Locke stepped in front of me. "Take your vigilante rhetoric and shove it up your ass, tubby. Your proud admission of guilt in the massacre is evidence against you. Add that to your impressive list of war crimes already, and you're in some real deep shit."

"We're all in deep shit, treasure thief, and it's all thanks to your King. The Divine suffers because..." Baokiydu's Pirusymn stone flashed red. He mumbled and gagged. His hands grasped his forehead around the flashing oval jewel, and his knees gave way. "See what I mmmmeannnn..." His words became indecipherable groans.

"No!," I scoffed. "I don't see anything but you getting your just desserts. If this little seizure is real, I hope it feels shitty. That what you get, fat ass."

Baokiydu said nothing. He just rolled slowly onto his back and continued grunting. Maybe this was a game, maybe not. But I'd said my piece and verified my suspicious. I turned and left the dungeon cell. Someone in particular needed to hear this new information.

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"It has come to this, King Edgar." Chancellor Pierre Gurdeaux frowned somberly and held up the report. "The facts speak the truth."

I took the sheet and read the contents. Yesterday's riot upon my castle bore a hefty price indeed. The last riot at the Zarpavieth Square, in which Deanne and Leonard were injured, bore no fatalities. But this was different. According to this document, eight troops and five rioters had been killed. The youngest army death was a girl of only twenty years, a probable rookie who'd not even completed basic training. Dozen more from both sides were injured.

Arrests were made, but I doubted any charges would stick. Like in the aftermath of the Zarpavieth riot, witness accounts were rare, and sketchy at that. The biggest charge that could stick was simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was unclear who specifically had fired the lethal rifle and bow-gun shots at my finest, and those who tangled with military personnel up-close fought to the death. Military staff weren't keen on compromising their own safety, despite oaths to protect the very people who'd now turned against them.

I'd read enough. The truth had sunk into my conscience. With a loud bang, I slammed the page down on the tabletop. The noise echoed off the walls and ceiling of the conference hall. "This is it. I failed. It's over Chancellor."

"King Edgar. Don't say that." Pierre leaned in, grasping my shoulder. "You cannot give up. A King remains true to his title until the very end. You father did, and you must, for our sake, and the sake if this great nation."

"To the very end?" I face the aged man. "It is the end Chancellor. My own people raised arms against me, and some of my finest paid the ultimate price. To the rioters, I'm no longer King. They didn't shout praises of the Nyufalng, so we can't really blame the opposition for this mutiny. The rioters did what they did without Nyufalng input whatsoever. I failed those people. A true, competent Monarch would not."

"My Liege, times are dark and grim. It's only natural that you feel such doubt and inadequacy," began the Chancellor. "But you can't abandon hope now. There's still work to be done. The Nyufalng are still out there, planning their next move. You got a hint of what that move could be. There's still a nation to protect, and people within that nation who need it. Remember, the town is bitterly split regarding your character. You've still got patriots praising your name. Short-sighted they might be, but they still believe in you." Both of Pierre hand's were on my shoulders. "King Edgar Roni Figaro, I know this because I believe in you. We need you, King Edgar, and we need your colorful band of allies. The Returners have prevailed before. You must prevail again."

Sparks of hope rise within me. Pierre spoke with both necessity and encouragement. Nonetheless, the sparks were few and far between, suffocating in the damp cold of my own confusion. "I thought my new pipelines would help this nation. But all they did was divide my people, cheat them out their savings, and soil my reputation."

"A tremendous error Your Highness, I won't pretend otherwise. But even if this town is divided, it's still your capital. You can't back down. Think of what will happen if you do. The Nyufalng will lay waste to this grand metropolis, and who knows what will follow. I don't want to imagine that, never mind experience it."

He was right. I had to defend this nation, even if my reputation was crumbling. I couldn't let the Nyufalng destroy our post-Kefka progress with their intolerant elitism. The enemy was still out there, and the mystery of the 'Divine' needed to be solved. Who else could do that?

Stopping the Nyufalng was by itself motivating. My wife was tasked with a step in that direction, for she could accomplish what I could not, given the circumstance.

