Chapter 26: The Stairs to Fate

I looked at my watch again, waiting patiently for Terra.

Our last get-together at the Chulidion Art Gallery perked my interest in the Thossiel District. Having grown up in its vicinity without ever exploring it, I now had the perfect excuse to familiarize myself with this culture-driven neighborhood. Terra had done such in scouting for a date idea, so it was my turn.

And I found yet another interesting place I'd heard little about. A few miles north of the art gallery was the Spethald Academy of Theatre and Literature, and like the museum, it boasted some of the best artwork in town, the perfect complement to the school's performing arts function.

After discovering the place, I sent Terra a message about getting together here. As I expected, she was more than up for it. We set a time and day that allowed us mutual availability.

"Leonard." As I rested my weight against a lamppost with an almond-shaped bulb fixture, a woman's voice spoke my name. There she stood on the concrete path, her bangs and ponytail flowing in the gentle afternoon breeze.

"Just in time." I acknowledged her presence. "I've not been here but five minutes. And no, I didn't get bored." She laughed and approached me. Without having to think, I reached out for her. A gesture I'd been hesitant with only months ago was now subconscious. Terra was no different. She took my hand in one smooth motion. "I presume you share my interest in this performing arts academy. Ever been here?"

"No," she admitted "but I trust your judgment in selecting date spots." While this was hardly a surprise endorsement, it was exhilarating to hear those words. Her squeezing my hand was just as expected, and just as empowering.

The Spethald Academy was a very popular landmark. Some designated chocobo cab routes travelled exclusively back and forth past the school. There were a few people roaming the grounds at this hour, mostly students with briefcases and theatre staff with prop wagons. As we passed a dormitory building, Terra kicked off this date's conversation. "You know Leonard, I've been thinking. I've shared a lot with you, about esper history and our half-esper associate. I think it's time you came out and opened up yourself."

We stopped walking. I took her hand in both of mine. "I've been considering that myself. I know it'll be good for me."

She placed her free hand atop mine. "It will be good for both of us."

I took a deep breath. I wanted to do this, even if I didn't reveal everything all at once. "I know that, but understand it's been years since I last told anyone about my past, something I rarely ever did. I'm so infamous, I didn't think it would be necessary at this point. Broadcasting my family's atrocities doesn't feel comfortable at all."

Terra blinked. "I believe you understand your family's ill deeds are not your fault. It's not about you, so you've no reason to feel ashamed."

"I know, and I've always known that being a Gurosawn was never my choosing. Shit, if I could've changed that, I'd have done it half my lifetime ago. But the past cannot be undone, be it my doing or happenstance. I can move on, as I have since I met you."

Terra's green eye twinkled with anticipation. "So tell me of the past Leonard. It can't be any worse than Kefka or the Empire. I doubt it's on par with Kefka."

Or maybe it was, with the Empire at least…literally. But that could wait. I only needed to start with the basics. I let go of Terra and stood under a nearby carob tree. With resolution and another deep breath, I began. "A lot has been implied, as I'm sure you know. That woman from the train stop, and your dear friend Arvis probably gave you a vague idea of my family background."

Terra folded her hands. "Don't forget my talk with your friend Rodney, or Sarge as you call him. He said very little, but enough to further suggest those details."

She knew something. I wouldn't be starting from scratch. There was a clear path to follow. "To spell things out, my father Julus was a wealthy business tycoon. His closest partner was another crooked businessman, Nicola Braslino. His son was my old arch enemy from the Shedairah mine, Quentir Braslino."

"The one you pummeled after he tried touching you in mockery," said Terra in recognition. "He was also the Major's hand-picked foreman, the overseer of the mining ops."

"You memory serves you well," I praised, "And to build on that, Major Blockhead…erm… Bozwensc was hand-picked by my father and Quentir's for the role of private security. The man was obsessed with natural resources from here in town. Since the Braslino-Gurosawn business was all about such, the Major fit right in, what with his greed. A few thousand GP a month and free petroleum guaranteed Blockhead's loyalty. Dad and Nicola had the funds. Putting various competitors out of business helped boost their own profits."

A few birds flocked to the tree's higher branches. Terra gazed off towards a distant building. "That all makes sense, from the little bits I've heard previously. I gathered your father had various town officials on a payroll of sorts."

"A councilman, a constable chief, a court judge, at least three guild leaders, an economics professor." I held up a finger for each connection on dad's old list. "The Major undoubtedly convinced some peers from the brass to join in."

"You know, I kinda wondered about such." Terra's eyes fell to the grassy field along the pavement. "But hearing it in your own words is jarring nonetheless. It was more extreme than I imagined. Your father had a great deal of Narshe bought and paid for, and those he victimized blamed you out of convenience."

I faced her as she gazed back to me. "Pretty much. It wasn't hard, really. I was the un-favored son, so I wasn't granted 'immunities' like my brother and sister. Dad protected them, leaving me as prey for his enemies. I got defensive when I was younger, but as I saw more and more of what my father did, I ceased hating his victims, seeing them as just that. They always viewed me as an extension of dad though."

I'd reached another milestone. Until recent, I couldn't even think about this topic without cursing in rage and resentment. Now I was actually verbalizing all these memories of pent up anguish, without so much as raising my voice. I had no reason to stall yet, and could open more for the time.

"Your altercation at the train stop proved such." Terra leaned beside me against the tree trunk. "Though you were losing your composure toward the end of it. When that woman started giving me shit, you lost it in full."

"Well, she had to fuck with my heroine for being a heroine. That had nothing to do with my father crimes, so it was beyond intolerable."

Terra's eyes flashed with a new kind of twinkle. "So if you were the unwanted son, what were your siblings like?"

"My brother was Darum." I felt my jaw tighten. Years had passed since I'd last spoken that name in reference to that person. Bile almost formed in my throat whenever I tried. But I now had resolution. If I were to progress beyond contempt, I had to pull off what I avoided for so long. "Five years my senior, he was the oldest, and as you can imagine, dad offered him the spoils. He was the Gurosawn heir, as Quentir was heir to the Braslino riches. My brother was quite popular among dad's cronies, who made his life as comfortable as they made my life agonizing."

Terra ran a finger along the carob's rough bark. "In short, your brother was much like your dad."

"In many ways, yes. In other ways, worse." I put my hand on her tracing finger. "I need not go into the specifics of what he did. It's another story in of itself." I could discuss my brother, but the specifics of his despicable acts were still something I wanted kept under the table for now.

Terra took hint. "What of your mom and sister? You said your father and Darum passed away in the great collapse, but you said nothing about the rest of your immediate family."

"There's little to discuss about my mother. She was a mouse, if that. She was so awed by my father, she did little more than agree with everything he said, probably because he supplied her with money to feed her drinking problem. Apparently she binged to death while I was away at the mining school. I learned it two months after the fact. She wasn't a vile person, but she had few good qualities, as she drowned her personality in liquor. There's nothing else to say."

I knew Terra's next question before she voiced it. "And your sister?"

