Chapter 28: The Growing Vortex

Locke and I didn't have plans to be in the capital this morning, but when we received a telegraph message about the monsters' return, we boarded a train and headed for the military command center. Most of us were in the briefing room, though Relm, Gau, Leonard, and Joe were absent, preoccupied with respective school and work obligations.

"There was a death in Narshe," Edgar explained, "Lt. Frank Maydecker was patrolling the moogle mines during the graveyard shift the night before last, when something killed him. His body was found the next morning by some labor moogles." The young monarch glanced through a notebook. "Just before midnight, he radioed his superiors claiming to hear strange noises, yet he saw nothing abnormal. That was the last anyone heard from him."

Cid was also present. As this conference was centered on monsters, he was probably one of the first through the door, after Edgar and the military staff. "Did anyone ascertain the precise time of death?" asked my surrogate grandfather.

Edgar shook his head. "Unfortunately no. The morticians could only determine that Maydecker's injuries were hours old at the time of discovery. The best theory was that his death occurred sometime between midnight and 4:00 AM."

Throughout the room were Figaro military staff, 1Lt. Paul Edderbricht, 2Lt. Deanne Sarholme, Col. Jerom Frennard, and SSgt. Rodney Hayne being the ones I recognized. A man I didn't know pushed a question. "Sir, why is this deemed a monster attack?"

He was a Major, for Edgar addressed him as such. "I have some photographs to share, pictures answering that very question." He flashed a handful of large glossy pictures. The inventive King of Figaro pulled up a device alongside him, another of his recent marvels in technology.

It looked like a table on wheels, but it was functionally a lot more. This new device could take a small image and project a large copy of it using mirrors and lights. The large image was projected into a flat surface, a white glossy wall panel in this case. Edgar laid the picture on the tray and raised a lamp from behind it, a lamp that was built into the 'table on wheels'. After flipping a switch, a large blurred image appeared on the white wall segment.

"This should be interesting," Locke mused while Edgar reached behind the projection lamp, somehow making the picture less blurry.

The image showed a man's face. One eye was closed tight. The other was open yet nonexistent. After letting the audience gaze upon the gruesome image, Edgar slid another one into the projection tray. It was the back of a man's head, with a hole in the scalp and cranium. From the previous picture, it was obvious this hole lined up with the eye socket. "As you can see, Maydecker was killed with some large object that impaled his brain through the eye, creating an exit wound. There was a second wound on his neck." Edgar provided two more images, front and rear shots of this neck piercing.

Locke winced just from looking at the images. "They meant business, whoever or whatever killed him."

"The coroner in charge of the autopsy claimed he'd seen many wounds in his life that closely matched these. All were goring injuries, done by monsters with long, hard spikes." Edgar pointed at the image of Maydecker's fatal wounds. "The entry holes line up perfectly with the exit holes, and as you can see, the holes have smooth edges. Smooth horns or tusks wound produce such."

Once the King presented everything else that was known, Jerom Frennard raised a hand. "This evidence is compelling, but it's all circumstantial. Unlike the Shedairah massacre and the laboratory incident, we don't have any hard evidence of a monster. We don't even have witnesses who claimed to see or hear something in the area at the time. As you said, none of the moogles noticed anything suspicious."

Edgar shut off the projection lamp. "A great point Colonel, and in different circumstances I wouldn't concluded that a monster killed this man. But after three incidents involving highly intelligent and ferocious beasts that defy the rules of biological science, I'll treat this as a monster-related killing until proof of otherwise is discovered. I don't mean to invoke harsh memories, but let's recall the killings at Dragon's Neck Coliseum." I looked across the room at Setzer. The gambler just looked down, allowing Edgar to elaborate. "Security staff in the arena presumed it was a monster just from looking at the wounds, and they ultimately were right."

"T'is true," agreed Cyan. "I presume you'll order search teams to comb the mines for the new creature within."

"I will send out teams, but let us keep an open mind. The moogle caves are documented in full, both in layout and indigenous life forms," Edgar acknowledged. "Knowing these new monsters have higher intelligence than most, I'd say the spiked beast is alien to them, and migrated from elsewhere for whatever reason. I'd think my rebuilding of this town's water network might play a part, but understand the Shedairah killings took place before the construction was deemed necessary. Construction crews haven't reported any dens or nests while digging around."

"Nonetheless, we have to find out where they're coming from, and maybe what they're after," called out Locke. "Since this unfolded in the moogle mines, maybe it's the perfect time to investigate this rumored falling out between Mog and Umaro."

"I've been thinking about that myself. However, such a personal matter is of minor concern. That affair has not killed anyone, unlike the new monster breeds. I cannot occupy our military forces with such a mundane happening." Edgar winked at Locke. "Of course, as you don't have any political duties, feel free to investigate for yourself. Just know that my hands are tied."

"I'm quite used to that Edgar. It's often me who performs the little tasks." Locke nudged me with his elbow. "Not that you never play a role."

"Do what you can, when you can. As I've shared all the details, this meeting is officially dismissed." When Edgar concluded the briefing, he was joined by his brother. Setzer got up and left immediately.

"Where's Ziegfried?" Locke asked. "I'd think he'd be around for this news update. Oh well, he'll be informed somehow, soon enough." He stopped glancing about the room and looked at Cyan, who was lightly conversing with military staff. "I'll go tell the General about new weapon techniques I've been practicing with discuses and boomerangs."

"He's always been impressed with your talents." I watched Locke stroll to the front of the chamber, where he joined Cyan's company.

"Celes. You have a moment?"

It was Terra. She joined me not a second after Locke's departure, a look of curiosity in her dark green eyes. "What's up?"

She leaned in closer. "In case you didn't know, I had another meet with Leonard, at a theatre school in Narshe. He finally shared something about his father, and though it wasn't too surprising, it was still far from my expectations."

"You did it!" On pure reflex, I pulled her into a hug. "I told you it would happen, if you opened your doors, that he'd open his in kind." Maybe I was a little to celebrative. After all, whatever Leonard disclosed was nothing positive in the least. But I was happy that she'd finally overcome a roadblock that stifled her for as long as it did.

I pulled away and let her share the knowledge. "His father was a wealthy and corrupt business tycoon who bribed a lot of city officials, from army brass to guild leaders. Many legitimate companies were bought out by him, or were somehow forced into bankruptcy. Arvis's old company had been one of them. I paid the Senator a visit not long after our date, and learned this."

I winced. "Damn. That explains Arvis's resentment towards Leonard's family, to a degree. But it's not Leonard's fault. And whatever happened took place around twenty years ago. You'd think Arvis would move on."

Terra sighed. "He claims he did so, until seeing Leonard in our presence. He still has this warped view that Leonard is dishonest." She pressed her lips tight. "Arvis called him the 'betrayer's offspring', claiming such a moniker is based in fact. I don't know what it means in full, but it's clearly referencing one of his father's deeds."

"Hmm. The only person who can really shed light on its true meaning is Leonard."

"Obviously, and while he's opened some, I get the feeling he's still uncomfortable disclosing every detail. He doesn't blame himself by any means, but it's still not something he can speak on objectively." She folded her arms and gazed up at the ceiling. "I don't want to tread on sensitive grounds, but nor do I think it's wise for him to keep this information closed up, especially now, with friends like us."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, from the level of notoriety surrounding his father, it's not really that secretive. He likely won't speak of it, but it's still public knowledge. Arvis definitely knows, and Leonard's aware that it's no obscure matter.

"I'm not denying that much. But I'd like to learn if from him directly. I owe that much to both him and myself. Besides, the prejudice Narshean townsfolk could very well exaggerate shit, considering their bias against his father."

Now I placed both hands upon her shoulders. "Terra, it wasn't long ago that you asked us for in-depth opinions on various topics. Now you're the one who's thinking ahead, pondering angles just like the rest of us. You know what to do, so I can only suggest how you'll accomplish that. I know this may sound a tad uneven, but it could be time to name that half-esper girl you told Leonard about. He's done a share of reveals since. Now it's your turn."

The half-esper woman gulped down slowly. "I've thought about that part. I'll have to eventually. It's just…been so long since I spoke about it with anyone. I've gotten so used to keeping it hidden. I cannot hesitate forever, but…" She didn't finish.

"Old habits die hard. You hesitation is natural," I assured. "But realize you've already told him about yourself, as though you were describing someone else. That's a major step in the right direction. It's just a matter of time, very little at that, before you go all the way. Once that's over, I'm sure he'll step out of his closet and explain what 'betrayer's offspring' means in full." I smiled, offering what encouragement I could. Even now, with Terra more experienced in life, I still made a point to give her my best.