And we'd solved various mysteries thus far. We'd verified, unmasked, and taken out the Nyufalng spy Morris Tanrevilt, connecting him to various other mysteries in the process. We'd located and contained the yeti Umaro, who was presently not on our side. And most importantly, we had the Sensorian Baokiydu imprisoned in the dungeons. Unlike Morris, Baokiydu still breathed and had never tried killing himself. I'd kept him on such watch round-the-clock, but guard reports never mentioned suicide attempts. He was more powerful than Morris, and maybe possessed some hope of eventual escape. Or maybe he enjoyed toying with us, seeing our negative reactions to his vague replies and crude remarks.

Regardless, the answer to the 'Divine' was likely to be found with him.

Pierre checked his watch. "Shall we break for lunch, King Edgar? This meeting is not officially over, but is there more to discuss?"

"There is, one thing in particular." I sorted through the papers between us. "Given that some people still have a fanatical trust in my name, we can reasonably presume that yesterday's riot will cause retaliatory actions done in my honor. We should look into preventing such. We still have order, and I'll be damned if the very people who still believe in me should undermine it."

Before Pierre could speak, a castle guard approached. "Highness, a young man requests to speak with you. He says it's urgent and cannot wait."

Whoever asked for my audience knew this meeting was to remain undisturbed unless dire needs arose. For someone to disrupt a closed-door meeting like this, they meant business, business that demanded my attention. "All right. Send him in."

The guard climbed the stairs and opened the door. The man with a message was ushered into the conference room.

"Okay Leonard. I trust you'd only disrupt a meeting like this if you had a damned good reason." I pointed at an empty chair next to the table. "So have a seat and spill the beans."

"You won't believe this Edgar." The Narshean pulled out the chair, his face grim. "Or maybe you will."

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While Leonard confirmed his suspicions in the dungeon, I paid a visit to the throne room. Edgar was busy at a meeting, but Charise was getting ready for lunch. The Queen invited me to join her. Lobster bisque was the today's main lunch special.

We sat at the long dining room table, across from each other. Charise looked nervous. I chose to withhold Leonard's revelation about the Nyufalng attacking Shedairah. Leonard would inform Edgar, and Charise would learn soon enough. Scooping up some bisque, I thought about news on her end, a possible cause of her anxiety. "So what's new here in the castle?"

The Queen wiped her mouth. "Much Terra. In case you didn't hear, Edgar had the guestroom searched, the room he provided Morris Tanrevilt. We found evidence suggesting his involvement with Professor Marquez's death, but we also found something more...disturbing."

Her pause implied she didn't want to discuss the matter. Yet she managed. "A tourist pamphlet from Vardigga. The spy was in my homeland, a place where Edgar's never had popularity. The Nyufalng planned on turning my people against him."

I nearly spit bisque out my mouth. From the start, Edgar and Charise's relationship was frowned upon by the Vardiggan kingdom, especially in Charise's family. Calling her open-minded and fair was an understatement. She gave the King of Figaro a chance while just about everyone she knew back home called him shady, ambiguous, and short-sighted. Those were the most common put-downs, and the 'nicest'.

"Edgar believes his recent errors with taxation will stain what little credibility he's got in Vardigga," Charise went on. "The Nyufalng mole went there specifically to incite public animosity and distrust of the Figaro name. While I don't wish to think of my people as prejudice or judgmental, smearing Edgar's reputation will be easier in Vardigga than anywhere else. My people will sadly take such information without question. Some may actually welcome it. Our greatest fear is that the Nyufalng will recruit Vardiggans in their aggression against us."

This made frightening sense. The Nyufalng had appeal to others, as people from all three city-states down south had joined their ranks. If Morris had spread lies (or worse, theories which the Nyufalng themselves believed) that Edgar was looking to build his own empire and impose his will on Vardigga, Charise's people would do everything in their power to prevent such action. They'd never think to question if those aspirations were only rumors or misinfo.

I understood Charise tension. It was better described as paranoia. We both wished to think of the Vardiggan people as intelligent and civilized, not the kind who'd embrace the Nyufalng's bloodlust, intolerance, and vigilante scorn. But given their skepticism and lack of faith in Edgar, anything was possible. And the King's honest mistakes had already cost him charisma here in his own domain.

