Well, I'm not dead. It's taken forever, major cases of writer's block, working full-time, evening classes, and what little social life I have left have conspired to prevent me from providing an update in months. Thank you to everyone who has recently provided reviews, they helped kick me out of the slump and get this chapter out. Hopefully if I continue to get reviews on a regular basis I can keep myself out of further slumps. Once again, I appreciate everything from all of you. Thank you, and enjoy.
"They don't seem all that happy to be moving into the city," commented Locke with a nervous chuckle, covertly glancing at the people around them.
The group had run into a band of peasants, wearing drab grays and browns, with three wagons loaded with personal belongings. The wagons were each being pulled along by a pair of lizard-like creatures, shorter than horses but with a more massive build in the shoulders. Celes had identified them as gobruks, normally a wild creature found throughout the Agroch Mountains that surrounded Vector. However, those who found young gobruks learned that they were surprisingly easy to train and use as beasts of burden.
The peasants themselves had barely noticed the addition of the heroes to their marching party, though a few shook their heads sadly. None of the group spoke with the peasants, all of them too worried to distinguish themselves any more than they obviously did already.
Locke's nervous humor was to cover his fear. They were the first Returner strike team to get this close to the Iron Fortress. He knew that Banon had spies and maybe even a saboteur somewhere in the city, but no organized unit. Each spy was here individually and knew nothing about any others. But the potential for a catastrophe was greater here than anywhere to the north.
"They art leaving the home they knew and loved," replied Cyan quietly, knowing that his Doman accent and use of the Elder tongue would mark them instantly as outsiders, "There doest be nothing happy in such a farewell."
"But they obviously chose this," protested Locke, "otherwise why…"
"They didn't choose it," said Sabin quietly. He walked with one hand on Gau's shoulder, keeping the boy close to the rest of them, otherwise Gau's natural curiosity might have given them away.
Locke was confused. How could he know that?
"Their homes were destroyed," added Edgar, picking up the same clues as his brother, "Look, there's no furniture, no dishware, and only a few personal items for each person. They left their homes with only what they could grab in an instant."
"Gestahl is obsessed with having a united Empire," explained Celes, "Those who don't wish to live in the cities are persuaded, one way or another, to do so. The continent used to be littered with dozens… hundreds of small villages and settlements. Each was independent. Each one answered only to the leaders of their own village. No grand luxuries, but they also had fewer worries."
Celes took a deep breath. She couldn't believe how much it hurt to tell the truth about this. "But during and after the Urthmen War, people flocked to the Iron Fortress. Now, Gestahl doesn't want to leave even the possibility of another city growing without his direct supervision. If theirs was not a sanctioned settlement, then Imperial troops probably razed it to the ground, with an ultimatum for the people to move to Vector proper."
Locke wanted to spit, wanted to curse, but controlled himself on both counts. It was one more example of Gestahl's madness, a madness that he had dedicated his life to eradicating.
"These people will be fine," said Sabin, in that quiet, soft tone that the others had come to recognize when he was speaking meditatively, "Their hearts have received a blow with the loss of their home, but they are strong. They will survive, and they will succeed."
Gau suddenly began to growl. "Waroo, waroo," he rasped, "riders come."
The others loosened weapons and readied their weapon arms before the five riders were in view for their eyes.
Sabin's constantly roving gaze fell upon the eldest of the peasants, a gray-haired woman whose bony hands had held onto three young children with fierce strength. His eyes met with hers, and he slowly nodded once. Her face showed indecision for a moment, then firmed. And she returned his nod.
Within moments, the riders could be identified as a group of Imperial soldiers riding chocobos whose feathers were more gray than anything else. The rider at the front wore the insignia of a captain in the Imperial Army. He arrogantly looked down his nose at the assembled villagers.
"Who is your leader here?" he demanded.
"I am," said the old woman, "Akanah of Hailieu village. We were ordered to make our way to Vector by your… comrades."
The captain snickered. "I hope they taught the lot of you a lesson. Independence leads to chaos, and that will bring about the downfall of the world yet again. Learn this lesson; there is strength only in unity. Now, we're here to collect the tax for entrance into the city."
"Tax?" cried Akanah incredulously, "Tax? First we are forcibly removed from our homes and commanded to go to Vector on pain of death, and now we are expected to pay a tax to enter? You have already taken most of what we have. Leave us alone with all that we could save."
