Chapter Six:
A Shadow Over Figaro
"It is said that in times past-...no, that isn't it...oh, here it is."
Sabin, who was sitting quite comfortably in a chair with his feet elevated by one of the long wooden tables of the Figaro Castle library, cleared his throat. In his hand was a seemingly ancient book about times even more ancient than the book itself.
"Long ago," Sabin began, reciting a passage from the old book, "Before even the War of the Magi rent the world with its unbridled fury, there existed a magnificent kingdom known in modern times as Eden. Though not a great deal is known about the Eden Empire, it is quite clear that the grandiose realm was practically alive with magic of all sorts; it is now believed that the kingdom itself was ruled solely by mages. However, it is quite clear, through careful research and excavation, that the most prominent magic-users within the Eden hierarchy were the mysterious and feared Time Mages.
"Though a specific location is not given, it is said that the Time Mages owned a castle in which their various experiments were performed. The specifics of these experiments are, to this day, unknown; however, it is guessed by modern scholars of the lost art of magic that many of the experiments were focused on time travel and bending the fragile fabrics of time to an individual's every whim. These experiments were extremely dangerous, of course, and were halted when the War of the Magi broke out on the borders of Eden. It is then said that the esper Odin and his mighty army occupied the castle for use in the war due to its proximity to the front lines of battle."
"And you say we can reach this fabled castle somehow?" Clest questioned skeptically from across the table. How could such an ancient structure have possibly survived the great deal of abuse caused to it by natural forces as time passed?
"Edgar still hasn't told you about the 'secret' of Figaro Castle?" Relm asked. "It's a miracle; we've been in the castle for an entire night and half a day now, and the self-titled king of the industrial age himself hasn't even explained the castle's unique ability to you yet. Generally he would be pretty quick to go off on one of his rants."
Clest shrugged. "So what is it about this castle that'll let us reach a buried castle, anyway?"
"It can burrow," Sabin said flatly, the book hanging from his hand as if he were bored.
As had become common, the chronologically displaced mercenary was thoroughly baffled. "Burrow?"
Sabin shrugged. "Yes, borrow. You know, tunnel through the ground. Not only that, but it can travel deep enough to pass under entire small seas."
"How in hell could a castle do something like that?" Clest asked. "There's no possible way..."
"Ah, but there is. It has something to do with a complicated system of digging mechanisms that use blasts of superheated, high-pressured air to burrow under the ground. Edgar calls it a 'miracle of modern technology.'"
"The king would love the future..." Clest muttered to himself whimsically. "He'd faint when he saw a Garden."
"Garden?" Sabin asked.
"Not the type of garden with plants and flowers and everything," Clest said. "A Garden is basically a school and headquarters for a branch of SeeD, an elite mercenary organization that hasn't had a whole lot to do in the past few years."
Relm shrugged. "Why would Edgar care about that?"
"I'm not finished," Clest said. "The most amazing thing about the two operational Gardens is that they can fly. Hell, it even amazes the people in my own time; you know, the thought of a flying three-story building. We still aren't sure how they fly, but the fact that they can was pretty damn useful during the Ultimecea Crisis."
"Yeah, that would definitely impress my brother," Sabin said. He paused. "Wait a minute. Ultimecea? What is that?"
"I suppose you could say she was one hell of a sorceress. I heard that by the time she was defeated four years ago, she had almost achieved the power of a god."
"We killed Kefka four years ago," said Relm offhandedly. "Isn't it odd that you come from a time when the world was saved four years before also..."
"Wait...you believe my story about time travel?" Clest said, his voice showing slight surprise. He knew more than anyone that his account sounded quite far from a plausible truth, though no part of it was fabricated in any way.
"Look, it doesn't matter whether we believe your story or not," Sabin explained. "Anything that has ANYTHING to do with the pile of garbage that was Kefka's tower needs to be investigated."
Clest sighed. "So what's the big deal with that guy, anyway?"
"You mean Kefka?" Relm asked, mildly surprised at the question.
"Yeah," Clest responded with a shrug. "I mean, what was so important about him besides the fact that he almost destroyed the world?"
A shadow seemed to pass over Sabin's face. "No, he didn't almost destroy the world. He actually succeeded in doing it. You see, he harnessed the power of the dead Espers and the three Goddess Statues, achieving some low form of godhood in the process. Being something of a god, we're not absolutely sure it is possible for us to have killed him four years ago. He may still be alive somewhere, though he lacks physical form."
"At least, he did when we 'killed' him..." Relm mused. "Maybe he found a body."
"Maybe he's not alive," Sabin said. "Who the hell knows? But we can't take chances. If he's out there somewhere, he'll want revenge."
Clest sighed. "I see what you mean. It's never a good thing to have a pissed-off malevolent god running around." He shrugged, lounging in his chair. "So when are we going to the buried castle?"
"Tomorrow, I suppose," Sabin replied. "Unless Edgar has some reason not to go so soon. However, I know he wants to investigate the supposed time rift as much as anyone."
"Then maybe I can go home," Clest said whimsically.
Maybe.
* * * * *
For Edgar, the day had not been as simple as reading through a few old books in the library; after his short absence from the throne, he had much to attend to. Between foreign ambassadors, lengthy reports on the state of the kingdom, and the mostly trivial requests of regional governors, the young king knew he would have no rest from his duties for quite a while. He simply had to remind himself that such was the price a king must pay to rule such a kingdom as Figaro and continue on with his boring royal duties. It would be safe to say that he practically wished for a world to save or an army to fight as he signed his name on countless papers and spoke to an endless number of messengers from far-off places.
Unbeknownst to him, Edgar would get his wish.
It was midday when Edgar was informed of a mysterious visitor to the castle who wished to speak to him. Knowing that such an individual was highly unlikely to have ill intentions after the fall of the world's great evil four years ago, he willingly allowed the man to enter the throne room. However, he wondered if such an action was regrettable when he saw the man, a deathly pale individual with long, silver hair that nearly reached the center of his back. His eyes, twin portals of endless black similar to the color of his robe, seemed to bore into the king as if they could read his every thought. Edgar was forced to turn away from the visitor's eyes for a moment before he addressed the man.
"I welcome you to Figaro Castle, the center of the Figaro Kingdom," he said warily; such was his customary greeting. "I am Edgar, king of Figaro. What business do you have here?"
The robed man laughed darkly, sending a chill down the spine of the king. "Edgar, king of Figaro," he repeated in an ominous, flowing voice. "I have come to discuss the matter of the opening in the great river of time. You seem to have discovered the anomaly, so I will not bore you with details. Do you wish me to go on?"