"Okay, you have a grasp in their plan. Do you have any plans of your own to counter it?" I swallowed hard and spooned up another mouthful.

The Queen stirred her meal and looked up. "That's part of the problem. Our best plan to was to contact Vardigga's parliament and tell them about possible disinfo agents running around spreading rumors. Edgar asked me to do it, for obvious reason. Vardigga won't pay attention to the words of their long-loathed Figaroan King. As Figaro Queen and the daughter of Vardiggan upper-class, I'd have more influence on their government."

Charise paused again. Something hadn't gone as she hoped. "So did you contact them?" I asked. The problem surely run much deeper than that.

"I did, via radio, and..." she sighed amid hesitation and downed some bisque. "They didn't believe me."

"What the hell?" My spoon fell into my bowl, splashing bisque over the edge.

"They questioned me, asking if Edgar had put me up to some kind of prank. Why else would Edgar want Vardigga warned about a shadowy group of persons looking to undermine him? They believed I was speaking on Edgar's behalf, that he's using me to help cover his own ass."

I grabbed my spoon. "Shit. They actually blew off your warnings just like that?"

Charise looked down into her bisque before scooping up another spoonful. "It's not much of a warning Terra. I said nothing about dangers posed against Vardigga, only of dangers against Edgar's reputation. That's been resting on thin ice for years over there. We have no proof of Nyufalng plans to attack Vardigga, and Edgar doubts that will happen. He's mutually unpopular in both groups, so attacking my country would cost our enemies a valuable ally."

Vardigga's ruling parliament was not stupid. Their swift, casual disregard for Charise plea was highly out-of-character for them, especially given that Charise was among their own. Unless...

I gulped down hard, burping as a result. "Charise! What if the Nyufalng have gone into your nation and spread their mindset already? That would explain why the parliament paid no attention to your message."

The Queen blinked, and her mouth dropped open. "Well, they already have. Their spy paid a visit. Pamphlets like the one from Morris's guestroom are only handed out within my nation's borders. What are you suggesting?"

"That additional Nyufalng operatives paid follow-up visits to spread more anti-Figaro propaganda," I offered. "Why stop with just one visit, from an insider with a farce to maintain elsewhere? Why not send in more operatives with one prime objective, for longer periods of time? For all we know, a whole Nyufalng espionage team is roosting in a Vardiggan hotel as we speak, just like they did right here at the Tarlappus Inn."

"Okay, suppose there are Nyufalng in my homeland right now? My talk with Vardigga's parliament produced nothing." The distraught Queen ran her fingers along her brow. "How can I get through to my own people when their leadership doesn't believe me?"

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I had no trouble believing Leonard, and neither did Cyan. In fact, the only question was, how come we didn't make this connection sooner?

Shedairah was attacked shortly after I supplied Albrook with a tools and weaponry shipment. Back then, the Nyufang had Sireck and Edrina's House of Albrook as their prime target. Despising us Returners already, The Nyufalng took a little 'side quest'. After doing a little homework on the complex, they massacred the place, cutting off Albrook's new supplier and crippling us at the same time. It was obvious the base was attacked by smart monsters, and Leonard saw how the Nyufalng could mutate creatures by draining blood. Nyufalng members like Baokiydu were themselves mutated former humans. But with evidence of a new monster breed only, that's what we sought out. We never suspected the new creatures were part of a ruthless paramilitary group with mystic knowledge. Our monster hunts failed because for that very reason.

I recalled one of my thoughts from shortly after the massacre, about why Shedairah was not followed up with attacks on Narshe or the capital. I wondered if the bloodbath was just a side note in a greater plan. Ultimately, I was right. It was just one stepping stone on the Nyufalng's path of butchering 'the inferiors'. It left Albrook without a valuable supply line and left us confused regarding who or what was responsible.

And Shedairah was done in response to my aiding of Albrook. I almost felt another pang of guilt.

No, the Nyufalng had plans to ravage my kingdom anyway. My ever-questionable supplying of Sireck and Edrina only hastened the inevitable.