The captain's mouth twisted into a cruel snarl, and his hand rested on his sword hilt. "Watch your tongue, old hag. How do you expect Emperor Gestahl to run the Empire and bring peace to the world without taxes? Either take the easy route and hand over your belongings, or…"
He nodded at the other soldiers, who drew weapons and looked over the peasants.
"Or there is that other way."
The old woman spat.
Without a moment's hesitation, the captain swung at Akanah's head, but she fell backwards, the blade missing by inches. The captain looked again, and realized that a broad-shouldered young man had pulled her back just in time. He sneered, ready to teach this boy a lesson he wouldn't forget.
The blond man whispered something in the old woman's ear, and she nodded with a grimace.
"You win, pig!" she growled at the captain, "Give them what they want. We have nothing worth dying for. They have killed enough of us already."
The captain laughed and motioned his men forward. Ten minutes later, they were still laughing at their own power and authority as they left with nearly half of what the peasants had brought along with them. They had left the carts and the gobruks at least, and Sabin began pulling the stubborn beasts to get them moving again.
"Swine!" spat Cyan as they began walking along with the peasants.
Celes swallowed, knowing that she very easily could have been in command of such a patrol. Worse, she knew that in days past she might have slaughtered the entire group of peasants, even after they'd agreed to give their belongings. She was glad Sabin had made the old woman see sense. She looked over at the leading cart with the old woman, who had leaned down and was speaking quietly with Sabin. She couldn't hear them, but was dying to know what they were talking about.
"We should have taught them a lesson," muttered Locke.
"And then what?" asked Edgar, "Blown our cover? Endangered these people's lives? We can't do more than that, remember we're supposed to be here in secret."
Locke grumbled but didn't say any more than that as they continued walking. An hour later their group crested a large hill, and there, not five miles further on, was the city of Vector, nestled down near the base of the Agroch Mountains. The massive structure that the rest of the world knew as the Iron Fortress was the centerpiece of the city of Vector, home of Emperor Gestahl and headquarters of the Imperial campaign for world domination, or unity as Gestahl would have termed it.
Cyan couldn't help himself, he looked to the east of the city, to a set of tall, craggy hills. Vivid memories flashed through his mind, as clear as the day he had experienced them. The walls of Vector burning, the stench of the dead, the earth churned and running red with blood, and most painful of all, Cyan himself on his knees, cradling the lifeless body of King Randal, while Master Duncan, Lord Gestahl, and General Banon offered him what sympathy they could.
"You okay, Cyan?" asked Gau, pulling gently at the leg of his trousers.
Cyan sniffed and wiped at what might have been a tear, then looked down at the boy and smiled.
"Yes, Sir Gau. I am well," he said.
"Wow, look at that," murmured Locke, "The land here is so… so… alive. Just that little section around the city…"
Indeed, life around the city looked healthier than it had any right to. Perhaps a half-mile around the city was brown and barren, somewhat closer to a mile directly to the city's south. Above the city was a grayish-brown haze of smoke and pollution from the Imperial factories that supplied the Imperial war machine. According to Celes, within the city itself, true healthy sunlight was a very rare thing.
But past this radius, the lands were green and lush. To the west, a healthy forest grew strong, and to the south and west the southern grasses grew tall and thick, nearly to a grown man's thigh. Animals ran through the tall grasses and birds flew overhead, seemingly oblivious to the urban monstrosity nearby.
"It's the work of the Urthmen," commented Celes.
"The Urthmen?" echoed Locke, "But I heard they were nearly mindless creatures of destruction. They tore down anything that stood in their way."
"All things made by men," commented Cyan, "But for all things natural, for the land itself, the presence of thou Urthmen didst seem to make the land even more bountiful. They seemed to… heal the land."
"The Urthmen seemed to take particular interest in Vector," explained Celes, "but no one knows why. Just 50 years, the great city of Vector was then just a small, quiet little town. One of a thousand others just like it on the southern continent, the people concerned only with their farms and harvesting from the forests and mountains. Gestahl inherited his noble title and these lands when his father passed away, and for several years after that, nothing changed.
"But when the first signs of the Urthmen were discovered, Gestahl began making preparations, using much of his family's wealth, some of it money that had been saved for more than five generations, begin fortifying Vector. He built the foundation of what is now the Iron Fortress, and hired mercenaries to train his guards and people, turning them into professional soldiers to guard the newly-built gates and battlements. Despite the carnage the Urthmen wreaked on the city during the height of the war, the lands around the city seemed to come alive under the Urthmen."