"Like a seesaw or a pendulum," she analyzed. "It must swing both ways before stopping in the balanced middle. When I can track him down, I'll suggest going to the hills behind Narshe, where we fought off the Imperials in defense of Tritoch, right before my very first transformation."

"It's the perfect place for symbolic value, and the snow's not too thick or cold at this time of year," I approved, though she didn't really need my approval. She already made up her mind. "Go for it."

While I didn't know the exact feelings on Leonard's end, I could take an educated guess that he was reluctant in some way to share more about his past. Terra concluded that much already. And she would know. She felt a similar hesitance on her part. Ironically, this mutual reluctance could bring them even closer together, if only one of them could take that pivotal next step.

I knew Terra's feelings, but not Leonard's. My interest was perked, so maybe it was time to further acquaint myself with the Narshean. What better means to get both sides of this long-stalled relationship.

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Jim gathered some tools from around his workshop. "So this is farewell, I take it."

For the last time, I pulled on my over-seized brown travel cape. "That it is. It was great to see you again."

"Likewise Ajalni." Jim turned and offered his open right hand to Ambrose. "It was a pleasure to meet a fellow Nyufalng of a proud Tzenish background."

"Absolutely." The Corporal shook the older man's hand. "Thanks a bunch for adding a spear tip on my war hammer."

"And last but not least, Baokiydu. Give my best to your brothers and sisters in arms. You've got a big job ahead of you, much larger than mine." Jim held out his tool case. "The factory's out of commission, but senior munitions techs like me have been called back to help install the replacement electricity generators."

Baokiydu finished wrapping his bandage disguise around his face. "Does anyone know the cause of the overload?"

"Some claim the overdriven production lines blew the power suppliers, but there are rumors circulating about someone tampering with the utilities on purpose. No one has been named, but if that's the case, whoever screwed with the generators did a damned good job on both." Jim glanced around at nothing specific. "The loyalists of Tzen's military are getting very paranoid."

Paranoid was an understatement. The growing protests against taxation weren't the only swords leveled at government credibility. The failed march against Fort Nolbierros was incompetent by itself, but ordering a second one displayed ineptitude of a whole new sublevel. By asking the armed forces to repeat a mistake, Brofias proved himself less and less capable in the eyes of more and more people, both civilians and military. One recent saying claimed he'd destroy Tzen faster than even Maranda's Duke could hope. With skepticism growing, Iradmiud Gorukean was finally able to share the evidence suggesting Brofias had killed his own family to become the next Earl. As Brofias was already unpopular, this evidence was warmly received.

Ambrose had received another note from the Cabinet Minister. This letter claimed reform was greatly desired, and that Tzen's Cabinet was more than capable of running the city-state without House Virnone looming over their shoulders. Certain military officers were secretly defecting to the Cabinet, and Iradmiud had told his colleagues about his 'kidnappers', a mysterious group that sought to overthrow House Virnone in favor of a balanced government with no imperialistic motivations, a leadership that was also void of Gestahlian influence. Like the evidence implying Brofias disloyalty, this revelation was praised with open arms.

However, there was a problem for those dissenting. They were still outnumbered by the blind loyal patriots who shaped and built the old Empire and its succeeding House Virnone. The army was crippled greatly; they'd suffered heavy losses at Fort Nolbierros already, and the garrison of Nadreloitt was still in place to repel the Duke's minions, thus unable to help efforts here in the capital. But even with mass dissent and a disabled weapons plant here in town, House Virnone still had a formidable share of the armed forces, and they had a fitting arsenal. They could easily quell any local rebellion from dissenters within.

But taking on a mysterious external foe was not their choice operation at this time. We Nyufalng were unknown to the House and its flock of sheep.

It was time for our trio to leave the city and join up with our comrades who'd amassed outside. Our undercover work was done, sooner than we predicted thanks to the happenstance finds of Brofias's disloyalty and Iradmiud's dilemma. Ambrose sent one last letter to the Minister, detailing some vague plans we had unfolding outside the town, and giving prompts for the Cabinet's preparatory actions here inside. He specifically stated this would the last letter, and that Iradmiud should not reply. After sending it, Ambrose cancelled his agreement on the designated post office box, no longer masquerading as a Tzenish trooper.

We followed Jim out to his front porch, where he locked up. "You know where to find the spare key. Like I said before, my place is always your place. If my illness takes me, there's an unsigned owner's deed in a metal box on the closet shelf of my bedroom. You can sign your names and get yourself another hideout. Once again, I bid you well." He proceeded down the porch steps and headed towards the train stop, rounding the nearest corner and out of sight.

"As we speak, the House is formulating its next plan," mumbled Ambrose, his shield, hammer, and plate cuirass hidden beneath his jacket. "We'd best leave as quickly as possible. I know the shortest route to the escape point."

We left Jim's house behind, waving down a carriage heading north. Since the artillery plant's crippling, martial law had been stepped up a degree. Not only was entry into this town prohibited by general figures, departure was also banned. Only designated military personnel and nobility could come and go. All gates to the city were locked down. But that made no difference to Ambrose, who knew the layout of Tzen and its surrounding terrain.

At the northern outskirts of town, the coachman dropped us off. Not far was the chosen escape point. The army had blocked off all the conventional exits, but the resourceful young Nyufalng Corporal was thinking far ahead of the orthodox-minded military. Northern Tzen sat along the base of the mountain range, and in the mountain side was the opening of a long drainage line. Ambrose had once explored this some years back, and knew it led far enough to reach the waterways, which in turn emptied into an outdoor mountain stream.

We found the drainage pipe, masked by overgrown trees and void of grate bars that would seal it off. Maybe the House would catch on and close off this forgotten access point to the outside world, but we had no plans to stick around that long. Pushing the tree limbs aside, we entered the dozen foot wide cylindrical passage. Ambrose pulled a flashlight form his coat and clicked it on.

At last I could free myself, literally and figuratively. I grabbed my cape and tore it off with so much force, I nearly ripped it in half. Cursing the useless piece of fabric, I threw it into the mud at the drain pipe's bottom. In a short time, all women and girls of Tzen could take off their own and show the world their true beauty. With this last ritual concluded, we began our trek out of town.

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"Ajalni! I'm did missing you." Chithagu wasted no time in licking my face. He'd been without me for quite some time, longer than I'd been gone in Zozo.

Our numbers had not gathered in the plains south of Tzen's capital. That was too obvious, with the city on lockdown all along its southern perimeter. Instead, Nyufalng air vessels flew low and dropped our side off to amass in the northern mountains. While we fucked things up in Tzen, our techs in Albrook were building additional airships for the purpose of shuttling staff quickly across long distances. With all eyes on the south and west, and on the capital itself as of recent, our gathering in the forested mountains was unbeknownst to those in the town below.

"Come the way here," Chithagu rasped and wagged his tale. We followed him to a large black tent.

"Long time no see." Dyal'xern approached our group, grinning in his usual egotistic manner. "Did you have fun, even without me? No matter. Whatever I missed will pale in comparison to what's around the corner."

Baokiydu, now free of his bandage mask, scoffed. "You had all the groupies while I was undercover at a munitions factory. You've no right to feel jealous."

"I'll feel whatever the hell I want, and you can't stop me," teased the Air-smasher. "Regardless, you all did well. Ruqojjen and Yithadri briefed us on all your progress. We read transcriptions of your radio messages. Burning the Elporviran radio tower, compelling Gorukean to aide our side, confirming the rumors of Brofias, spreading word of his treason. We know about all your daring feats."

"Did you give my regards to the High Shenthaxa and Honored Shamaness?" asked Ambrose. For some reason, this sounded important to him, more so than I would expect.

"Absolutely. And if you still seek armaments, come this way." Dyal'xern led us across the marshalling camp.

We'd be hard-press to find a more strategic location for our makeshift base. This part of the Tzenish mountains was heavily wooded. The airships had obviously docked elsewhere, but the tree growth here masked our camp, and then some. All the trees here were tall redwoods, their sprawling branches high above. This allowed room for the large tents below, all of them covered by the thick, intersecting branches. Dyal'xern also pointed to a mountain summit south of the rendezvous point. He explained it offered the perfect view of the Tzenish capital, and the political district in particular. This would prove vital in gauging the House's next significant move.