After hearing Leonard's tale, I paid Baokiydu another visit. The Sensorian did little besides roll around on the floor and groan. I asked if the giant leech monster that wrecked Cid's lab was a Nyufalng creature sent in for exactly that. Since Ultros and Chupon were also smart monsters themselves, I asked about links between the Nyufalng and them, the Dragon's Neck bloodbath, the subsequent crippling of Setzer's Falcon.

The Pung Thoshidei said little. He mostly laughed between grunts and moans. That was enough. Had there been no link, he'd have said so. I said nothing, but mentally connected the final dots.

The leech was sent in to destroy the science lab. Word of new monster discoveries somehow reached Albrook, and the Nyufalng sent in the leech, knowing it would be hauled to just that place for testing. Whatever Ultros and Chupon had been, they were some kind of mutated ex-humans long ago exiled like the Nyufalng themselves. They were found and tasked with crippling our preferred means of air transit, killing arena-goers to lure us out. Later, they were tasked with attacking the awaiting cargo vessel down in the Cradhawch Plateau, but that's where they failed. At the time, we assumed their appearance was random.

I still was unsure of Baokiydu's thrashings and seizures. It was possible they were just an act to confuse us. Still, he didn't start those until shortly after we'd imprisoned him. Maybe they really meant something. He started them right before the quake which broke the northern pipeline. His 'essence' had a spiritual connection to the 'Divine', and if the Divine was 'hurting' as he put it, he'd certainly share the pain.

To be sure, I wanted some health monitoring conducted on him. That would determine if he was faking the spasms or not.

I'd hit a stone wall regarding Vardigga. I never imagine my wife's own words could get blown off like they had, even with Vardigga's anti-Edgar mindset. More was required in convincing Vardigga to not sympathize with any Nyufalng hecklers. To them, the Nyufalng didn't exist. They presumed I'd made up the word.

That could wait. Right now, the first order of business was updating Narshe with who'd actually massacred the base. Almost a year had passed, but the memory still lingered in the minds of the public, along with numerous questions. It was time to answer them.

"King Edgar, General Garamonde. We're approaching Narshe," called the pilot of the cargo vessel we'd commandeered. The Falcon was still inert in the harbor's repair yard.

Minutes later, we touched down, boarded the next train, and departed at the stop closest to our destination. From there, a stagecoach took us the rest of the way.

The Nasrhean Chamber of Office was amid the center of the mining town, a fitting location for the government HQ. Sentries at the gates on the building's perimeter wall smiled, released the gate locks, and motioned us inside. More guards greeted us at the building's southern entrance.

Inside, we went straight for the halls leading to the central chamber. I'd messaged Governor Hoff yesterday, after hearing Leonard speak. The Governor wanted to meet today, in the centralized presentation hall.

It was a huge room, with doors leading in from all three stories of the building. There were seats aplenty on three sides of the room, with the western side bearing the tables of office, where politicians and other bigwigs presided. Today though, the room was mostly vacant, save for a few armed guards and army brass in the western end. As we entered the chamber, the door was promptly closed behind us. A man stood and motioned for us to join him at the table. "Your Highness, General. Welcome."

Narshean Governor Dwight Hoff took our hands and smiled. He was in his late forties with graying brown hair and a slightly cubical face, though less dramatic than the late Major Bozwensc's. Dwight had shaggy chin-length hair, not a flattop, so this helped.

The Governor smoothed out his brown overcoat and offered us two chairs. "You've no idea how grateful I am for this meeting." He took a seat across from us, amid the army brass. "I didn't expect a solid answer to this mystery, surely not after all this time."

"We ourselves should've made the connection sooner, what with all the cards laid out before us." I laughed before getting down to business. "In short, a group calling itself the Nyufalng attacked Shedairah, partly in retaliation for my supplying Albrook, who the Nyufalng were fighting at the time. However, this was bound to happen sooner or later, Albrook supply or not."

"Nyufalng?" Dwight raised his eyebrows. "I'm not familiar with that word, or the language from which it comes."