There was much more to this part, at least there could've been. But if that were so, I knew nothing of it. I could only explain what I knew, and that was plenty by itself. "Sis was two years my senior. Though she wasn't heir to the riches, she was granted a spoil or two, though this VIP treatment came with some sheltering. She was spoiled, yet overly-protected at the same time. She came to resent my father, though for much different reasons than I."

I stayed quiet and let Terra speak, knowing she'd inevitably ask a question or two. "Was your relation with her a miserable one?"

"I wouldn't say that. It was a relation of very mixed feelings." I shoved my hands in my pockets, reflecting on these long-buried thoughts. "Of my close family, she was really the only person I cared about, the only person I can praise. I think she cared about me a little, despite her own matters. Eventually, she became fed up. She claimed I wasn't proactive enough for my own good and the like. Maybe there was truth in them, now that I reflect upon her sayings. After a while, she grew disgusted with the repressive environment at home. At seventeen, she ran away." I faced Terra to conclude tale, inconclusive though it was. "I've not heard from her in nine years."

change in n

I stared into Leonard's pale blue eyes. For all the time I'd known him, he'd been a mystery. The man rarely talked about himself, not because of humility but because of hurt, and a drive to break from the past. "So you've no idea if she's alive or dead."

"Every so often I think about it." Leonard rested his chin upon his thumbs. "But I know it's moot. If she is alive, she's moved on. I can only hope she's happy. I've no idea where she went after leaving this town. When I let myself wonder, I always reach the same conclusion. It's pointless to consider." He stepped away form the tree trunk. "Dead or alive, she moved on, an example I should follow."

I let all this information sink in. Leonard revealed memories he largely wished to keep secret and forget. He wouldn't open up to just anyone, not with memories like this. I was finally helping him to break the wall he'd built between himself and the outside world.

Most of what he shared was better left buried, but he wasn't completely negative regarding his family. I pursued the only redeeming trait from his tale. "Maybe it's not pointless. If she's alive, she might think about you. Have you ever tried searching for her?"

"Terra, if she really wanted to reconnect, I think she'd have come back to Narshe. Five years passed between her leaving and the great collapse. That's plenty of time. She had money, so that wasn't a problem. She made a break from her upbringing and never looked back. I don't know where to begin searching. She could be anywhere after nine years, assuming she's alive. The best I can do now is make like she did, and leave the past to rot." He paced about as he spoke, walking to the other side of the tree. "Come on. Let's live for the present and explore this campus." I took his outstretched hand, and we continued through the Spethald grounds.

We came upon a large building at the campus's east side. It was a multi-purpose structure. Signage called it a gymnasium, but inside we found various actors practicing their stage parts. Mock swordfights were the most common drill at the moment. Leonard and I took seats overlooking the sunken floor. His eyes were on the performers practicing stage combat, but I had no doubts that his mind was still on his family.

I had my own share of thoughts on that subject, though they remained unspoken for now. Leonard had given up on finding his sister. Presuming she died in the great collapse was a rational theory, but there was no solid proof of it. If she was alive, I couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking about him. Her refusal in coming back to Narshe could've been for unrelated reasons. Maybe she was ashamed to come back to the town divided by her father. Additionally, when the great collapse befell the world, Narshe was overrun with feral hostilities. Only after Kefka's death was the town rendered inhabitable once more. The great collapse killed Darum and Julus Gurosawn. Leonard's sister could've assumed he was also a casualty. Ironically, he was presuming such about her.

Regardless, there was no way to determine what became of her. Or was there a means to search for the woman, something Leonard had long since written off as meaningless?

I sat with Leonard as we watched the combat drills. That refreshed my memory. I could start a new discussion topic, irrelevant to Leonard's past.

change in s & n

The last time only one of us managed our store in Quildern, I'd left to train with Relm and Sabin. Locke stayed behind. It was my turn to manage the shop and his turn for a day in the capital. He left to purchase new supplies in Figaro City, and pay Joe a visit. The day's work shift had just concluded, and it was still light at this hour. I grabbed my Strato from home and boarded the eastbound train. Instead of riding into the mountains though, I departed at the last stop and made for the wooded hillside on foot.

I shoved my blade into a worn tree trunk, stepped back a few paces, and reached for it. When I last attempted this technique under Ziegfried's eye, the stray weapon only moved a couple feet. I gazed at my fingers, and the inert Strato beyond them. The exercise involved concentration, forging a mental link between myself and my weapon. I repeated the steps in my mind and thought only of my sword beyond my grasp.

Less than a minute of staring at the blade did the trick. The Strato was pulled from the rotting wood and flew in my direction, pommel side first. It wasn't slow by any means, but not so fast that I couldn't react.

Unfortunately, the Strato fell to the ground inches before my feet, failing to cross the full distance to my hand. It was a considerable improvement from last time, encouragement to try harder next opportunity. Content, I reached down and picked up the blade. Having spent enough time on the retrieval exercise, it was time for a new technique.

Well, it wasn't really new. I'd seen it before in a weapons demo back in Vector. As a magitek knight, my specialty was magic. I gave this non-magical technique little consideration. But the man who used it rejected magic, placing all his confidence in spirit-powered swordplay. Despite never using it, I knew the basic premise. General Leo discussed his specialized 'Shock' technique with from me time to time. I'd forgotten about it, until Ziegfried mentioned his own similar techniques. Shock was now a prime interest.

The general idea was the same; charging the weapon with a piece of my own essence. I needed to concentrate and envision the results. Still ambitious from the distance weapon grab I'd just pulled off (almost), imagining the Shock attack would be far more convenient.

This hillside region at the edge of town was removed from civilization enough. I wouldn't attract attention out here. And there were plenty of natural objects to practice upon. A large jagged rock the size of a carriage would fulfill that purpose. I stared it down, aiming my sword point at the rock piece and making some pass motions. Shock was largely a thrusting move. Basic stab moves were the ideal warm-up.

I continued channeling my inner self into my weapon. It would take a longer charge for Shock than for a distance retrieval, but I wasn't a stranger to spirit-channeling anymore. The Strato grew warm, almost tingly in my hands.

With the boulder in my sights, I stepped forward and pushed out. Nothing happened, except the sword's tingle sensation faded. I'd spent the charged energy, which hadn't been plentiful enough to create a Shock Thrust. Since I didn't feel winded or nauseas, I could try once more.

Holding my sword with two hands, I charged it with more internal energy, this time doubling the charge duration. The sword handle was tingling again, and it felt a little warm. I leveled the blade, aimed, and shoved forth.

This time, something happened. A gold transparent funnel burst from the Strato tip. The image slammed into the boulder and widened on impact, producing waling noises of a low volume and pitch. At the center of impact, a break formed in the stone, branching out in various directions like a spider web crack. The image faded, and the Strato lost it warm radiance. The spreading crack remained though. Obviously, this was a dwarfed-down version of the real deal. A full-on Shock would've cut the boulder into thirds or quarters…and would require a much longer spirit charge. How Leo channeled so much energy in the small times that he did was lost on me.