"I still can't imagine how Vector managed to survive," commented Locke.
"No one ever said Gestahl was stupid," replied Edgar, turning back from having exchanged smiles with a very pretty peasant girl, "He had a brilliant strategic mind, always thinking four moves ahead and planning for a potential catastrophic failure with each move. After his forces rescued Cid Highwind, a brilliant scientist from Albrook, they were able to combine his genius with the work of the diligent Vectorans to triple the size and defenses of the Iron Fortress."
"And Gestahl had his allies," put in Celes, "General Banon and Master Duncan were great friends with Gestahl. So when the Urthmen began their final assaults against the Iron Fortress, Vector's forces were overwhelmed and had to give ground constantly. Gestahl would have been defeated, he simply couldn't match the Urthmen. But then, once again out of nowhere, General Banon and Master Duncan appeared, bringing with them the armies of Figaro and Doma. Together, the forced the Urthmen to a standstill."
She fell silent for several moments, staring at the growing fortress. Her blue eyes were as cold as ice and her face was set in a stony mask. Whatever thoughts were passing through her mind were not about to be shared with anyone.
"I do remember those days most foul," said Cyan in a low voice.
"You remember?" gasped Edgar, "Wha… how? Because you were here?!"
Cyan's chin rose and his eyes shone with pride. "I remember thou day when General Banon didst stand in the Great Hall of Doma and convinced King Randal to aid thine friend. And so the knights of Doma marched to the defense of Vector. Thou army of Figaro had followed King Andris and Master Duncan, coming in from the west and cutting a swath through the hordes of Urthmen, taking the gates of Vector. King Randal and I led our knights in from the east, over those yonder hills."
He pointed off to the right, to a rise of craggy hills.
"Even as we didst crest the hills, behind us came reinforcements of thee Urthmen. King Randal ordered me to lead my knights to the city and hold the gates against all enemies, while thee…" Cyan swallowed hard. "Whilst thee held off the reinforcements. Knights perished quickly, as did most against the power of thou Urthmen. Almost single-handedly didst King Randal hold off the Urthmen, saving Vector from certain doom."
"Almost single-handedly?" asked Locke.
Pride almost fiercer than when he spoke of his former king shone in Cyan's eyes, and his mouth curled into a proud and fierce smile. "One warrior didst join my king. Thee stood on the battlements, and saw yonder the knights begin to fall. Alone he fought through the entire horde of Urthmen, to stand at my king's side against thou onslaught. One who never faltered in defending others, be they friend or stranger. Master Duncan Ironhand."
Sabin stopped in his tracks ahead of the group and spun around to stare at Cyan. Edgar couldn't imagine how his little brother could have heard, but the astonishment on Sabin's face was obvious. And priceless. It wasn't often that his little brother was caught off-guard so this was a moment to treasure.
They were silent for several moments before Celes took up the thread of explaining the city again.
"Since the Urthmen War, the city has grown several times its size. Despite the pollution from the factories producing war materiel, only the lands immediately surrounding the city have become barren, but that area is slowly growing. The Iron Fortress' defenses have been augmented with the magic that Gestahl has acquired. The Magitek Research Facility is a later addition to the east wing of the fortress. Because of the mountains around the city and prevailing winds to the south, it is the south side of Vector that is the most heavily polluted, and is therefore the poorest. The only safe areas in the south side are the main trade avenues, which are continually patrolled by Imperial troops."
"Great," muttered Locke, "out of the boiling pot, into the roasting pan."
There was a grimness to the city of Vector that the young heroes had never seen in any of the other cities they had visited. The guards at the main gate into the city had been rowdy and hostile, but they expected that. They stuck with Akanah and the peasants along the main avenue for a while. The people around though had a… slackness. It was difficult to describe. Like they were apathetic to everything that was happening around them. Few them glanced as the party, as though similar groups of refugees entering the city were no strange thing.
The sky above their heads was little more than a haze of sickly brown smoke, and there was a strange scent to the air. Every city had its own particular odor, they knew, a characteristic that was impossible not to compare with others. Vector's scent was not overpoweringly disgusting, but it created a slightly queasy feeling in the pit of their stomachs.
Examples of the fabulous technology available to Vector were everywhere, technology that was equaled only by Figaro. Yet unlike Figaro, which kept its technological advances beneath the surface in order to maintain its sense of the classic, Vector was filled with gear-worked machinery, wind-powered mills and other strange advanced technology out in plain sight.
