Chapter 35 - Visions Of The Past
The following morning Kefka was brought before the Emperor. He was accompanied by pair of armed guards, walking on either side of him as he approached the throne room. They were to escort him to the Emperor, because ever since his episode during the banquet he was banned from being in close proximity to Gestahl without someone close by. Gestahl didn't believe that Kefka would be foolish enough to attack him, nor did he think the crazed jester had a reason to. But it didn't hurt to take precautions whenever Kefka was around.
As soon as he came face to face with the Emperor Kefka quickly launched into the story of what he'd seen, claiming that Terra was somewhere in Figaro castle. Not that it helped much, because he was unable to offer any proof as to where she was currently located.
"She's in Figaro!" Kefka screeched, bouncing up and down like a mad rabbit. The guards looked at him like he was out of his mind, which of course he was. "Goddammit, I know what I saw! She was surrounded by stone walls and floors and enough fabric to cover the palace in silk. If that doesn't say Figaro castle then I'm a litwor chicken!"
The guard on his left snorted. Kefka had enough feathers in his hair to pass for a chicken any day of the week.
The Emperor considered him for a moment, taking into account the unusual bond between Kefka and Terra that existed due to the slave crown. But Kefka claimed the crown was broken, and although he knew that Kefka was mentally incapacitated, the mage wasn't likely to tell everyone that the crown was broken unless he had good reason to. All he had to go by was a letter from Celes stating that Terra has mysteriously disappeared, however nothing about the slave crown was ever mentioned.
"You can't be more specific, Palazzo?" His question was met with an ear piercing scream.
"I demand to be sent to Figaro!"
General Leo came forward, ordering Kefka to behave himself while the Emperor thought things through. But Kefka wasn't listening. He lunged at the General, only to be caught around the waist by the guards and dragged across the floor.
"She's in Figaro!" he hollered, still struggling as the guards moved him away from General Leo. "Yes, yes! She is! Let me go and I promise... I promise I will find her and bring her back, your Highness." He spat the last word with contempt, his arms pinned behind his back as he slipped and fell down on one knee.
Leo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Your Majesty, I believe we have gathered enough information from our informant in South Figaro to successfully invade the city." He turned to face the Emperor. "Might I suggest that we begin the process of taking over South Figaro? From there we can push forward into Narshe. And with Celes already in the area, we could have her work on conquering the city while Kefka investigates the situation in Figaro. I'm sure Terra couldn't have gotten far, and with troops in both locations we're bound to recover her eventually."
"You really think that will help?" growled Kefka, gritting his teeth and snarling like some wild animal. "Celes is probably the one who let her go in the first place. If she's involved then we'll never find her!"
"Your Highness?" Leo looked at him, waiting for Gestahl to make a decision.
"Are you aware of the fact that there is an ongoing investigation regarding Miss Chere and the disappearance of Terra Branford?"
A wicked smile slowly spread across Kefka's painted lips.
Leo hesitated before answering. "No, sir. I was not informed of this."
"Then perhaps you ought to acquaint yourself with such basic knowledge before you start making suggestions. I'll have you know that Palazzo's accusations have been proven correct, thanks to the remaining members of her troop that weren't sent to Narshe. They informed me of her traitorous nature, and stated that she has, on more than one occasion, considered resigning from the military."
Laughter built within his chest, his eyes fixated on the General as Gestahl went on to explain that he would grant Kefka permission to go to Figaro. It wasn't until the Emperor announced that he was sending troops to South Figaro for the purpose of claiming the city, as well as capturing and executing General Celes, that Kefka collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter. Like it or not, he was going to have his way. And there was nothing Leo or anyone else could do about it.
Kefka continued to laugh, his shoulders shaking and his feathers bobbing with each shrill cackle that escaped his lips. The guards exchanged awkward glances, then slowly released him and let him fall to the floor where he rolled over and over across the carpet.
