5)---------- In Which, a daring rescue transpires, and Kain is advised to stay sanitary

5)---------- In Which, a daring rescue transpires, and Kain is advised to stay sanitary.

TIMELINE: 12 years ago, Baron

"27 lost today," a Dragoon named Tobias reported in regards to yet another battle between Baron and Eblan.

Rorunar tapped his fingers on his desk impatiently. While in the grand scheme of things, 27 wasn't a large number, out of the Dragoons specifically, it was quite a large amount.

"Why is it that we never win anymore?"

"I couldn't begin to say, Sir."

"They were younger?"

"Yes, Sir. All with us for less than five years."

"So while our currently weaker fighters are being wiped out, our stronger ones are constantly getting older with no one to take their places. This war is getting on my nerves." He turned and glanced at one of his youngest students of the time, sitting in a corner with his studies as punishment for being annoying. "You have a problem?"

Kain blinked, indeed appearing slightly upset.

"Sir," he said hesitantly, "that just strikes me as being rather cold. I mean . . . you've really stuck out your neck for me on various occasions. So why do they get tacked up as just a statistic and an annoyance?"

"They're not being tacked up as a statistic, believe me. And you're the one who's been annoying. What you have yet to learn, Kain, is exactly how many people die in each battle. Even after fighting in several."

"I know how many die."

"Do you?"

"27 did today, I know that."

"All right, Smart Guy, so tell me exactly what I should do about it?"

Kain chewed on the end of his pencil. If he'd ever thought joining the Dragoons would mean the end of schoolwork, he'd been quickly disillusioned. Rorunar had seen to it that all those who joined before finishing school had to finish their courses when off duty to avoid having any idiots in his army, or so he said.

"I don't know. But it doesn't seem right to brush it off like that."

"I know it doesn't," Rorunar replied with a rare display of compassion entering his tone briefly. "Unfortunately, there is little else to do. Little else but than to chalk it up and move on."

Kain made a show of frowning thoughtfully.

"And . . . if per chance, someone should blame our losses on your training?"

"Kain, you are being annoying once again."

"I realize that, Sir!" he brightly replied.

Tobias grinned.

"Sir Rorunar has effectively turned the Dragoons upside-down since taking over," he informed the younger one. "But trust me - things have settled into a much better position than they were in before."

Kain tossed a glance between the pair of them.

"You're telling me that this is considered settled down?" he speculated skeptically. "If so, I'm glad I'm not around in a state of chaos. I'd've probably shot myself long ago."

"You," Rorunar declared, "couldn't shoot yourself if you had a target drawn on your nose. Or have you forgotten your one and may I say only incident with a bow and arrow?"

A flush entered the boy's cheeks at the memory. It wasn't a pleasant experience . . . fortunately for him, the cat had recovered nicely.

"In any case," Rorunar told him, "be careful how you interpret a general state of empathy. Things may not be how you originally see them. When it comes to their true feelings, people are excellent liars."

Tobias backed out of the room at that, somber. Rorunar knew exactly how he felt.

TIMELINE: Present.

Johnathan, the pilot for the Enterprise, was deposited unceremoniously in a clearing near the City of Baron, where the Toroian Clerics figured he'd be easily visible.

He was.

Serpentine, heading out leading the rest of Baron's Airships to more securely investigate matters, halted upon spotting him and landed nearby.

The Captains from the Airships convened to decide what to do now, since he was so very unconscious, and nothing they did seemed to revive him. The consensus came out to be that they would return to Baron once again.

To see what information the pilot could give them.

*

It took quite an effort for Rosa to revive him. For some reason, the standard revivification spells had very little effect. Finally, though, she got him awake and aware for the most part, and sent for some food to get his drugged systems back in line.

Three bowls of chicken soup later, he was able to speak coherently.

"The Toroians have captured all Airships we sent out," he began shakily.

"How?" Cid demanded.

"They cast a SLEEP spell over Moon. Knocked everyone out."

"How could they do that to so many from such a distance?" Rosa asked, startled.

"It pretty much drained them, but they did it. Then they shot up some ropes and boarded Moon. After they secured the crew, they signaled to Torram that there was something he should check out. And when he got in position, they did the same thing. And on, and on."

"But how did they get Cecil?" Rosa wanted to know. "He had Enterprise all WALLed up!"

"They tried lightning, but it bounced off. So they started Calling."

"Toroia doesn't have a Caller," Cid stated.

"Not that we knew of."

Rosa sighed.

"What do they want? I'll assume that the only reason they let you go was to relay to us their demands."

"Yes. They want the Toroian Princess."

"Forciara?"

"Yes. They have Maylara. So they want Forciara. And if we don't hand her over by nightfall tomorrow, they're going to start executing our people."

Rosa slammed her fists into her sides and swore creatively.

"What do we do?!" she demanded of Cid, who was wincing at her dialogue.

"Hey, you're the Queen!"

"Cid!!"

"I don't know, Rosa! I couldn't begin to tell you, all right?"

She forced herself to calm down and thought. Johnathan stared into his empty soup bowl and thought with a sad expression. It was never easy to bear such news.

"Cid . . . would you go find Kain for me? I need to talk with him."

"Right."

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, but knownst to us, the Toroian Princess in question had been listening in on the entire conversation with a priority of self-preservation. Now she decided to seek out her Baronian counterpart.