Ambition was all around. Soldiers of all stripes and ages moved here and there, some mounted, others on foot. Small groups had come together to practice melee combat in preparation for the real deal, wagons filled to the max with supplies were being pushed into various tents, and creations themselves were following commands from their respective riders in yet another drill.

Numbers were massive. Our last act of combat, intercepting the brigade in the Kavaryts Basin, was somewhat spontaneous. We didn't have excessive time to plan ahead. This was much different. In the time we'd been away in House Virnone's capital, Nyufalng officers were training even more rookies, and further hardening those who'd been trained already. Our Generals and Captains could get much done in moderate time. As they say, anything's possible with drive and motivation. According to Dyal'xern, we'd have a total of 30,000 men, women, and augmented creations ready to storm Tzen's political district when the time was right. That time was fast approaching.

"And here we are," announced the Air-smasher once we arrived before another large tent. There were loads of packing crates inside, where Qaurjaeda was stacking them in an orderly fashion. With his mentally-boosted strength, the Grav-wielder lifted two more boxes and leapt up, placing them on a pile of three more.

"At least he's organized," mumbled Baokiydu. "Maybe he learned a few things on organization during our ops in Tzen."

"Maybe," Dyal'xern acknowledged. "I'm sure he learned a few things while cleaning you private quarters in the palace."

"What the hell? You let him clean my room?" Baokiydu's lips curled back.

Light as a feather, Qaurjaeda came down on all his legs at once. "Long time, no see. If I'm correct, everything went as you intended."

"Not quite," I said. "We did have a few surprises no one expected. They made our job easier."

"Only because we utilized such chances," Ambrose pointed out. "Take opportunities when they come, for they don't always show when you need them."

"If it's weapons you seek, step right up. We've got plenty." Dyal'xern gestured all around. Some of the crate piles topped his height.

Ambrose drew his favorite hammer and shield. "I've got my share. Though it's not our primary goal, we'll still be liberating Tzen from House control, and thus from Gestahlian influence. These locally-crafted pieces are plenty functional, and as a Tzenish native, they bear a sentimental value in my hands. I couldn't ask for a better choice of melee arms."

I'd never thought of that. Ambrose's choice arsenal had a symbolic value for him. He'd be killing Imperial supporters and bringing local control back to Tzen using Tzenish-made weaponry. Maybe the rangamju hammer-talon was no longer his personal favorite.

But it could be mine. I held up my hands. "But I'm quite empty handed. A shield and maybe a rangamju should suffice, as I have some experience with both. I'll take up your suggestion Corporal."

"Anytime." He threw me a wink, embracing his 'big brother' persona once more.

"Rangamju and shield eh?" Qaurjaeda beckoned. "This way. I stacked boxes of such earlier." I left Dyal'xern to catch up with Baokiydu and Ambrose, following the Grav-wielder past a few box piles, Chithagu curiously at my heels. Qaurjaeda pointed out one crate in particular.

I slid off the top and looked inside. Rangamjus aplenty were lined up neatly. They were all alike, so I grabbed one and held it out. "Feels good," I approved. "Light but sturdy. All that's missing is a shield."

"That can be arranged." Qaurjaeda pulled another crate over and opened it up. "You ask for a shield, you get the best Jrysthovuh could offer."

He was right. I looked in the box and swore in awe. The kalsahun oval shield was a versatile piece used by both infantry and cavalry. Its small size allowed for fast movement, but it was durable too. Though it was much less an offensive piece than the rangamju, the kalsahun did have some clubbing power of its own. Spikes could be attached to its rim and domed surface, giving it more killing potential.

And now, one was clutched in my hand, perfectly matched with the rangamju, and my special tongue, of course. "Not long until I get to break in these new toys." I gazed at the hammer-scythe and oval shield ambitiously. My next priority was some armor.

"Even if the defectors can't crush the House's loyal army, we can, and will do just that should the dissenting party raise arms against their ex-superiors." Qaurjaeda flexed his arm, tightened his fist, and grinned, flashing his sharp teeth.

"Thanks to Iradmiud, we know all the military and civilian bigwigs who support obsolete sexists tyranny. Our targets couldn't be any clearer. He also provided us with a map of the palace." I swung out with my rangamju's hammer face. "And thanks to our little stint at the Elporviran field, they won't be calling for outside help, since they can't."

"And the Nadreloitt garrison is preoccupied at the western front, and after seeing that march on Nolbierros fail as it did, I doubt they'll be following House orders anytime soon." For one with so little etiquette, Qaurjaeda was quite attentive to the finer details.

"Soon, there won't be a fucking House to give orders." It was the Corporal. "Once the next riot breaks out in Tzen, we move in. It's only a matter of time."

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The train went on its route through northern Figaro City. I wasn't headed to the farm, but to a blitz lesson. Hopefully, a setting of mental discipline would help clear my mind.

I'd been very uptight since receiving the telegraph from Edgar, about a monster that killed a guard in the moogle mines. The monsters had come back.

The anxiety was pushed aside by force as the train stopped. I left it and descended the waiting platform. The dojo doors were closed as I approached. This was hardly abnormal. Sabin would often shut them to keep out unwanted noises or drafty winds. But as I got closer, I could see a note taped on the doors. Only after climbing the front stairs could I read it.

Daily lessons cancelled. Helping with plumbing work in town. Sabin.

I cursed in aggravation. The plumbing project was a massive city-wide undertaking. I didn't know all the details, but heard from coworkers that it became more complicated as time passed. As city residence greatly outnumbered blitz practitioners, it made sense that Edgar's brother would halt a few lessons to assist in a greater affair.

But my annoyance stemmed from not having a suitable distraction from these recent troubling thoughts. Knowing the Shedairah killers returned and spilled blood once more cost me a few hours of sleep the previous night. I didn't fault Edgar for updating me as he did. The King wanted me informed on whatever transpired regarding the mining base massacre, including the mysterious creatures' long-delayed comeback. He was adamant that I not share the full details with the wrong people. I complied with that. Knowing what I did was too much for comfort. I had no intention of spreading worry when I so desired to cleanse it from my own thoughts.

"Leonard. How goes?"

Now I'd been spotted in my uneasy state. Determined to mask the tension so it wouldn't spread, I put on a smile and looked over my shoulder. Joe was climbing the dojo's outside stairs, coming to stand alongside me at the closed doors.

"Joe. I hope you didn't come to watch the lesson, because there isn't one." I pointed at the note.

"Ouch. Must suck for you," said the merchant, having no idea how truthful he really was.

Again, I wouldn't let on about it. Edgar was very specific that the general public not know of the monsters' return, and he specifically referenced Joe. I was involved in the Shedairah killings. Joe was not. The peddler already knew about the Shedairah killings, much to my dismay. Though he initially expressed what I considered a morbid interest in the subject, he let well enough be after that. I wasn't going to spook the everyman with another monster story, nor would I spook myself, if he asked questions about Shedairah that I wanted unspoken. I'd keep my mind off the massacre if his mind also strayed from the matter. My response was only relevant to Sabin and the plumbing. "I guess they need his help. I don't know how it's going, but I can imagine setbacks galore in a project of this scale."

I turned to face Joe in full, and he looked down, his face suddenly exploding into a brilliant look of amazement. He words explained all. "Whoa! Kick ass pendant."

Terra reacted like this before, so I was a bit used to Joe's admiration, and only now did I understand why he'd never noticed it prior. Most of the times I'd seen him, I'd either covered the necklace with my jacket or had removed it for a blitz lesson. Since there was no lesson today, it still hung form my neck.

That said, Joe seemed overly impressed at a mere piece of silver. Even Terra's fascination didn't border on worship. "Yeah, it's a great design, but it's just a decoration."

Joe stared some more. "Decorations are sometimes all that matter for a jewelry peddler like myself." That explained his awe, to a degree. "Where did you buy it?"

He was listening intently, so I gave him the truth. "I didn't really buy the design. I took an image to a smith in Narshe, and he replicated it onto a piece of silver. It's customized, not purchased as is."

"An image. What kind of image? Where did you find it?" His eyes met my own. For whatever reason, he was intrigued. Not that I objected. I wouldn't have to discuss intelligent super monsters if I talked about my necklace.

"In a book of myths and legends." I gave the exact same answer I'd given Terra.

He scratched his chin. "Hm. So it's not a symbol connected to any real world civilization? It seems rather ornate for something totally fictitious, and you know how they say many legends are rooted in fact." For an average Joe, he was quite profound, less average than his modesty would suggest.

I lifted the pendant to observe its design. "If it ever bore real world significance, it was in a time long ago. Fiction can have its own iconography, just like real life."