"Until recently, neither were we." I gave him a rundown about Jrysthovuh. It was brief, as I still knew very little about the Nyufalng's country of origin. I had more to say regarding their activities down south and up here. "After setting up the assault on Fondanin's parade over the Winter Solstice, they sent a spy into our midst, undercover as a jewel merchant from Quildern. While they declared war on the governments down south, their mole worked from the inside up here, eventually kidnapping one of our own." I didn't specifically name Leonard. Knowing Arvis's grudge, it was possible Dwight had axes to grind as well.

"But our friend escaped their clutches, and told us of their plans," boasted Cyan, who'd long put his distrust of Leonard to rest. "We flew down to Albrooker land and rescued our comrade in the nick of time."

"Well, you didn't," I pointed out, for Cyan hadn't come along for the Cradhawch rescue op. "But some of us did, and our friend told all. The Nyufalng now control Albrook, have this elitist attitude, and seek to kill of anyone they deem 'inferior'. They also kidnapped our other friend Clyde 'Shadow' Arrowny from Olistes, and are draining his blood to augment or mutate their own."

"Such is where the new monsters come from," added Cyan. "They create super monsters from normal ones, and even turn humans into half-beast abominations by draining human blood energy. Their insider was one such being. He killed the guard in the mines and freed Umaro, soon turning our own Yeti against us."

"Impressive." The Governor widened his eyes. "While fighting power-hungry governments down south, their spy was hard at work up here. This Nyufalng is a force to be reckoned with, to not underestimate. But...you're the King of Figaro and General of its armies. Surely with your added Returner status, you've got plans of a counteroffensive."

"That we do. Awhile back, a small Nyufalng team entered my capital and killed Professor Cid Del Norte Marquez, making it look like an accident. But our suspicions of a mole were sharp, and we soon tracked the spy and his companions," I went on proudly. "The spy was killed, and his allies were ambushed on a hillside trail. Though three got away, we captured one, one of their most powerful at that. He's locked in the castle dungeon, with special devices to counter his abilities."

"And I presume you grilled him about their future plans," said the Governor.

"We did, but...he was not cooperative." Cyan scowled at the tabletop. He was no doubt still furious at Baokiydu's crass assumption that Doma's poisoning was its own fault.

I knew a couple aspects, at the very least. "The Nyufalng have plans to attack the ruling Council of their homeland, probably after they defeat us. They clearly don't have whatever they need to fight this Council and its loyalists right now. In any case, Jrysthovuh is a nation surrounded by constant sea storms. Passage beyond those is unlikely."

"Not to mention the Council's elitism is not much different than the Nyufalng's." Cyan narrowed his eyes. "They cast out their rogues and only care about matters within their borders. Isolationist pigs indeed." Cyan still carried his prejudice against the Nyufalng's homeland, for not caring what its exiled criminals did to other peoples of the world. It was a reasonable attitude, but Cyan took it a step too far, scorning my brother for admiring Jrysthovuhn culture.

Before Cyan's could embellish his rant, I put focus back on the Governor's question. "We also found evidence that the Nyufalng seek to enter Vardigga, my wife homeland where I've always been disliked and scorned. They'll use that as against me, especially with my new plumbing system failing despite all the taxation I put into building it."

"Have you any plans to infiltrate or attack the Nyufalng garrison of Albrook?" Dwight folded his hands. "To me, that sounds like the most practical response."

"If I were leading the Nyufalng, I'd expect such, and guard against it," I advised. Locke and Celes were almost caught down in Maranda. Word had spread about their saying the wrong things in Tzen. With Nyufalng operatives and even misguided sympathizers in Tzen and Maranda, all three southern city-states were on the lookout for suspicious persons.

"Governor Hoff." the voice of an armed guard filled the meeting chamber. "An urgent message for your guest."

Dwight looked at me, and I nodded. I wanted updates, even when out of town. Castle staff knew I'd been here today, and had orders to send classified telegraphs to this building. A com technician approached with a bundle of papers, handing them to me. Accepted the offering, read a few lines on the firs page, and almost smiled.

Baokiydu had spasms even when left alone in the dungeon cell. Pulse readings showed increased activity during the seizures, something that could not be faked.

