Disclaimer: These are not my characters. They are the sole property of Squaresoft. I am merely borrowing them for the purpose of storytelling, stepping briefly into their world to influence their actions.
"Absolute Zero"
Part Six: A return of sorts
Miles High
Many things could be said of the man called Setzer Gabianni, and not all good, by any means, but there was no denying his flight expertise. He owned the skies. A little snow wasn't about to hinder his fun, not in the least. Flying was what he lived for now, and well, that was another thing about Setzer. He always got what he wanted.
His long silver hair was whipping the sky. He stood tall, brood, in a dashing (and expensive) long black cloak. He chuckled into the breeze. "Well, then. Have you ever felt such utterly frigid and blissful air? It makes you nearly crumple down in despair! Have you ever felt so much despair in all your life?"
"Once or twice, I have. Not that I care to elaborate, much."
"Ha! That's what I like about you, Locke." Setzer smiled, sucked his teeth. "You've got secrets. People are boring once you know all their secrets."
Celes moved behind them, sighed, shook her head. Missing Setzer was somewhat like missing a solid gold tooth that had begun aching slightly, yet remained flawlessly dazzling. Now, his presence surrounded them like a whirlwind. Quite a breath of fresh air.
Locke paced eagerly around the deck, tossing himself from surface to surface, leaning over the rails. His chains, keys, beads, all fluttering in the breeze. He smiled, as much to himself as anyone, and let out a shout into the skies. His hair, hastily tied in a bandana, matted in the breeze.
"That's the ticket, friend. It's all about freedom. All about excess! We are the freest things on this whole damn planet!"
Below them they could make out the form of Narshe, hidden in the cracks of the Great Northern Mountains. Curled up, and hiding, like a cat expecting a litter of kittens. That's the place, thought Celes. The place this whole mess really started. The place they would hopefully find a means of ending it. Celes tipped, adjusted her footing, firmly planting her dark boots into the polished deck surface. Her stomach dipped. They were descending.
Setzer descended with the same enthusiasm with which he approached everything, and so they approached quite rapidly.
The Blizzard begins
Not much can be said about what happened next, except that it was the true beginning of the storm.
Swirling outward from above the island of the hoovers, the winds gained intensity. The snow increased, blotting out any memory of a horizon. It was white. A sick and complete whiteness. These winds moved out and engulfed most of the world, and shifting occasionally to reach those areas it had missed. Nothing was spared. Blankets of white were coming down, and citizens the world over tucked themselves in for a long Winter.
Those who had no shelter, died. It was that simple.
In the Shadows
Anthony crouched hidden in an alleyway, behind a large basin-shaped pile of snow. He pulled his fur collar more tightly around his neck, attempting to keep the freezing glitter out. The snow was everywhere. All consuming. He was doubtful he would be able to see anything on this sentry mission, but at least he could hear well enough over the winds that day. The walls of Figaro sheltering the gale.
Edgar's commands had been very clear. He was to watch outside the Owzer residence, keeping careful notes of what he sees and hears there. He did not, would not, tell Anthony why, but it was clear by the look on his face that it was very important. Vitally important. Anthony had resolved to do this job properly, as always.
Wearing a fur parka, and common work clothes, he would not be recognized easily as one of Edgar's men. And with this snow, well, it was nearly impossible to see anything. That aided his job considerably.
Hours passed, Anthony heard nothing. Saw even less.
On the outskirts of town, a tall man with tawny hair spoke to another man. He detailed the whereabouts of a passage into Figaro castle, which he had, himself, escaped from. The man, a greyed older citizen of Figaro, eyed the thin man with some suspicion, but chose to believe him. How else would he have gotten out of the dungeons, after all. He thanked him, and handed him a purse which contained a substantial amount of money. The elderly man pulled his hood tighter around his head, watched the youth disappear into the snow, and turned back toward town.
Aillen Garland fled South Figaro with his pockets blessedly full.