"Art mimicking life," agreed Joe, satisfied with my answer. "Where did you find said mythology book? Is it a popular read?"

"Hardly." I almost laughed. "I found it at a library not far from my place, all while looking for something else. The book is best described as something of interest for those with nothing else to care about." I glanced around. The train to Narshe was stopped at the platform in the distance. "Well there's nothing to see here, with the dojo closed for the day."

Joe followed me off the dojo steps. "King Edgar recently asked that I start funding the construction tax. I have no objections, but will it help make any real difference? Shit must be getting hectic, if Sabin is cancelling blitz lessons to aide in the construction efforts." The merchant glanced around. "Ever wondered if the King's approach to the water shortage problem might not be correct?"

I stopped in my tracks. This was totally random. "Joe, what makes you think that?" I faced him, trying to understand whatever he implied. "What is the 'correct' way to modify your city's entire plumbing network? To dig up each street and lay pipes where needed is not Edgar's choice method. It's his only method. He has no other alternative. If there were a more practical solution, he'd have tried it long ago."

Joe frowned, staring at the sidewalk pavement. "I suppose you're right Leonard. Even if you're not privy to the data and resources at His Majesty's disposal, it's common sense to presume a more convenient option would've been pursued had one existed. I'm only paying a small share of tax money. I don't have the burden of monitoring construction progress and imposing the taxation. I should have more faith in the man who inadvertently rescued my humble self from Zozo." He sounded apologetic.

We continued walking. At least our discussion didn't pertain to super monster breeds, but I couldn't stop wondering about Joe's sudden skepticism. What reason did the man have to doubt Edgar's solution to the looming drought facing this capital? Did the everyman jewel merchant know something vital that King Edgar Roni Figaro did not?

Ha ha ha!, laughed the voice in my head. You know how ludicrous that sounds? Is that even possible? Living in this town, he's got more immediate knowledge than you, but how could he know details lost on one of the most educated and informed people of this world? Even if Joe knew something Edgar might not, he'd share it with the King, and thus not be doubtful as he is.

My inner voice was logical, without its usual condescending righteousness. There was no point in arguing with it. I looked back at Joe. Maybe his doubt was a means of dealing with his discomfort about the whole scenario. From what little I'd heard at the farm, taxes were high already, and some people had to give up excess water use to allow those with greater needs a share of the limited water supply. Surely this wouldn't receive high approval ratings. How else was the town affected?

Regardless of how, there was tension aplenty in this capital. And it was the root cause of Joe's doubt.

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The alarm screamed its desperate song, as it only would in a dire circumstance. Having large, gaping holes in the wall enclosing Tzen's government district was a very dire circumstance, for those inside.

But for us Nyufalng, it was the start of an ambition long-fulfilled.

The dissenters from House Virnone's force pulled a coupe. In any other circumstance they'd be fighting a losing battle, going on a suicide mission against the superior techniques and weaponry of their former commanders.

But in this circumstance, their brazen defiance was but the first domino in a devastating chain. Iradmiud surely informed his defecting allies about some mysterious group with the resources, knowledge, and ruthlessness to crush House Virnone and its remaining loyalists. The driven but outmatched defectors mounted a fake assault to get the House's attention. With no clue about our very existence, let alone our capabilities, House loyalists marched to the south of the government district, believing they'd crush an inferior foe before any real battle could begin.

With the loyalists preoccupied by the dissenters' riot, we stormed the northern perimeter of the government district. So few troops manned the walls here, the bulk of their comrades lured south by the diversionary riot. Qaurjaeda's gravity distortion and Sdalsyra's torrents of caustic vomit effortlessly breached the boundary walls that stood between us and loyal Tzenish nobility. Further down, our creations made similar holes with their augment abilities. All along the district's northern edge, artillery towers burned and collapsed along with sections of fortified wall, Nyufalng troops flooding into the district through the gaps.

With my left hand, I raised my kalsahun to block arrows and slugs that came our way. In my right, I held Chithagu's reins, steering him around charging chocobo riders. His powerful claws would snag each mount that passed, snapping and even severing a chocobo leg every time. His writhing tail, now studded with row upon row of bone shards, weaved back and fourth behind us, shredding any man or mount who approached from the sides and rear. Ambrose sat behind me, aiming his bow-gun, nailing any riders who Chithagu missed.

We also had something House Virnone did not, air support. If Tzen's ruling House planned on resuming sky armor production, those plans were blown to hell with the factory's power suppliers. Our flying creating dove from above, killing chocobos and House troops alike. Our flightless creations were doing their part dismantling the district's siege towers.

On reflex, I lifted my shield to block a javelin. It ricocheted off and fell to the concrete. A foot soldier rushed in, from what he presumed was a blind spot, to grab the mini-spear for a close-in thrust. Having fixed spikes to my kalsahun, I pushed at his face, driving the spikes into his eyes. The javelin fell yet again, with the man following suit.

The mounted riders pulled back. The creations chasing them staggered and collapsed, blood seeping from their faces. Behind their limp forms was a line of tower shields, pikes extended between each. Beyond the shields was something more formidable, walking artillery units armed with the spring-driven repeating orb cannons.

"Cut right!" I ordered while pulling Chithagu in that direction once I spotted an opening. I raised my shield to catch the metallic spheres raining upon us. I blocked several, but still felt the pressure, even through the hard shell and flexible padding of the kalsahun.

We ducked into an alleyway, free of the smokeless cannon balls for the moment. I looked up and saw three flying creations fall from the sky, trails of blood following their drop. If the impact didn't kill them and their riders, additional orb shots would.

We huddled behind a fence as the sound of walking mechanical feet drew closer. I peeked between fence boards and saw four Nyufalng foot soldiers collapse, each pelted with multiple orbs. Ambrose reached into a pouch on Chithagu's saddle. He pulled out a sling shot, a lighter, and a round ball of his own. "More nail bombs," he announced. "I made these yesterday." He offered me the lighter. "Do the honors when the shield wall comes by.

Seconds later, the shield formation marched past at a quicker pace than I expected, until I reminded myself that House Virnone soldiers were not rookies, even if they were brainless puppets to a petty cause. Their discipline allowed them to synchronize their steps at a quick pace while hauling large shields and long pikes. Some had spotted us. The first few marching shield troops turned into the alleyway. "Light it," said Ambrose while fitting his IED into the sling shot's band. I lit the fuse and he peeked over the fence to hurl the bomb. It bounced off one shield and rolled on the pavement before going off.

The shielded troops yelled out as their legs were blown apart at the shins. Chithagu caught on and belched one of his exploding tumors at the next row of infantry. It went over their heads and exploded behind them, spelling their deaths with a hail of twisted bone fragments. We remained behind cover, mindful not become victims of our own shrapnel.

Ambrose loaded another nail bomb and I lit the fuse. This time he pulled the band farther back for a deeper shot, aiming at the first marching armor unit. He let fly, and the bomb exploded right next to the cockpit. The war machine fell sideways, its piloting seat aflame.

I looked behind. At the opposing end of the alleyway, flames burst through a second floor window. Below the blaze, a chocobo carriage appeared with an escort of mounted cavalry. This was no decoy, for the building had been sized by our side, hence the fire. This was someone of importance being moved out, though clearly not Brofias. His escort would be heavier, and this was not the royal palace. Still this protected charge had to be a political target, a loyalist Iradmiud mentioned in his final letter. All anti-House politicians had fled the district. The only ones left were loyalists seeking haven.

I glanced back at the shield wall and cannon armors. Though Dyal'xern could needle Baokiydu much to the latter's irritation, the two could function together in a warzone. The Air-smasher was repelling the orb shots with his compressed air field, while the Sensorian was hacking into the shields with his palm spikes, his whole arms glowing like embers, the heated blades piercing and melting the shields before impaling the less durable troops. Both Pung Thoshidai were dismembering the shield-artillery unit, so chasing down the protected charge was on us.

"There!" I pointed at the fleeing wagon and jumped back on Chithagu. Ambrose had seen the spectacle and was back behind me. I grabbed the reins and spurred our mount after the travelling party.

A creation without a rider charged the party from the left. It closed the distance, but mounted troops killed it with two headshots. "Nail bomb?" I asked Ambrose.

"I got this one." I couldn't see him, but I heard him light the fuse and pull the sling. I hunched over to allow him a better aim. A well-placed explosion would kill the escorts and destroy the wagon, if he could launch it right.