* * *

Rydia and Edge burst into the room just as Cid rose to leave.

"Rosa! Cid! Shiva and Ramuh were Summoned to attack Enterprise!" Rydia exclaimed.

The three of them just stared at the two of them.

"What?" Edge asked.

* * *

Princess Veronica, the two and a half year old daughter of Cecil and Rosa, one-fourth Lunarian heir to the throne of Baron, blinked her unusually intelligent bright green eyes in surprise at the confrontation.

"Yes!" Forciara reiterated. "My name is Forciara, and I'm a Toroian Princess, just like you're a Baronian Princess! We're both royalty!"

Veronica frowned, trying to figure with her young brain what this strange, blue-haired woman wanted with her.

"Do you want to play?" she asked in clear, if slightly accented, language, picking up one of the stuffed animals she was curled up with and thrusting it up at the stranger who had awakened her from her midday nap.

Forciara smiled and took the plush toy in her grasp. Veronica looked up at her with wide-eyed innocence, not detecting the malice in the smile, nor feeling the fear she would if she'd been a little more knowledgeable about the ways of evil.

"Yes," she replied in a silky voice. "Yes, Veronica Dear, I'd love to. But let's play something new. Something I'm not sure you've ever played before."

Veronica frowned again and sat up.

"What?"

Forciara jumped at the sounds of footsteps outside the door.

"Not now," she softly informed the baby princess. "But later? Do you want to play my game later?"

Intrigued in spite of herself, Veronica nodded.

Kain entered the room.

"How did I guess to find you here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at the Toroian.

"I wonder."

"Hmm." Kain brushed past her and picked up the princess, moving to take her along with him. "Maybe it had something to do with the aura of sheer desperation that's just oozing from everywhere. Just let me warn you. If your desperations in any way carry over to this child, I will personally make you feel much, much pain."

Cid appeared on the scene.

"Kain, Rosa needs you. We have a problem."

* * *

"We mean you no malice, Your Majesty," one of the Toroian Clerics was in the process of telling Cecil. "We wish only to have our child returned to us."

"You . . . have a funny way of showing a lack of malice," Cecil pointed out, indicating the enchanted chains around his wrists.

"Precaution. Otherwise, you would be able to simply teleport yourself and your people back to your Kingdom. The enchantment on the chains prevents that."

"And, if I may ask, how do you justify attacking a poultry farm on Baronian land?"

"Merely seeking what is ours."

"Really." Cecil blinked his green eyes, staring right through her. "And is this the same way Maylara sees the situation?"

"Maylara has no love for you, King Cecil. You were simply the nearest Kingdom where she felt she could consider herself safe."

"An illegal alien, to be sure. But on Baronian soil. And that justifies your attack as an act of war. Also contributing to that would be the fact that you have captured half of my Air Force and are threatening executions unless we hand over someone who has been taken under our protection. Do you really want a war so badly? Because if so, there are a few maniacs in my dungeon who would love to speak with you."

"At the moment, we simply desire what is ours. And so will do what it takes to secure that."

"Now . . . I hate to sound cliché," Cecil pointed out in a silky, if seething, voice, "but you realize that you won't get away with this?"

"We hold all of the cards, Your Majesty. I very much doubt your people will allow you to be executed to save the life of a Toroian – especially after Toroia has attacked your land. It's just a matter of time."

* * *

"I don't want her hearing this," Rosa softly informed Kain, gesturing lightly to the Princess.

"I'm not sure it's wise to leave her unattended," Kain informed her back.

"What?" Rosa snapped, instantly furious to consider a threat to her child, even as she nodded to Cid to take care of her, leaving the pair of them alone.

"Let's just say that our favorite Toroian Princess is getting edgy."

"Oh . . . . dear, she must've heard . . . "

"Heard what?"

"Kain, sit down. There's a lot for me to fill you in on."

"Okay."

He sat and awaited what she had to say.

"Enterprise went out to investigate the matter of the Redwings and Toroia. It, along with Cecil, has been captured."

"What?!"

"Kain – "

"How in the name of . . . I don't know, something, could they have – "

"They used magic and Summoned Monsters. And hostages."

Kain forced himself calm.

"I see."

"They also have Maylara. And if we don't hand over Forciara by nightfall tomorrow, they're going to start executing our people."

"I see."

"You see?! What am I supposed to do, then? Why do they want this girl so badly? Just because she's an Empath – "

"Rosa, I don't think you realize what a dangerous power that is. Neither does she, apparently. Alone, it's of little use, offensively. But mix it with any amount of common sense, and you have a very dear threat."

"So how can we hand her over to them?"

"We can't. She's in our custody."

"But what about all our people that are being held prisoners?!"

"Calm down, Rosa. I can't think clearly if you can't think clearly."

"Huh? Oh . . . well, I can hardly just calm down!! Think about it, Kain!"

"I am thinking! Give me a minute – I'll come up with something!"

He got up and paced a few laps around the empty council table.

"Cecil should be able to EXIT all of them to safety. Why wouldn't he have done so by now?" he asked after a bit of thought.

"I don't know. Maybe they're restricting his magic . . . an MP barrier, or some kind of blocking enchantment."

"Well, Rosa, I'm beginning to think the only thing we can do is go after them."

"But – "

"Discreetly, of course."

She sat down weakly.

