Chapter Four:
Explanations and Mysteries
"Here you are," said the sharply dressed Figaro soldier, "Your...what did you call it?"
"Gunblade," Clest replied, accepting his weapon from the soldier. "Thanks." He had quickly become bored within two hours of being introduced into the camp of Lord Edgar, and had decided to relieve his boredom and vent his frustration with a bit of combat practice. Thus, after heading over to a large area that had been blocked off for training purposes, Clest had been returned his weapon and given free reign of the training equipment in camp.
Though the mercenary almost laughed at the primitive nature of the training equipment, Clest was bored enough to beat the hell out of just about anything. He first set up a sort of training dummy that consisted of a large log set up on a spinning pivot, from which jutted steel poles. After securing the dummy in place, the bored warrior soon began slashing at its steel extensions, causing the dummy to spin in place.
It was not long before Clest increased the intensity of his training. He began to slash at the training apparatus fiercely while deftly dodging the ever-oscillating steel rods that constantly threatened to collide with his darting body. He landed several hits upon the body of the dummy itself, purposely attempting not to thrust his gunblade far into the wood so as to avoid annoyingly lodging it within the dummy, but found himself spending the vast majority of his time dodging the flailing extensions of steel that constantly swung in his direction. Though he was doing quite an excellent job of keeping himself from being hit, Clest knew he could not avoid the rods for long; thus, he was not surprised when his gunblade was thrown from his hand by one rod as another tripped him, causing him to fall painfully backward into the grass.
Cursing, Clest grasped his gunblade and pulled himself from the ground. With a cry, he charged into the dummy, which had stopped spinning, and sliced his weapon through its center, pulling the trigger of the gunblade the moment its blade came into contact with the wood. The subsequent blast of energy through the gunblade propelled the weapon completely through the dummy and tossed the top half of the devastated training apparatus ten feet back from its bottom half.
Clest sighed as a long, slender shell dropped to the ground. He heard a slight click as the automatic weapon prepared another energy round for firing, but flipped the safety on the firing mechanism of the gunblade to avoid expending another round. "Eleven to go in the gunblade, plus another twelve in my belt," he muttered to himself. "I don't suppose they'd have AL30 energy rounds in a world where steam has only recently been invented, so I'd better conserve my ammo."
Turning around, Clest noted that a small audience of soldiers had gathered at a safe distance behind him and had watched as he blew the helpless training dummy in half. Smiling, Clest pointed his weapon at them, released the safety, and pulled the trigger, causing a deafening blast of energy to charge the gunblade for a split second. Much to Clest's amusement, this caused all but one of the soldiers to duck and cover their ears, only looking up when they were absolutely positive they had survived the harmless charging of the blade in one piece.
"It'll only hurt you if I do that once I've already run you through," he said with a laugh. "Watch."
Charging at the remaining half of the training dummy, Clest thrust his gunblade into its center while pulling the trigger of the weapon. The lower half of the dummy was virtually blown to splinters, and, much to Clest's dismay, another round fell to the grass, soon being replaced by the automatic mechanism of the weapon. Nine to go in the gunblade, plus another twelve in reserve.
The crowd of soldiers did not seem amused. However, the single man who had not so much as flinched at Clest's joking discharge of energy stepped forward, simultaneously attaching wicked claw-like weapons with foot-long curved talons to his hands. Clest had assumed he was simply a soldier; however, he was dressed somewhat differently than the other soldiers, wearing nothing but a tight, sleeveless shirt, spacious breeches, and a light gold-trimmed cloak bearing the symbol of the Figaro kingdom: a golden eagle grasping a green arrow in its talons emblazoned upon a red background. He was similar in appearance to the king; his short hair was blond and his eyes were azure blue, but he was obviously more muscular and of larger build than Edgar. Smiling, he approached Clest, who, though tall, was several inches shorter than he. "You seem pretty skilled in handling that thing," he said amiably. "How about a little sparring? I'm probably about as bored as you are waiting around here, and I've been here quite a bit longer than you."
Clest eyed the man oddly. How could he possibly think he could stand up to a gunblade with those claws of his? Regardless of his misgivings, however, Clest could not help but accept the man's offer. "Well...I suppose, since neither of us seems to have anything better to do right now." He took his usual battle stance, his gunblade pointed at the chest of his opponent. "Are you ready?"