Arrival
In the house of Arvis Truro, set deep into the cliffs of Narshe, there was a knock on the door.
"I'll answer it, Uncle. You stay with Banon." Alexis had no complaints against leaving the old man's side. She was fidgety and needed air. Banon was sucking every last breath of life out of that place. Approaching the door, she ran a hand through her tangled auburn strands, knotting them atop her head. Setzer had thrust himself inside before the door was half open.
"Darling, good to see you! I take it that Arvis is here, is he not?"
"Yes. He is here, Setzer. In the back room." And he had been immediately, before she could blink, approaching the back room. Alexis shook her head. She eyed the two newcomers, strangely familiar, especially the man. What about him? Was it his eyes? His nose? She twisted a stray tendril around her finger, shared a crooked smile. "Hi, I haven't met you yet, have I?"
"Celes Chere. And no, I don't believe we have met."
"Pleased to meet you, then. And you, sir? Surely we have met somewhere before?"
"Doubtful, that is. I'm sure I'd have remembered you. Locke Cole."
"I'm Alexis Freewind. I'm Arvis' niece. I believe you've met him, then?"
"Yes, I was a Returner. Arvis was a good friend back then."
"Oh, now I see. Locke, Celes, come on in and sit down. Arvis will be very excited that you're here. He's spoken of you before."
Fireplace
They sat around the fireplace, and Arvis entered the room with Setzer close behind. "Can I get you anything to drink? We have some tea on the stove right now. It's fresh."
"Tea's luvly."
"I'll have some too, please."
"I'd rather a glass of red wine, Arvis, if you have any."
"I think there's some in the cellar, Setzer. I'll run out and check." Alexis was up and moving before he could say thank you, which he probably wouldn't have bothered with anyway. The four of them now faced each other before the fire and began to talk.
It came as a surprise to Locke and Celes that the organization known as the Returners was still in a semi-functioning state. Arvis told them that he and his niece had been seeking resources to aid the research at the academy in Narshe. There, they hoped, would come an answer to the approaching ice age, and they were working to make it a reality.
"So, this is to be an ice age, then? Permanently . . . "
"Yes, Locke. That's the high and low of it."
In the mines of Narshe, they had been searching the ice for traces of Esper. The excavation had been somewhat successful, as well. They'd recovered several small samples, which the scientists had been attempting to draw information from. Seeking to replicate the make-up of these creatures, to acquire knowledge of them and their effects.
They had been unsuccessful so far in their experimentation, but the technology they are working with was improving. Funds from Figaro, along with several of Edgar's latest machines, had helped them greatly.
They had also planned to help the general public, travel to towns, share their knowledge with the common citizens. Increase awareness of the dangers facing the planet now with this age of ice. They would do all they could to help those in need, while seeking to discover an antidote to the freezing poison.
All they needed now was help.
Gone astray
In Figaro, Edgar walked the grounds of his castle, seeking to make sure it was secure. He stopped in one corner of the dungeons, an eyed a passage there. He had left it open, been informed that someone would try to enter the castle through this very tunnel. Rather than deter them, Edgar felt it would be more advantageous to open it clearly, set a guard down here. Wait in his chamber, for a fly to enter his web.
The letter had been left with the guards. He knew who had written it. A sign of good faith.
Edgar credited himself with being wise beyond his years, and this was true in many ways. Not a scholar, no, by any means. He navigated intelligent conversation with wit and charm, but his true intellect was in his intuition. Edgar had come to know certain things instinctively while he ruled his kingdom at such a young age. He could see through any mask. Tell a wolf just by looking it in the eyes.
Returning to his room, he eyed himself in the mirror, appalled at the gaunt face that looked back at him. He had always been an attractive man, and charming no doubt, but where had the bounce in his hair gone? His eyes were like two unpolished gems, set in a ragged cliff-face.