The sun was going down. Happy to deduce an old swordplay technique, I sheathed my blade and walked to the nearest city streets. Next time I trained with Ziegfried, I'd compare the Shock to the gladiator's Hyper-drive.

change in s & n

"What's new from the Minister?" Jim asked while organizing the cabinets in the first floor laundry room.

Upon returning from Segolienne, we 'released' our captive. We let Iradmiud Gorukean off in a northern district at the base of the hills. The kidnapping story would perpetuate, with a new twist; Iradmiud was able to escape while his captors argued with each other. An abandoned warehouse was the alleged location of captivity, hence why we released him at the district in question. Since then, he'd contacted us with letters. No one questioned his kidnap-and-escape story. The House was preoccupied with greater affairs.

I swept dust off the floor. "He was able to convince the House that General Aelchass's brigade was killed by a clandestine unit of Marandans who took the sea and were ready to besiege Albrook, when they clashed with Aelchass and his company. Not that he conceived such an idea himself. We put him up to it." I gave Jim a wink.

"So you found a means to blame Maranda for your accomplishments." Jim lined bottles of floor cleaner and powdered soap along one shelf. "This more than implies that Albrook would be the Maranda's next target."

I laughed. "With Albrook 'fighting' a Marandan unit, The House will be rather disinterested in waging campaigns to the south. Last I heard, they were hell bent on striking Fort Nolbierros to the west."

"Yes, in response to the Nadreloitt breach." Jim threw an empty box into the garbage. "Word of such ambition travels through military-controlled assets like the machinery plant. I told Baokiydu and the Corporal, but I'm not sure if you heard. There's a reason why House Virnone's been so aggressive in the last few months." He closed a cupboard door and gave me a look of intent. "The Earl is on his death bed. The House wants all enemies of Gestahlian rule neutralized before Bantriue's passing. Ever since his wife Lady Podrevia died in the great collapse, the Earl's health has been withering gradually. Now, he's almost expired."

Ambrose and Baokiydu were upstairs at the radio, updating Albrook regarding our activities and discoveries since we'd come back from Segolienne four days ago. "They want all enemies gone so the heir can start with a clean slate. It makes sense. The heir is Lord Chadimus." Thinking of him brought his younger brother to mind. "That means Lord Brofias inherits nothing. We mentioned him in our talk with Iradmiud. The Minister claims Brofias is vindictive, hot-headed, and greedy."

"If that is true, it could pose a problem for his brother, came the Earl's death." Jim cleared an entire shelf. "But the military campaign is a foremost concern. It won't conclude until after Bantriue passes. I'd be more focused on our side's operations and counterstrikes to Tzen's, but as you know, I'm really not much use in combat. These don't work well in head-to-head fights." Jim opened his mouth to reveal his augmentation, teeth that could sharpen, and inject poisons into their bite victims. "They're not even the most practical in stealth ops, and don't get me started on my physical stature."

Though Jim's augmentation gave him sharpened teeth that could generate fatal poisons, it didn't provide him with much else, certainly not a cure to his hereditary illness. "You've been more than helpful to us, not just since we came here last month, but even before then. We learned so much from your inside connection. You passed us information about those sphere-launching artillery canons. Just do what you can."

Jim cupped his hands to his mouth and coughed. "Always. If my health should fail me anytime soon, my place is yours."

I swept more dirt into the dustpan, emptying it into the trash bin. "If I ever come back here, I'll keep that in mind."

As I placed the broom and dustpan in the laundry room's corner, Baokiydu entered. "Jim. Ajalni. We just finished the radio transmission. We gave HQ a meaty update on our affairs here, and got plenty regarding activities down in Albrook."

"What's new down there?" Jim beat me to the question.

"Plenty. Though House Virnone currently believes Maranda played a role in killing off Aelchass's brigade, Ruqojjen and Yithadri aren't leaving that belief up to chance in full. A garrison has been dispatched to Culmstropp, to intercept would-be spies coming from this direction. They're also beefing up defense against Maranda. Lenshelgh is also getting militarized." Lenshelgh was an Albrooker city west of the namesake capital. Like Culmstropp, it had been ravaged and neglected amid the wars between Tzen, Albrook, and Maranda. We Nyufalng were revitalizing the place, something the ruling House of Albrook never did.

The Sensorian elaborated on Lenshelgh's garrison-in-progress. "Guess who's part of the team; Uletarsji."

Baokiydu didn't sneer that name, contrary to my expectation. I was a little puzzled. "Uletarsji. The world-class fuck whose failure was welcome, only because he failed at something which was never authorized? Why?"

"He and his companion Chiupanghow are quite formidable in air and on water," clarified the Sensorian. "They're being used to thwart any Marandan navy ships that might sail our way. The Duke and his legions are powerful, but they're less charismatic than our other foes. Marandan naval troops are fully disposable. If they get anywhere near Lenshelgh, the duo will aide in lethal counter measures."

I shrugged. "Well, as long as they're on defensive roles only, with watchful eyes upon them. What's new with the isolated special catch?"

"He's still in a coma-like stasis. I didn't get too many details, but his use will be much different than the usual augmentation. He won't be a recipient, but a very special donor." Baokiydu said nothing else, likely because he knew nothing else.

"Well, he should feel very special, if he ever learns what's in store for him," I joked. "What's our next objective?"

"Gather some intel on the pending strike against Fort Nolbierros." He glanced at Jim. "Working in a factory beneath their control, that shouldn't be too hard. Ajalni, you and Ambrose need to get in touch with Iradmiud Gorukean once more."

"We've not been in contact since the day before yesterday. In his last letter, he said something was up, but didn't know what exactly was going down."

Beyond the doorway was the hall. The Corporal's voice sounded from the stairs within. "I'm going to check for the paper again." Indeed something was up. Normally the newspaper was on the doorstep in time for breakfast, yet it was almost dinnertime and there still hadn't been a delivery. Something kept the media from publishing its regular gossip.

"So is the plan to weaken Tzen's army so Maranda can pick them off?" I wasn't sure about our next step.

"Got it," came Ambrose's voice from the other end of the house. The closing of the front door followed.

So did a surprise a moment afterward. "Fucking a'!"

There was something is the stoic Corporal's voice that caught us all off guard. Jim frowned in confusion while Baokiydu squinted. Even his larger eye narrowed as he tried ingesting the Corporal's strange tone. Something was up for sure. Ambrose walked into the laundry room, slowly and purposefully, the unfolded news paper in his hands. "The media can lie about so much, but they'd never lie about this."

He showed us the front page article of the newspaper that was delivered hours behind schedule. The front page story said it all, as did my exclamation. "Oh my fucking…shit!"

change in s & n

Another part of town had been re-plumbed, the money for labor in said part having been collected in full once the next section was a quarter finished, and Cid's weaponry techs were hard at work on their newest inventions. They were actually developing two new additions to Figaro's arsenal, not one as I'd last heard.