"I..." For an unknown reason, Edgar seemed to be at a loss for words. "Continue," he said finally.
"My words may be a bit difficult to believe, but I have ways of proving them." The man cleared his throat and continued. "The rift was created by Chaos, my master. If you have never heard of my lord before this day, you can believe me when I say that he has power beyond the wildest reckoning of you humans. I have come for two reasons, the first of which is slightly more important than the second. First, I have come seeking the Crystal of Water, of which this shard originates." As he spoke, the man drew forth a six-inch-long splinter of blue crystal that emitted a dancing, rippling blue glow.
"I've heard of no such object," Edgar said. "If this 'Crystal of Water' existed, I believe I would know of it."
"Yes, I expected as much. I was told that you might not know of its existence. Now, I believe it would be wise if I moved on to the other reason for my coming: the invasion of this castle and the beginning of its service to the all-powerful dark lord Chaos. You can trust me when I say that my army awaits my command at your doorstep."
Edgar was on his feet in an instant, immediately cursing himself for not having a weapon on hand. "Guards!" he cried, hoping that a sentry was within earshot of the throne room.
"Do you honestly believe your pitiful guards possess power enough to restrain me?" asked the robed man with a laugh. From a hidden sheath beneath his robe he drew forth a long, narrow sword and pointed it in the direction of the king. At about that time, a pair of guards stumbled into the throne room and realized the man's intentions. However, they were given no chance to catch him, for he soon disappeared as if he had been but a shadow cast upon a wall by a flickering torch.
Edgar dropped into the throne. "What is going on..." he muttered, half to himself and half to the guards that stood before him.
A single guard stepped forth and dropped to one knee. "My liege, there is a problem. A large number of individuals robed in black has approached the front entrance to the castle. We've sealed the front and side doors, but we aren't sure how long they would be able to keep the robed ones out of the castle in the case of an attack."
Edgar sighed and stood from the throne. He massaged his temples with his hands, contemplating a response to the situation. "Tell Lady Branford and those with my brother in the library to come to the throne room immediately. I must go see this army for myself."
That said, Edgar slowly made his way out of the throne room and onto the walls of the castle. He climbed atop the high section of wall that lined the front face of the massive structure and, shielding his eyes from the scorching rays of the desert sun and the wind-swept barrage of sand that seemed to blow toward the castle, surveyed the open desert to the south. Sure enough, quite a large force of hooded, robed individuals had approached the castle, causing Edgar to wonder why they had not been noticed in their approach by the guards atop the walls. Nevertheless, they were certainly a problem, and Edgar had never dealt with such an invasion before, even in the days of the Empire. Thus, it is no surprise that the young king became a bit frantic at the sight of the army that threatened to overrun his castle in moments.
"Mobilize the army!" Edgar cried above the sounds of hurried soldiers and frantic civilians. "All guards, to the front entrance! I want absolutely no breaches of this castle!" The king began to head in the direction of his throne room, his mind lingering upon the implications of a full-scale invasion. As he worriedly walked through the castle's main hall, his eyes toward the floor, Edgar nearly collided with Albrecht, the chancellor, who stopped the frantic king for a moment.
"All of our guests have made their way to the throne room," Albrecht said. "That is, all but Lady Branford."
"Where is she?" Edgar cried frantically.
"We're not sure; the guard sent to retrieve her has not returned. She can fend for herself; so do not worry over her for the time being. I think it is best that you inform our guests of the situation."
Edgar simply nodded and stalked into the throne room. Before the room's three inhabitants could so much as look up at him, the king informed them of the situation briefly. "The castle is under attack."
"What? By who?" Sabin was on his feet in an instant. His hands reached instinctively to his sides, where his twin claws hung by leather straps. "They won't be around much longer."
"I wouldn't be so eager to fight," Edgar said solemnly. I believe there is more to these mysterious robed invaders than there seems to be."
At the mention of a robe, Clest's eyes widened. "Robed? As in...black robes? All of them?" he said quickly, his hand clenching into a fist.
"Why, yes-"
"Damn those bastards!" Clest proclaimed loudly. Without any further thought, he began to head for the throne room's exit. When questioned by Edgar, he replied simply, "My gunblade is in my room."
"Wait for me!" Relm cried. "I need my weapon too!" At that, the flamboyantly dressed young woman charged after him angrily. "Wait for me, damn it!"
Edgar sighed. "There's no stopping young people with goals to accomplish, it seems."
"Kefka learned that the hard way," Sabin said with a laugh. "So, can I blitz them now?"
"Wait a minute. We need a plan." Edgar thought for a moment, attempting to put the pieces of the mystery behind the identity of the invaders together. "We still aren't sure of their true power, but I've seen one of them disappear from sight as if he was but a wisp of smoke. It looked like...magic."
"That's impossible." Sabin scratched his chin. "Isn't it?"
"I thought so. But perhaps...perhaps they come from a different time period in which magic is functional. If young Clest could leap through time, perhaps these robed people can as well. Besides, Clest seemed to recognize them, but he isn't here to ask." Edgar sighed. "I think we should burrow."
"That wouldn't solve the problem," Sabin replied, ever a fan of beating his enemies into oblivion.
"It would give us time to think," Edgar replied. "We could surface near Kohlingen and form a plan for dealing with the robed ones. However, I need your help down in the engine room."
Sabin shrugged. "I suppose that would work. We should head down there now; who knows how long it'll take us to get this damn place running again."
* * * * *
"Damn it..."
Relm's voice trailed off as she surveyed Figaro Castle's east tower from atop the castle walls. The robed invaders had systematically surrounded the tower, effectively cutting it off from the remainder of the castle. Thus, Clest and Relm could not access their weapons by any normal means unless they could fight off the entire group of robed ones who kept the tower inaccessible from the castle, and this option seemed highly unlikely.
Clest was not pleased; gunblades were hardly inexpensive, and were somewhat difficult to obtain outside of a military organization. "I'm going over there if I have to beat them back with my bare hands," he declared, ever searching for an alternate entrance to the tower.
Relm sighed. "Give it up. There's no way we'll get our weapons now."
"Maybe...over there..." Clest muttered as if thinking aloud. He motioned toward the catwalk that connected the tower to the castle's east wall. "We can get to the tower using that, can't we?"
"It wasn't made for walking on," Relm said. "You'd have to jump over the wall to get to it."