The bomb flew from the Corporal's sling shot. I pulled back and weaved sideways to evade shrapnel. But in that same instant, another cannon armor was toppled. To avoid the fallen walker, the entourage cut a sharp left. Ambrose bomb flew past the party. The explosion blew one mount and rider to pieces, while a second cavalryman fell from his bird. Otherwise, the travel party was untouched.

"Damn it!" curse Ambrose. I spurred Chithagu forward, after the swerving wagon and its remaining guards. One of them looked back and saw us. He pulled back, sword drawn. I gripped my shield, until an arrow took him down. Ambrose's crossbow aim was more accurate.

"Keep on them," he urged. "If I must pick them off one by one, so be it. This bow gun is magazine-fed."

"Keep an eye on the wagon, for extra shooters," I called back. "Maybe it's got soldiers within."

Chithagu kept up with the stagecoach. Only three mounted guards remained. Ambrose aimed another bolt and nailed the backmost rider. The man slumped off his ride and the chocobo went astray. Two more guards, outside at least. The last two mounted rifleman leaned closer to the coach. Sure enough, I'd been right. In the coach's back window appeared another rifleman, this one with a clear vantage point on us.

"Stagecoach sniper," I yelled out, in case Ambrose hadn't seen the gunner.

Chance favors the prepared mind, a quote that's part of Nyufalng basic training. As we strafed to avoid the wagon sniper, a flying creation swopped down and beheaded one of the mounted riders, generating enough force to dismount the other. He fell off his mount, and was crushed beneath Chithagu's claws. The cavalry guards were dead. Nothing was left to keep us from approaching the wagon up close. We only had to out maneuver the stagecoach sniper and close in.

Chance favored us once again. Rubble from a burning tower fell to the ground, right in the chocobo team's path. The birds moved erratically, and the coach wobbled left and right. The sniper lost his position. "Close in!" I commanded. Chithagu sprinted for the jostled coach. "The wheel!" I directed. He wasted no time in clawing at the left-rear wagon wheel. I pulled back again.

The whole contraption tore from its yoke and cart-wheeled sideways, the chocobos running forward, oblivious to losing their load. The stray coach tumbled three times before coming to rest on its side. The door opened, and a man in uniform stood from within. Swaying and bloodied, he was no match for the Corporal's next arrow, a direct headshot. We charged the wreck, intent on killing the rest of the occupants.

Another man crawled from the back window, rifle in hand, blood streaking his face. Another arrow sniped him, but who else was inside? I stopped Chithagu at the wagon's corpse and commanded him to rip away the deformed roof. One last individual sat in the overturned cab, a middle-aged red-haired woman.

"You!" Ambrose sneered. "You're the lawmaker who enacted the bill on carrying children for the future military some years back."

Either his memory was long or he'd been informed of this via one of Gorukean's letters. Either way, Ambrose recognized this enemy of freedom, and traitor to womankind.

The woman tried to get up and flee, but Ambrose leaped off Chithagu and kicked the lawmaker's face. Blood sloshed from her lips as she slumped back upon the wagon ruins. "You imposed the custom of having many sons-per-household to fill the army. You even had ten sons of your own, grossly expanding your family to oppress ones like mine." He clutched his war-hammer and locked eyes with the prey. "Fuck you," he growled, bringing the hammer's claw down upon the woman's nose. Bone snapped and blood flowed as the curved spike nailed its mark. The woman twitched and fell limp, her face as broken as the stagecoach.

Though savoring the execution, this was still a warzone. I minded our surroundings. A massive building stood before us, much larger than the rest, with its own perimeter wall.

The palace of House Virnone. The newly-crowned Earl was surely within.

But for how long? Flaming spores and gold lightning bolts poured against the cracking wall, creations hard at work breaching the palace boundary. If Brofias was within, he might not stay there. Already, bodies of Tzenish troops were piling up amidst wreckages of armor units. Our numbers were ripping at the government's last defense line.

Catapults stood atop fortified pylons in the palace wall, and more catapults were fixed to upper level tiers in the palace. They were not hurling large, single boulders. Instead, each flung a load of smaller rocks that scattered in flight, peppering the area before the palace gates. Those gates themselves were blocked by armors firing their spherical metallic orbs.

I steered Chithagu behind a large oak tree for cover. As rocks and metal spheres bounced off the tree trunk's far side, I observed our measures against the wall defenders. A small group of Nyufalng infantry pulled together a shield wall of their own, blocking rocks and orbs in front while mounted creations readied their abilities behind. Sure enough, a jagged stream of sizzling energy shot from the mount, and a wall catapult was set ablaze. This operation was repeated by other groups. A shield formation was established to cover a creation, and said creation would use natural augment abilities to destroy the nearest catapult.

This loss in immobile artillery forced the mobile orb shooters to increase their efforts. Some of them marched toward our shield formations. I thought of using Chithagu's tumor bombs and Ambrose's nail bombs again, but a giant statue suddenly fell from the sky. It came down and crushed three armor units at once. Surely no average creation of ours was capable of lifting a statue that far off the ground.

Qaurjaeda the Grav-wielder was not average. He was a Pung Thoshidei. The Nyufalng's most boisterous individual landed on the fallen statue. The last nearby armor aimed both is cannons at him and let loose. With the shots aimed at him, it was just a matter of reaching up and grabbing the spheres. With minimal effort, he tossed them back at the armor, with equal force at least. The cockpit visor shattered and the armor tumbled backward, inert. In one last display, the Grav-wielder pulled all his augmented strength into a shoulder tackle against the palace gates. They buckled and deformed against his weight. Leaping backwards, he motioned for the gathered troops and creations to rush the damaged gate. Under their combined efforts, the gates burst wide open. The palace itself was breached.

"That's our cue." I pointed at the useless gates. We rode along side the Grav-wielder. "Perfect timing," I announced.

"The Sergeant's idea was a winner." Qaurjaeda flexed his clawed hands. "Brofias and General Vellanois are within. Let's kill and terminate House Virnone's royal bloodline!" Who could resist with enthusiasm like that.

We joined the troops and creations in storming the royal palace. Gate guards broke like twigs beneath our weapons and augment skills. Crossing the path between the gates and the palace entry was almost nothing.

Inside the palace, more guards awaited. Cannon-totting armors were too bulky to use inside, even in massive open hallways like this one. Shield walls and dragoons compensated for a lack of indoor artillery.

Unlike the armor units, our creations were both fast and powerful. If their weight along didn't crush the shielded infantrymen, their abilities did. The dragoons were more of a problem. A single dragoon knight managed to slay three mounted creations, riders included, on his own. Qaurjaeda took the man out, catching the knight mid-leap and slamming him into the ground head first. "We'll push this vanguard away," he announced. "You should go find the Earl. He might try bailing, what with us uninvited guests."

"Right," agreed the Corporal. "If that's so, Brofias and Vellanois are probably still on this first floor. According to Iradmiud, there's an evacuation tunnel underground, accessed from the west garden. We can't allow the enemy to reach it."

"We'll give you an opening in this defense line." The Grav-wielder pointed at the depleting wall of infantry shields, and a corridor beyond. "Rush into that hallway once there's a breach."

"Got it." I looked down at Chithagu, to see if he understood. "Are you clear boy?"

"Rushing past shield wall when friends makes opening to breached. Then go hallway behind foe line." He understood, grammatical fuck-ups or not. We took our position behind thick columns. Even Chithagu fit himself behind one easily. From cover, we watched Qaurjaeda and his company shred the troops guarding the next hallway. When three entire columns of men were blown away thank to some creations' well-placed ability shots, we found our opening. Crushing the wounded and dying enemy beneath Chithagu's claws, we bolted for the hall before extra support could arrive.

Behind us, the next royal vanguard clashed with the Grav-wielder and his party. "We're coming to the conference room at the end of this hall," I said, recalling the palace map from Iradmiud. "If Brofias and the bigwigs are planning their next move, it's in that room."

"We're getting close, but don't get soft," advised the Corporal. "Brofias's personal guard may be few in number, but their fanatic loyalty is unmatched by any dragoon or artillery pilot we've met thus far."

I slowed Chithagu's pace. This corridor was empty, the guards all pulled to stop our intrusion. But if the conference room was occupied, we couldn't attract attention and lose the advantage of surprise. As we neared the hallway's end, I ordered him to proceed at a walking pace. Once there, we both dismounted. "Stay here, out of sight," I commanded. His size would not be overlooked, unless hidden. "If any stragglers come this way, kill them silently."

He nodded and sat in a shadowy cubbyhole in the corridor's wall. Ambrose and I observed the conference room before us. My prediction had been accurate.