All things considered, everything was progressing smoothly. I had a chance to practice my newfound lancing style. Dragoon boots on my feet and Aura Lance in my grip, I looked over the improvised practice target. The frozen chunk of meat was hardly different from the last time I stabbed it, save for the dents in its armor plate covering. I ran my fingers over my spear's shaft and breathed, channeling myself into my weapon, and my boots to a lesser extent. The Dragoon boots enhanced footwork more so than pike attacks, but worked best when combined with soul-charged lancing techniques.

As to be expected, the Aura Lance was emitting some radiance. It was 'filled' with my inner essence. I stared down the frozen meat slab and charged, my boots doing their job and boosting my running speed. I aimed for one particular piece of armor plating, curious to see how the technique would fare against the target's most durable section.

The boom was spectacular, as were the sparks that burst upon contact. They exploded like a firework as the square shard of armor bent inwards. Water dripped from behind the metallic plate, ice melting beneath. The armor square was sinking inwards.

Despite executing this powerful straight-on thrust, the lance was still radiating with energy. I could spend it on a follow-up strike, so I raised it to my side, swinging for the slashing attack. The side of the lance tip buried itself in another plate shard, a bright gold image trailing its motion. The impact caused another boom, and another spark shower. A second plate was deformed, a long horizontal gash cut across its surface, glowing orange from the intense friction. The gashed square came loose from the iced meat pile.

And the Aura Lance's tip was no different than before, unscathed. I wasn't weary this time. I could stand without leaning on my weapon or Cyan's shoulder. Speaking of the General, he stood behind me, clapping. "Marvelous, nothing less than what's fitting to the King of Figaro. Next time, the armor pieces may break beneath such punishment."

I twirled the lance in my right hand. "That's the plan. Practice makes perfect, and perfect means progress."

"Speaking of progress, how goes the latest region of plumbing additions?" Though he wasn't involved with utility business, Cyan was no doubt interested in the work flow of the pipe system's major overhaul.

"So far, it's all going as I'd hoped, despite the increased taxation. I've heard no objections myself, and the Guild hasn't passed any my way. We paid the Guild workers in full for the last completed area. A measly eight percent lagged behind the job's completion. Surely the next back payment will be a similar amount once the pending area is complete."

"Is the new patrol for Narshe in place, Sire?" Cyan glanced over his shoulder when speaking of the town.

"Absolutely." Since the moogles were overworked with mining tasks, they'd gotten lax on security. Shedairah's demise put a burden on the mines in the city, to compensate for its loss. That combined with Umaro's rumored laziness forced the moogles to double their usual efforts. Joe's accidental bypassing of their defenses was the result. The cave-dwellers needed a hand, so I informed Governor Hoff of the matter. Soldiers from the town were now patrolling the mines, leaving the moogles to better manage the industrial tasks.

"Any word from Professor Marquez and his weapon development team?"

"You're the General, Cyan. If you don't know, I don't." I laughed lightly. Cyan just put on a quiet smile. "Both new battle innovations will be unveiled when the time is right. I didn't think you were all that into machine technology."

"Times are changing fast, King Edgar. As Doma was evolving slowly before its downfall, your great kingdom progresses too. I have learned to adapt." Machines were still my specialty, but Cyan wasn't so lost on munitions tech as he once was. "Shall we partake in the next drill?" Cyan fingered the hilt of his blade with anticipation.

I grabbed a mail vest and dueling mask from a bench nearby. "Why not." Cyan followed my example, drawing his Sky Render after donning the protective gear.

Ziegfried has able to anticipate the pattern of Cyan's form. Now I wished to experiment for myself. Could I predict and guard against Cyan's blows as the veteran gladiator did? I gripped my spear in both hand and took a defensive stance. Cyan took cue and moved in.

Curved sword and pole arm met with a clash. I twisted my weapon to the side, only to fall into the motion of Cyan's parry. With an instinctive twirl, I blocked his katana with my lance's shaft. Instead of flowing with or pushing against my motion, Cyan stepped back. He lifted the Sky Render overhead and stepped up for downward chop. I countered by stepping in, meeting his blade just as it started coming down. The older knight broke to my left, his weapon sliding off my lance tip. He raised his arm for a quick outward slash. I held my weapon vertically and pushed forward to block, the spear shaft bashing into the Sky Render just over the hilt. Just as quickly, Cyan stepped right, swinging horizontally from shoulder level.

At that angle, I could neither retreat nor block. Knowing the height of this latest blow, I took a different evasive action. My knees buckled, and his sword cut the air above me. Before Cyan's arch completed, I raised my lance and pushed upward from my kneeling posture. The Doman's sideways cut didn't follow through as I'd predicted. He changed the direction. The curved blade came down, stopping the Aura Lance's head, and pushing it sideways. With such an opening, Cyan did what any practical fighter would, lifted the weapon over his shoulder in preparation for a vertical chop.

Using the lance's length, I pushed against the hard floor of the training room. This combined with my own momentum hurled me into an evasive roll away from the katana blade. I was back on my knees as the forged steel edge cut into the ground. Using my weapon's long size for a different purpose, I thrust forward again, this time going for the shoulder.

Rather than stand after missing his chop strike, Cyan flowed with the movement, falling into a crouch of his own. My lance pierced nothing but this air, before the Sky Render came up from the side and knocked it askew. My mark was off, buy my hold remained. I recoiled from the long-reaching thrust move and stood, Cyan reassuming his own battle stance in unison.

We squared off for a moment, until I charged the Doma Knight with spinning movements. I advanced upon him, and he stood inert, studying the patterns of my lance twirl, seeking the best split-second opportunity to interrupt the windmill slashes. He bent his knees and stepped up, sword in front at a parallel angle. He'd found a gap and disrupted the spinning pattern, the Sky Render coming in to halt the Aura Lance. No sooner did my weapon bash against his did I sway back, narrowly evading Cyan's diagonal cut.

The natural reaction would be to pull a counter hit before he recoiled from this whiffed attack. However, as we'd both tried this moments ago, I held myself for that crucial millisecond, allowing Cyan to complete his motion. Sure enough, he swung out for a counterstrike that never came. While he parried high, I dropped to my knees and thrust low, aiming for his knee, but stopping myself before getting to close.

The General stood motionless while staring down at my spear tip merely inches from his knee. Finally, Cyan removed his protective mask. "Impressive, my Liege. A well-planned and skillfully-placed counterstrike that I hadn't considered. As I said, your talent with the lance is only fitting to your kingly profession." He sheathed his weapon as I withdrew mine. "Though bear in mind, were this a real duel, piercing the kneecap would not be a killing blow. Still, it can set the ground for one by crippling the enemy's footwork potential."

I pulled off my own headgear. "You had me for quite a while there Cyan. You didn't just let yourself be open like that. I had to seek and plan for it."

"Yes, Sire. I wasn't trying to hold back. I only mean that if you can pin me like such, you're worthy to bear that weapon, not to mention the crown." Cyan was not humble or modest at all, merely observant.

"I wasn't going in full force," I admitted. "All I used were basic spear techniques. It would've been very different had I used Dragoon techniques."

Cyan was un-phased. "And I would've countered with Doman sword arts. The results would've been exactly the same, as your arts and mine would cancel each other out."