Clest shrugged. "Okay." At that, he took off toward the edge of the wall and looked over the battlements. It was not a long drop to the catwalk; ten or twelve feet, Clest guessed. It was certainly no trouble for anyone with SeeD training.
Relm ran over to the reckless mercenary, obviously annoyed by his foolhardy intents. "You can't just jump over the wall of a castle!"
"Watch me," Clest said. He stepped up upon the battlements directly over the catwalk, took a breath, and leapt down to the narrow stone pathway. He landed near the edge of the catwalk, barely avoiding quite a long fall to the sand-covered ground quite a distance below the top of the castle. As it was, he hit the catwalk at an odd angle, causing him to fall painfully to his side. However, he was not deterred; he stood, brushed sand from himself, and motioned for Relm to follow his example.
"You're insane!" Relm screamed, stepping up upon the battlements; she would not be made a fool of by the idiot mercenary from the future.
Clest crossed his arms impatiently. "Hurry up! They're going to notice me if I stand here any longer!"
Thus, Relm sighed, closed her eyes, and leapt from the castle's battlements. Clest, seeing that the girl would land at an awkward position and injure herself if he did not intervene, sped toward Relm's point of landing and deftly caught her, thus preventing her from a fatal impact with the stone catwalk. However, Relm was less than appreciative; she shoved Clest away from herself in embarrassment, causing Clest to laugh. The mercenary was obviously enjoying himself immensely.
"We'd better head over there," Clest said, pointing at the tower. Without so much as a backward glance, he headed off across the precarious catwalk to the tower.
"We should try not to let them notice us-" Relm stammered as she ran after the irritating time-traveler. Her words were cut short by the sound of an explosion behind her. As she increased her running speed, Relm turned back to notice a gaping hole in the castle wall near the area where the catwalk entered the wall through a large, square opening. "I think they've seen us, thanks to you!"
Clest had nearly reached the tower. "Who gives a shit? As long as they don't HIT us, we'll be fine!"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're exceedingly frustrating?" Relm declared. She had begun to close the distance between herself and Clest.
"Constantly," Clest replied with a smirk. However, his expression soon changed as the catwalk directly behind him was blown to pieces. Relm was forced to leap over a sizeable gap to continue on toward the tower. It was at that moment that Clest fully acknowledged the severity of his situation; he ran desperately toward the tower before him and leapt over its battlements as if his very existence depended on reaching the tower in the next three seconds. Relm soon followed Clest's example, and collapsed upon the stone ground as Clest rose to his feet.
Relm muttered a curse in annoyance. "That hurt..." Her voice trailed off, as she noticed Clest staring out over the battlements of the tower, his eyes fixed on whatever scene lay before him. Relm approached the edge of the tower and followed his gaze.
"No...for the love of all that is sacred, no!" Relm could not contain herself, despite the risk of being noticed by those surrounding the tower, for she saw before her the most horrid sight she had ever witnessed. For nearly as far as the eye could see, the shattered, broken bodies of men and chocobos lay strewn about the desert before the grand castle they had given their lives to protect. The bloody mess of corpses was apparently all that remained of Figaro's famed Chocobo Cavalry.
"If so few of them can kill so many soldiers..." Clest trailed off. He could feel anger welling up from within him; this anger was beginning to manifest itself. The young man began to take on a savage, vengeful appearance, as if he were slowly being driven mad by some unidentifiable force within him. "I'll kill you!" He screamed, hoping any of the robed ones was close enough to the tower to hear his cry. "I'll kill you all, do you hear me? Each and every one of you!" Without another word, Clest darted down the flight of stairs that led to the inner rooms of the tower.
Relm was quick to follow the exasperating mercenary. "Wait for me, damn it! I'm coming too!" However, she was not fast enough to keep pace with Clest; the mercenary had his gunblade ready when Relm burst into the guest room that formed the lowest level of the tower. Relm swiftly produced her own weapon, a spiked flail with an ornate handle, and thrust a paintbrush of chocobo tail feathers into her belt.
Clest laughed distractedly at this display. "We won't have time for painting anything. Sorry to disappoint you," he mocked.
In response, Relm simply removed the brush from her belt and used it to form several symbols in the air before her. She then pointed the brush at Clest, chanted several unintelligible syllables, and flourished the brush flamboyantly. Suddenly, there appeared what seemed in all regards to be a perfect likeness of Clest in the air before the young artist. This apparition was dismissed with a quick wave of Relm's hand, but it had the desired effect on Clest, whose eyes were opened wider than ever they had been.
"H...how did you...?" Clest had a bit of difficulty forming a sentence.
Relm smiled. "Simple, really. It has to do with the fact that my bloodline is gifted with the art of creation, one of the three component aspects of magic."
"But I thought there was no magic in this world," Clest managed to stammer.
Relm shrugged. "Some magic is too inherently human to ever go away, I suppose. Look, I'm not a scholar on the subject; let's just get on with this horrible mess of an invasion. We'd better make our way back to the castle in case they decide to burrow."
"Uh, right," Clest muttered. He was a bit preoccupied in thinking up ways to kill the robed ones. "Yeah, we wouldn't want to be left here, I suppose...but how in hell are we supposed to get to the castle from here? We can't go back across the catwalk, and running across that battlefield out there is nothing less than suicide."
Relm crossed her arms. "So NOW you've taken our lives into consideration?"
"I was absolutely sure I could make it across the catwalk," Clest replied innocently.
"What about me?" Relm screeched. She decided it would be best to give up her pursuit of the subject; she and Clest were getting no closer to the castle by arguing. "I'm going to make a run for the castle. If you don't want to follow me, you can stay here for all I care." Without another word, Relm bolted out the front entrance of the tower and ran furiously toward the castle. Of course, Clest would not be gotten the better of; he followed close behind the young artist, running as fast as he possibly could across the spell-blasted desert.
"There! Two of them! Over there!"
Clest could not discern who had spotted him, but the proclamation had been clear. The truth behind the statement was made obvious when several large pillars of flame rose from the ground around the fleeing mercenary, barely missing him but singeing his clothing badly. Clest spotted several of the robed individuals swiftly catching up to him from behind; he flourished his gunblade, but continued to run toward the castle. Much to his dismay, he could no longer see Relm ahead of himself, but this did not cause him to falter. The mercenary was on the verge of engaging his pursuers when several massive sections of the earth below him suddenly burst up from the ground, throwing him forcefully into the desert floor. He attempted to rise, but was knocked unconscious by another minor quake. As his awareness faded from his body, he could barely see the three robed figures standing around him, and could almost make out their words.
