Chapter 12

Eight years later...

"Dad! Da-a-a-a-a-ad! Uncle Locke said I could go over to his house and play with Loki! Can I go? I'll behave myself, and Uncle Edgar said he'd watch the boat leave to Kohlingen! Please!"

Sabin sighed and looked over the news article he was reading, feeling the morning beard stubble on his face. Enri watched him hopefully, elbows on the table. His mother put his breakfast on the table and tightened his red headband. "Ah... alright... that is, if your mother says yes." Selena nodded her assent and Enri crammed his toast and juice down his throat. "Yeah! I'll send a message to Uncle Edgar!"

Selena stroked Sabin's stubble with her thumb and shook a finger at him. "I know, I know... I'll do it after breakfast! Now where's that girl! Luca!" Sabin called up the stairs. "Come down for breakfast, Luca!"

Enri laughed, tugging at his mother's dress sleeve. "Luca's been mooning over Lok the whole weekend! She hasn't gotten any sleep since Lok left to treasure hunt away from home last week! She's in lo-o-o-o-o-ove!" Sabin gagged on his juice.

"Lok you say?" Enri nodded, grinning. "Not Lok's grandpa! She's got pictures of him everywhere, and I'm gonna tell Loki 'bout it! Isn't Lok about Luca's age?"

"Yeah, sure is... Lok huh? Does your uncle Locke know about it?"

Enri shrugged. "I dunno. If he does, he doesn't say, same with Lok. Uncle Locke's not really my uncle, right?"

"That's right, now... don't you have to get to Figaro on time? Go on, your Uncle Edgar doesn't want to be held up for too long. He won't appreciate it, I'm sure. In fact..." he got up from the table. "I'll go with you. It's been a while since I talked to him."

Luca came down the stairs in a white cotton dress, tying up her hair. "That's a huge lie, Dad. You talk to him all the time on the Kato bot." She indicated the furry pink Kato sitting on Selena's shoulder and licking her cheek. Sabin frowned. "I haven't talked to him face-to-face in a long time... a very long time indeed. Don't you want to wait for Lok over there Luca?" Luca reddened and nodded quickly, point taken.

Lok heaved his knapsack over his shoulder, blowing hair out of his face and hefting his key-mace over his shoulder. It was only a look-alike of his father's, but as a weapon it was good enough. He reached into the sack and pulled out his last bit of food, a piece of bread. He sighed, knowing it was supposed to last him to Figaro. He was only half-way through the desert as he was, and he didn't know if he could make the piece last. He scanned the sands for something edible and wished he had listened to Sabin's lessons on desert survival. Half the stuff Sabin had said was edible didn't sound too appetizing to Lok. Maybe to Edgar it would have been; he was a vegetarian!

Worst of all was the sandstorms that kicked up every once in a while around here, or maybe it was the serious lack of food and water... or... he didn't know which was worse. His stomach growled loudly and he rubbed it. He should not have taken his father's advice to go out into the world alone, he should have listened to his mother! How would they ever manage six younger children between them without him?

To take his mind off his troubles, he counted off his brothers and sisters.

There was Lockett, six years younger than him, Loki,Sabin, and Edgar, triplets born about nine months after Lockett, Rachel, nine months after the triplets , and Celes nine months after Rachel. Was he forgetting anyone? Oh! And little Locke, whom his mother had named after his father. His mother had assured him there would be no more babies for a while, but Lok secretly wondered how long a while would last in his father's book. He scanned the horizon tiredly, but Figaro seemed no closer than it had in the morning. He cursed his foul luck, along with his terrible navigating skills. He should just turn back now and head for South Figaro, to catch a ship to Kohlingen, or maybe to New Narshe to his grandfather Lok. He looked back over his shoulder for a second to catch a glimpse of the setting sun, and his foot sank into a hole and twisted, laying Lok on the ground. He cursed through gritted teeth and peered at his aching ankle, swiping at the hole he had stepped in savagely.

"I never should have left Kohlingen, never! Ugh, this bites... how am I going to get home, or anywhere, now?" He tried to stand up on it, but he crumpled again when the ankle couldn't support his weight. "Figaro's so far away... I don't think I can make it over there... This isn't fair! I'm not supposed to die yet! I'm too young to die!" He paused in his tantrum and spotted a rocky outcropping not too far to the west. If he was unlucky, he might have broken his ankle, and he was doomed. But if it was just sprained... he might be able to wait long enough for it to heal. Using his arms, he dragged himself to his safe-haven. It could shield him from any sandstorms, or from any unfriendly forces. "That's just what I need right about now, hundreds of Arlordens breathing down my neck.

Lok collapsed on the cold stone floor, praising his father for bestowing some of his luck on his unlucky son. He raised his head a bit off of the ground. "Hey, is somebody in here?" he dragged himself over to a wall and sat himself upright.

"Well, you're quite a little mess, aren't you?"

"Uhm... yeah sure, could you help me out here? My ankle's broken."

The other inhabitant of the cave snorted. "If that's broken, then I'm a chocabo." the man stepped out of the darkness of the cave and Lok gasped.