"But, Kain . . . that's dangerous . . . send someone in, if they fail . . . and get caught . . . "

"We already have spies on the matter, I'd thought."

"Yes . . . but that was before all this happened." She buried her face in her arms. "I'm not sensing a very happy ending to this, Kain."

He lightly laid one hand on her shoulder.

"Oh . . . we'll come up with something. Don't worry so much."

"How can you take this so lightly?"

"Oh, I'm not. But there's really very little we can do other than think objectively. It's the only way we're going to save them."

"Okay. So say we send someone in. What would they do?"

"Find out how Cecil's powers are being restricted. Break that, and we're home free."

"Who could we send?"

"Who do you think?"

"Kain . . . "

"Yes, Rosa?"

Rosa stared at him incredulously for a long moment, then shook her head.

"No. You're staying here, where I can see you."

"Whom would you have go, then?"

"Kain, I need you here!!"

"We could send along Cami or Lori. Maybe Thomas. If he got caught, he could suck up to the Toroians enough so that they'd beg us to take him off their hands . . . or just cut his head off."

"Kain, stop that!"

"It's your call, Rosa. You're the Queen. I could go for it anyway, but I won't. I'll respect your word. What do you say?"

"I say . . . I say . . . I say let me be for awhile. I need to think."

He nodded.

"Just yell if you need me."

And he left her alone.

*

He thought he'd check in with his people and see if Lori and Cami had been exaggerating earlier that day about their state of chaos. They weren't, but he quickly got things straightened out.

"Listen," he snapped at the group of unruly new recruits, "you do what these guys tell you, or you will regret it!" He then turned and demolished a tree with his Lance.

And thus, the students decided to stop giving the two impromptu trainers a hard time and he headed off to his office to get a few things in order.

Plopping heavily at his desk, he looked at the mound of paperwork and sighed. Rosa was right. As the economy improved, people got spoiled. And thus, demanded much more of people . . . in the way of trivial political things that he really didn't care about. Like paperwork.

In a moment of exasperation, he let his wall down momentarily before reestablishing it quickly.

Then he snapped up straight and looked around.

Then, gingerly, he let his block down again, allowing his new sense to skim over the room.

He hadn't been mistaken. There was a presence there. Tugging at him. At his senses, lightly, in an almost playful manner. He recognized the feel of it somehow. Not directly, but it was strangely reminiscent of something he knew he knew very well.

Rising, he let the tugging sensation on his empathic abilities lead him to a very specific place on the floor of the room. Then, acting on a whim, he yanked out the floorboards to expose what should have been the foundation of the Barracks building complex.

And what instead was a large compartment built into the foundation.

Well . . . this is different.

The tugging sense was still very present, so he reached down to the lock on the compartment door. At his touch, it froze up into solid ice and shattered.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to who he was dealing with.

He pulled the door open, revealing a large rectangular prism, about 13 feet in length, two in width, constructed of solid, opaque, dry ice. With his name inscribed clearly in the center.

He shuddered.

Wouldn't you?

Reaching down tentatively, he lightly touched the surface of the thing, and surprisingly unsurprisingly, it shattered into countless pieces at his touch. No longer ice - the encasement shattered into thousands of tiny teardrops of pure crystal. He caught his breath.

Rorunar, you lived to befuddle me, didn't you?

Resting quietly, now released from its icy prison, was a neatly folded piece of paper, and a twelve and a half foot long fighting lance. One he recognized quite well.

Sir Rorunar's weapon.

The Venus Gospel.

He shook his head and unfolded the accompanying piece of paper.

Dear Kain - yes, I live to befuddle you.

Kain blinked at that first line and started to laugh. And continued laughing to the point where it was some time before he could continue reading.

The dream remained entirely forgotten.

* * *

Just when Cecil was beginning to think his captors were going to let him retire to the nice, damp dungeon and check in with his people, yet another Cleric decided to speak with him privately.

"Leave us," she snapped at the Guards, who nodded and backed out of the room silently, closing and locking the door behind them. "Now," she said, directing her attentions to Cecil, "have a seat, Your Majesty."

He remained standing beside a large table that he concluded must be used for something other than eating, considering the amount of dust on top of it.

She frowned.

"Very well." Sauntering up rather close, she blinked her large blue eyes and murmured, "You know, there is much we can do for one another, King Cecil."

Cecil still remained standing still, although he did turn a bewildered expression on her.

This chick cannot be serious.

"At least you don't waste words," she muttered, brushing off his attitude and reaching up to kiss him.

He kicked her in the shin.

"OW!" she yelped, jumping back several feet. "You - you kicked me in the shin!!"

Cecil just blinked at her.

Forcing herself calm, the nameless Toroian Cleric pasted on a superficial smile which barely hid her anger at his gesture.

"I can promise you and your people freedom. Don't you know that?"

"I know this," he declared airily. "If you put your face near mine again, there's going to be a piece missing when you pull away." And he growled menacingly, managing to suppress his laughter at the expression on her face at this.

"Oooooo!!!" she seethed, pounding her fist on the table and coughing at the large cloud of dust that rose. "GUARDS!!!"

The door burst open.

"Take this Freak-of-Nature-Yet-Strikingly-Cute-Dark-Knight-Foreigner to the dungeon! Wait, before that, beat him! Beat him good! He kicked me in the shin!!"