The large man shrugged. "Sure. Let's go!"
Despite the fact that Clest charged forth with all the speed he could muster, his opponent was too fast for even his SeeD training to counter effectively. The man darted forth and swung his claws at Clest with full force. Though Clest was able to block the attack, he was thrown off guard and nearly tripped by his opponent, but managed to leap over the lightning-fast sweeping kick sent at his legs. Clest then took the opportunity to launch a series of swift thrusts at his opponent's chest, and was surprised to find that each was blocked in quick succession. He was forced to duck under a high strike before attacking again, but his subsequent slash was wild and easily blocked by his speedy opponent. Becoming frustrated with his lack of performance, Clest literally leapt at his opponent, striking diagonally downward with his weapon, but found himself at the mercy of his opponent when he was violently tossed to the ground by a savage kick.
The large but amazingly fast man aided the battered Clest in rising to his feet with a smile. "Another round?" he said, still as cheerful as he had been before the fight began.
Clest nodded, a mischievous smile upon his lips. "Gladly." With a cry, the mercenary charged his opponent as he had the dummy, intending to startle him and knock him off his feet with a blast from his gunblade.
The large fighter shook his head. "I think we've all seen that one before," he said, much to the amusement of the observing soldiers. To the surprise of Clest, the man did nothing at all in response to the charge; he simply stood as still as if he were the dummy that Clest had reduced to here splinters. The gunblade came ever closer, closer, closer...
Suddenly, the man's eyes shot wide open. He planted his feet firmly in the ground, extending his hands forward, and grinned. With a loud roar, a blinding beam of energy shot forth from his extended hands, colliding with Clest's gunblade just as he pulled the trigger. The hapless Clest was thrown no less than twenty feet backward, landing painfully on his back in the grass. To the enjoyment of the large man, this caused a cheer to erupt from the observers of the battle.
Clest pulled his aching body from the ground with a curse and placed his gunblade in its holster at his side. "Damn..." he muttered. "How did you do that?"
The large man simply shrugged, removing his claw-like weapons from his hands as he spoke. "It is a combination of the teachings of the late Master Duncan and one hell of a lot of practice." He smiled once more. "I'm Sabin Figaro, the brother of the king. I was sent here to bring you to the meeting, but I couldn't help seeing if that weapon of yours would do much good against me." He smiled. "Well, we'd better be going now."
Clest rubbed his back. "Meeting?"
"Just follow me. You'll find out soon enough."
Clest was quick to comply. Following Sabin out of the training area and through the camp, the mercenary from the future was able to observe his surroundings in detail for the first time. He could see that the camp consisted of little more than heavy tents, though it seemed apparent that quite a few of the Figaro soldiers had opted to sleep in the open air as opposed to within the stuffy tents. The curious young man observed that the camp was lively with activity; many soldiers walked from place briskly, as if in a hurry. In the sky, the sun had just recently reached its highest point, reminding Clest painfully that he had not eaten in three days. Venturing to bother his guide, Clest voiced his discomfort. "Is it at all possible that I get some food? As far as I know, it's been three days since I've eaten anything."
"Edgar had better have food at this goddess-forsaken meeting of his," the man replied. I'm a bit hungry myself. Of course, everyone says I'm always hungry, which, I must admit, is not far from the truth." He shrugged. "If not, I'm sure we will be able to convince the cook to fix up a meal."
Clest shrugged and continued to follow Sabin, glancing every so often at the camp around him. Finally, the two reached a large tent, its entrance flanked by flags bearing the Figarian crest. "Here it is," said Sabin. "It sounds like they've already started, so don't make a lot of noise going in."
Sabin's statements seemed to have merit; Edgar, who sat at the head of a large wooden table in the center of the tent, was finishing a statement as Clest and Sabin entered. "...Don't understand it. There is no magic left in our world, much less any that would...Oh! Hello, Clest. Have a seat. I believe our food should arrive in a short while." He turned to his brother with a smile. "You challenged him to a fight, no doubt."
Sabin simply grinned back at his brother. "You know me." He took a seat to the left of Edgar and proceeded to recline in his chair.