Would they? I had limited knowledge of the Dragoon techniques. For all I knew, they were more versatile than the Doman swordplay style.

"You're a man of many talents, King Edgar. You will see this nation into the future," Cyan went on. "When these demonic breeds return, they shall feel your wrath, channeled through a Dragoon spear."

"You know, it's funny you say that. The super monsters are no menial subject, but the greatest challenge as of recent has not been monster-related. Rebuilding this town's plumbing network has been more of a strain than those evolved monsters. I'm not ripping up city streets and excessively taxing my people because of any wildlife. Shedairah and the lab incidents were just that, not a prolonged process like the waterworks utility upgrade." I sung the Aura Lance downwards against the floor. "In some ways, a fight is easier than managing politics."

Cyan put an arm on my shoulder. "If you can accomplish a city-wide project as you are right now, surely a breed of monsters will be a pushover."

I should've felt uplifted, but for whatever reason I could not absorb Cyan's words as full truth. He was trying to be optimistic, and I'd never fault him for such, but with the uncertainty surrounding these monsters, downplaying them as such felt unwise. I'd long-since deduced there were facts I didn't know.

Nonetheless, I took Cyan's vote of confidence to heart. "Yes. These monsters may be smart, but I'm still smarter. They're not invincible. Sure, they could negate the Aurabolt blitz, but swords, arrows, and dynamite got the job done where only one blitz move failed." My own words served as encouragement. "While progress is slow, it's been steady. Money is still coming in for the new piping. And I've got weapon skills and technological military gadgets under my thumb. The new stuff should be test-ready is short order."

Thinking of my assets cleared the questions from my mind, for now.

change in s & n

A woman stood at the counter of our vending stall, eyeing a trinket. "I'll take that one."

Locke grabbed the piece in question and presented it to the buyer, naming the price. She paid in full, and slipped on her new purchase. "I knew that gem arrangement would turn heads," said Locke as the woman strode to another window in the plaza building. "Joe sure knows his stuff."

The previous day, Locke had gone to the capital. Not only did he stock up on new accessories for our treasure trove, he paid Joe a visit, for more than just purchasing cut stones. I filled empty hooks on a display rack with newly-polished articles of jewelry, some of which contained gems sold by Joe himself. "Did you get a chance to ask your question?"

"About Joe's friend Bren? Yes I did." Another customer came up, interested in a platinum ring with a diamond-shaped topaz. Locke gave the man his choice piece, and the buyer went on his way. "I learned that Bren sent Joe a letter in the mail. According to Joe, Bren is back home, having recovered from the tapeworm."

"That's good news." I placed some hair clips on the rack. Two teenage girls came up, one looking for a pearl necklace and the other a jeweled coronet. We just happened to have both their desires in stock. Once they left with their purchases, I asked Locke "Did you engage in other conversations?"

Locke tilted his head. "Well…I asked about Bren, how they met, what he does, all that stuff."

"And? What did Joe say?"

"Bren is a sculptor of sorts. None of his work is on public display. They met when Joe lived here. He purchased stuff from Bren a few times, usually urns and statues to decorate with gems." Locke watched passers-by come and go, ready to greet any who stopped at our window. When none of them did, he went on. "I asked if Bren might be interested in stuff that we sell, but he lives far from this district."

"So scratch that idea." I emptied a box of products. Bracelets, circlets, and various other treasures hung before me, ready to be viewed by the local public.

"I was kinda thinking about that myself, until…" Locke paused, as though he was unsure of something, or uneasy. "I asked about where Bren lives. Joe didn't say."

I was about to respond when a young woman came to the window. I put on a smile and showed her the rack of merchandise. She chose a bronze medallion with an egg-shaped ruby in the center. After she thanked us, paid, and walked off, I faced Locke. "Does that surprise you?"

I thought he'd see it in those terms, but for reasons I couldn't grasp, Locke found this puzzling. "Yes. It's surprising. Joe knows me. I'm no stranger. Far from that, I'm a Returner. Bren should at least know who I am, even if there's no acquaintanceship. I even mentioned this, but Joe still refused."

"Of course he did." I wasn't trying to be condescending, though I might've sounded such with my tone. "You don't know Bren, even if he probably knows about you. Joe isn't going to offer his friend's living location to anyone Bren doesn't know, even a Returner like you." My hands were on my hips. "I hope you didn't push any further after that."

"As for wanting Bren's address, I didn't. I just asked why Joe was so hesitant in trusting me." Locke didn't sound hurt, yet there was something in his voice I couldn't pin down. He was clearly not satisfied with Joe's answer.

"Locke, I don't believe it's a trust issue. It's merely one of common sense and consideration." I went from a different angle. "Would you want Joe giving out your address to somebody you didn't know? Sure, you're a famous Returner and all, but you'd still want privacy. Being well-known as you are, privacy should be an even greater concern for you than for someone like Bren."

A man stopped by our counter. We halted our chat while he browsed our stock. As he was selecting a bracelet with square-cut onyx stones, a young boy dropped by to see our wares. He was only interested in browsing though, and left without making a purchase. "I'll give you that much," conceded Locke "But I still find it weird. I thought Joe would've mentioned us in letters to Bren, and Bren would jump at the chance to meet us in person."

"Maybe Joe did reference us, and I too would think a merchant in town would be excited to know a pair of Returners run a business here. But maybe Bren's not interested. It's his prerogative if he wants to buy from us or not."

Locke scratched his chin. "Maybe. It just feels weird. It's one of those nagging questions. I felt the same when learning that Joe sold precious stones in Kohlingen, a town with minimal demand for such a product, and how Joe once lived here without knowing of the high local demand for what he sells."

I narrowed my eyes. "Locke, are you still harping on that? It's not even a current matter. Give it up already."

Locke was spared a lecture, and I was spared giving him one. A family of four appeared at our storefront, a middle-aged couple with their teen daughter and preteen son. They sampled our stash, very interested in hair bands and a newly-cleaned up watch. They paid us for all their new finds. As Locke stowed away the currency, he said, "I'm only comparing this current revelation with that previous one. I don't know why it feels odd. It just does."

At least he wasn't obsessing on past affairs this time. "It is really worth thinking about like that?" Why did he care so much? The energy he put into thinking about such superficial topics would be better spent on searching for more treasures. I thought about it from one last angle. "Locke, if you're really that curious about Bren, ask Joe where Bren does business. That's far less personal than asking for a residence location."

His face brightened. "You know, I might just do that, when I cross paths with Joe again. Thank you Celes. Where would I be without you?"

I took his hand. "No place worth thinking about." I kissed his cheek, as no would-be shoppers were at the counter.

"No kidding," he agreed. "I'll be sure to ask when I see Joe next."

And that would stop a brewing obsession before it became a real one. Joe had every reason to withhold Bren's residential address, but just as many to share Bren's business location.

change in s & n

The entire city of Tzen was, to be quite frank, on hold. Major events would do this, like simultaneous deaths in the royal family.