The center of this room dipped down, surrounded by ledges on the north and south sides. On the east side, our entrance, was a stair case leading to the room's main level. Down there was a table, and gathered at that table were seven individuals of note.

They were all focused on the table top, looking down, away from our position. Ambrose peeked into the room, then motioned for me to enter and turn left, edging along the north ledge. No guards were on duty up here. We used the hardwood banisters for cover, as their closely-bunched vertical posts would conceal us from a distance. As we got closer to the party, I could see who these gathered individuals were. One was Janice Vellanois, who was now in charge of Brofias's escort guard. The next was an aged man who looked like some advisor. The last was a younger man in a fur-lined cape of House Virnone's colors, light gray and maroon, his hair gelled back like a shiny helmet, his stance regal and gallant, Earl Brofias Virnone himself.

The other four persons were identical royal guardsmen, their red capes emblazoned with House Virnone's coat of arms, and their helmets bearing a tall, miter-like crest on top.

"I will not flee!" shouted Brofias.

"My Lord," advised the older man softly. "If you stay, your future will be none. You are the last heir to His Majesty's Imperial legacy. Emperor Gestahl would not wish that you remain behind, not with this palace in jeopardy. If you perish, who will carry on the Imperial banner?"

No one, I thought. If Brofias died, Gestahl's legacy would join magic in the extinction camp.

The guards and General remained inert as Brofias glared at the advisor menacingly. Suddenly, a door opened below the southern ledge. Through banister bars, I espied a messenger coming in. "Earl Brofias," he called out, stepping up to the House's leader. "The southern blockade has just been breached. Commander Venarpe was killed. That puts the southern and eastern gates in enemy hands. They're coming!"

The Earl's face twisted in disgust. "DAMN THEM!" he shouted, living up to his fabled temper. If that wasn't enough, his next action broke all expectations. No amount of exaggeration could accurately describe this. Brofias pulled a knife from his belt and slashed the messenger's throat, all because the messenger delivered him bad news, a necessity of his messenger job. The man fell to his knees and slumped over in the pool of his own blood.

Brofias was a traitor, even to his own minions. His death could not happen soon enough.

The inept Earl sheathed his blade and faced the General. "Who are they? It's not the disloyal turncoats who amassed earlier, and they're definitely not Marandans."

"It doesn't matter who they are," explained the old man timidly. He looked at the messenger's corpse before pulling away. "They are competent experts in warfare, and they'll be here in minutes. You must leave now."

Brofias faced the room's western wall. A large sliding door stood between his party and the garden beyond. From this vantage point, I could only see the door's top rim. "FINE!" he snarled, irate but compliant. "As long as I breathe, the Empire will live on. I can always rally more disciples to the Imperial cause."

"Not if you're dead, cocksucker," Ambrose muttered. He removed two more nail bombs from his gear sack. Down below, two guards made for the sliding door, ready to open it for the Earl's evacuation.

Ambrose crept along the ledge, tracking the Earl and his party. I followed, and he offered me the lighter. "Light em' up Ajalni. With these, it ends." Holding my breath, I lit both fuses.

My heart was thundering. I clenched my teeth. We could win this. Victory was in our grasp. The last Imperial successor, his General, and some of their lackeys were down below, oblivious to our very presence. Two nail bombs would seal their fate.

Ambrose glanced through the banister's woodwork. "Shit. I can't them. The floor must slope downwards. I'll have to stand if I'm to hit the marks." He rose to his feet, homemade nail bombs in hand, their smoking fuses measuring the lifespan of Brofias, Vellanois, and their puppets below. Standing at his full height, he raised his arms to issue the death sentences.

A door opened, the same door from which the messenger entered. I saw two more guardsmen coming in, their eyes on the fleeing travel party. Only then did I make the connection, understanding what lie in their field of vision.

I couldn't envision the next event. It just happened.

"ENEMY ABOVE!" shouted a newly arrived guard as the nail bombs left Ambrose's hands. They'd seen him standing as they came in.

I raised my shield and rolled away from the wooden guardrail. I'd not seen the guards' weapon share. Their capes concealed their arsenals. But whatever they had, I knew they'd send it our way. Hunched up, covered with my kalsahun, I could see the weapons of choice. Dozens of foot-long throwing spikes whizzed by me and above me. Some bashed into the shield. Others pierced the wall. The wooden banisher was cut to ribbons. The guards were tossing those needles with deadly speed, power, and range, a fitting skill for the royal defense.

The nail bombs went off below, but the blasts weren't my only thought. Ambrose had been standing when the guards spotted him, and he'd not been holding his shield.

change in s & n

"My apologies, King Edgar." Colonel Frennard hung his head.

"Don't feel bad. You did everything I asked." I tried lifting his spirits, though it did nothing to alleviate my own doubts.

Our search and scan of the moogle mines revealed nothing. The recon team combed each chamber and twisty passage, only to find monster breeds long since documented in the biology files. The strange new spike beast that killed Frank Maydecker remained evasive. I sat in a chair of the command center's briefing room, reading the scout party's report once more. It confirmed what I suspected; the spike creature was not native to the Verdsanath mines, and came from elsewhere.

"What now Sire?" Jerom's question was mine too. "Surely they will strike again."

I folded my hands and glanced at the table. "Let's review everything we know thus far. They attacked Shedairah, and shortly after Vonius Kades's team recovered monster samples from the facility, the leech monster washed ashore. Once in the lab, it went berserk, destroying most of the equipment."

The Colonel nodded in recognition. "I was there Sire. I helped treat Doctor Marquez's wounds."

"Shortly afterwards, Ulltros and Chupon secretly went back to Dragon's Neck Coliseum with Lone Wolf," I recalled. "The werewolf man killed members of the audience, knowing we'd be called to investigate. It was a means to draw us out. As Setzer flew back here with Lone Wolf, the other two beasts attacked and crippled the Falcon." I looked up at the Colonel. "I'm seeing a pattern. They're neutralizing our assets. First came Shedairah, one of the most essential suppliers of petrol and high-grade metals in this kingdom, and a high-profile army base. Then came that leech, intent on dismantling the lab. Ultros, Chupon, and Lone Wolf put their heads together and executed a plan to immobilize the fastest airship known to Sayitheren."

"What of Maydecker's killing?" asked Jerom thoughtfully. "It was an unfortunate loss of life, but aside from his death, there were hardly any widespread consequences. The Verdsanath mine still functions, and we've kept the incident classified, preventing public hysteria. What does his death accomplish for these creatures?"

"I wish I knew, but it likely serves a purpose. Even a distraction serves purpose." I massaged my temples in frustration. "What are they after? They're after something. We've established this non-human foe to have intelligence on a high level."

"They might deem Figaro a threat to their supremacy, or some goal along such lines," he suggested. Any idea was better than none. "Aside from the Olistes killings, done to grab your attention at that, there have been no monster attacks outside Figaro soil. Countries such Nikeah and Vardigga, even those independent city-states Illstenham and Spervang claimed no such incidents have plagued them, and we've asked at least twice. The Fondanin attack was the work of Zozo gangs, not evolved monsters. It would seem Figaro, and you Returners in particular, have incurred the monsters' wrath."

"This is the world's leading country with regards to tech and military endeavors." Though I was boasting of my nation's assets, such preening didn't satisfy. These very strong points had made Figaro the target of monster attacks, if Jerom's theory were true. It was just a theory, but there was a large enough pattern to suggest it was valid. "The monsters see this country, and myself, as competition perhaps. If they seek to cripple Figaro, they'll certainly go after lesser countries next, if supremacy is their goal."

Constant use of the word 'if' brought out more confusion. 'If' was merely a suggestion, something with no solid proof. My hand tensed, and my palm slapped the table surface, the noise resonating off the walls.

"Sire?" Jerom asked. "If you need a moment-"

"I don't Colonel. I'm just…aggravated. We have so many theories and so little evidence to prove them." I breathed deeply. "I never thought I'd say this, but I prefer the Empire to the monsters."

"My Liege, are you serious?" The Colonel's eyebrows shot up, his mouth falling open. "Why is that?"

I faced him and explained myself. "Even before my father died, I knew about Gestahl's dominion. Upon taking the throne and proclaiming a public alliance, I learned even more about the Imperials. For ten long years I studied them, spent a full decade memorizing their strengths and weaknesses, looking away from Imperial campaigns so I could finally strike when the time came. There was nothing mysterious about Gestahl or Kefka. These new monsters however, are plenty secretive. We know barely anything, save for their intelligence defies the laws of biology."