And she stormed past them all and down the hall, slamming the door after her.

"Oh, joy!" one of the Guards exclaimed to the other. "A beating!"

"Enjoy it while you can," Cecil absently suggested. "Because you're both going to be writhing in agony soon enough."

The other poked him with her sword.

"Now now, Your Majesty," she jibed. "You're hardly in a position to make threats."

"Oh? I'd disembowel you both right now, except that then you might to something unspeakably rude to my colleagues."

"That we would," they affirmed. "Now just make this easier on us all and hold still."

* * *

Unfortunately, my befuddling days may be just about over. Let me explain, I'm sure you're wondering what on Earth is up with all this. Not every day you happen upon a legendary weapon encased in ice stuck in your floorboards.

You got that right, Rorunar. That, along with probably everything else.

I am writing this a few hours after we last spoke concerning the Redwing's trial mission and your growing attitude problem (by the way, I do hope you're as annoying as ever? Really, kid, don't ever change). As I said, I have a rather dreadful feeling as to the outcome of tomorrow, and so intend to be prepared. It's fairly easy to get my affairs in order - I haven't many. The only thing that concerns me is the possibility that you may be left on your own to run things for a time.

Right again.

One thing I feel I must say and that is this: as a Dragoon, I'm afraid you have more potential than anyone I've ever met. For you to have reached the level you're at in the few years you've been at it is quite amazing - so I hold the hope that you will, in time, or perhaps even by the time you get this stupid letter, have reached a level high enough to be able to handle this weapon. It's not as easy as you may think.

Kain finally reached down and plucked the Venus Gospel from its place in the floorboards. It seemed normal enough . . .

I know, I know. It seems normal enough, doesn't it? It's a very powerful weapon. And one to be used with a certain degree of respect. Different accounts have placed it at perhaps 15 thousand years ago, perhaps earlier. Possibly as old as Masamune, if you've come across that creature by chance. If not, don't worry about it. You're not missing anything good.

Yes, we know Masamune's not necessarily something we'd miss.

Turning the Lance over in his hand, Kain had to wonder in spite of himself of the condition of this weapon. If it was really so old . . .

No, it's not dilapidated or decrepit in any way. Magical weapon, you know.

Of course. With you, Rorunar, everything has some form of secret power. Even myself, I suppose.

Nor is it as delicate as it may appear. You'll learn this with experience. Treat it well, it will do the same for

you. And I doubt you'll find anything better. If so, let me know and I'll promptly eat my words.

Another point - when this weapon was first created, it was created to work in direct proportions with the

user's MP status. For instance: if one's MP was full, it would take off several thousand damage points. If one's MP was empty, you'd do just as well kicking the enemy in the shin. I realize that this causes you a conflict, being a non-magic user. Don't worry. Somewhere along the line, it was modified to work independently of any magical influence. However, it still holds the ability to channel an ability or power and enhance it spectacularly, whether such an ability happens to be an Icy Glare, or a simple state of Empathy. There are ways. I suggest you figure them out as soon as possible.

Kain frowned. True, Rorunar had known of his latent ability, but at the time they'd considered the matter (indeed, up until a few days ago) that power had been dormant with no signs of awakening. How could he have known that it would be sparked up?

For the first time, a memory of his magic-induced delirium almost sparked, but then fell silent.

While of course, I'm guessing that your ability will surface. In fact, I'm guessing about a lot of things. I

really have no way of knowing when you'll find this. Hopefully, though, when you do, things will be in a considerably more pleasant state than they are now.

If only you knew. Or maybe you did know. I guess . . . that's something I'll never know.

I wish I had a couple more years at least to train you. You're good for your level - you and Cecil are probably about as good as they come. But there are still many tactics that you're as of yet unready for.

A sigh escaped from the Dragoon reading the letter. He'd known that. He'd known that there was still much of his trade he didn't know. But he was the only one left who could pass on what little knowledge he had.

Things like multi-slash and Limit Breaks. Maybe you'll get them on your own. Being an Empath, I think you have a better chance than many. Sadly enough, I don't think there's anyone else in our little army worth

teaching in such matters. Good people, but some people just can't do it. I think you can, though.

And Kain, for about the thousandth time, found himself wondering what it was about himself that had set him apart from his peers in the eyes of his old teacher - what made him worth it and the others not. Perhaps that was one more thing he'd never discover.

You know, after living for as many thousands of years as I have, it strikes me as odd that I have so little to

say. Take care of yourself. Eternity is a long time - whether in this life or not, I'm quite certain we'll be meeting again. So don't think I'm letting you off the hook. Until then, my friend: stay sanitary.

Kain blinked at that last line, followed by the illegible signature he knew so well.

Stay sanitary?! What kind of idiotic thing is that to say to someone?!?!

Upon further reflection, he realized that it was just exactly the type of thing he'd come to expect from Sir Rorunar.

He sighed and slung the Venus Gospel over his back along side his other Lance. Quite possibly (and he felt a pang of worry as he recalled the situation they were in) he'd soon get a chance to test it out.

A faint pulse touched his hand from the weapon as he let go of it, but before he could react, a knock came on the door and Cami poked his head in.

"Sir? Rosa wants to speak with you."

Kain nodded and left for the Castle.

*

"You're right, I guess," she sighed. "You have to go. Because you have the best chance of succeeding."

