Chapter 7

Sabin stepped off of the platform gingerly, and into darkness once again, though he was loath to do it, and would have preferred bed and a drug to put him into a deep and dreamless sleep. It had been a long time since he had had another person's blood on his hands, or any part of him at that rate, other than Junior's occasional scraps with Luca, or nosebleeds or, or... he rubbed his temples. He was tired, sick of blood, sick of everything at the moment. And his family... his eyes sprang open. Would they be safe, with a monster running around the castle? Who knows who would be killed next? Even Edgar was in danger, prone as he was in his battle with the poison.

He bolted back to the platform, gripping the metal hand rails with one hand, furiously punching at the control panel with the other, but it didn't respond. He slammed his fist into it in frustration. "Damn, it so... so old! I can't make heads or tails of this..." he took a deep breath and steadied his hands. He had never been good at Figaroan History, as he had told Junior. His brother had had the head for being king, not him. He had only basic knowledge in tool making, not the extensive wisdom that Edgar had on the matter, nor had he that much experience with ancient texts and languages. But... his tired mind worked out a possible outlook.

Edgar may have had the know-how on languages and ancient texts, but maybe this wasn't one of those... maybe it was something Sabin was good at...
He remembered all the code-books he had read, the ones that had piled up on his table in his room after he had finished committing them to memory, analyzing how they were configured and made. Maybe this panel was part of a code!
He saw the shapes of the letters, the numbers, and understood them. They were characters in the ancient code of the Figaroan Royale Code, used when messengers were thought untrustworthy, or times too dangerous to send in the normal writing. When King wanted to contact Prince, or vice versa, the Figaroan Royale Code was used knowing no one could crack it.

"E and L, S and E, leads to G... what? That doesn't make... any sense..." he looked over the inscription on the panel one more time, and punched in the message. "Nothing..." he stepped out of the platform and jumped back in surprise as the floor lit up, white beams arcing across the ceiling. A giant screen flickered to life, as if wanting to go back to sleep, and for a moment Sabin was afraid it would go out again; it looked ancient. He pressed a few buttons, and a map loaded onto the screen. "A whole map of Figaro, but where am I?" A green dot blinked onto the screen. "You are here." It intoned mechanically. Sabin shivered. "Right next to the tomb... But how did I get so close?" The screen indicated his path in red, a secret platform that descended into the room, from the treasure vault. A safe haven during times of war that was impossible to locate by the enemy.

Current reports indicate that the Empire is ready to begin Project Galahad. The genetically modified child will be put into training shortly.

"Genetic... modification?"

Project Galahad in progress, child is coming along well. Will be scanned for possible malfunctions and backfires. Scientists are pleased with the result.

Sabin looked down. "Genetically modified... like Celes and Kefka..."

Project Galahad is unstable, scheduled to be destroyed the following month. Empire finds a more reliable way of genetic enhancement.

"They're going to... destroy... no... they can't! Not a child!" A picture of the child in question flashed onto the monitor. He looked no different than any other child, but if this boy, this Project Galahad was really unstable...

Upon announcement of the Project's destruction, it renegades and becomes fully uncontrollable, destroying the whole industry town of Figaro.

"An industry town!" Sabin yelled hoarsely.

Project Galahad is loose, Figaro reduced to a wasteland... maybe Project Galahad was a mistake after all.

"The desert... so this was how..."

Project Galahad resurfaces to claim the throne of Figaro as his birthright, from now on, the Figaro royal family is nothing but a family of augmented freaks...

Sabin slammed his fists on the keyboard. "No! How? It's not... possible..." The screen flickered, having delivered its message, and shut down.

"Augmented...freaks... Galahad..."

He walked to a door to the left, his shoes clicking almost unnaturally loud to his ears on the floor. He pushed open the door and gasped as the breath was sucked out of him by some alien force. The air was still, no movement detected in the room, or at least, an outlying room, of the tomb. He forced himself forward a few more steps, into the strange emptiness, the barren nothingness, until he was standing over the tomb itself. It was a pure Figaroan sapphire casket, with an Arlorden ruby encrusted in the center. He reached out to touch it, as if something else were controlling his hand, and not him. He touched the ruby gingerly and swiftly withdrew his hand, like it had been shocked.

He examined the case more thoroughly, rubbing at his hand. There were oddly shaped slots, where he thought more jewels were supposed to be set in. He felt the holes. It didn't seem right for the jewels not to be there, as if the jewels belonged there, had to be there... but why? Why was the question, and for now, Sabin was trapped.