While taking his seat, Clest was able to get a bit of a look around the tent. Though it was quite large, the spacious tent contained nothing other than the table in its center and a small chest located in a corner. The odd conglomeration of people at the table caught Clest's eye: besides Lord Edgar and his brother Sabin, there sat a blond teenage girl in colorful clothing; an oddly silent, contemplative woman with emerald green hair; a pale man with long, white hair who wore a leather trench coat; a man who appeared to be dressed in the royal colors of a kingdom other than that ruled by Edgar; and a man decked out in the regalia of the chancellor of Figaro. Clest took his seat, which happened to be located at the opposite end of the table from Edgar.
"Now that we've all arrived," Edgar began, clearing his throat, "We can commence this conference. Though there is much to tell in the odd case of the sudden appearance of energy at Kefka's tower, I believe it would be best to get to the first main point of the meeting: namely, where or when did this Clest Valian come from."
All eyes turned toward Clest, giving him an odd feeling of discomfort. He looked to each of the occupants of the table before looking toward Edgar, who continued. "As you know, Clest, you were found three days ago by an expeditionary crew sent to investigate the phenomenon at the ruins. We have gathered here to discern how you arrived there, and where you were before you did so. Thus, it is probably fitting that I introduce the members of this small committee before we begin discussing any details. I'm sure you know my brother Sabin and I by now," Edgar said, motioning to his brother slightly. He then turned to the green-haired woman. "This is Terra Branford. She is half-esper, if that means anything to you, and is familiar with the workings of magic. This," he said, pointing at the pale man, "Is Setzer Gabbiani, owner of the only airship in the world and a damn good gambler." Edgar then regarded the teenage girl. "This is Relm Arrowny. She may be young, but she has magic in her blood." The king turned to the other two individuals at the table. "This is Albrecht, the royal chancellor of Figaro, and a messenger from the Doma kingdom to the east."
Edgar sighed. "Now, Clest, I'm sure those present would be interested in hearing your story."
Clest shrugged. "All right," he said. "There's really not much for me to tell. I was at the Centra Ruins-...erm...the Centra Ruins are considered to be one of the most dangerous locations on the planet in my time. Anyway, I had gone to the ruins with a friend of mine looking for a certain item that had been stolen by a certain group of people. Just as we were on the verge of retrieving the damn thing, that energy caught us and threw us through time, apparently."
"Then where is your friend?" Edgar asked. "You were the only one found at the site of the ruins."
"Hell if I know," Clest replied, "But he could be anywhere in the history of the world, for all I know."
"That seems to be an issue here..." muttered Edgar to himself.
"Issue? Damn right its an issue," Clest said exasperatedly. "Time travel isn't possible. I mean, it isn't supposed to be possible. It defies all the laws of physics. Well, that's what every known scientist in the world says, anyway."
"Very, very powerful magic..." said the blond girl, Relm, to herself suddenly. "Is the old man...right?"
"What?" said Terra, the half-esper woman, in response.
Relm's head suddenly shot up as if she had not expected a response. "Huh? Oh, some old friend of my grandfather was rambling on about time travel and some old historical texts or something. I didn't pay much attention to him; it seemed like he had no idea what he was talking about."
"What did he say?" Sabin asked. "Does it have anything to do with our problem? Could it-"
"For the love of the goddesses, slow down!" Relm sighed. "He was talking about some legend about a demon who would use time travel to fix his errors whenever he failed to take over the world. He was eventually defeated, but supposedly he didn't die. Apparently, a powerful mage banished him to the x-zone because mortals couldn't kill him. Anyway, this odd old man argued that it all wasn't a legend, and that the only proof of it were lost within a castle that was buried toward the end of the War of the Magi."
Edgar, Sabin, Terra, and Setzer each shot up in their seats. They had seen such a castle before.
"Did the man ever say where this castle was located?" Edgar asked.
Relm shrugged. "Not really. Do you think it could be that old underground castle between Figaro and Kohlingen?"
"Maybe," Setzer said, "But I don't ever remember seeing a book about a time-traveling demon while we were down there."
"We've only ever looked in one bookshelf," Terra interjected, "And that is only because of the glowing jewel bound into the cover of that diary. We would never have taken any notice of those books otherwise."
"Terra has a point," said Sabin. "Maybe we could go back down there and look for that book."