Kain nodded.

"Leave first thing in the morning . . . I guess." She fixed him with a fierce glare. "And be careful!!"

"Naturally."

Her fierce glare turned confused.

"Hey . . . isn't that Sir Rorunar's weapon?"

Kain just grinned.

"Yes."

And left.

* * *

"Okay, that got old," Torram stated.

The other prisoners had to agree, and stopped singing.

After about a minute of just hanging there, all chained up to the walls in the Toroian Dungeon, they broke again, though.

"I know a good one!!" someone exclaimed.

"Oh, not again!" whined someone else.

The first glared at him menacingly and burst into song.

"I want to get awaaaaaay! I wanna flyyyyyyyyy aaaaawaaaaaayyaaaaa, Yeaaaaaah yeaaaaah yeahhhhhhhh - "

Torram blinked.

"Who wrote that?"

"The great ancient one! Lenno Cravitz!"

"What kind of name is that?"

"Well, it was something like that anyway. I may be wrong."

"I got one!!" yelped the pilot of the Horizon. Torram winced inwardly. "99 bottles of Kool-Aid on the wall, 99 bottles of Kool-Aid . . . "

"Who came up with that one?" wondered someone.

"Originally? No one knows. But I believe it was altered by another of the great ancient ones: Spikeman."

"Spikeman?" Torram repeated, blinking. "Guys, we are prisoners, locked up in a dungeon, and about to be executed. Can we please sing something more appropriate?"

"Sure thing, Captain!" chimed one of his buddies, Franklin. "Chika's going toooo conquer theee univerrrrrrrse . . . "

"Then eveRY thing GOOD and eVIL WILL be HERS - " chimed in the others, and soon everyone was belting out the familiar tune quite happily.

Halfway through the song, however, the door to the dungeon was thrown open, and at the sight of what came in, they all shut up and snapped up to attention.

"I," Cecil told them in a soft voice as he was led in, "much prefer the Spikeman. He had one of those twisted yet appealing senses of humor."

The guards simultaneously jabbed him in the sides with their swords, and he raised his hands lightly, not flinching at the blow.

"All right, I'm shutting up already!" he informed them in a light tone.

Frowning, the Guards glanced at each other in befuddlement, and Torram got the impression that they were consternating over the fact that their prisoner wasn't writhing in agony. From the looks of him, they'd beaten him up pretty well.

What they didn't understand was that Cecil didn't writhe. He did many things, but he simply didn't writhe.

Rather than dwell on it, though, the Guards shoved him forward and attached his enchanted manacles to the wall in a vacant spot in the nearly filled dungeon.

"Same to you, Darlings!" Cecil called after the pair of them as they left.

One threw him an alarmed look and ran, like, ran out of the room.

"Man, you spooked 'em out!" Pinky remarked admiringly. "What'd you do, Sir?"

"Absolutely nothing," Cecil calmly replied.

"Probably the last thing they'd ever expect from someone like you," Torram added, nodding slowly. "Are you okay?"

Cecil nodded.

"They had their fun. I look forward to squashing them all."

"Um . . . are you sure you're okay? Because you're, like, bleeding all over the floor."

"I realize that," Cecil informed him with the faintest tint of humor coloring his tone. "And since you're so interested, I'd also say three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken leg. And," and for the first time, a slight tinge of anger entered his voice, "they messed up my hair."

Torram winced. Yes, the Toroians were going to be writhing in agony.

The others began to murmur among themselves at this report, furious at the mistreatment of their ruler. But when they turned back, it was with a higher degree of respect. Cecil's pain tolerance level had always been high, but this was outrageous.

"What," Torram asked tentatively, "do you think they're doing about this at home?"

Cecil frowned faintly.

"Kain and Rosa probably argued about what to do after Cid proved himself to be useless, and by the time Rosa came to the conclusion to let Kain come give us a hand, it was too dark to navigate correctly through the forests. Which means he'll head out first thing tomorrow morning."

"What's the time difference between Baron and Toroia?" asked one of the new guys.

"Six hours or so," Torram replied.

"How long does it take to get here from there?"

"That would depend entirely on the mode of travel."

"Seven hours," Cecil interjected.

Everyone turned to him speculatively.

"Two by Airship," he explained. "As close as you can come without being seen by Toroia's lookouts. Then by chocobo, another four. They're fast, but not as fast as traveling by air. Another hour to actually swindle your way into the Kingdom and make your way where you want to go."

"You guys been planning for this?" Techie demanded.

Cecil shrugged his good shoulder.

"We . . . had the same teacher." He glanced around at the nervous prisoners. "Don't worry," he assured them. "We're not going to be executed just yet. Techie, wipe that sour look off your face. I don't feel quite up to dealing with your attitude just now."

Techie instantly removed his sour expression. One thing about Cecil, he could definitely command respect when he wanted to. No one messed with him when he was at his best.

"Sir," Torram said. "Your Majesty. This is my fault. It was my command."

"Don't be an idiot, Torram," Cecil admonished with a faint hiss. "Things go wrong. Believe me . . . I understand that."

)))))-----DREAM SEQUENCE #2-----(((((

Again, as is the case with nearly all dreams, Kain had no memory of where it began. When his brain began burning the subconscious activity into his mind this time, however, it was with the distinct feeling that he'd been here before.