Ahead of them was a wide avenue that led right to the Iron Fortress, looming above their heads, while cross-roads led off into the rest of the city. As they eyed the fortress, gathering their nerves, Akanah came up to Sabin.
"This is where I leave you and your friends, dear boy," she said kindly, "I hope the Ancients bless your quest, whatever they decree your fate to be."
"You are a fine woman, Akanah," replied Sabin, taking her hands in his own for a moment, "Protect these people, and do not let your pride get the better of you. Better days are ahead, I promise you. Edgar?"
Edgar came up next to his little brother, having been thinking along the same lines. Without hesitation he pushed a small belt pouch into Akanah's hands.
"You lost too much with us unable to do anything for you," said Edgar, "Please take this small token to help you and your people set up a new life. You have been more help than you can imagine."
Akanah looked inside the pouch and gasped. It was filled nearly to overflowing with gold coins. Edgar had exchanged the Figaran coinage they'd been carrying for Imperial coin. Despite the fact that these two main currencies were accepted on an equal basis in both the north and south, they'd considered it better not to mark themselves out any more than necessary.
"I cannot take this," she said firmly, pushing it back towards Edgar, who stepped back quickly, "We have done nothing to earn this."
"You have, Akanah," Sabin told her softly, "You kept silent on the fact that we are foreigners when you could have pointed us out long before now. You probably would have received a larger award than this. You stood up for your people against a bully. If more people had your courage, the tyrrany of the Empire would not have grown as it has. Live free and at peace with what we can give you."
"Akanah," said Edgar, jumping in, "there is enough there to set your people up comfortably for a while. If you cannot live here, save some and come to Figaro. I will welcome you."
The old woman swallowed hard, looking at the money, and then back at the two brothers. She nodded slowly.
"You are great men, and you have great people for companions," she told them, "Truly, you are favored by the Ancients. Go as you will, we shall make a home here, however different it is from the home we knew. If ever you should need me or my people, know that aid will always be freely given. Ancients be with you."
Sabin smiled. "And with you, Akanah. Honor and temperance."
The two brothers watched her walk away, both wishing they could have done more for Akanah and her people. It was in their blood, for the royalty of Figaro had always been considered by their peers to have hearts too big for kings. Such detractors, of course, had never been able to equal the power and wealth of Figaro.
"I've been watching that bloody entrance all morning," complained Locke.
The six of them were eating a small lunch of cold sandwiches and juice from some southern fruit. After parting with Akanah, they had split into teams to look for any possible way into the research facility. Locke and Gau had watched the main entrance, while the others found no other way in.
"The guards there are Dragonstorm troops," he explained, "the elite troops hand-picked by Emperor Gestahl. They're alert and unforgiving. We can't go in the front door, it's just not gonna happen."
"What if the guards weren't there?" asked Sabin, an intense look in his eye.
"Don't flaming be absurd!" Locke shot back, "The main entrance is in full view of the street and there's a small common building for troops as they come back from their patrols of the city so they can rest and relax. Even you're not fast enough to take out those guards, get us inside and to the Espers before the whole bloody Imperial Army comes down on us!"
"I think he meant, what if the guards were distracted," commented Celes softly, but a smirk pulling at her features.
Gau almost bubbled with glee. "Waroo! Climb metal trees, many vines over bad guys' heads!"
They all stared at the boy for a moment, not understanding.
Edgar suddenly snapped his fingers. "The support struts and the girders! Can we climb those and sneak over the heads of the guards?"
Locke thought for a moment, chewing slowly on his sandwich. "You know, that just might work. But… no," he sighed, "the guards would have to be staring at the ground to miss us. Or they'd have to be away from the entrance. Luckily, the girders are mostly concealed from the rest of the troops on break."
"But who wouldst dare distract thou guards whilst we entered?" wondered Cyan.
Locke's face suddenly broke into a smile, then he pulled out a scrap of paper and began scribbling something. "Celes? Do you think you can find this address?"
She took the paper from Locke, looked it over once and nodded once. "Yes," she said very slowly, "but why?"
"Just… trust me."
Twenty minutes later, Celes had led them to a small house to the southwest. Locke went up to the door and knocked twice. The door opened a crack.
"Who's there?"
"Just some peaceful travelers looking for blue skies and a dangerous ride," replied Locke.