"We have the vessel..."
* * * * *
Edgar cursed loudly. "I remember this being easier. Toss me that wrench."
Sabin complied quickly. "Easy or not, you'd better get this thing working soon," he said as his brother disappeared under one of the two massive engines in the bowels of Figaro Castle. "I was told that the mounted forces can't take much more of this attack."
"Almost...nearly got it...there..." The king was paying no heed to his brother. His quick maintenance on the engines of the castle was nearing completion. "If I just turn this thing right here...I think..."
"You...don't seem to know what you're doing," Sabin said with a sigh.
Edgar grumbled an unintelligible phrase under his breath. "It's been a while since I've done this! I'm going to train a few technicians to deal with this sort of thing when this fiasco is over."
Sabin shrugged. "If I were fixing the engines, you can count on the fact that they would be worse off when I had finished than they were before."
"I just don't understand how these engines could have gotten in such bad shape in only three years," Edgar said distractedly. The sound of metal tapping against metal could be heard from under the engine.
"I suppose it doesn't make any-"
Sabin stopped mid-sentence, for a large crashing sound filled the underbelly of the castle, and the entire structure shook with an unseen force for a moment.
"What the hell was that?" Edgar asked.
"I'm not sure..." Sabin said. He paused, taking a moment to secure his claws upon his hands. "You stay here and get these engines working as fast as you possibly can. I'm going to go see what happened. Remember, as soon as the engines are working, burrow and head for Kohlingen."
"But what about Terra?" Edgar said. "We don't know where she is."
"No matter what!" Sabin said firmly, and ran off down the engine room and into the main hall of the castle's basement areas. It is within the hall that he discovered the cause of the cause of the castle's shuddering; there stood a single black-robed man, his hood drawn back to reveal a gaunt, pale face and short, raven-colored hair. He seemed to be leaning upon a staff that appeared in all respects to be carved from black marble, giving the impression that he could hardly hold himself up. However, Sabin did not take the man's appearance for granted, and readied himself for battle.
"You are very suspicious," the robed man muttered weakly. "As you should be."
"What is it that you want?" Sabin asked. "How did you find your way down here?"
The robed man smiled and straightened himself, stretching his arms over his head bemusedly. Oddly, his staff retained its upright position when he removed his hands from it. "It was a simple matter of killing the old man at the entrance who I assume was a technician of some sort. Oh, he put up a bit of a fight, but he was soon disposed of."
Sabin clenched his teeth. "Bastard..." he muttered, his voice betraying the raw fury building up within him.
"I have come to kill you and the king," said the intruder simply. "I shall like to begin...now."
Sabin simply nodded. "As you wish!" he cried, charging forth toward the intruder at full speed. His claws rent the air before him, but made contact with only air; the robed man was no longer standing where he had been seconds ago. Sabin spun around and discovered the intruder hovering several inches above the stone floor, his staff in hand.
"I believe it is my turn," said the robed man. He flew forward at Sabin, his form becoming an indistinguishable blur due to his speed, and swung his staff at the martial artist. Sabin barely managed to deflect the attack with his claws, but was quick to retaliate with a swift kick to his opponent's head. His kick missed its mark, however, and a well-placed blow from the robed man's staff sent Sabin sprawling upon the floor. The martial artist was not defeated, however; he pulled himself to his feet and prepared for a second assault.
The intruder simply laughed. "Finally, I am able to fight an opponent who poses a challenge to me! Of course you cannot win, but you can trust me when I say you will last longer than most."
Sabin spat a bit of blood upon the floor. "I've killed opponents twice as tough as you," he snarled, then taking the opportunity to close his eyes and focus all his energy into his hands as he was taught to do by the martial arts master Duncan years before. In a single sharp movement, he pointed his hands forward, with his arms fully outstretched and his palms facing his opponent. A blinding beam of energy flew toward the robed man, appearing as if it would decimate him in an instant. However, the man was too swift even for the well-aimed blitz technique; he caught the beam of energy on his staff, sparing himself from any injury. While Sabin was dazed, the intruder took the opportunity to lift the burly man into the air and toss him into the wall, creating a small indentation in the wall from the force of Sabin's impact. The martial artist attempted to pull himself up from the ground, but could come no farther than a kneeling position. He coughed, causing blood to spatter upon the floor before him.
"Are you finished yet?" asked the robed man. "I do have a schedule to keep, and I would appreciate it if you would hurry up and die."
As injured as he was, Sabin looked up at the robed man fiercely. With a bit of effort he rose to his feet, ever gazing forward at his opponent. His eyes closed, the martial artist clenched his fists and focused on his personal aura of energy. In a short amount of time a soft white glow had begun to surround Sabin, and he suddenly looked forward at his opponent. Unexpectedly, he flew forth in a blur and began to assault the robed man from all sides with a speed that seemed to transcend human physical limits. Dexterous as he was, the robed man could do little to deflect the claw-augmented blows that seemed to fly at him from all sides; when he tried to employ his staff, the object shattered into an uncountable number of pieces and fell to the floor. The intruder found himself being punctured by the vicious claws of the martial artist from all sides at once. Then, as soon as the assault had begun, it came to a close in the form of a massive blow to the robed man's chest that sent him plummeting several feet into the wall behind him. Surprisingly enough, however, he was able to pull himself to his feet and speak.
"Un...unbelievable..." the robed man stammered. Blood had begun to flow freely from his many puncture wounds, but he clenched his teeth and continued. "You have not seen...the last of me..." As soon as he uttered his final words, he collapsed to his knees. It appeared as if he would fall forward, but this was not so; as he began to fall, his body became surrounded by a red glow and disappeared from the room.
Sabin leaned against a wall, each breath causing him pain. "Edgar!" he cried, attempting to see through the haze that clouded his vision. Unbeknownst to him, his brother was standing in the door that led to the engine room, his mouth gaping in amazement. "Have you finished working on the engine?"
Edgar was quick to put an arm around his brother in support. "The engine is finished. Come on, you need to rest."
"I'm...okay. Really..." Sabin coughed, again causing blood to issue from his mouth. "We've got to burrow."
"Right now the most crucial factor on hand is your condition."
"No," Sabin managed to say. His voice was little more than a rasping whisper. "You have never seen how they fight. The castle can't take much more of this. We've got to burrow."
Edgar looked at his brother worryingly. "But-"
"Now."