Leo said nothing, his head down as he listened to Kefka's laughter echoing off the walls. He had difficulty believing that Celes would turn against the empire. She was one of the most loyal, dedicated and hard working members of the Imperial army. She had proven time and time again that she had what it took to rise to the top, and in some cases she worked harder than most of the men he knew. But she was stubborn, fiercely independent with a kind heart beneath her cold exterior. And when she saw her friend being made into a puppet for Kefka's amusement, it was enough to make her want to distance herself from the empire.
Celes wasn't the sort of person who wore her heart on her sleeve. You never knew exactly what she was feeling unless someone upset her. And when she was upset you'd best get out of her way. She was as beautiful as she was dangerous, and she was Leo's friend. He'd cared for her since she was a child, taking her in and raising her when her parents passed away. He was there for her before the empire took an interest in her, before Cid started getting close to her and turned her into one of his Esper infused experiments.
It pained him to hear Gestahl announce that she would be captured and put to death. Leo turned around, his mouth forming a thin line as he looked down at the crazed magician. He was disgusted by Kefka's behavior, his shrill laughter making him cringe when the noise reached his ears. He took one last look at the Emperor, glancing back at him over his shoulder, and left the room.
.oOo.
One by one the days slowly passed, the nights growing shorter as spring faded into summer. Temperatures began to climb, bringing with it the first heat wave of the season. If Terra thought it was hot before, this new level of scorching heat was enough to make the fossil dragons turn to dust.
She moved to sit beside an open window, wiping the sweat off her face with a damp washcloth. The sun had set, and a faint breeze was blowing across the desert sands, but it did little to relieve the heat that had been absorbed by the castle walls throughout the day. She looked up when she heard the door open and saw Locke standing in the doorway. His hair was wet, with drops of water clinging to the sides of his face. He looked as though he'd just gotten out of the shower and had forgotten to dry his hair.
"Dinner's ready," he said, reaching back and tugging on the knot that held his bandana in place.
Terra sniffed and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Did you put on the same clothes you were wearing before your shower?"
"Well, yeah. I've only worn this outfit a few days. And it's not like I've got a variety of clothes to choose from." He stepped out into the hall, holding the door open as he motioned with his free hand for her to follow him. "Come on. They're serving spaghetti, roast beef and salad tonight. Don't want it gettin' cold, now do you?"
"No, I don't."
She rose from her seat and followed him downstairs, the flickering torches bathing her features in a gentle glow. The castle contained a variety of advanced weapons and technology, and yet it lacked the modern conveniences found only in the city of Vector. There was no electricity, no cooling system in place to keep the residents from overheating. Which is why Locke frequented the shower in the guest room, because frequent showers, along with fans powered by the desert winds, was all they had to keep cool.
As they made their way down the staircase that would lead them to the dining room, Terra thought she heard someone speaking. A whisper, followed by the sound of laughter, laughter that was not her own nor did it resemble that of the person next to her. What she didn't know was that Kefka had stayed in Figaro castle, and that the scorch marks in the carpet had been caused by one of his tantrums.
These halls contained the secrets of his past, as well as the memories of who he was before he went insane. If she listened carefully, she could hear the ghost of his laugh emanating from the walls. But it was more than the brief flashes she'd seen during their escape from Narshe. Those were her memories that had been shattered from the effects of the slave crown. The sights and sounds that followed her throughout the castle belonged to Kefka. They were his memories, which had merged with hers during the time she'd been under his control.
It wasn't long until she started dreaming of the time he spent in Figaro. She viewed the world through his eyes, watching him dance and feeling his movements as he skipped across the floor. She saw him sitting in the sand, a coloring book in his lap, his hand suspended over the book as he watched the sun rising in the distance. His hand was trembling, his eyes wide as the whispers in the back of his mind grew to become screams. The next thing she knew he was running through the desert, screaming and cursing because there was sand on his boots.
Seeing through his eyes gave her a unique understanding of what he was going through at the time. She felt his sickness, his aching limbs wrapped around his torso as he lie awake at night, shivering and shaking despite the lingering heat from the desert. It was like being granted a window into his mind, and yet she still had no idea who he was or why she was seeing these images from his past.