The delayed newspaper from three days back told such on its front page alone. Earl Bantriue and his son Lord Chadimus has passed away. Little was known, or if it was, hardly any details were shared by the press. The Earl supposedly died in his sleep from heart failure. His body was found in his room by the House's personal nursing staff, dropping by to check on him.

Bantriue's death had a semblance of logic. Chadimus's death was a whole different story. His death was unnatural; he'd fallen from a loft balcony near his private quarters, toppling over the guardrail to his death some sixty feet below, head first.

Jim was upstairs taking a nap. He'd not been feeling well as of late, and the factory was closed for the double memorial, held in a park near the House's private district. Baokiydu, Ambrose, and I sat in the kitchen, eating lunch and reviewing the newest letter from Iradmiud Gorukean. The Cabinet Minister backed up the claims published in the newspaper. We could verify the public story with our inside source, but no new details had emerged since. Iradmiud himself was preoccupied with attending the wake, but he'd dig around when the first chance came. We stayed home. Businesses were all closed, middleclass nobodies like us were free to skip such events, and we hardly mourned the death of Tzenish nobility. We Nyufalng celebrated such events.

I spread peanut butter on my toast. "Will this have any major impact on the House's campaign against Maranda?" If so, we could exploit any weakness in the disrupted political framework.

Ambrose bit into an apple slice. "With Bantriue and Chadimus dead, that makes Brofias the heir. As House Virnone is the only pro-Gestahl power left, that essentially makes Brofias heir to the Empire."

"Iradmiud claimed Brofias covets such power, and would not only abuse it like his predecessors, but use it recklessly, what with his alleged powder keg of a temper." I bit off a mouthful of bread.

Baokiydu swallowed a piece of roasted lunchmeat. "This unforeseen double death worked in his favor, to a fucking t."

Unforeseen? I'd been wondering about a certain prospect. Baokiydu's verbalized analysis of the new happening almost guided me to the last puzzle piece. The two soldiers' argument from the Elporviran bathroom was still fresh in my mind. The Sergeant's denial of Brofias lacking righteous tradition and Iradmiud's claim that Brofias was envious and power-hungry laid the ground for this idea. With the sick Earl dying hours within the unnatural death of his eldest son and royal heir, the puzzle felt complete.

I drank some cola before sharing my theory. "Are you sure these deaths are mere coincidence? Gorukean spoke ill of Brofias, shortly after the man from Elporviran rabidly defended the younger son's character, as if to deny what Gorukean had experienced firsthand. The House heir, a man in perfect health, falls from a balcony no less than a day after his terminally-ill old man kicks the bucket, and the jealous younger brother inherits the royal House, and the fallen Empire it seeks to revive." With another bit of toast, I finished my theory. "I think Brofias did something to cause these deaths, so he'd come out on top."

Baokiydu squinted his eyes. "Well you know what they say. There's no cooperation among the power-hungry, be they street criminals or aristocrats. Ajalni, that idea should be explored."

I turned to Ambrose, who'd been sending out and picking up letters to and from Iradmiud using the post office box, under the alias of Corporal Amroneque. "Gorukean's last letter was two days back." He put his mug down and cut another apple slice. "The mail delivery service should reopen tomorrow. I'll send him a note then. Odds are he's considered that possibility himself. We should ask if he's shared his thoughts with other Cabinet personnel. If they've been threatened like him, they'll be just as eager to overthrow the House, especially if Brofias is disloyal."

In Gorukean's last letter, he mentioned that strong military presence was restricted to this capital and Nadreloitt. When word spread that Marandans had slaughtered Aelchass's brigade before taking on Albrook, the remnants of the Rosseaund garrison were all pulled west to Nadreloitt. Rosseaund was presently ghost town, not unlike Segolienne. The refugees here were being put to use in their respective trades. Old buildings were being demolished with new residential structures taking their place. Security patrols were no longer traversing the gaps between the Tzen and other towns, save for the expanse between here and Nadreloitt.

"I can easily presume the next order of military business." Baokiydu stuffed his mouth with saltine crackers. "The army will no doubt march on Fort Nolbierros, with a vengeance. If Lord Brofias is greedy as rumors claims, he'll spare not a moment in crushing the Duke's forces."

"He might even use patriotism to garner support, cooking up some tale that Maranda was responsible for the deaths of his dad and brother to throw any potential suspicion off himself." The Corporal smirked. "Oh well, it's better than blaming us."

I finished a toast slice. "You know, I can see him doing that, even if he didn't kill anyone. Conservatism is a prime ingredient in Tzenish patriotism. These traditionalists don't want anything to change. Loyalists will buy into what Brofias tells them, no questions asked."

"Tell me about." Ambrose stabbed into the core of his apple. "I grew up around blind patriotism. Nothing's changed since. It's so rife, bitter feuds erupt between relatives. Families find themselves torn apart, divided between those who kiss government ass and those who don't. I've heard of marriages failing and cases of estrangement breaking out, couples and even siblings clashing over whether the government's right or not."

Baokiydu chewed another meat slab. "Schisms like that could work in our favor. If the military is fighting Maranda outside and enough shit breaks out here in town, who'll subdue the local mayhem? When the march on Nolbierros commences, local army staff should be thinner. We could try instigating a little counter-culture revolution." He was planning ahead, genius that he was. If only his down time patience could match his IQ.

Ambrose expanded on that idea. "Some patriots are so blind, they'll sing praises to the government, even as the House poisons their food in plain sight. Such ignorance could be used against them, used as a means to rally anti-House Virnone sentiments."

"You're the native," acknowledged Baokiydu between cracker bites. "You know how to get the job done."

"If Brofias ultimately kills his own lemmings, it would surely spark disgust in the public at large. The defection rate would skyrocket exponentially," I pondered aloud. "I'm actually hoping he does kill off some of his own people. It'll sway the public against him that much more, and kill off some more automatons in the process, sparing us the hassle."

"I like everything you said Ajalni, but first, we have to ascertain that Brofias actually killed his brother and the Earl," Ambrose pointed out. "These double deaths are too precise to be coincidence, but we need something to suggest there was foul play involved. Even Iradmiud hasn't checked coronary reports. He should look into that. Once he finds something to invoke skepticism, we can go from there." The Corporal looked upwards toward the second floor, where the radio gear was placed. We'd contacted Albrook upon ascertaining the two noblemen's deaths, but not since. "It's too early for a transmission to HQ. When we learn something new from the Cabinet Minister, we'll share it with base."

"Turn the people against their master and his lemmings." Baokiydu narrowed his eyes. "If House Virnone and its lackey want to revive Gestahlian customs, we can send em' all to meet him personally." His palm spikes extended from his hands in swift movements. "That's the beauty of fighting enemies with subhuman minds like them. Give no quarter, forfeit all negotiations, fuck the treaties, and just kill."

"Why the hell not?" The Corporal shrugged and sliced off more apple chunks. "Enemies are not friends, or neutrals for that matter. Rules of engagement never apply to hostiles, and the unthinking masses are no less malicious than a wise, plotting schemer."

Something was on my mind again as of late. "Did Albrook receive any word from Sergeant Tanrevilt?"