A Shadow Over Figaro
"It is said that in times past-...no, that isn't it...oh, here it is."
Sabin, who was sitting quite comfortably in a chair with his feet elevated by one of the long wooden tables of the Figaro Castle library, cleared his throat. In his hand was a seemingly ancient book about times even more ancient than the book itself.
"Long ago," Sabin began, reciting a passage from the old book, "Before even the War of the Magi rent the world with its unbridled fury, there existed a magnificent kingdom known in modern times as Eden. Though not a great deal is known about the Eden Empire, it is quite clear that the grandiose realm was practically alive with magic of all sorts; it is now believed that the kingdom itself was ruled solely by mages. However, it is quite clear, through careful research and excavation, that the most prominent magic-users within the Eden hierarchy were the mysterious and feared Time Mages.
"Though a specific location is not given, it is said that the Time Mages owned a castle in which their various experiments were performed. The specifics of these experiments are, to this day, unknown; however, it is guessed by modern scholars of the lost art of magic that many of the experiments were focused on time travel and bending the fragile fabrics of time to an individual's every whim. These experiments were extremely dangerous, of course, and were halted when the War of the Magi broke out on the borders of Eden. It is then said that the esper Odin and his mighty army occupied the castle for use in the war due to its proximity to the front lines of battle."
"And you say we can reach this fabled castle somehow?" Clest questioned skeptically from across the table. How could such an ancient structure have possibly survived the great deal of abuse caused to it by natural forces as time passed?
"Edgar still hasn't told you about the 'secret' of Figaro Castle?" Relm asked. "It's a miracle; we've been in the castle for an entire night and half a day now, and the self-titled king of the industrial age himself hasn't even explained the castle's unique ability to you yet. Generally he would be pretty quick to go off on one of his rants."
Clest shrugged. "So what is it about this castle that'll let us reach a buried castle, anyway?"
"It can burrow," Sabin said flatly, the book hanging from his hand as if he were bored.
As had become common, the chronologically displaced mercenary was thoroughly baffled. "Burrow?"
Sabin shrugged. "Yes, borrow. You know, tunnel through the ground. Not only that, but it can travel deep enough to pass under entire small seas."
"How in hell could a castle do something like that?" Clest asked. "There's no possible way..."
"Ah, but there is. It has something to do with a complicated system of digging mechanisms that use blasts of superheated, high-pressured air to burrow under the ground. Edgar calls it a 'miracle of modern technology.'"
"The king would love the future..." Clest muttered to himself whimsically. "He'd faint when he saw a Garden."
"Garden?" Sabin asked.
"Not the type of garden with plants and flowers and everything," Clest said. "A Garden is basically a school and headquarters for a branch of SeeD, an elite mercenary organization that hasn't had a whole lot to do in the past few years."
Relm shrugged. "Why would Edgar care about that?"
"I'm not finished," Clest said. "The most amazing thing about the two operational Gardens is that they can fly. Hell, it even amazes the people in my own time; you know, the thought of a flying three-story building. We still aren't sure how they fly, but the fact that they can was pretty damn useful during the Ultimecea Crisis."
"Yeah, that would definitely impress my brother," Sabin said. He paused. "Wait a minute. Ultimecea? What is that?"
"I suppose you could say she was one hell of a sorceress. I heard that by the time she was defeated four years ago, she had almost achieved the power of a god."
"We killed Kefka four years ago," said Relm offhandedly. "Isn't it odd that you come from a time when the world was saved four years before also..."
"Wait...you believe my story about time travel?" Clest said, his voice showing slight surprise. He knew more than anyone that his account sounded quite far from a plausible truth, though no part of it was fabricated in any way.
"Look, it doesn't matter whether we believe your story or not," Sabin explained. "Anything that has ANYTHING to do with the pile of garbage that was Kefka's tower needs to be investigated."
Clest sighed. "So what's the big deal with that guy, anyway?"
"You mean Kefka?" Relm asked, mildly surprised at the question.
"Yeah," Clest responded with a shrug. "I mean, what was so important about him besides the fact that he almost destroyed the world?"
A shadow seemed to pass over Sabin's face. "No, he didn't almost destroy the world. He actually succeeded in doing it. You see, he harnessed the power of the dead Espers and the three Goddess Statues, achieving some low form of godhood in the process. Being something of a god, we're not absolutely sure it is possible for us to have killed him four years ago. He may still be alive somewhere, though he lacks physical form."
"At least, he did when we 'killed' him..." Relm mused. "Maybe he found a body."
"Maybe he's not alive," Sabin said. "Who the hell knows? But we can't take chances. If he's out there somewhere, he'll want revenge."
Clest sighed. "I see what you mean. It's never a good thing to have a pissed-off malevolent god running around." He shrugged, lounging in his chair. "So when are we going to the buried castle?"
"Tomorrow, I suppose," Sabin replied. "Unless Edgar has some reason not to go so soon. However, I know he wants to investigate the supposed time rift as much as anyone."
"Then maybe I can go home," Clest said whimsically.
Maybe.
* * * * *
For Edgar, the day had not been as simple as reading through a few old books in the library; after his short absence from the throne, he had much to attend to. Between foreign ambassadors, lengthy reports on the state of the kingdom, and the mostly trivial requests of regional governors, the young king knew he would have no rest from his duties for quite a while. He simply had to remind himself that such was the price a king must pay to rule such a kingdom as Figaro and continue on with his boring royal duties. It would be safe to say that he practically wished for a world to save or an army to fight as he signed his name on countless papers and spoke to an endless number of messengers from far-off places.
Unbeknownst to him, Edgar would get his wish.
It was midday when Edgar was informed of a mysterious visitor to the castle who wished to speak to him. Knowing that such an individual was highly unlikely to have ill intentions after the fall of the world's great evil four years ago, he willingly allowed the man to enter the throne room. However, he wondered if such an action was regrettable when he saw the man, a deathly pale individual with long, silver hair that nearly reached the center of his back. His eyes, twin portals of endless black similar to the color of his robe, seemed to bore into the king as if they could read his every thought. Edgar was forced to turn away from the visitor's eyes for a moment before he addressed the man.
"I welcome you to Figaro Castle, the center of the Figaro Kingdom," he said warily; such was his customary greeting. "I am Edgar, king of Figaro. What business do you have here?"
The robed man laughed darkly, sending a chill down the spine of the king. "Edgar, king of Figaro," he repeated in an ominous, flowing voice. "I have come to discuss the matter of the opening in the great river of time. You seem to have discovered the anomaly, so I will not bore you with details. Do you wish me to go on?"