"Blue skies hurt my eyes."
"You should get out of the smoke, bad for your health," Locke returned.
"For some that's a good thing."
The door opened quickly, revealing a short, dark-haired man with deep-set eyes. The man quickly waved them inside and then looked around to see if anyone had seen them enter.
"Who the bloody hell are you?!" demanded the man as soon as he had the door closed. His home was a small, quaint affair. They were in his sitting room, a kitchen behind it, and to the right were a set of stairs.
"Locke Cole, out of Mt. Kolts," replied the young rogue, "this is King Edgar of Figaro, Sabin Ironhand, Sir Cyan Garamonde, General Celes and Gau. Banon sent us."
They all stared at Locke as though he'd gone mad. What was he doing? He was giving them away to a stranger?!
Sabin looked at Locke strangely for an entirely different reason. Locke had introduced him as Sabin Ironhand. Why? Did he think shock value would work on this man? Or did Locke think of him not as Edgar's brother and Prince of Figaro, but as a mountain yokel who thought too much on matters of philosophy and spirituality? Sabin shook his head. He would have to ask Locke about it when they were safely away from the city.
The man bowed hurriedly to Edgar and then spoke. "Reggan Polonar. I've been waiting for years for people like you. Don't worry, I'm not about to tell anyone you're Returners. If you haven't figured it out already, I'm a sleeper. Banon sent me here over five years ago. I've sometimes wondered if my monthly reports ever make it to him."
"They make it," reported Locke, "and he reads each one himself. But we need your help."
"If I can help you at all, I will. But if this isn't an assault on the Iron Fortress and Gestahl himself, I won't jeopardize my cover."
"We wouldn't want you to," answered Edgar, "but we need to get into the Magitek Research Facility."
Reggan flinched. "You of course would ask for one of the only places I can't get you into on my own. No one who works in the research facility associates with others. I don't have any contacts in there."
"Bloody Ancients!" cursed Locke, "I can't believe we've made it right into the heart of Vector only to fail now."
"Hang on just a minute, kid," said Reggan with a grin, "I said I couldn't get you in there myself. However, there's a guy I know, name of Barret. Older gent, lived here when Vector was still a farming community. Doesn't like what Gestahl has done with the town, so he's a bit of a Returner sympathizer, not that he'd ever admit it, since he still considers himself a man loyal to Gestahl's father. He's a bit of a busybody, always in someone else's business. Likes to hang out near the research facility because it's one of the few places he doesn't have a contact in either."
Locke nodded slowly. "I thought I saw a guy watching the entrance, but I thought it was just my imagination."
"Well just be careful going into a place like that," warned Reggan, "I've heard stories that magic can be given to ordinary people, and that every guard in that place can fry a person with a thought. That Cid Highwind is a bloody genius, if you ask me."
"Professor Cid?" cried Celes, "Have you seen him? Is he all right?"
Reggan shrugged. "Yeah, he's fine. As far as I know."
"Who be Cid?" asked Gau.
"He's Gestahl's top scientist," answered Celes, "he was rescued by Vectoran soldiers a few years before the Urthmen War broke out, and he was the brains behind the advanced defenses of the Iron Fortress. He was the one who was able to develop and perfect the process of infusing magic power into people, creating Magitek Knights. He… he's the closest thing I had to family, even as the Emperor was my life."
"Wait a moment," said Sabin, "you said Cid developed and perfected the process of producing Magitek Knights. Who else was there before you?"
"Most subjects died," explained Celes, "As far as I know, there are only two Magitek Knights who have survived both the infusion process and the battles in the years since. Kefka and myself."
"General Kefka was the first, from what I've learned," explained Reggan, "but the process still wasn't properly understood at that time. He was given a lot more power than most, but at the same time it took a terrible toll on his mind."
"Well that explains a few things," commented Edgar, thinking back to Kefka's superhuman strength that he'd displayed as well as his mad, cackling laughter when he had attacked Figaro and boasted about killing everyone and burning the castle to the ground.
"Sirs, we must not delay," said Cyan, "we must find this Sir Barret as soon as we can. Time could mean the difference between victory and thine defeat."
"Thanks, Reggan," said Locke, shaking the man's hand, "I'll be sure to let Banon know what miserable conditions you have to work in."
"Do that," replied Reggan seriously, and then a second later he grinned, "and tell him that I need a raise."