These memories started coming back when she sat down at the table, which made it difficult for her to focus on the conversation taking place around her. Kefka's words kept interrupting her thoughts, his conversation with Edgar's father drifting through her mind as though he were sitting next to her at the table. They continued to haunt her as she absentmindedly twirled the spaghetti around her fork, massaging her temples with her other hand in an attempt to relieve the pain that was building over her left eye. Every now and then she would glance at the head of the table, and instead of seeing Edgar perched upon his ornate throne she saw his father Stewart.
It bothered her to see such images drifting before her eyes like the mirages she saw while crossing the desert. It couldn't be real, but then again none of this felt like it was really happening. Her life had become a strange mixture of dreams and surreal images mingling with the horrors of her past, until she wasn't entirely sure whether or not she was awake or experiencing another dream.
A weary sigh slipped past her lips, her fork scraping against the plate as she pushed a meatball onto a mound of spaghetti. She didn't even notice when Locke placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice startling her out of her thoughts when he asked if she was alright.
The young woman started, leaping nearly a foot in the air as she turned around and saw Locke looking at her with concern. A moment passed where she did nothing but stare at him, unable to find her voice as she struggled to determine whether or not she should answer his question. Terra could lie and say she was alright, but that didn't seem like a wise decision. And to make matters worse she couldn't tell if seeing things through the eyes of the mad jester was another side effect of the device she'd been wearing before they found her, or if she had suffered brain damage while traveling across the desert. She was about to speak when the double doors leading out into the hall opened, and a young solider sprinted into the room.
"King Edgar! There's someone from the empire here to see you, sir!
Edgar frowned in annoyance, pushing his chair out and rising from his seat. "Kefka, no doubt," he muttered, sweeping past them and heading for the door.
"Kefka?" Terra stared at him, then winced as the sharp pain that was building above her eye worsened. "His name's Kefka, isn't it?" She hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing, her eyes staring straight ahead as though she were trying to see something that was invisible to everyone else in the room. "He's the one who did this to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Although it sounded like question, Locke and Edgar felt fairly certain that she was remembering what happened to her in the past. Edgar took a moment to reassure her that everything was alright before crossing the room and heading out the door. It wasn't long until the familiar voice of Kefka Palazzo reached his ears, his high pitched scream carrying across the desert as he cursed every grain of sand within a five hundred mile radius. Twice.
Edgar sighed heavily, praying for patience as he prepared to face the clownish mage. He opened the door and saw Kefka kicking up his heels like he was attempting to dance the cancan. Sand flew in all directions as the jester let fly with a string of obscenities, still hopping and parading around like his feet were on fire.
"Edgar, you heavy load of stinking shit! Why the hell do you have to live out in the middle of nowhere?" He came to an abrupt halt, stopping his mad dance across the burning sand. Kefka glared at his troops. "Ahem! There's sand on my boots," he said, pointing to the mismatched boots he was wearing.
Two soldiers broke rank and ran forward. They knelt beside him and began dusting the sand off his boots, and all while King Edgar stood there staring at the clownish apparition like he was out of his mind. When they were finished, they both leapt up shouting, "Sir, all clean, sir!"
"Idiots!" Kefka exclaimed, laughing as he kicked sand in their faces. He then turned around and spied Edgar standing in the doorway, a hideous grin spreading from ear to ear as he snickered and giggled. "Well, hello. Long time no see, Edgar. Or perhaps I should call you King since that unfortunate accident with your father." His cruel laugher rose on the wind, traveling across courtyard and into the kitchen window where it reached Locke and Terra.
Locke shuddered when he heard the sound of Kefka's raucous laughter. "Is that Kefka?" He moved towards the window, looking down at the young man who was currently entertaining the King with his unique brand of insanity. "I didn't know the circus was in town," he said, grinning as he motioned for Terra to come over. "Hey, Terra, get a load of this guy. He's got more feathers in his hair than a flock of chocobos."
Terra hesitated before getting up from the table. She moved in slow motion towards the window, her mind unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her heart told her that she knew him, but at the same time she was unable to recognize him.