"I..." For an unknown reason, Edgar seemed to be at a loss for words. "Continue," he said finally.
"My words may be a bit difficult to believe, but I have ways of proving them." The man cleared his throat and continued. "The rift was created by Chaos, my master. If you have never heard of my lord before this day, you can believe me when I say that he has power beyond the wildest reckoning of you humans. I have come for two reasons, the first of which is slightly more important than the second. First, I have come seeking the Crystal of Water, of which this shard originates." As he spoke, the man drew forth a six-inch-long splinter of blue crystal that emitted a dancing, rippling blue glow.
"I've heard of no such object," Edgar said. "If this 'Crystal of Water' existed, I believe I would know of it."
"Yes, I expected as much. I was told that you might not know of its existence. Now, I believe it would be wise if I moved on to the other reason for my coming: the invasion of this castle and the beginning of its service to the all-powerful dark lord Chaos. You can trust me when I say that my army awaits my command at your doorstep."
Edgar was on his feet in an instant, immediately cursing himself for not having a weapon on hand. "Guards!" he cried, hoping that a sentry was within earshot of the throne room.
"Do you honestly believe your pitiful guards possess power enough to restrain me?" asked the robed man with a laugh. From a hidden sheath beneath his robe he drew forth a long, narrow sword and pointed it in the direction of the king. At about that time, a pair of guards stumbled into the throne room and realized the man's intentions. However, they were given no chance to catch him, for he soon disappeared as if he had been but a shadow cast upon a wall by a flickering torch.
Edgar dropped into the throne. "What is going on..." he muttered, half to himself and half to the guards that stood before him.
A single guard stepped forth and dropped to one knee. "My liege, there is a problem. A large number of individuals robed in black has approached the front entrance to the castle. We've sealed the front and side doors, but we aren't sure how long they would be able to keep the robed ones out of the castle in the case of an attack."
Edgar sighed and stood from the throne. He massaged his temples with his hands, contemplating a response to the situation. "Tell Lady Branford and those with my brother in the library to come to the throne room immediately. I must go see this army for myself."
That said, Edgar slowly made his way out of the throne room and onto the walls of the castle. He climbed atop the high section of wall that lined the front face of the massive structure and, shielding his eyes from the scorching rays of the desert sun and the wind-swept barrage of sand that seemed to blow toward the castle, surveyed the open desert to the south. Sure enough, quite a large force of hooded, robed individuals had approached the castle, causing Edgar to wonder why they had not been noticed in their approach by the guards atop the walls. Nevertheless, they were certainly a problem, and Edgar had never dealt with such an invasion before, even in the days of the Empire. Thus, it is no surprise that the young king became a bit frantic at the sight of the army that threatened to overrun his castle in moments.
"Mobilize the army!" Edgar cried above the sounds of hurried soldiers and frantic civilians. "All guards, to the front entrance! I want absolutely no breaches of this castle!" The king began to head in the direction of his throne room, his mind lingering upon the implications of a full-scale invasion. As he worriedly walked through the castle's main hall, his eyes toward the floor, Edgar nearly collided with Albrecht, the chancellor, who stopped the frantic king for a moment.
"All of our guests have made their way to the throne room," Albrecht said. "That is, all but Lady Branford."
"Where is she?" Edgar cried frantically.
"We're not sure; the guard sent to retrieve her has not returned. She can fend for herself; so do not worry over her for the time being. I think it is best that you inform our guests of the situation."
Edgar simply nodded and stalked into the throne room. Before the room's three inhabitants could so much as look up at him, the king informed them of the situation briefly. "The castle is under attack."
"What? By who?" Sabin was on his feet in an instant. His hands reached instinctively to his sides, where his twin claws hung by leather straps. "They won't be around much longer."
"I wouldn't be so eager to fight," Edgar said solemnly. I believe there is more to these mysterious robed invaders than there seems to be."
At the mention of a robe, Clest's eyes widened. "Robed? As in...black robes? All of them?" he said quickly, his hand clenching into a fist.
"Why, yes-"
"Damn those bastards!" Clest proclaimed loudly. Without any further thought, he began to head for the throne room's exit. When questioned by Edgar, he replied simply, "My gunblade is in my room."
"Wait for me!" Relm cried. "I need my weapon too!" At that, the flamboyantly dressed young woman charged after him angrily. "Wait for me, damn it!"
Edgar sighed. "There's no stopping young people with goals to accomplish, it seems."
"Kefka learned that the hard way," Sabin said with a laugh. "So, can I blitz them now?"
"Wait a minute. We need a plan." Edgar thought for a moment, attempting to put the pieces of the mystery behind the identity of the invaders together. "We still aren't sure of their true power, but I've seen one of them disappear from sight as if he was but a wisp of smoke. It looked like...magic."
"That's impossible." Sabin scratched his chin. "Isn't it?"
"I thought so. But perhaps...perhaps they come from a different time period in which magic is functional. If young Clest could leap through time, perhaps these robed people can as well. Besides, Clest seemed to recognize them, but he isn't here to ask." Edgar sighed. "I think we should burrow."
"That wouldn't solve the problem," Sabin replied, ever a fan of beating his enemies into oblivion.
"It would give us time to think," Edgar replied. "We could surface near Kohlingen and form a plan for dealing with the robed ones. However, I need your help down in the engine room."
Sabin shrugged. "I suppose that would work. We should head down there now; who knows how long it'll take us to get this damn place running again."
* * * * *
"Damn it..."
Relm's voice trailed off as she surveyed Figaro Castle's east tower from atop the castle walls. The robed invaders had systematically surrounded the tower, effectively cutting it off from the remainder of the castle. Thus, Clest and Relm could not access their weapons by any normal means unless they could fight off the entire group of robed ones who kept the tower inaccessible from the castle, and this option seemed highly unlikely.
Clest was not pleased; gunblades were hardly inexpensive, and were somewhat difficult to obtain outside of a military organization. "I'm going over there if I have to beat them back with my bare hands," he declared, ever searching for an alternate entrance to the tower.
Relm sighed. "Give it up. There's no way we'll get our weapons now."
"Maybe...over there..." Clest muttered as if thinking aloud. He motioned toward the catwalk that connected the tower to the castle's east wall. "We can get to the tower using that, can't we?"
"It wasn't made for walking on," Relm said. "You'd have to jump over the wall to get to it."