"I don't know," Edgar replied. "Figaro Castle hasn't burrowed in three years. Right now, however, I believe our temporally-displaced friend here would like some sort of explanation of where his companion is. Unfortunately, none of us can give him one."
"But think about it," Terra said. "Clest here was sent to a time period containing a dome of energy. As far as I know, this is the first time in history that such a great amount of energy has been manifested in one place, but, if what Clest says is true, there are other energy fields in the future. My point is, since Clest ended up in a time period containing an energy field, perhaps his companion did so, as well."
"You have a point," Edgar said. "But I honestly doubt that traveling back into the field of energy is anything short of downright stupidity. There is absolutely no telling where a person would end up."
"Or...or what could happen..."
"What?" Edgar said. "Did you speak, Clest?"
"When I first entered the field," Clest said distractedly, "I...I was forced to watch the most horrible scene imaginable..." He paused. "...My past. I would prefer to leave that topic untouched. I don't think it was a dream, though; an odd man confronted me before I passed out. He called me...vessel..."
"I can not explain your vision," Edgar said, "But, considering the circumstances, I wouldn't doubt the truth behind it. What did the man look like?"
"He...I don't know. I can't remember. All I remember is that he was talking about fulfilling my destiny or something like that."
"This doesn't make any sense," Sabin said. "Who would summon up such a large amount of energy, anyway? Technically, whoever created that big energy thing is still keeping it up. Without constant upkeep..."
"The spell would fail," Terra said. "But nobody in this period of time can use magic anymore. Magic is gone."
Clest shrugged. "Not where I'm from. Even so, I've been taught every detail of every type of spell known to man, and there's not a single spell that can send people through time."
"So magic can return..." Terra muttered to herself. "But...how?"
Before Clest could give a reply, royal cooks and retainers carried several large trays of food into the tent. The sight and smell of the food was enough to remind Clest just how hungry he truly was, and he wasted no time in helping himself to the plentiful supply of food that had been given to the occupants of the tent.
Edgar sighed. "For now, we eat, but I suggest you all get a good night's sleep. It would be in our best interests if we began to return to Figaro tomorrow; the ride to the underground castle is not short, by any means."
Explanations and Mysteries
"Here you are," said the sharply dressed Figaro soldier, "Your...what did you call it?"
"Gunblade," Clest replied, accepting his weapon from the soldier. "Thanks." He had quickly become bored within two hours of being introduced into the camp of Lord Edgar, and had decided to relieve his boredom and vent his frustration with a bit of combat practice. Thus, after heading over to a large area that had been blocked off for training purposes, Clest had been returned his weapon and given free reign of the training equipment in camp.
Though the mercenary almost laughed at the primitive nature of the training equipment, Clest was bored enough to beat the hell out of just about anything. He first set up a sort of training dummy that consisted of a large log set up on a spinning pivot, from which jutted steel poles. After securing the dummy in place, the bored warrior soon began slashing at its steel extensions, causing the dummy to spin in place.
It was not long before Clest increased the intensity of his training. He began to slash at the training apparatus fiercely while deftly dodging the ever-oscillating steel rods that constantly threatened to collide with his darting body. He landed several hits upon the body of the dummy itself, purposely attempting not to thrust his gunblade far into the wood so as to avoid annoyingly lodging it within the dummy, but found himself spending the vast majority of his time dodging the flailing extensions of steel that constantly swung in his direction. Though he was doing quite an excellent job of keeping himself from being hit, Clest knew he could not avoid the rods for long; thus, he was not surprised when his gunblade was thrown from his hand by one rod as another tripped him, causing him to fall painfully backward into the grass.
Cursing, Clest grasped his gunblade and pulled himself from the ground. With a cry, he charged into the dummy, which had stopped spinning, and sliced his weapon through its center, pulling the trigger of the gunblade the moment its blade came into contact with the wood. The subsequent blast of energy through the gunblade propelled the weapon completely through the dummy and tossed the top half of the devastated training apparatus ten feet back from its bottom half.
Clest sighed as a long, slender shell dropped to the ground. He heard a slight click as the automatic weapon prepared another energy round for firing, but flipped the safety on the firing mechanism of the gunblade to avoid expending another round. "Eleven to go in the gunblade, plus another twelve in my belt," he muttered to himself. "I don't suppose they'd have AL30 energy rounds in a world where steam has only recently been invented, so I'd better conserve my ammo."