Additionally, the Sensorian's temperature was taken. Readings clearly showed his body temp was a few degrees below that of a regular human. I'd have brushed this off had I been unfamiliar with his ability, but as Baokiydu could generate intense waves of heat from his own body, this meant something. This drop in body heat was all that more significant for a being whose average temperature was likely above a normal person's.

This implication was astonishing. Whatever was causing Baokydu these infirm symptoms was likely affecting his fellow Pung Thoshidai as well. Maybe all the Nyufalng mutations were feeling the pressure.

That meant they'd be less proficient in attacking other cities or defending their own. We had a chance to strike back, maybe.

Baokiydu was feeling ill, but were all Nyufalng members truly experiencing such? How much of the Albrook garrison would in a condition to repel a Figaro assault? Would an undercover spy op be feasible?

And did Baokiydu's new spasms foreshadow anything? When he had them last, a nasty earthquake soon followed. If he was having seizures afterward, was another, more devastating event on its way?

And why was he implying that it was my fault? It seemed a given that he'd place blame upon his enemy, even when the Nyufalng were not responsible. But his accusations were extremely condescending, too much for a random insult. Given my recent failure to keep public trust amid high, wasteful taxation, suppose I really was guilty of something?

Again, this had to wait. The Nyufalng's chubby Sensorian wasn't going anywhere. I could grill him later on. Right now, I had to share this news with Governor Hoff and the Narshean brass.

"King Edgar, does your mail relate to our business here?" asked the curious Governor.

"In fact, it very could. I think we have a golden opportunity."

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Dyal'xern stretched his tall form out on the sofa. He'd removed his shirt, showing off his glowing, pulsing scars. They were like dirty mirrors with pulsating veins. A few veins even pulsed and glowed along the side of his face. He breathed deeply. "I'm feeling short of breath, in case you didn't know."

"Damn. For an Air-smasher, that's not good."

"Tell me about it Ajalni. All you have is a tongue tingle."

The door opened. In walked Sdalsyra, a half-empty gallon jug of liquid in her hands. The Corrodess put the jug mouth to her own for a drink. Some of the water spilled off her lips. "Thirsty," she rasped, taking a smaller sip.

"Dehydrated." I made a statement, not a question.

Qaurjaeda sat up slowly, wincing in the process. "Damned muscle cramps. I feel spams if I move to fast."

"The Divine suffers, thanks to Edgar fuck-aro. Now we're all stuck here with our own symptoms while Baokiydu rots in a Figaro dungeon." I sat on a padded stool. Chithagu had spams of his own. He'd roll around then fall asleep, soiling whatever lay beneath him. I'd put him on the shitting box for now.

"We should be up there, ravaging the capital of Figaro, feeding the Divine and crushing what remains of Returner trust." Sdalsyra chugged down more of her beverage. "And we're sitting on our asses down here, sweating, puking, and acting like a bunch of apathetic slackers."

"It's affecting them too, in large ways," Dyalxern pointed out between deep inhales. "But yes, he's to much of an idiot to solve this matter. That's our forte."

Yithadri joined us, clad in socks, undershorts, and a strapless top. Even her jewelry was missing. "I just finished a telepathy trance with Baokiydu." Her face was grim. "They finally connected with us Shedairah."

"You don't say. Well, maybe it was bound to happen. Perhaps we expected it much later than now." Dyal'xern leaned back. "But, the secret's out. There's no going back."

"Will they come down here, motivated by that revelation?" asked Sdalsyra.

"In optimum circumstance, yes. Fortunately, the Divine's resonating has crippled their efficiency. A large-scale assault is unlikely for them. But don't presume we get a break just because of that. We've all felt the pressure of that wound." She gestured around the parlor. "Baokiydu and ourselves are simply those feeling it the most." Yithadri's minimal dress was another sign of that. She's also been perspiring heavily.

"Right. Even if the not-so good King has problems up there, we can't do shit from down here." Qaurjaeda's voice was calm, but his face contorted as he shifted his weight. His cramps were intense. "His fuck up will fester, and grow and grow until all is fucked up. We all get erased from existence in one big shit fest."