Clest shrugged. "Okay." At that, he took off toward the edge of the wall and looked over the battlements. It was not a long drop to the catwalk; ten or twelve feet, Clest guessed. It was certainly no trouble for anyone with SeeD training.
Relm ran over to the reckless mercenary, obviously annoyed by his foolhardy intents. "You can't just jump over the wall of a castle!"
"Watch me," Clest said. He stepped up upon the battlements directly over the catwalk, took a breath, and leapt down to the narrow stone pathway. He landed near the edge of the catwalk, barely avoiding quite a long fall to the sand-covered ground quite a distance below the top of the castle. As it was, he hit the catwalk at an odd angle, causing him to fall painfully to his side. However, he was not deterred; he stood, brushed sand from himself, and motioned for Relm to follow his example.
"You're insane!" Relm screamed, stepping up upon the battlements; she would not be made a fool of by the idiot mercenary from the future.
Clest crossed his arms impatiently. "Hurry up! They're going to notice me if I stand here any longer!"
Thus, Relm sighed, closed her eyes, and leapt from the castle's battlements. Clest, seeing that the girl would land at an awkward position and injure herself if he did not intervene, sped toward Relm's point of landing and deftly caught her, thus preventing her from a fatal impact with the stone catwalk. However, Relm was less than appreciative; she shoved Clest away from herself in embarrassment, causing Clest to laugh. The mercenary was obviously enjoying himself immensely.
"We'd better head over there," Clest said, pointing at the tower. Without so much as a backward glance, he headed off across the precarious catwalk to the tower.
"We should try not to let them notice us-" Relm stammered as she ran after the irritating time-traveler. Her words were cut short by the sound of an explosion behind her. As she increased her running speed, Relm turned back to notice a gaping hole in the castle wall near the area where the catwalk entered the wall through a large, square opening. "I think they've seen us, thanks to you!"
Clest had nearly reached the tower. "Who gives a shit? As long as they don't HIT us, we'll be fine!"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're exceedingly frustrating?" Relm declared. She had begun to close the distance between herself and Clest.
"Constantly," Clest replied with a smirk. However, his expression soon changed as the catwalk directly behind him was blown to pieces. Relm was forced to leap over a sizeable gap to continue on toward the tower. It was at that moment that Clest fully acknowledged the severity of his situation; he ran desperately toward the tower before him and leapt over its battlements as if his very existence depended on reaching the tower in the next three seconds. Relm soon followed Clest's example, and collapsed upon the stone ground as Clest rose to his feet.
Relm muttered a curse in annoyance. "That hurt..." Her voice trailed off, as she noticed Clest staring out over the battlements of the tower, his eyes fixed on whatever scene lay before him. Relm approached the edge of the tower and followed his gaze.
"No...for the love of all that is sacred, no!" Relm could not contain herself, despite the risk of being noticed by those surrounding the tower, for she saw before her the most horrid sight she had ever witnessed. For nearly as far as the eye could see, the shattered, broken bodies of men and chocobos lay strewn about the desert before the grand castle they had given their lives to protect. The bloody mess of corpses was apparently all that remained of Figaro's famed Chocobo Cavalry.
"If so few of them can kill so many soldiers..." Clest trailed off. He could feel anger welling up from within him; this anger was beginning to manifest itself. The young man began to take on a savage, vengeful appearance, as if he were slowly being driven mad by some unidentifiable force within him. "I'll kill you!" He screamed, hoping any of the robed ones was close enough to the tower to hear his cry. "I'll kill you all, do you hear me? Each and every one of you!" Without another word, Clest darted down the flight of stairs that led to the inner rooms of the tower.
Relm was quick to follow the exasperating mercenary. "Wait for me, damn it! I'm coming too!" However, she was not fast enough to keep pace with Clest; the mercenary had his gunblade ready when Relm burst into the guest room that formed the lowest level of the tower. Relm swiftly produced her own weapon, a spiked flail with an ornate handle, and thrust a paintbrush of chocobo tail feathers into her belt.
Clest laughed distractedly at this display. "We won't have time for painting anything. Sorry to disappoint you," he mocked.
In response, Relm simply removed the brush from her belt and used it to form several symbols in the air before her. She then pointed the brush at Clest, chanted several unintelligible syllables, and flourished the brush flamboyantly. Suddenly, there appeared what seemed in all regards to be a perfect likeness of Clest in the air before the young artist. This apparition was dismissed with a quick wave of Relm's hand, but it had the desired effect on Clest, whose eyes were opened wider than ever they had been.
"H...how did you...?" Clest had a bit of difficulty forming a sentence.
Relm smiled. "Simple, really. It has to do with the fact that my bloodline is gifted with the art of creation, one of the three component aspects of magic."
"But I thought there was no magic in this world," Clest managed to stammer.
Relm shrugged. "Some magic is too inherently human to ever go away, I suppose. Look, I'm not a scholar on the subject; let's just get on with this horrible mess of an invasion. We'd better make our way back to the castle in case they decide to burrow."
"Uh, right," Clest muttered. He was a bit preoccupied in thinking up ways to kill the robed ones. "Yeah, we wouldn't want to be left here, I suppose...but how in hell are we supposed to get to the castle from here? We can't go back across the catwalk, and running across that battlefield out there is nothing less than suicide."
Relm crossed her arms. "So NOW you've taken our lives into consideration?"
"I was absolutely sure I could make it across the catwalk," Clest replied innocently.
"What about me?" Relm screeched. She decided it would be best to give up her pursuit of the subject; she and Clest were getting no closer to the castle by arguing. "I'm going to make a run for the castle. If you don't want to follow me, you can stay here for all I care." Without another word, Relm bolted out the front entrance of the tower and ran furiously toward the castle. Of course, Clest would not be gotten the better of; he followed close behind the young artist, running as fast as he possibly could across the spell-blasted desert.
"There! Two of them! Over there!"
Clest could not discern who had spotted him, but the proclamation had been clear. The truth behind the statement was made obvious when several large pillars of flame rose from the ground around the fleeing mercenary, barely missing him but singeing his clothing badly. Clest spotted several of the robed individuals swiftly catching up to him from behind; he flourished his gunblade, but continued to run toward the castle. Much to his dismay, he could no longer see Relm ahead of himself, but this did not cause him to falter. The mercenary was on the verge of engaging his pursuers when several massive sections of the earth below him suddenly burst up from the ground, throwing him forcefully into the desert floor. He attempted to rise, but was knocked unconscious by another minor quake. As his awareness faded from his body, he could barely see the three robed figures standing around him, and could almost make out their words.