Of course! He realized it as if it were noting the time of day. After all, nothing seems unusual in a dream, and as the memory of the former unconscious meeting took place, he found himself reliving it, in the same position, the same place as the other had begun.

This time, though, he was watching everything replay itself out from different eyes. He saw himself kneeling, saw the four beings make themselves known. They were saying something different this time, and he couldn't understand what it was, but he didn't really worry about it.

For an undetermined length of time, he stood and watched everything happen, feeling strangely detached from everything happening.

Now, as the four beings merged into the light, the dream finally took a twist, as he felt himself dissolve as well.

"You're still not getting it, you know."

He blinked, although he didn't have any eyes. In fact, he found himself with no shape or form of any kind. But this didn't alarm him.

"Aren't I?"

"No. You have to think. Stop blocking me with your conscious mind."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Whatever."

The light dimmed around him, and again he was looking down on the four kneeling figures about to be consumed with the black fire.

Only this time, there was a difference.

Rosa was not present. He saw himself kneeling in her place.

The arrow.

Now, a single drop of blood.

The crown.

A saxophone?

"Don't fight me. You're clueless. You need me."

Kain again turned and faced his teacher's impenetrable glare.

He shrugged.

"I . . . "

*

Kain, knowing he was going to need all the rest he could get, had finally managed to get himself to sleep, when his door flew open and a frantic bundle of cotton nightgown and purple hair attacked him.

He woke up and tried to dislodge the Princess from his neck, temporarily winded by the immense fear she was exuding, having not had a chance to block out his new sense after his rude awakening.

The dream vanished from his mind.

"Easy, Verny," he said, plucking her off. "What's the matter?"

Before she could think to answer with her two year old logic, lightning flashed and thunder cracked loudly enough to wake a coma patient.

She screamed and nearly strangled him grabbing on to his neck again.

He coughed.

"Hey, don't try to kill me, Your Highness!" he advised, again plucking her off.

"Make it stop!" the baby princess begged, looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes.

Kain blinked, trying to establish exactly when it had come to pass that he'd actually begun to like children.

"What, the thunder?"

She nodded.

"I can't stop thunder," he informed her with a smile. "But you don't need to be afraid. Thunder can't hurt you, and as long as you're inside, the lightning won't hurt you either."

"But what if it does?!" she cried.

"It won't."

"But what if it does?!?!" she cried again, the tears beginning to run.

Kain got up and sat her on his bed, searching through a chest of drawers for something.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?" he asked.

The child blinked.

Thunder cracked again.

"Never mind," he remarked. "I understand it all now. Ah," he said, finding what he was looking for.

Going back to the Princess, he took her hand and slipped a silver ring on one of her tiny fingers.

"Take this, then," he told her. "Just in case."

"What is it?"

"It's called a Wall Ring. I acquired it just recently . . . it will block all elemental attacks. That's fire, ice, and - " another boom of thunder shook the Castle, " - lightning. Now you don't need to be afraid of the thunder."

She put on a brave face.

"I'm not afraid."

Kain had to grin, sensing the fear that had only slightly diminished.

"It's good that you're not afraid," he told her, sitting beside her. "Because tomorrow, I need you to take care of your mother for me. Could you keep an eye on her? Make sure nothing happens until I get back?"

"Where are you going?" Veronica demanded. "And where's my daddy?"

"He's off on business," Kain told her. "I need to go meet him. Can you manage the Kingdom?"

Veronica smiled, proud of the responsibility being placed on her.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good girl," Kain told her.

Thunder crashed, and she yelled, dropping her pretense of bravery, crawling into his lap and trying to hide her face.

Kain tried not to laugh.

"So, brave defender, are you ready to go back to your room?"

"NO!" she cried. "Um . . . I'd better stay here . . . in case you get scared."

Now Kain was trying very hard not to laugh.

"That's very kind of you," he told the child on his lap. "But will you go to sleep?"

She flung herself on the bed and pulled the blanket up to her nose.

"I'm already asleep!" she brightly told him.

He nodded.

"Of course you are. Silly me."

Rising, he walked to the window and watched the storm for a time. If only the Princess realized how right she was to be afraid of everything that was going on. He'd have to remember to have Rosa WALL the Serpentine against the lightning before they took off tomorrow.

He'd be no help to Cecil or anyone else if he got fried into a charred mass of nothing.

* * *

Later, when the sun rose through the overcast morning sky over Baron and Kain prepared to set off, Cecil and Co. were still dealing with their situation to the best of their abilities.

"I spy, with my little eye," Techie sighed in boredom, "something beginning with . . . D."

"Dirt," Cecil snapped.

Techie sighed.

"You always guess!"

"You've been so predictable! Whether it's 'filth' or 'crud' or 'goo,' it's always the same."

" 'Goo' was a good one, though," Torram admitted. "It stumped me."

Cecil had to concede that "goo" had stumped him as well.

Franklin, who was closest to the door, straightened suddenly.

"Someone's coming!" he hissed.

Anyone who'd been dangling by their chains instantly snapped upright, stiff and blank-faced, although most had remained in a such position all along as a silent protest of the situation. Or maybe it was because Cecil wasn't about to move if possible due to his numerous injuries and the others remained upright out of respect to that. In any case, everyone assumed their position and froze.

The door swung open and the prison cook entered, along with two Guards.