Turning around, Clest noted that a small audience of soldiers had gathered at a safe distance behind him and had watched as he blew the helpless training dummy in half. Smiling, Clest pointed his weapon at them, released the safety, and pulled the trigger, causing a deafening blast of energy to charge the gunblade for a split second. Much to Clest's amusement, this caused all but one of the soldiers to duck and cover their ears, only looking up when they were absolutely positive they had survived the harmless charging of the blade in one piece.
"It'll only hurt you if I do that once I've already run you through," he said with a laugh. "Watch."
Charging at the remaining half of the training dummy, Clest thrust his gunblade into its center while pulling the trigger of the weapon. The lower half of the dummy was virtually blown to splinters, and, much to Clest's dismay, another round fell to the grass, soon being replaced by the automatic mechanism of the weapon. Nine to go in the gunblade, plus another twelve in reserve.
The crowd of soldiers did not seem amused. However, the single man who had not so much as flinched at Clest's joking discharge of energy stepped forward, simultaneously attaching wicked claw-like weapons with foot-long curved talons to his hands. Clest had assumed he was simply a soldier; however, he was dressed somewhat differently than the other soldiers, wearing nothing but a tight, sleeveless shirt, spacious breeches, and a light gold-trimmed cloak bearing the symbol of the Figaro kingdom: a golden eagle grasping a green arrow in its talons emblazoned upon a red background. He was similar in appearance to the king; his short hair was blond and his eyes were azure blue, but he was obviously more muscular and of larger build than Edgar. Smiling, he approached Clest, who, though tall, was several inches shorter than he. "You seem pretty skilled in handling that thing," he said amiably. "How about a little sparring? I'm probably about as bored as you are waiting around here, and I've been here quite a bit longer than you."
Clest eyed the man oddly. How could he possibly think he could stand up to a gunblade with those claws of his? Regardless of his misgivings, however, Clest could not help but accept the man's offer. "Well...I suppose, since neither of us seems to have anything better to do right now." He took his usual battle stance, his gunblade pointed at the chest of his opponent. "Are you ready?"
The large man shrugged. "Sure. Let's go!"
Despite the fact that Clest charged forth with all the speed he could muster, his opponent was too fast for even his SeeD training to counter effectively. The man darted forth and swung his claws at Clest with full force. Though Clest was able to block the attack, he was thrown off guard and nearly tripped by his opponent, but managed to leap over the lightning-fast sweeping kick sent at his legs. Clest then took the opportunity to launch a series of swift thrusts at his opponent's chest, and was surprised to find that each was blocked in quick succession. He was forced to duck under a high strike before attacking again, but his subsequent slash was wild and easily blocked by his speedy opponent. Becoming frustrated with his lack of performance, Clest literally leapt at his opponent, striking diagonally downward with his weapon, but found himself at the mercy of his opponent when he was violently tossed to the ground by a savage kick.
The large but amazingly fast man aided the battered Clest in rising to his feet with a smile. "Another round?" he said, still as cheerful as he had been before the fight began.
Clest nodded, a mischievous smile upon his lips. "Gladly." With a cry, the mercenary charged his opponent as he had the dummy, intending to startle him and knock him off his feet with a blast from his gunblade.
The large fighter shook his head. "I think we've all seen that one before," he said, much to the amusement of the observing soldiers. To the surprise of Clest, the man did nothing at all in response to the charge; he simply stood as still as if he were the dummy that Clest had reduced to here splinters. The gunblade came ever closer, closer, closer...
Suddenly, the man's eyes shot wide open. He planted his feet firmly in the ground, extending his hands forward, and grinned. With a loud roar, a blinding beam of energy shot forth from his extended hands, colliding with Clest's gunblade just as he pulled the trigger. The hapless Clest was thrown no less than twenty feet backward, landing painfully on his back in the grass. To the enjoyment of the large man, this caused a cheer to erupt from the observers of the battle.
Clest pulled his aching body from the ground with a curse and placed his gunblade in its holster at his side. "Damn..." he muttered. "How did you do that?"