"We have the vessel..."
* * * * *
Edgar cursed loudly. "I remember this being easier. Toss me that wrench."
Sabin complied quickly. "Easy or not, you'd better get this thing working soon," he said as his brother disappeared under one of the two massive engines in the bowels of Figaro Castle. "I was told that the mounted forces can't take much more of this attack."
"Almost...nearly got it...there..." The king was paying no heed to his brother. His quick maintenance on the engines of the castle was nearing completion. "If I just turn this thing right here...I think..."
"You...don't seem to know what you're doing," Sabin said with a sigh.
Edgar grumbled an unintelligible phrase under his breath. "It's been a while since I've done this! I'm going to train a few technicians to deal with this sort of thing when this fiasco is over."
Sabin shrugged. "If I were fixing the engines, you can count on the fact that they would be worse off when I had finished than they were before."
"I just don't understand how these engines could have gotten in such bad shape in only three years," Edgar said distractedly. The sound of metal tapping against metal could be heard from under the engine.
"I suppose it doesn't make any-"
Sabin stopped mid-sentence, for a large crashing sound filled the underbelly of the castle, and the entire structure shook with an unseen force for a moment.
"What the hell was that?" Edgar asked.
"I'm not sure..." Sabin said. He paused, taking a moment to secure his claws upon his hands. "You stay here and get these engines working as fast as you possibly can. I'm going to go see what happened. Remember, as soon as the engines are working, burrow and head for Kohlingen."
"But what about Terra?" Edgar said. "We don't know where she is."
"No matter what!" Sabin said firmly, and ran off down the engine room and into the main hall of the castle's basement areas. It is within the hall that he discovered the cause of the cause of the castle's shuddering; there stood a single black-robed man, his hood drawn back to reveal a gaunt, pale face and short, raven-colored hair. He seemed to be leaning upon a staff that appeared in all respects to be carved from black marble, giving the impression that he could hardly hold himself up. However, Sabin did not take the man's appearance for granted, and readied himself for battle.
"You are very suspicious," the robed man muttered weakly. "As you should be."
"What is it that you want?" Sabin asked. "How did you find your way down here?"
The robed man smiled and straightened himself, stretching his arms over his head bemusedly. Oddly, his staff retained its upright position when he removed his hands from it. "It was a simple matter of killing the old man at the entrance who I assume was a technician of some sort. Oh, he put up a bit of a fight, but he was soon disposed of."
Sabin clenched his teeth. "Bastard..." he muttered, his voice betraying the raw fury building up within him.
"I have come to kill you and the king," said the intruder simply. "I shall like to begin...now."
Sabin simply nodded. "As you wish!" he cried, charging forth toward the intruder at full speed. His claws rent the air before him, but made contact with only air; the robed man was no longer standing where he had been seconds ago. Sabin spun around and discovered the intruder hovering several inches above the stone floor, his staff in hand.
"I believe it is my turn," said the robed man. He flew forward at Sabin, his form becoming an indistinguishable blur due to his speed, and swung his staff at the martial artist. Sabin barely managed to deflect the attack with his claws, but was quick to retaliate with a swift kick to his opponent's head. His kick missed its mark, however, and a well-placed blow from the robed man's staff sent Sabin sprawling upon the floor. The martial artist was not defeated, however; he pulled himself to his feet and prepared for a second assault.
The intruder simply laughed. "Finally, I am able to fight an opponent who poses a challenge to me! Of course you cannot win, but you can trust me when I say you will last longer than most."
Sabin spat a bit of blood upon the floor. "I've killed opponents twice as tough as you," he snarled, then taking the opportunity to close his eyes and focus all his energy into his hands as he was taught to do by the martial arts master Duncan years before. In a single sharp movement, he pointed his hands forward, with his arms fully outstretched and his palms facing his opponent. A blinding beam of energy flew toward the robed man, appearing as if it would decimate him in an instant. However, the man was too swift even for the well-aimed blitz technique; he caught the beam of energy on his staff, sparing himself from any injury. While Sabin was dazed, the intruder took the opportunity to lift the burly man into the air and toss him into the wall, creating a small indentation in the wall from the force of Sabin's impact. The martial artist attempted to pull himself up from the ground, but could come no farther than a kneeling position. He coughed, causing blood to spatter upon the floor before him.
"Are you finished yet?" asked the robed man. "I do have a schedule to keep, and I would appreciate it if you would hurry up and die."
As injured as he was, Sabin looked up at the robed man fiercely. With a bit of effort he rose to his feet, ever gazing forward at his opponent. His eyes closed, the martial artist clenched his fists and focused on his personal aura of energy. In a short amount of time a soft white glow had begun to surround Sabin, and he suddenly looked forward at his opponent. Unexpectedly, he flew forth in a blur and began to assault the robed man from all sides with a speed that seemed to transcend human physical limits. Dexterous as he was, the robed man could do little to deflect the claw-augmented blows that seemed to fly at him from all sides; when he tried to employ his staff, the object shattered into an uncountable number of pieces and fell to the floor. The intruder found himself being punctured by the vicious claws of the martial artist from all sides at once. Then, as soon as the assault had begun, it came to a close in the form of a massive blow to the robed man's chest that sent him plummeting several feet into the wall behind him. Surprisingly enough, however, he was able to pull himself to his feet and speak.
"Un...unbelievable..." the robed man stammered. Blood had begun to flow freely from his many puncture wounds, but he clenched his teeth and continued. "You have not seen...the last of me..." As soon as he uttered his final words, he collapsed to his knees. It appeared as if he would fall forward, but this was not so; as he began to fall, his body became surrounded by a red glow and disappeared from the room.
Sabin leaned against a wall, each breath causing him pain. "Edgar!" he cried, attempting to see through the haze that clouded his vision. Unbeknownst to him, his brother was standing in the door that led to the engine room, his mouth gaping in amazement. "Have you finished working on the engine?"
Edgar was quick to put an arm around his brother in support. "The engine is finished. Come on, you need to rest."
"I'm...okay. Really..." Sabin coughed, again causing blood to issue from his mouth. "We've got to burrow."
"Right now the most crucial factor on hand is your condition."
"No," Sabin managed to say. His voice was little more than a rasping whisper. "You have never seen how they fight. The castle can't take much more of this. We've got to burrow."
Edgar looked at his brother worryingly. "But-"
"Now."