The trip back to the industrial yards around the Magitek Research Facility, and indeed most of the Iron Fortress, was a quick 20 minute walk, now that they knew where they were going. Like the rest of the people in Vector, they kept their heads down and tried not to watch Imperial patrols as they walked past.
When they returned to the research facility, Gau and Sabin's keen eyes found the man instantly.
"There," they said at once, pointing.
"You see good, Mr. Thou," said Gau, smiling happily up at Sabin.
"My name is not Mr. Thou!" growled the martial arts master.
"Sir Locke, you and King Edgar approach thee," said Cyan, his mind already planning tactics in case they needed to retreat, "Lady Celes, approach from the left, Sir Gau, from the right. Sir Sabin, thou and I shalt remain here if danger arises."
Sabin nodded his assent, and the others began to move. The four who approached the man slid around crates and stacks of equipment as quietly as they could, although there was still a decent amount of background noise from the crowds on the streets only half a block away. Soon enough, Locke and Edgar came up to the man. They took a look around, Celes' head came up and she nodded once, and Gau gave a feral grin when they saw him.
Locke then turned to look at Edgar.
"Let's hope it's him," whispered the Figaran king.
"Sir!" Locke called in a loud whisper, "Sir!"
The old man turned, looking around, until his eyes fell on the two young men. His brow furrowed in confusion, but a moment later he apparently made up his mind about something and came over to them.
"Who the bloody heck are you?" asked the man fiercely. He was older than Locke or Edgar had suspected, probably ten or fifteen years older than Gestahl. His hair, having turned white long ago, was now just few thin wisps. His clothes were the same dull gray and brown as most of the rest of the city, with no other colors. Obviously he was a poor man. Even those of middling income had seemed to have enough to add a dash of color to their clothing.
"You Barret?" asked Locke, to which the man nodded, "Reggan sent us. He told us you might be able to help us."
"Returners?" asked Barret.
Locke looked to Edgar who gave a slow, cautious nod.
The man frowned for a moment. "I wish I could say my loyalty to Gestahl is as strong as it was to his father, but I would be lying. His father should be rolling over in his grave at the boy's actions. Reggan would like to consider me a Returner, but let's just leave it that I'm sympathetic to your cause. Now, tell me, what do you need?"
"We need a distraction," answered Edgar as Locke waved the others closer, "We have to get into the research facility and need someone to pull those two guards away from their posts. Do you think you're up to it?"
Barret sighed. "Bloody Ancients. Yes, yes, I'll help. But if you're caught…"
"We've never seen you before in our lives," finished Sabin.
"You catch on pretty quick," replied Barret with a smile, "Okay, you got a way inside?"
Edgar and Locke nodded, and Barret seemed to steel himself for the inevitable.
"Ancients be kind," whispered Cyan.
Barret made his way to the guards, as close as he dared without leaving the cover of the crates. Without warning, he suddenly got his feet and walked out unsteadily towards the two guards, his hands holding his stomach and groaning.
"Who the bloody hell are you, fool?!" yelled one of the masked guards.
"Oh Ancients," moaned Barret, "I… I'm gonna be sick."
Barret suddenly looked as though he was trying to prevent himself from throwing up all over the guards' boots. One of them gave him a rough shove to the side, but Barret was tenacious, crawling back over to them.
"Urrrgh… I'm gonna… toss it… all!" he got out through heaving breaths.
"Let's flaming get him out of here," said the other guard. Both men grabbed Barret under his arms and began to drag him away, over to the side where a small trench contained a tiny stream of water, the two guards doing their best to pull him further away from their post.
"You know, Impressario might want to take a look at that guy," commented Edgar.
"Move!" rasped Sabin, pushing his brother and then Celes up one of the support struts and onto the rafters, then swung up behind them, while the others climbed up support struts of their own.
The two guards continued to ignore anything except Barret, making sure he didn't empty his stomach over their boots and uniforms. Within half a minute, they had made it past the guards' post and around a corner. Sabin leapt the 20 feet back to the ground first, then waited to catch the others, though Gau jumped on his own, and had to bite his knuckles to keep from laughing out loud. The others shook their heads in amusement. Two massive iron doors stood before them, but at Locke's inspection, were unlocked.
"No one would be stupid enough to walk into the lion's den," commented Edgar.
Locke chuckled. "Yeah, no one except us."
"We have a job to do," said Sabin, his eyes narrowing and turning hard, "Let's go."
They pushed open the doors, and walked into hell.