"Something is coming, something big." Yithadri warned. "Figaro will no doubt feel the Divine's pain, and that will set them back immensely." She closed her eyes for a moment. "We don't have time to further damage Edgar's reputation, but we may not have to. His own people are starting to question his rule. If we can sturdy ourselves enough, we can weather this coming storm and attack his capital. If we can destabilize and scatter his forces, we can feed the ailing Divine, and amass strength to take down the Council." Her lips smiled. "We can bring energy to the Divine's wound, maybe share the intake, charging ourselves enough to fuck with the Council's power."

"Squashing two bugs under one stone," Dyal'xern concluded. "It's no guarantee, but it's way better than lazing around here."

"So we'll brace ourselves for the long-awaited, inevitable strike on Stupidity Central?" Sdalsyra paused in the midst of sipping her jug.

"Our hand is forced." The Honored Shamaness's voice betrayed no emotions. "We don't have an alternative, unless you prefer lounging around here, awaiting the final curtain."

"Fuck that shit. If we must go out, let's do it with a bang and make it snappy." Qaurjaeda made a fist and palmed it with his other hand. His grin twisted into a grimace. "Uwhhh. Fuck me. I didn't mean that kind of snappy."

The time was upon us. Edgar Figaro and his Returner shits could join Sireck and Edrina, House Virnone, Duke Sindreo Geminsa, and the former Empire in the grave. With luck and skill, the Council would follow shortly thereafter. We'd either possibly die for the Divine, or die with it for certain. Options were minimal, but so was deliberation between them. Yithadri's plan was solid, though I had a one question regarding the major distance between here and our target. "I'm all good for that, but with Figaro being so distant, how do you propose to begin?"

change in s & n

It took a few days to get this organized. We'd experienced some real problems following Edgar's exchange with Governor Hoff.

First, another earthquake hit the northern districts of Figaro. This time however, a pipeline didn't explode as badly. After the last rupture, folks in the northern limits were using water more sparingly, as they had during Edgar's water conservation policy. Water pressure was lowered in those areas, and the broken line was more easily repaired as a result.

Still, this was just another inconvenience to the townspeople, who'd been through enough already. Another riot almost broke out, but with concise, preemptive action, it was averted. Locke and I helped diffuse it.

Edgar's own people were divided amongst themselves, and a series of small-scale feuds exploded here and there. Local troopers could deal with them. We had major business that couldn't be delayed any longer.

"You sure they won't expect this?" Setzer gripped the controls of our chosen cargo vessel. "I thought Edgar wanted to avoid a direct approach, for that very reason."

"That he did. But he made those assessment before the Nyufalng prisoner flipped out with seizures," I summed up. "If Baokiydu's got spasms, the rest of the Nyufalng must have em' too, on some level. There's no better time to breach their stronghold."

"And we're going in nice and quiet," Locke pointed out. "This is another spy op, to gather data on their next move. From there, we'll determine if assaulting Albrook is a realistic option."

Setzer flipped some levers on the cargo ship's control panel. "If you say so. Yes, we did this recently, when they weren't expecting us. That has changed. Even Tzen and Maranda have their guard up, and they don't have Nyufalng leadership. I'm not one to say this often, but the odds look real shitty."

"Well, we don't have anything better in the works. You never proposed an alternative." Locke sipped his canteen. "It's either sneak into their haven, or wait for them to strike ours. And with earthquakes out the ass, we don't have waiting time."

"I guess not." Setzer adjusted the vessel's altitude, flying low upon the water so our ship would be less visible. We planned on approaching the southern continent from the east, docking in the rural end of the Falpuryn Hills. From there, we'd ride to Albrook on chocobo, then sneak in on foot upon closing the distance. We'd set fires and knockout power lines if need be, anything to hamper the Nyufalng's progress.

The rest of our flight was smooth. Setzer docked the vessel under a precipice along the beach, an ample hiding place. While the surrounding paths were rough, our chocobos could manage them. We took the birds and rode west toward 'Nyufalng Central', as Locke dubbed it.

The eastern segment of the Falpuryn Hills was lined with short, rugged canyons, smaller versions of the gorge behind Narshe. We rode smoothly through these natural trenches. As we climbed to a more level region, a low distant noise rumbled across the hilltops.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, motioning my bird to a halt.