Ambrose bit into an apple slice. "In fact, he did contact them last week. His new objective remains, among others. Though he encountered a slight problem, he's working around it. He knows what do to."

change in s & n

"So you met Terra again?" Sabin leaned back on one of the benches against the dojo's wall.

"That I did, at the Spethald Academy. That makes three, following the art gallery and the meal at Ghearn's. When we last met, she said you wanted me here for something special, to commemorate by blitz progress or something. At least that's I interpreted." But was I perhaps wrong? I was here, just as Sabin requested through Terra, and we did nothing but sit on the benches up till now. Surely the blitz master didn't want me here for a lounging session. "So, are we going to do this, or is being lazy the whole point of my presence?"

Sabin chuckled heartily, his usual manner of doing such. "Leonard, it's not quite time yet." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It should only be a few minutes more."

"Why the holdup," I asked, curious.

"You'll see." Sabin drank another glass of Relm's lemonade, leaving me in the dark once more.

The creaking of the doors broke the silence. Someone had joined us. Maybe that was the meaning behind Sabin's hints. I looked at the training room doorway. A very ambitious Terra greeted us. "Leonard. You made it."

"Yes. We've done nothing up to this point." I frowned sarcastically at the martial arts expert. "Nothing but ask questions and give the runaround answers."

Sabin stood, placing a hand on Terra's shoulder. "I beat around the bush no more. It's time for a retest, another comparison of your full combat skills."

I couldn't say coherent words for a moment, stuttering until I could verbalize my reaction. "You mean I spar with Terra?" I glanced downward. The last time we did this almost four months back, the session ended abruptly with me sitting on the sidelines with aches in my crotch, brought on by Terra's very misplaced front kick, and my own inability to react. "Need I remind you of what happened last time?"

"No you don't. But so much has passed since then. You've both progressed considerably." Sabin left Terra's side and came to me, hands on my shoulders. "At least this time, if things go bad, you'll know to expect a ball breaker," he mused.

"Gee, thanks a fucking lot for hindsight." Somehow, I felt like laughing.

"Leonard, your reluctance is normal, but I have more control now. You should too, what with your own advancing through the techniques." Terra had this look in her eyes, a look of faith and confidence. She believed in me.

Sabin was no different. "After you cut that rock with a slash aura, without fainting mind you, I'd think you'd be more enthused about this, a chance to succeed where you previously failed."

Two world-class Returners were placing trust in my talents. Disappointing them was not an option. "Okay, I should trust myself, given both your votes."

"Excellent. Let's do this." At Sabin's prompt, Terra assumed a combative stance. I took one of my own, knowing that we'd both progressed since the accidental nutcracker. I watched her movement, and was hardly surprised when she pulled a right hook for my jaw. My eyes on her fist, my left hand came up and halted her strike. She dashed back, and chambered another hook, only to drop to her knees before the full extension. This foreshadowed a crouching jab on her part, deflected by a right-hand parry on my behalf. She leaned to the side, following my motion, putting herself in the ideal foot sweep crouch. I leaped back as her foot swung out. She was back on her feet in no time. So far, so good.

Facing off yet again, I took the chance for the preemptive hit. I rushed Terra with a right uppercut, only to have the woman side-step, grab my striking arm, and push me forward, using my own momentum against me. However, focused training had me twisting away from her grasp a split second after her fingers touched down. I spun in time to see her elbow coming in for my neck. My palm shoved out and stopped her motion. She recoiled her arm, dashed back once more, and lifted her right leg.

This was it, this was the very move that took me down last time, accidental though it was. Because of that, my eyes were open for strikes below the belt. My palm shot out, pushing against her ankle before her leg straightened in full.

"Bravo." Sabin stressed his amazement while clapping his hands. "See, what'd I tell you? Progression. I believe you could do it again. Terra, try some more."

My sparring partner was plenty eager to follow that idea. "If you can predict and block it once, you can surely do again."

"I plan on it. Enemies won't go easy on you when the stakes are for real." My enthusiasm matched hers.

That was a good thing, for she came at me not two seconds after I gave the okay. Her foot came up for a side kick to my chest area. I once again brought my hand up to deflect the blow. With grace and agility, Terra cart-wheeled off my hand. Once back on her feet, she rushed forward a second time, stepping in to deliver a full force elbow swing. Instead of blocking, I ducked, taking advantage of her strike's height. While this fully evaded her elbow, she followed through with a mid-level roundhouse using her spinning momentum. At my kneeling posture, her foot was coming toward my ear. Reflexively, I lifted my hand to block.

She knew variety. Her leg bent once my palm contacted her shin, moving past my hand before I could even think of standing. Now her foot was directly in front of my face. Again on reflex, I raise my other hand to guard. She put in a lot of force though, and even blocking I was sent backwards to the floor. My back fell upon the dojo's carpet, but this was a background detail as I rolled to my left, evading Terra's downward flat palmed blow. She slapped the rug as I got to my feet. Before she rose to her full height, I charged with a side kick of my own.

Both her hands pushed against my kicking foot before I realized it. By the time I knew she's lifted my leg upwards, I was already tumbling back once again. My ass hit the carpet first, with my back and feet doing such right afterward. I could only sit up a few inches before Terra was upon me, reaching forward in a spear-hand formation, her nimble fingers just above my neck. "I take you down again Leonard, but this time it's no accident."

"This time, your losing to a girl is the real deal." Sabin's voice bore no mockery, but it wasn't just an objective analysis.

"I lose to a very special girl," I clarified. "There's no shame in losing to one who's earned it."

Terra formed a vague smile and stepped back. "You know, if you can face defeat like that, it's not really a loss."

"Not here, nor in a contest of sportsmanship. But in a real fight, a loss is nothing to just shrug off," I said while getting back up.

"In a real fight, I've got so many tricks to keep that from happening." Terra looked at the dojo wall and charged, jumping against it and leaping off. In midair, she delivered not one but two spinning kicks.

"In a real fight, you need not worry about hurting your sparring partner," I pointed out. "In fact, sometimes that's the whole objective, using deadly force to stop the enemy. As we saw with that gigantic turtle in the Shedairah mine, overkill wasn't quite enough."

"Oh come on Leonard. Only two sticks of dynamite were needed to crack its shell. What would three have accomplished?" Sabin winked.

Terra provided a realistic answer to his joke question. "Something on par with the new weapons in development by Cid's research team." She straightened her ponytail. "I hear one of them is nearing completion."

"Big bro will reveal his new toy when it reaches a usable stage. Until then, we should hone our other skills and talents." Sabin gestured at the doors to the training yard. "I've some new drills for both of you."

The session went on with these new exercises. Though Terra had knocked me on my ass once more, I felt no shame in it. She was still ahead of me, though by a smaller margin now. Something else was also narrowing, the facts she didn't know about me. Ever since our date at the Spethald campus, I'd come out of the shell in which I'd hidden for years. In time, and I could sense that would be a short time, I could reveal the deeds of my father and brother.