Oh, his eyes. He could see through them and into his brother's very same eyes. Where was he? No response from his letters, he probably hadn't even received them. His brother had always been so free, the antithesis of everything that was Edgar. Especially now. He only hoped that his brother was still the same. Still safe. Still wandering free. Still smelling the same flowers.
But no, the flowers were all gone now. And what of Sabin, then?
Edgar turned from the hateful mirror. Decided that he would need a shave and a bath if he was to confront his enemies anytime in the near future.
Failing Hopes
Minuet was crying, a flood of broken dreams. Nothing anyone could say to her had made the tears stop. She couldn't, wouldn't, accept the fate they had been given. The little girl curled on her bunk, wrapped in a woven throw. She shook, dripped warm tears. Would never believe in anything again, she said.
Terra had attempted to comfort the child, her calm words usually helped to silence sorrows, but it wasn't working. She stood outside the door to this bedroom, and watched, waiting to be invited in. Willing to attempt to sooth the girl, once more, if only given the chance.
"Minuet, it will be okay. I promise."
"No, Terra. The snow's not stopping. Shiva doesn't love us, does she?"
"I know you feel that way, but a little faith never hurt anyone."
"But it's not working. Nothing works."
"We will be safe. I promise. Have faith."
"And if there is no Espers?"
"Oh Minuet, I know they will watch us. Of course there are Espers. Anyway, I'll be here, regardless. I'll keep us safe."
"Promise?"
"Yes. I promise."
The girl slept then, but somewhere in her heart a change had been made. She trusted in Terra very much, but Terra was a human. Had become a human, at least. The girl was too young to have any recollection of her previous Esper form. And now, she did not know if she believed in anything more than that.
Covetousness
Warm in the home of Arvis, the friends rested, and wandered at will. Finally getting him alone, Setzer felt it necessary to congratulate Locke on achieving an envious status.
"Locke, you're a very lucky man, you realize."
"How's that now?"
"Why, Celes, the radiant goddess that she is, obviously! Don't be daft, friend. I'm not blind here."
"Oh, well, no, obviously not. Is it quite that blatant, then?"
"Blatant? Oh, friend, yes. I can practically smell the . . . "
"Setzer! That's bloody enough, alright. God . . . "
"You know, for a crook, you're pretty sensitive."
"I'm not a bloody crook, alright! I'm actually a treasure . . . "
"Oh whatever, Locke. Same shit, different pile."
In the Mines
Alexis had heard something. Earlier, on her trip to the cellar, something had been off. Her ears were trained to detect the slightest irregularity in the mines of Narshe. There was someone in there now, she could tell. While the others lolled and conversed about the house, she had snuck out, unnoticed.
Now she was carefully plotting her course through the mines, foot after foot, not to make a noise. There was a deep echo with every motion, and she could here something still. Someone was definitely in there with her. Placing a gloved hand on the glass wall of ice, she paused before the room where the recent excavation was taking place. The exact location that they had discovered the Esper, Tritoch, many years ago.
It was dark. She dared not light a torch. The walls would glow, effervescent, and give away her location. A small stream of light travelled down from a mineshaft above, enough for her to faintly make out a figure across the room. She stopped breathing, slowed the breaths to a crawl, made her heart quiet as well. They, the villagers, the Returners, hadn't called her a mouse for nothing.
The figure bent to touch the gap in the ice, seeming to reach with a determination, a knowledge. This person, this man, had been here before, it seemed. Knew what he had come for. Alexis grinded her teeth, poised herself.
She leapt towards him, wielding a wooden staff, her weapon of choice. The man turned, surprised at his assailant, and drew a long blade. Their weapons met, and the sword took a deep bite into the staff. They held. Alexis slid downward, took him off his feet, but the man rolled gracefully and came at her once more with his blade.
The blade tasted her arm. Barely, but still, a substantial wound.