The large man simply shrugged, removing his claw-like weapons from his hands as he spoke. "It is a combination of the teachings of the late Master Duncan and one hell of a lot of practice." He smiled once more. "I'm Sabin Figaro, the brother of the king. I was sent here to bring you to the meeting, but I couldn't help seeing if that weapon of yours would do much good against me." He smiled. "Well, we'd better be going now."
Clest rubbed his back. "Meeting?"
"Just follow me. You'll find out soon enough."
Clest was quick to comply. Following Sabin out of the training area and through the camp, the mercenary from the future was able to observe his surroundings in detail for the first time. He could see that the camp consisted of little more than heavy tents, though it seemed apparent that quite a few of the Figaro soldiers had opted to sleep in the open air as opposed to within the stuffy tents. The curious young man observed that the camp was lively with activity; many soldiers walked from place briskly, as if in a hurry. In the sky, the sun had just recently reached its highest point, reminding Clest painfully that he had not eaten in three days. Venturing to bother his guide, Clest voiced his discomfort. "Is it at all possible that I get some food? As far as I know, it's been three days since I've eaten anything."
"Edgar had better have food at this goddess-forsaken meeting of his," the man replied. I'm a bit hungry myself. Of course, everyone says I'm always hungry, which, I must admit, is not far from the truth." He shrugged. "If not, I'm sure we will be able to convince the cook to fix up a meal."
Clest shrugged and continued to follow Sabin, glancing every so often at the camp around him. Finally, the two reached a large tent, its entrance flanked by flags bearing the Figarian crest. "Here it is," said Sabin. "It sounds like they've already started, so don't make a lot of noise going in."
Sabin's statements seemed to have merit; Edgar, who sat at the head of a large wooden table in the center of the tent, was finishing a statement as Clest and Sabin entered. "...Don't understand it. There is no magic left in our world, much less any that would...Oh! Hello, Clest. Have a seat. I believe our food should arrive in a short while." He turned to his brother with a smile. "You challenged him to a fight, no doubt."
Sabin simply grinned back at his brother. "You know me." He took a seat to the left of Edgar and proceeded to recline in his chair.
While taking his seat, Clest was able to get a bit of a look around the tent. Though it was quite large, the spacious tent contained nothing other than the table in its center and a small chest located in a corner. The odd conglomeration of people at the table caught Clest's eye: besides Lord Edgar and his brother Sabin, there sat a blond teenage girl in colorful clothing; an oddly silent, contemplative woman with emerald green hair; a pale man with long, white hair who wore a leather trench coat; a man who appeared to be dressed in the royal colors of a kingdom other than that ruled by Edgar; and a man decked out in the regalia of the chancellor of Figaro. Clest took his seat, which happened to be located at the opposite end of the table from Edgar.
"Now that we've all arrived," Edgar began, clearing his throat, "We can commence this conference. Though there is much to tell in the odd case of the sudden appearance of energy at Kefka's tower, I believe it would be best to get to the first main point of the meeting: namely, where or when did this Clest Valian come from."
All eyes turned toward Clest, giving him an odd feeling of discomfort. He looked to each of the occupants of the table before looking toward Edgar, who continued. "As you know, Clest, you were found three days ago by an expeditionary crew sent to investigate the phenomenon at the ruins. We have gathered here to discern how you arrived there, and where you were before you did so. Thus, it is probably fitting that I introduce the members of this small committee before we begin discussing any details. I'm sure you know my brother Sabin and I by now," Edgar said, motioning to his brother slightly. He then turned to the green-haired woman. "This is Terra Branford. She is half-esper, if that means anything to you, and is familiar with the workings of magic. This," he said, pointing at the pale man, "Is Setzer Gabbiani, owner of the only airship in the world and a damn good gambler." Edgar then regarded the teenage girl. "This is Relm Arrowny. She may be young, but she has magic in her blood." The king turned to the other two individuals at the table. "This is Albrecht, the royal chancellor of Figaro, and a messenger from the Doma kingdom to the east."
Edgar sighed. "Now, Clest, I'm sure those present would be interested in hearing your story."
Clest shrugged. "All right," he said. "There's really not much for me to tell. I was at the Centra Ruins-...erm...the Centra Ruins are considered to be one of the most dangerous locations on the planet in my time. Anyway, I had gone to the ruins with a friend of mine looking for a certain item that had been stolen by a certain group of people. Just as we were on the verge of retrieving the damn thing, that energy caught us and threw us through time, apparently."