Jerom nodded, seeing my point. "I understand King Edgar. Better the nemesis you know, than the one you don't." He adjusted his gauntlet gloves. "If there's anything I can do, issue the directive.

"We have security increased at the Verdsanath mines already. Frank Maydecker was doing just that when he died." I thought from another angle. "It wouldn't hurt to step up defense at other mines in town. The mine caves offer a cover shadow not found outside. I wonder if the spike beast went for the mine knowing it would provide cover. These things invaded Shedairah and the moogle caves, so I doubt they're natural cave dwellers."

Jerom started for the door. "It's a worthy start King Edgar. I will echo your orders. If you think of something else to be done, let me know immediately."

"Thank you Colonel. I'll be in touch." I dismissed him and slouched in my folding chair. When Leonard first told us of the Shedairah killings, I presumed the monsters were a subterranean species. With that prospect all but officially disproven, it was time to search elsewhere. Though a great deal of the Hyaxulan Mountains was lost to the great collapse, they still had plenty of spread to the north, and those mountains were heavily wooded. A forest search would be in order.

A knock sounded on the open door. "Come in," I said. The new arrival was a man dressed in a business robe. "How might I help you?"

"Good evening Your Highness. I come on behalf of the farmers in the northeast of town."

A representative from the Farming Guild. I bit my lip. Did this have anything to do with the slowed progress on the city's new plumbing? "State your business, good sir."

I offered him a seat, but the guild leader declined. "King Edgar, the farmers in the northeast want those new water supply lines extending to their district."

Was that all? I knew that much, and the guild leader surely was aware of that. "The construction is moving along as best as it can with the funds available. They'll have new water lines soon enough."

"I've been saying that, and they're not convinced." The guild man shook his head. "The more I tell them such, the less they believe it."

Somehow, this didn't surprise me. "You need to have conviction in your words. Speech alone won't do it."

"King Edgar." The guild man pressed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "The people are starting to sound impatient. I don't want to attribute hostility to their objections, but they're not waiting around happily as they once did. It's obvious my words are not enough. I believe you should speak with them yourself."

With his eyes on me like so, I knew he wasn't fabricating his tale. I'd not been around the agriculture districts as he'd been, so he knew the mindset there better than me. "Okay. I will set a time to visit the farming community and speak to them in person."

"Having spoken with them myself, I feel you should do more than just talk," urged the guild man. "You might want to show them actual construction progress, provide them data you have that's unavailable to me. A simple speech alone won't do, else they'd believe mine."

"Well your simple speech in here is enough to convince me." I tried getting a laugh, but only the guild leader smiled. I could not. "I will definitely gather some data to convince them of my progress."

"A wise plan King Edgar. You can't afford to lose the peoples' trust." Something in his words felt disturbing. The way he spoke, he was implying I was in danger of losing charisma and credibility. My wife never believed my reputation was at stake, and she was born in a country sometimes called the 'Botany Capital of the World'.

But she'd not interacted with the city's farmers personally. This guild leader did on a regular basis. He knew something that Charise and I did not.

What did he know? I'd have to meet with the town's farming community and discover it for myself.

change in s & n

Groans of pain rose from the conference room's main level, along with gray smoke plumes. But I didn't peek through the remaining banister columns to espy the carnage. I'd checked myself for injuries and found nothing of importance. My attention was now on the Corporal beside me.

Ambrose had just barely tossed his nail bombs when the guardsman saw him and unleashed their storm of throwing spikes. He managed to grab his shield from his belt and block and few spikes. His cuirass also did its job, though his leather jacket was ripped and torn beyond salvaging. Still, a pool of blood oozed beneath him.

"Corporal," I called him softly. Though our presence was no longer a secret, I wouldn't announce myself to any survivors below. They'd seen him, but not necessarily me.

He sat up, grunting. The blood pool grew in size, and his injury became clear. "Your leg," I pointed out. Ambrose looked down to see the guards' handiwork. Two large needles were embedded in his right thigh, piercing through major vessels and arteries. He put down the shield and tore a loose piece of fabric from the remains of his coat, tying the strand around his thigh. This did little but slow the bleeding.

"That won't do shit," I insisted. "You need real medical supplies for that type of wound."

"We've no time," he said stoically. "We have to stop Brofias's escape. Look!"

I finally peered through the banister. The sight below was impressive, but not complete. Because the nail bombs were seen by the guards, the explosions did not entirely catch unsuspecting targets. The old Gestahl-loving advisor was dead, as was Janice Vellanois. Despite her bulky armor, the General wore no helmet. Her body lay on its back, the face shredded into non-existence from the shrapnel. Three more guards lay motionless, and two others were limping. The main target however, was almost untouched. Brofias had but a few cuts and scratches. Someone covered him from the blast. There were more new arrivals, ones who'd come in just after the bombs went off. Extra soldiers were gathering around their Earl and his injured guards. "Un-jam the door!" ordered a gruff voice. "We must get Earl Brofias to the escape tunnel."

I stared at Ambrose. "Use more nail bombs. If that wound isn't patched properly, you'll bleed out."

"Those were my last two," he announced. "It's now or never."

"The others should be…" I stopped myself. Would they come here? Even if so, how soon would that be? They were all taking down the defense lines protecting this area. We snuck past a momentarily-stunned vanguard. Only Ambrose, Chithagu, and I were here. "Chithagu," I realized. "He's here. We can kill off the survivors with his help."

As I said this, more guards and troopers rushed in. Ambrose pulled me close. "Too many are down there. We can't fight them directly, but I'm not retreating. I didn't come here to watch the last heir of the Empire escape. We're so close, I will not permit failure."

There was no arguing with his conviction. But he'd already pointed out the superior numbers below. "How can we fight them if they outnumber us like you said?"

"Ajalni, before we left Albrook, I learned one particular spirit technique for use in a time like this. It's the only technique I mastered, but it will get the job done."

I didn't really comprehend his words. The mechanical doors were grinding open. Though damaged by the bombs, they were still functional. "You're going head-to-head with the House's royal guard?" Surely he knew this, and knew what chance he had against them in a direct match. Ambrose was no rookie, but he wasn't the greatest expert in the Nyufalng. And the royal guards had already proven their deadliness using those throwing spikes.

"I'll get the job done," he repeated with confidence and resolve. "Don't worry about me. My family is waiting."

"You're family? They've been dea-" Now I understood Ambrose in full, his refusal to get medical attention, and the special technique he'd referenced.

He removed his leather glove and touched my arm. "You and the rest have other missions ahead. The Duke of Maranda, your longtime enemies on the Jrysthovuhn Council, and you know who else. My destiny is here. This is my homeland, and I will make the change I've dreamed about for almost a decade." He withdrew the touch and presented his bow-gun. "Get Chithagu and distract the soldiers. That will give me a clear shot at Brofias."

The beast in question was now behind me, drawn over by the needle storm, his bulk overlooked now by the chaos below. Had he created more tumor bombs, he'd have spit them already. I took the Corporal's crossbow, and his hand. His plan was undeniable, his drive indomitable. The doors continued opening with that grinding noise. When they stopped someone issued another directive. "Check for the enemy. More of them could reach this point!" The doors were moving again.

"Go Ajalni." Ambrose all but shoved me away. "May the Divine resonate within you." He gave me a smile, grabbed his shield, and drew his hammer. There was one final task for him to accomplish, and I'd help him with it.

I got back on Chithagu and ordered him to rush back into the hallway. In passing, I shot an arrow down the stairs. Some troops were ascending, and one of them went down. I'd gotten their attention, and for a split second saw Ambrose break a square window at the end of the walkway. He leapt through as the doors slid open. Then the troops were storming our position. I urged Chithagu back down the hall, using my shield and his wagging spiked tail for cover, steering him side to side so enemy archers couldn't line up a clear shot. His foot speed outmatched that of the infantrymen. Several meters down, I looked back to fire once more, and saw a brilliant flash behind the enemy line. But I couldn't inspect it now, as I was leading these troops back to Qaurjaeda and his party.

Brofias's death was all in the Corporal's hands now.

change in s & n

Sabin was generous to schedule a make-up lesson, but it wasn't really a true lesson. He did allow me into the dojo room to practice, but was nonetheless preoccupied, more interested in the plumbing progress than my own. The blitz master was upstairs looking at city maps. I could've easily stayed home and practiced in my large den, but I was already here, so I'd make the best of it.