A mixture of loathing and disgust formed on the King's face. "Kefka Palazzo, the Emperor's court mage. What brings Kefka, loyal servant to Emperor Gestahl, into our presence?"
"What brings me here?" Kefka came forward, shoving the guard aside as he marched up the stairs. "You know damn well why I'm here. A girl, a young girl with green hair, recently escaped from us. She is a Magitek Elite, and is she is my..." A muscle twitched over his eye, his lips quivering as he fought not to laugh. "Pet," he spat, raising a hand and combing his fingers through the plumage in his hair. He wasn't aware of the fact that his hands were shaking, his muscles spasming from the stress of losing his favorite toy.
"I see." Edward slipped his hands into his pockets. "Well, I'm sorry you've lost your pet, Kefka. Perhaps you should consider getting an animal the next time you wish to enslave someone."
Kefka chuckled, leaning sideways and peering around the King. "And just how do you know I enslaved anyone, hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Edgar and cackling despite his efforts to maintain a professional appearance.
"People are not animals, Kefka. You've no right to go around making pets out of them."
"Then what do you call this?" asked Kefka, waving a hand towards the many women that passed in the hall. "Some sort of brothel?"
"It is a harem, Kefka. Perhaps you would know that if your experience with women went beyond wearing their makeup."
"I don't need anyone other than her!" Kefka snarled, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Now where is she? We have reason to believe that she has taken refuge here, and I won't stop until she is back where she belongs."
Edgar shook his head. This man's obsession was as plain as the makeup on his face. "That's a tough question. There are more women here than there are grains of sand. You can't expect me to be able to keep track of them all."
"She has green hair!" Kefka shouted, his sudden outburst making the king jump a foot in the air. "She can conjure fire like one of the eight dragons of legend! You would know if you saw her." He started shaking, his feathers quivering as he brought his hands in front of his face. "She is a fine specimen, a truly wondrous creation. If I could sink my claws into her delicate flesh, that sweet, sweet magic that is hers, I would never let her go. Never again."
Edgar took a step back, looking rather uneasy as he watched Kefka's hands close around thin air, laughing as he mimed snatching her like a bird upon the wind. It made him wonder what Kefka was using her for, and he repressed a shudder as a barrage of violent and unnatural acts filled his mind.
Kefka looked down at his trembling hands. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, his heart pounding against his ribs. He could feel the magic surging through his veins. It was so close to the surface, so close, like a cauldron of seething magma, ready to erupt and launch itself a mile into the air. If she was here, if they were hiding her behind this lecherous king and his harem of women, he'd burn this place to the ground to find her.
He lowered his hands, the smile returning to his face as he cocked his head to the side and said, "I truly hope nothing happens to your precious Figaro." Kefka turned on heel and marched down the stairs, his lavish cloak billowing out behind him as he went.
"Save your threats, Kefka," Edgar called after him. "I haven't seen this woman you're looking for. And stone doesn't burn. So you can forget about burning this place to the ground like you did in Albrook."
"You forget, Edgar, that even though stone doesn't burn people do," said Kefka, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Besides, a Flare spell can melt stone. I know. I've experimented."
Edgar watched his retreating form as Kefka and his troops left the area. He didn't like the looks of this, and returned at once to his castle, where he found Locke and Terra gazing out the window in the dining room.
"You heard that?" he asked, and Locke nodded in response.
"That guy's got some screws loose," said Locke, making a circular motion in the air with his finger.
"You don't know the half of it," said Edgar, a hint of bitterness present in his tone when he spoke. He nodded in Terra's direction. "Take her to her room. I need to speak with the Chancellor and make sure things are in order for when Kefka returns."
"Do you really think he'll come back?" asked Terra. She was wringing her hands while glancing at the door as though she expected him to come bursting through any minute now.
"Positive," said Edgar, his expression grim. "If there's one thing I've learned from my encounters with the empire's failed science experiment it's that Kefka is highly persistent. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. But we aren't going to let him have it. You're safe, and I intend on keeping it that way."