And her questions about my sister invoked something I'd long since ignored.

change in s & n

Although certain units were once built into old magitek walkers and sky armors, the bio blaster gas gun was itself a Figaro-crafted weapon of war. The weapon's signature aspect was its widespread dispersion of toxic gas, an inhalant so vile to the bloodstream that any life form engulfed in the gaseous cloud would vomit and even choke on its own poisoned blood, to the point of death in extreme cases. Only monsters with a natural, total immunity to the plant toxin compound used in the gas could step into a cloud and emerge unscathed.

The bio blaster was quintessential in many of our clashes against the Empire. In the second invasion of Narshe, the bio blaster was the exact killing blow for the shield wall formations used by Imperial infantry. Their armor and tightly condensed shields weren't enough to save them from the toxic fumes used in one of my best weapons. I'd almost designed such a weapon with heavily armored foes in mind.

Though it had very high killing potential, the bio blaster presented its own share of flaws. The first was a likelihood of collateral damage. The bio blaster fired weightless gas, and even the most precise aiming wouldn't guarantee that gas would go where the user wanted. Too much gas in a specific area could pose a threat to the weapon's user, not to mention his or her allies who might be close by. And while the means of discharging the gas cloud enabled one to blanket a wide area in a curtain of toxic lime green fumes, it was a wide and short area. The gas didn't have a very effective long range use. The typical crossbow bolt would go over twice the distance as the average bio blast. As the gas traveled, it would thin out and lose its poison factor, ultimately becoming harmless.

Cid claimed he'd found the perfect answer to some of these problems. According to him, it was possible to reach longer ranges with the bio gas, and put it exactly where you wanted it. All this was possible without changing the gas compound itself.

Cyan, Cid, and I had gathered in the outside yard of the military command center with many other Figaro soldiers. The scientist placed his fingers on the handheld artillery cannon before him. "As you can see You Highness, this new model looks rather different from the older kind." Indeed, this new bio blaster was vastly different. First and foremost, there was no gas pack linked to the gun via hose. This new make was just the gun itself.

I studied the new invention. "It's just a cannon, though it's pretty supped up from the old model's gun. Still, where's the gas?"

"That's the new part," explained Cid while reaching into a nearby case. "The gas is here." He produced an egg-shaped metal object the size of his hand. Various grooves and divots lined the object's surface. Clicking a hatch on the gun's rear side, Cid placed the 'egg' within.

I now understood the function of this new piece. "You're loading a cannon ball, or something similar."

The doctor lifted the gun and offered it to me. "As usual, show, don't tell. And the best example comes with a hands-on approach, a long-time favorite of yours, King Edgar."

"You know me well, Professor Marquez." I took the gun and aimed for the clustered group of wood mannequins at the far end of the courtyard, a distance beyond the known bio blast's reach.

"I know your style, and with an easy-to-use weapon like this, you'll easily learn its function." Cid pointed at a dial forward of the gun's chamber section. This dial could adjust the timing of the grenades inside, to properly match their time delay to the target distance. Setting the knob to a lower number would make the grenade discharge two seconds after it was launched. Setting the knob to a higher numeral would delay the gas charge longer, allowing the bomb to traverse greater distances before going off. Eyeing the distance between myself and the target cluster, I set the dial accordingly.

All eyes were on me and the handheld weapon, just as they'd been when I tested the modified lightning cannon. I raised the blaster, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The grenade burst from the barrel with a loud, sharp 'DAUB' noise akin to pulling a cork from a wine bottle, amplified several times. The egg-shaped bomb spun through the air on a non-stop trajectory to its target group. Once there, it bounced once and spewed pale green toxic clouds in all directions, engulfing an area a dozen feet from end to end. After a moment, the green gas dissipated.

The soldiers began chattering. Cid's onsite lab tech went over to inspect the mannequins after the gas thinned out. They'd rigged all the dummies with sensor gauges that could take readings of the surrounding gas quantity, determining how much gas was discharged in the targeted region. They said all the dummies' gauges carried the desired readout, indicating enough gas was unloaded to kill all would-be enemies in the select location.

"And while the launcher is of little substance by itself, the same cannot be said for the grenades themselves. They can be used independently of the firing device. Should the enemy be amassing up close, just grab one, pull the smallest delay pin, and throw." The doctor pointed at a random soldier in the crowd. He came up and was offered another egg bomb from the case. Cid pointed at the different pins on the side. Pulling the smallest one would set the gas off almost instantly, while pulling the largest would delay the blast. The dial on the cannon must've corresponded with pin-removing mechanisms in the chamber.

The trooper walked over to the gassed dummies, removed the smallest pin, and tossed the device. The bomb went off, without coming from a launcher.

The other soldiers burst into cheering and applause. I smiled, but felt a new kind of doubt as I observed the bio blast grenades and their respective launching unit. Amid the cheers, Cyan noticed my unease. "T'is there a problem Sire? Are you not impressed with the new weapons?"

"Far from it Cyan. I'm pleased beyond expectations with them both." Cid noticed my face and came over. I explained myself to both him and Cyan. "But despite these advancements, I know they come at a price. R&D for new weapons is not cheap. Someone has to pay the bill for resources and experiments. That someone is the civilian taxpayer."

"That goes without saying, King Edgar." Cid looked about in general directions. "The people of this nation, in this town and beyond, understand and accept that fact."

"They're also paying heavily as it is, for the new water works utility system." I pointed at the bomb shooter and the case of poison grenades. "While this new set of weapons will no doubt enhance our military, it comes at the cost of civilian currency, when there's so little to spare. Should we choose to mass produce weapons like the bio bombs and lightning blaster, what would that cost the people?"

Cid was no less optimistic than he was when sharing the grenade launcher. "Is that your worry, that we're increasing the expense of military technology? My Liege, there's a set amount of tax money that goes to military munitions. Nothing has increased regarding such a tax. If anything, we're spending the same amount of money with better results, becoming more practical with our share."

"Such is true, King Edgar," stated Cyan in agreement. "I've discussed the matter with Treasury Minister Larsone. He assured me the tax for military spending has remained the same, despite the increases in plumbing utilities. If you permit such, we can easily mass-produce all these new advancements without stepping up the army expenditures tax."

"Well, that does solve my worry, to a degree." I reached behind my neck. An itch was getting more and more annoying. "But that does nothing to lay my worries about increased plumbing tax to rest. Even with IOUs getting the job done for the moment, intuition tells me they alone won't get this town through to the end of the construction, especially during this spring weather."

"I have faith in you, as I always have." Cid placed a hand on my shoulder. "You know what must be done, and you'll find a means to get it done.

Cyan offered his own share of consolation. "I agree with Doctor Marquez. Your leadership and decision making helped us crush Kefka's denizens and bring forth his downfall. That alone should see you through doubts on this matter."

Cid and Cyan had both voiced their confidence in what I'd done, and what I could do. With their trust, I realized there was something else I could do, and it didn't involve another increase in taxes.

But was it right? Certain people would be affected, even if it was only for the short term. That it wouldn't affect everyone unanimously made it so questionable.