As I swung with my knife and axe, the doors opened. "There you are Leonard." A woman's voice called my name, but this wasn't Terra's. I instead found Celes in the doorway. "Sabin said you'd be here at this time, so I came. Though I'll wait until your training session reaches a break."

"I'm just reviewing old drills." I put my weapon down on the closest table. Her company would provide something new. "This isn't much of a lesson, so chatter is welcome."

I took a seat on the bench along the wall. She pulled out a chair and sat across the table from me. "Terra said you two had another get-together, at a school campus in Narshe, and that you started coming clean about you family background."

"That I did, and she probably told you about my father and his greed."

"She also told me about going to Arvis's place shortly afterward, trying to convince him that you're not a malicious person."

I laughed. "Her efforts are valiant, but her time was wasted in the end. The man doesn't want to look at me through any lens but the hateful prejudice one. When I met him at the office and he lashed out, it wasn't the first time. He'd given me that venomous rhetoric some years prior. Nothing's changed since."

"He didn't change his opinion," Celes agreed "but he did give Terra something new. She says he called you the 'betrayer's offspring'. I'm sure that references your dad's activities. Though he didn't elaborate, Terra's visit was not a complete waste."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised. Arvis hadn't created that infamous moniker. He was merely echoing it like many others in town. While he made allusions to my father's wrongdoings that day in his office, he'd not suggested betrayal of any part. Now though, he was getting more specific. At least he didn't spell out the meaning of my infamous nickname. But given time, he'd spill the beans.

"So he's out to share the long-buried truth, put aside but certainly not forgotten." I looked into the blonde woman's bright blue eyes. "I've no doubts you're interested."

"It's Terra's mindset I'm discussing, not so much my own. We both agree that you should be the one to spell out the truth, but we don't want to force it. It can only be your choice." She was quiet, as if thinking of her next sentence. "I won't ask specifically, but I can envision 'betrayer's offspring' might suggest your father was a business partner of Arvis and his group, and turned against them for his own gain."

"Hardly." Her idea was interesting, but inaccurate no less. "The moniker extends far beyond those who personally knew my father, as the 'betrayal' in question is waaaaaaayyyy more extreme."

"Oh." She leaned back. "I won't pry, but thanks for the clarification. Terra should hear the secret before me, since you're her love interest."

"Her…" Celes had finally put into words something I'd thought much about lately, ever since our first official date at Ghearn's Coop. "Yes, well, the feeling is mutual." I should've said it long before, yet I was so intent on the actual feeling and experience, putting it into words felt like a distraction.

"Yes it is, and you should know how much she has to share with you." Celes drummed her fingers on the stone tabletop. "She's revealed a lot already."

"Like the human-esper romance and your half-esper friend." I reiterated the more significant revelations. "Having learned stuff like that, more awaits me for sure." I watched Celes smile at my enthusiasm. "By the way, where is Locke? Don't you and he often stick together when visiting?"

The blonde Returner tugged at a belt loop on her jeans. "Leonard, we live together. That doesn't mean we're fused together like conjoined twins. We do go our separate ways. He left before I did, as he wanted to ask Joe about someone. Joe left to visit a sick friend in Quildern a while back, and since we live in that town, Locke is curious where this other guy does business."

"Joe," I said the merchant's name slowly.

"What about him?" Celes asked.

I recalled my last meeting with him. "Nothing major, but when I saw him last, outside this dojo following a cancelled lesson, Joe was talking about Edgar's methods of re-plumbing the town." I looked her square in the eye once more. "He actually wondered if Edgar's doing the right thing in digging up and re-piping most of the town, as if the King has some other alternative that was never considered."

"Really?" Her eyes brows went up some. "I guess it's natural for a plebe like him to question the procedure. I've spoken with merchants who are closing parts of their business, to provide water for those who need it most. A hardware store is liquidating its bonus nursery because the plants need so much water to stay alive."

Her words brought a new prospect to light, making Joe's critical skepticism much more understandable. "He mentioned that he's now paying tax money for the plumbing upgrades. He might worry that his payment could be all for naught. And if he can worry, so can the rest of the taxpayers, a whole city of 'em."

There was nothing to contribute on this topic. Neither Celes nor I lived in this town, so the taxation didn't apply to us. The Returner got our discussion back on a more positive subject. "Go see Terra, when you can."

And it was a subject with more relevance to my interests. "Already a priority. I have more 'learning' to do."

change in s & n

The sounds of battle were dying down.

When I lured the troops and guards away from the meeting room, hardly any foes remained in the east entry hall. Qaurjaeda and his group had pretty much disposed of them while Ambrose and I spied on Brofias and the escort. I led my pursuers into a death trap, with the Grav-wielder and those nearby disposing of this next enemy unit. With them gone, none were left to block our full advancement into the palace core.

More Nyufalng awaited us in the conference room, observing the bodies of those killed by Ambrose's last two nail bombs. Janice Vellanois's corpse was getting bagged up. As only her face was damaged, there'd be meat and blood aplenty in the cadaver.

And that is how you weaken and bring down an empire. You slaughter both its leaders and lackeys in the infancy stages, during its weakest point. This rings especially true for empires that thrive on overpopulation. Gestahl's Empire was practically born from excessive breeding, a custom carried on by House Virnone, perpetuated by individuals like that lawmaker Ambrose killed en route here.

The palace was taken. Any surviving troops and guards elsewhere in this district we being sedated or neutralized in some fashion. As the present Nyufalng did coronary work, I dismounted Chithagu to inspect one final detail. The doors to the patio were open. Outside, I found what I hoped for, and expected.

Five bodies lie out here, and a huge mark stained the garden's checkerboard walkway stones. Two royal guards lay slumped against the exterior wall, their armor shattered, one missing a helmet, the wall panels behind both of them cracked and bloodied. Something had blown them around with such force, their bodies cracked the mortal walls on impact. Another guardsman lay on his back, an arm and a leg missing, the severed limbs across the courtyard inside a tree planter. The fourth corpse wore an elegant mantle and slicked-back hair. This body lay amidst fragments of a broken statute, a piece of sculpted concrete pressing down on the man's chest. Blood seeped from his mouth, and his eyes locked with mine, but only in form. Those eyes could no longer see. Rest in pieces, Brofias Virnone.

The fifth and final corpse was in the center of the sprawling dark stain. This was a young man on his back with chin-length hair, wearing a torn up leather jacket, a scratched and dented plate mail cuirass beneath, black army fatigue pants, and combat boots. His left hand gripped a small square shield with rounded corners, and his right gripped a battle hammer with a spear tip added to the end. Two needles stuck out from his right thigh.

He did it. Ambrose Guellad finally made that change he longed for. Not only that, he was the person to directly kill the Earl.

I dropped to my knees and touched his cheek. His skin still felt warm. Some of the energy he channeled into his weapon technique had yet to dissipate perhaps. Something twitched in my eye, making me blink. Probably a fly. There were plenty of dead bodies to attract the insects.

A tall shadow came over me. I looked up to meet Sdalsyra. "It was his time by his choice Ajalni. I knew you were getting close, seeing him as the brother you never had, but this was his decision. He wanted it. Before you and he left Albrook with Baokiydu, Ambrose came to us with a final farewell. He specifically gave his best regards to Yithadri, claiming he probably wouldn't return from Tzen alive."

"That weapon trick he mentioned. It must have been the Final Inner Soul Burst. He referenced it when on the verge of bleeding to death." He'd planned it all along. I looked at the shield and scythe-hammer in my belt. "There's so much more I could've learned form you," I said, despite knowing Ambrose would not reply. "You inspired me to train with the kalsahun and rangamju combination."

"What he learned, you can learn," Sdalsyra pointed out. "He was trained by Ruqojjen and Yithadri, just like you. Because of him, the rest of us can move on. We have business elsewhere. Our job here in Tzen is done."

I looked at the Corporal's face. Some blood trickled from his mouth, one eye was tightly shut, and the other was drooping, more than half closed. I closed this eye in full and stood up.

It was over. We'd won. House Virnone could join Sireck and Edrina's late House of Albrook as a dictatorship crushed by the Nyufalng, another credit to our efficiency. Iradmiud Gorukean and his Cabinet could take things from here.

There was no longer a remnant of Gestahlian will. It died with Brofias, whose demise marked the end of House Virnone's royalty. The youth who'd lost everything and joined the Nyufalng to make a difference lived up to his ambition, and his death ultimately made that dream a reality. Knowing that he'd referenced them in his final moments, I knew full well that Corporal Ambrose Guellad was among his family once again.