The prisoners stared at them icily, no one moving an inch, save to follow their every motion with their eyes.

"Okay, you dogs!" the cook snarled. "I've brought you food!"

A large pot of something purple was dropped in the middle of the floor.

"Who's first?"

His question was replied to only by the unchanging glares of the prisoners.

Turning to Franklin, he sneered.

"What? Not hungry?"

Franklin just stared right through him as if he wasn't there.

Angry, the cook turned away and took a startled step back at the sight of everyone in the dungeon staring straight through him, frozen. It was a spooky sight.

"Stop it!" he snarled. "Or you'll get no last meals before your heads get chopped off!"

Still, everyone continued to stare at him.

Unable to repress a shudder, the cook turned to Cecil.

"You're in authority," he spat. "Tell them to stop."

Cecil didn't even blink.

The Guards, the same ones who had brought Cecil in the night before, were beginning to seem edgy.

One barged up in Cecil's face.

"You heard Philo-mathe! Get your people in line! Now!"

Cecil still didn't even blink.

"Do you want me to fracture your skull?!"

He made no reply, and she pounded him smartly upside the head.

Cecil continued to stare straight through her, oblivious, which was freakier from him than anyone else in the dungeon because of his neon eyes. Neon eyes can really spook a person if you try hard enough. And Cecil was trying quite hard, although she couldn't tell. She just knew that a chill ran up her spine and she backed off.

"Let them starve," advised the other. "They'll come through soon enough. Or not. If not, then that's that many fewer we need to execute."

The three of them, feeling oddly frightened by these strange prisoners, turned tail to flee the room.

"Do you really think," Cecil called softly just as they were closing the door, "that you will be able to execute us?"

On cue, everyone began to laugh. A low, eerie, haunting laugh.

The Toroians slammed the door and ran.

For a moment, silence reigned in the dungeon. Then:

"I enjoyed that," Techie admitted.

"Good for you," Cecil told him. "That girl packs quite a punch! She just removed my wisdom teeth!"

"Does that now make you a fool?" Torram jibed.

"I? A fool? What an interesting concept." Cecil blinked at him innocently and blankly for a moment, then grinned slightly and turned to the others. "Anyone know why they'd be trying to feed us in the middle of the night?"

"Probably to make sure any sleep anyone may have been getting was thoroughly interrupted," Techie sulked.

"You weren't asleep," Cecil reminded him.

"So? It's the concept of the matter!"

"Yes . . . I suppose it is."

*

A few hours later, when the very first lights of dawn were beginning to show through the single window in the dungeon, the woman who had first demanded Cecil's surrender, the Captain of Toroia's Guard, barged in on the dungeon, meeting the same treatment as the room service had earlier. She, however, was having none of it.

Whipping out her belt-knife, she snapped it to Franklin's throat.

"How dare you!!!" she snarled. "How dare you make fools out of my people?!"

"They didn't need our help to look like fools," Franklin hotly informed her, oblivious, or so it seemed, to the blade at his throat.

Seething, she promptly sliced his left ear off.

He barely stifled a yelp, biting down on his tongue, the pain of which alone almost made him yelp again. But he held his peace.

Which was more than Cecil could do this time.

"Keep your hands off him!" he snapped.

Startled by the authority in his voice, she lowered her weapon and turned.

"If you ever," Cecil spat, struggling against his chains for the first time, "lay another hand on one of my people, I will - "

"What can you do, Your Majesty?" she logically pointed out. "You are in no position to make any threats."

Cecil, with practiced accuracy, kicked up a pebble from the grimy floor and then kicked it straight into her face, hitting her in the right eye. Hacky sack – YES! Still the champ, still the champ . . .

"Yaaah!!" she exclaimed, reeling back in pain and astonishment, pulling a Potion from her belt and quickly healing the damage to her eye. She stalked over to him and glared into his eyes darkly, her anger quite visible.

"Point taken," she curtly snapped, before pivoting and barging right back out of the room.

Cecil sighed deeply, wincing ever so slightly from his movement, which seemed to have dislocated his shoulder a bit more. Oh well.

"Franklin?"

"I . . . I'm okay, Sir."

Cecil nodded.

"Hang in there."

"Yes, Sir."

"Is that cureable?" Torram inquired of him in a low tone.

"Absolutely. He'll be fine."

Torram sighed quite deeply himself.

"I just don't like hanging here while those @#$%s keep barging in and beating people at will."

"None of us do. Keep your head. Didn't anyone ever teach you your prisoner's etiquette?"

Torram blinked.

"Prisoner's etiquette?"

"Yes." Cecil frowned slightly, trying to remember the whole thing. "Let's see. Oh, there was a whole list. Remind me when we get home. #35: never let your captors have the satisfaction of seeing your pain. #48: no matter what happens, you keep a condescending attitude."

"But, Sir, isn't that likely to get you killed?"

"Oh, yes."

"I see."

"No . . . I'm not quite sure you do."

"Was that one of Rorunar's things?"

"However did you guess?"

*

About an hour after the sun had broken over the horizon, everyone was beginning to feel edgy, in spite of themselves wondering about what would happen if no one broke them out before that night.

Cecil was staring off through the window, either concentrating very hard on something or just zoning out. No one could be quite sure.