"Then where is your friend?" Edgar asked. "You were the only one found at the site of the ruins."
"Hell if I know," Clest replied, "But he could be anywhere in the history of the world, for all I know."
"That seems to be an issue here..." muttered Edgar to himself.
"Issue? Damn right its an issue," Clest said exasperatedly. "Time travel isn't possible. I mean, it isn't supposed to be possible. It defies all the laws of physics. Well, that's what every known scientist in the world says, anyway."
"Very, very powerful magic..." said the blond girl, Relm, to herself suddenly. "Is the old man...right?"
"What?" said Terra, the half-esper woman, in response.
Relm's head suddenly shot up as if she had not expected a response. "Huh? Oh, some old friend of my grandfather was rambling on about time travel and some old historical texts or something. I didn't pay much attention to him; it seemed like he had no idea what he was talking about."
"What did he say?" Sabin asked. "Does it have anything to do with our problem? Could it-"
"For the love of the goddesses, slow down!" Relm sighed. "He was talking about some legend about a demon who would use time travel to fix his errors whenever he failed to take over the world. He was eventually defeated, but supposedly he didn't die. Apparently, a powerful mage banished him to the x-zone because mortals couldn't kill him. Anyway, this odd old man argued that it all wasn't a legend, and that the only proof of it were lost within a castle that was buried toward the end of the War of the Magi."
Edgar, Sabin, Terra, and Setzer each shot up in their seats. They had seen such a castle before.
"Did the man ever say where this castle was located?" Edgar asked.
Relm shrugged. "Not really. Do you think it could be that old underground castle between Figaro and Kohlingen?"
"Maybe," Setzer said, "But I don't ever remember seeing a book about a time-traveling demon while we were down there."
"We've only ever looked in one bookshelf," Terra interjected, "And that is only because of the glowing jewel bound into the cover of that diary. We would never have taken any notice of those books otherwise."
"Terra has a point," said Sabin. "Maybe we could go back down there and look for that book."
"I don't know," Edgar replied. "Figaro Castle hasn't burrowed in three years. Right now, however, I believe our temporally-displaced friend here would like some sort of explanation of where his companion is. Unfortunately, none of us can give him one."
"But think about it," Terra said. "Clest here was sent to a time period containing a dome of energy. As far as I know, this is the first time in history that such a great amount of energy has been manifested in one place, but, if what Clest says is true, there are other energy fields in the future. My point is, since Clest ended up in a time period containing an energy field, perhaps his companion did so, as well."
"You have a point," Edgar said. "But I honestly doubt that traveling back into the field of energy is anything short of downright stupidity. There is absolutely no telling where a person would end up."
"Or...or what could happen..."
"What?" Edgar said. "Did you speak, Clest?"
"When I first entered the field," Clest said distractedly, "I...I was forced to watch the most horrible scene imaginable..." He paused. "...My past. I would prefer to leave that topic untouched. I don't think it was a dream, though; an odd man confronted me before I passed out. He called me...vessel..."
"I can not explain your vision," Edgar said, "But, considering the circumstances, I wouldn't doubt the truth behind it. What did the man look like?"
"He...I don't know. I can't remember. All I remember is that he was talking about fulfilling my destiny or something like that."
"This doesn't make any sense," Sabin said. "Who would summon up such a large amount of energy, anyway? Technically, whoever created that big energy thing is still keeping it up. Without constant upkeep..."
"The spell would fail," Terra said. "But nobody in this period of time can use magic anymore. Magic is gone."
Clest shrugged. "Not where I'm from. Even so, I've been taught every detail of every type of spell known to man, and there's not a single spell that can send people through time."
"So magic can return..." Terra muttered to herself. "But...how?"
Before Clest could give a reply, royal cooks and retainers carried several large trays of food into the tent. The sight and smell of the food was enough to remind Clest just how hungry he truly was, and he wasted no time in helping himself to the plentiful supply of food that had been given to the occupants of the tent.
Edgar sighed. "For now, we eat, but I suggest you all get a good night's sleep. It would be in our best interests if we began to return to Figaro tomorrow; the ride to the underground castle is not short, by any means."