Locke stopped alongside me. "Hear what?"

I raised a finger, waiting for the sound to repeat, but a few minutes passed without the rumbling. "I heard something off in the distance, something pronounced."

"Wind echoing off the hillsides," Locke suggested. Maybe he was right, but I wasn't too sure. Nonetheless, we pressed on.

As we stopped and thought of dismounting, the noise finally came back, louder and more acute. "I knew it. And that doesn't sound like any wind echo." I pointed at the noise. It was coming from the west. "You know, it almost sound mechanical."

"What the hell is it?" Locke asked. "And where's it coming from? Albrook?"

To the right of us, a rock formation jutted upward a few dozen feet. It was rugged, specked with craters and outcroppings. If we could climb, maybe we could get a glimpse of whatever made that distant sound. I jumped off my bird and pulled myself up the formation. Locke was right behind me.

Almost at the top, I looked west. Albrook bustled in the distance. "Damn. No way."

"What Celes? What is it?" Locke was below me. He wasn't high enough to gaze at the far-off spectacle.

From this distance, it was small, no more than a dark shining horizontal oval the size of my hand. I watched it move to my right, until it shrank to the size of a jellybean. The noise died down.

"An airship, not unlike our cargo vessel, just departed Albrook, heading north." I voiced my observation.

"Fucking hell. They're already sending troops up north in preparation to assault Figaro." Locke's jaw stiffened. "So much for sabotaging their progress."

"But something's off," I noted. "That ship was neither fast nor high enough for that long a flight. It's like they're not going all the whole distance, but stopping midway somewhere."

"But...why?" Locke gripped the rock formation below me, dumbfounded.

"Hell if I know, but at least our presence paid off. We learned something about their plans, even if we don't yet understand them." I began climbing down the rock tower, with Locke descending as well. "There's no reason to stick around here if the Nyufalng are heading elsewhere."

Locke climbed down and jumped off the lowest rock tier. "But where and why, if not Figaro's capital?"

I leaped off the outcropping and back onto my chocobo. "We have to find out. Let's get back to airship and contact Edgar with this puzzling update."

We rode eastward, back to the awaiting airship. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Locke muttered. "Whatever's going on, it's bad news for us."

"Agreed, and if we don't uncover what it is, it'll spell even worse news." I gripped the reins of my steed. As if shit wasn't bad enough already.

change in s & n

I swung my Aura Lance about, knowing the next face-off with Nyufalng mutations was looming close. I wanted to further hone my Dragoon skills.

The crass attitude from Vardigga's parliament was outrageous, and I was still in shock from it. This was a new low, even considering their long-standing, publicized disgust of my politics. Short-sighted barely described their demeanor. They presumed Charise had warned them about a fictitious paramilitary organization, following my prompt no less.

What would it take to get the message across? Could a hand-written letter to the parliament work its wonder? Was a personal visit from Charise the only means to convince Vardigga that the Nyufalng were real, not products of my imagination?

I thrust out with the lance's tip several times, shuffling my feet between strikes as to keep mobile. My frustrations added more power to each thrust. Vardigga thought I was full of shit, the Nyufalng would likely exploit this mutual disrespect, more earthquakes could very well hit sooner than later, and my people were divided as ever with regards to my competence. Local violence threatened to erupt, and both sides were eager to step up.

What the hell else could happen?

"Highness," a female voice called from the training room doorway. "I'm sorry if I'm disrupting you, but this is important."

I faced the woman and beckoned her over. "Very well. Speak your news."

She offered a stack of papers. "We've been studying the recent outbreak of tremors in this town, and we're seeing a pattern in their movements." She ran her finger along a map of the city. "They've been moving north since they started, then a little west. We tracked some seismic activity up north into the mountains."

Her voice was cold and stiff, as though she dreaded speaking her mind any further. "Okay," I prodded. "What does this mean?"

"Well...I...It's like..." She signed, finding her words. "The latest tremors have been linked to Mt. Agudir, and it's lingered there for longer than anyplace else."

Mt. Agudir. Of all the goddamn things to go wrong.

Had I caused this too?