Techie, on the opposite side of the door from Franklin, was begging to feel particularly edgy. Not surprising when you considered that this was Techie you were dealing with.

"Hey, did anyone else just get the feeling that something extremely vulgar was about to happen?" he tentatively inquired.

A Lance swung through the air and sliced him free of the wall, accompanied by a shriek that scared him nearly out of his wits.

"You idiot!!!!" he screamed at Kain, who just looked at him where he'd fallen on the floor. "You could have killed me!!!!!!"

"Fine," Kain lightly told him. "Next time, I'll leave you to rot. This time, though, make yourself useful." He tossed the technician his Mithril Dagger. "Chop out your buddies."

"Yes, Sir!" Techie replied, suddenly feeling agreeable.

He moved along one side of the dungeon, setting his comrades free, while Kain made his way up the other, both of them releasing the others with considerable ease until he happened upon Cecil.

"I do hope you're not going to attempt to hack through enchanted chains with that thing," Cecil hesitantly greeted. "Because frankly, the results could be quite painful. For me, at least."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty!" Kain brightly assured him, dangling a key in his face. "One enchanted manacle key! The Guard was quite easy to pick off. That's why I was three seconds late, by the way. She made an unexpected move."

"Yes, I was beginning to panic."

"You? Panic? Never. Let's see," he continued, carefully working with the somewhat rusty, although enchanted, cuffs on Cecil's wrists. "Enchanted manacles. Isn't that just about the oldest trick in the book? Rydia says the last time she had to keep a Mage under wraps, she put up this spell with a cucumber and two weasels - "

"I don't think these people ever read the book," Cecil cut in, as his left hand was freed. Shaking it slightly to restore blood flow, he was finally able to brush away a loose strand of hair that had been stuck in his eye for the past several hours. Don't you just hate it when that happens? "In fact, they're quite stupid."

"Like leaving the enchanted manacle key with the Guards of your cell block?"

"That, and like leaving all our weapons and confiscated items in that box in the corner," Cecil confirmed, pointing.

Kain blinked.

"My my. They really are stupid!"

There was a short moment of silence while he set about unlocking the other wristband, both of which were being extremely stubborn.

"You," Kain informed him, noting the dislocation in the bone and now-dry pool of blood on the floor, "are not in good shape."

"I'll get over it."

"I'm sure you will. Think you have enough juice to get us all home?"

"Not at all. They did take the precaution of draining my MP first thing."

"Unusually clever."

"I thought so, yes."

"Tsk tsk. Where would you be without me, Cecil?" Kain sighed, producing an Ether from his item bag.

"Here," Cecil wryly replied, taking the vial and restoring his powers.

The door swung open.

"NOBODY MOVE!!!" commanded a group of Guards.

"Why not?" Kain inquired lightly, hurling a small, fluffy object at them which promptly burst into electrical charge. They screamed and ran.

"What was that?" Torram demanded as Cecil began casting his spell.

"A Bolt Plume, you silly person."

"Oh." Torram frowned. "Now would someone explain to me how he," and he jabbed his thumb at Cecil, "had you," and he jabbed a finger at Kain, "timed to the point where he could tell if you were three seconds late?"

Kain glanced at Cecil who grinned slightly through his chanting and shrugged.

"You know . . . it's just not worth trying to explain."

And they all vanished from the Toroian Dungeon.

*

When they arrived in the courtyard of Castle Baron, it was not without an audience.

Rosa took one look at Cecil and screamed something profane, then forced him to hold still while she cast various healing spells that he was quite capable of casting himself.

Cid and Torram promptly began to yell at one another.

Shiva and Ramuh, who had appeared on the scene a bit earlier, kept wailing apologies.

Kain tried to sneak out of there.

Unfortunately for him, Cecil wasn't having it.

"Just where do you think you're going?!" he demanded, catching the intended departure. "Get back here, Dragoon Kain!"

"As you command, Your Majesty!" he replied with a mock-formal bow.

Cecil grabbed his arm and Rosa's and dragged them both into the Castle.

*

"Where's our Princess?" he demanded, once they had enough room to speak.

"Asleep," Rosa told him. "The storm kept her awake last night."

"Wake her up. Get her under supervision. The Toroians really want her bad. Kain."

"Yes?"

"How's your paperwork coming along? I think we're about to go to war."

Kain winced sarcastically.

"Dear me. The horror." Then he clanked his Lance against the floor with dead seriousness. "And here I'd wanted to take them all out personally."

Cecil was about to say something, then he stopped and reconsidered.

"That's the Venus Gospel."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"How did you . . . " Cecil blinked. "Never mind. I have a feeling that the explanation will be even longer than this stupid chapter."

"Not really. But I believe we were talking about war?"

"Yes. We have our people back, but they still have six of our Airships."

"We can bring them back easily enough," Cid cut in, entering the council chamber in which they were yammering. "They're on remote control."

"Unless the Toroians have overridden your programming," Cecil pointed out.

"I doubt they have the brains for that sort of thing."

"We didn't think they had a Caller, either," Kain reminded him. "We were wrong."

"And even if we can bring them back," Rosa added, "they'll have them filled with their own armies. Attacking from above, even on our programming, would give them an advantage, wouldn't it?"

Cid had to concede that it did.

"So what can we do?" Rosa asked, beginning to fret.

"Simple," Cecil stated. "Eat. I'm starving."