The man, whom she could now see more clearly, wore a dark cloak and light armour. His face was shrouded, indeterminable. A man of swords though, she knew, and quite dangerous. He had an object in his hand, and she could see that it was a brightly coloured feather. A feather from the Tritoch. No, he could not! This was just the sort of object that they had been looking for. She had to get it from him, no matter what the cost.
Before she could even voice a threat, move an inch, he was gone. Seemingly, he had vanished into thin air. Whoever this was, he was trained in an old science of combat and sword techniques. He was dangerous, and had stolen a vital artifact. But what did he want with a fragment of the Tritoch? For what purpose? They, the scholars, hadn't even found a use for it yet.
Alexis dragged herself home, leaving a narrow path of blood droplets behind. A trail of defeat.
Man of Science
"A feather from the Tritoch? That is incredible." The elderly man scratched his greyed beard. He regarded Arvis with concern. "It was stolen, you say? By whom?"
"An unidentified assailant. He attacked Alexis as she tried to stop him." He motioned towards the silent woman beside him, who cradled her bandaged arm like a sick child.
"Very dangerous, girl. You should have told the others, gotten help."
"There was no time, scholar. And I didn't think myself outmatched."
"Yes, scholar. Alexis is good at what she does. She would not act impulsively, with so much at stake. There is no need to reprimand her that way."
"Oh, insolent youth. There is no shame in being cautious. Even you, Arvis, I swear. So impetuous, the lot of you." He eyed the others. "And you, newcomers. More of the same, I suppose. You look of Arvis' sort."
"No, well, I guess there's no arguing that." Locke shrugged. Had no other reaction for this domineering old man. He glanced at Celes, who seemed less amused.
"Is this where you research the samples, then? And muse about the snow?" She regarded the old man with interest.
"Yes, my dear. This is where we congregate and try to solve all the worlds problems." he let out a gruff, old-man laugh. "A simple enough task, don't you think?" They all smiled at this.
"This is quite incredible. I'm glad to being able to see all this."
"Yes, a great bit, that. We'd be glad to be of any sort of help we can offer."
"Good." He eyed Locke, in an odd wonderment. "Not to sound like a broken record, but we'll need it."
Long awaited rest
Banon called them to his side that night. He was dying, at last, he said. The old man smiled with an indecipherable happiness. A bewildering calm. He seemed to be looking through the walls and into somewhere far away.
Lying there, his unruly red hair aflame, he had asked for Alexis.
"Leave the girl with me, all of you. I have something to say, and only to her."
Alexis was at a loss, a cold junction in the road of reasoning. The old man, the stuffy curmudgeon, wanted her to stay? He would deliver his final words to her? She looked pleadingly at Arvis, who only shrugged. They all moved into the living room, silently waiting for a sign when they were finished. Alexis faced Banon, lowered her brow.
"I don't get you, at all. You've lost your mind, old man."
"Oh shut it, granddaughter."
Alexis lost her breath, felt as if she had been punched in the stomach, hard. Regarded the old man with disbelief. "You have. You've lost your mind, haven't you?"
"No, girl. Saucy, wretched girl! With that mouth of yours, and that blasted rusty mop of hair, how could you have possibly been anyone else's granddaughter but mine?"
"What's your meaning, then? What do you mean by telling me this now!"
"So you know."
"So I know. What good does that do us? What difference does it make, Banon?"
"Listen, Alexis. It's not like you have to love me, or anything like it, so don't lose it. I just want you to be aware of your heritage."
"My heritage? And what about it?"
"Well, I have been gifted, as you know, with certain powers and talents. Talents which can also become yours, if you mind to listen to me know."
"Go on then."
"Well, before all that, I'd like to say one more thing."
"And that would be?"
"God-awful girl, don't be so saucy! Oh, mercy help us all, but I want . . . (Coughs) I want for you to become to head of this operation. To lead the Returners."
Alexis dropped her cup on the floor, and the warm liquid floated slowly, lazily, across the surface.