"You! You're... you're... Fleetblade! The greatest warrior in the world!" Lok's mouth tried to suppress a grin. "Kind of a tatoo job, aren'tcha?" The man regarded him coldly. "Youth has no respect for elders, nowadays, eh? I should set you straight. These tatoos are symbols of my rank and warrior status, so you would do well not to insult them. And that ankle of yours is certainly not broken." He grabbed Lok's ankle firmly and Lok yelped with pain. "First of all, none of this Fleetblade business, you hear? My name is Johann-Christian Fleetblade. You, smart-mouth, can call me Johann."

Lok kicked and squirmed under the man's hand. "Why though? You're older than my grandpa! Shouldn't I be respectful, o mighty old one?" Lok yelped again as Johann twisted his damaged ankle a little more. "I can break this off if I want, you know. All I ask is for a little respect, got that, Lok?"

Lok stopped his squirming. "How'd you know my name?"

Johann let go of him, a little flushed. "Knew a boy who looked like you, name was Lok. Guess I sort of saw him in you. But that was a long time ago, a very long time. I suspect he's grown." Lok stuck his tongue out at him. "Heh, if he was a boy then, he must be a man now, huh? I thought you were smart too, cause Grampa always said you were. Grampa Lok'd say it all the time, that you were smart and brave, and all this other stuff. He's like your biggest fan, and personally, I think he's pushing it with you."

Johann studied him suspiciously. "He said that? And he's your... grandfather?"

Lok nodded proudly. "And I was named after him! Grampa Lok is the strongest! I think he might even be stronger than my dad, and even you!" Johann raised an eyebrow and ran his hand through his fair, white winged hair. "That, I doubt. Haven't seen him in a long time, do you know where he is?" Lok crossed his arms. "Ya, he lives in New Narshe now. But I've been away a long time from home, so..." he shrugged his shoulders. "He might even be visiting Dad now with Gramma."

Johann sat down kneeled in front of him and started to tightly wrap his ankle. "So... where is a boy like you headed in the desert for?" Lok wondered whether he should even tell a complete stranger his destination, but Johann was the only way he would get anywhere at all. "Well... I was supposed'ta be giving Prince Gerad of Figaro some birthday present from my dad, and something for King Edgar from Dad... 'cause they had a new baby y'know. But Dad gets news kinda' late in Kohlingen, so it may be really late. Dad and King Edgar go way back, Mom said."

"Ah... since before the Breaking?"

"Uh... I dunno, I guess. That was before I was born... I'm the oldest of my brothers and sisters. Number one out of eight," he said proudly.

"Very nice... you know... I had twelve brothers... and six sisters. I was the youngest, Johann-Christian Fleetblade the Third."
Lok's jaw hung open. "E-Eighteen of you? N-no... nineteen in all! Aaah, and I thought I had it bad with seven! That's just not normal!"

Johann regarded him. "In the north, it is." Lok perked up and leaned forward. "You're from the north? For real? You mean, Vector North?" Johann nodded. "Yes, Vector North. I ran to the southern continents for... personal reasons. Vector North is not the ideal place to live."

Lok snorted. "Yeah, Dad told me. He said Mom was augmented there! That's horrible."

Johann shook his head. "What you speak of, we northerners call Vector Ease West. Vector North... is very much worse than Ease West. There is...was... slavery in the north, of its own people. Just random people they picked off the street, and it was a tough life. Ten of my siblings were captured, including myself.

"Then Figaro decided to act when Vector North sent a plea for help, seeing as Ease West was only profiting from slave trade and encouraging it. I remember not which king, but Figaro sent help all the same, and many were liberated, many more using the confusion as a cloud for escape.

"Vector Ease West then thought Figaro untrustworthy, and embraced them in the alliance only to keep a leash on them. Figaro was obligated to join Ease West, since West had helped Figaro in an internal conflict. I heard that the kings after that one were picked off quietly or died in their sleep. Ease West didn't give them a chance, and the king that ruled was pathetic and weak, scared of Ease West's power after they killed his son, the previous reigning king.

"However... the grandson that was supposedly killed in the same boatwreck resurfaced eighteen years later to reclaim the throne. Enri Figaro lead Figaro through a great age of rebellion, and taught his sons to further rebel against the Empire. Edgar Figaro is his son, is he not?"

Lok nodded dumbly.

"Sabin Figaro is even more rebellious than his father, it is a pity he did not stay with the kingdom... I suspect that he has... perished."

Lok shook his head. "No! No no! Sabin is fine, he's alive and well, actually, and he has two kids! He lives up on Mount Koltz with his wife, and Enri, and... Luca. We've uh... been keeping in touch... but there's no paper or a postbox out in a desert..."

Johann shook his head sympathetically. "Yes... I quite understand, though I sometimes felt in my younger days that love was beyond me... I suggest we get to Figaro as quickly as possible, with my... companion."

Lok looked around quickly. "There's somebody else here? Where? And who!"

Someone else slid out of the shadows quietly. Tall and fair-haired, his mouth was covered by a cloth that hung by his neck. His piercing blue eyes watched Lok suspiciously and circled slowly to Johann, his hand reaching for the large double-bladed broadsword hanging on his back. His other hand clenched and unclenched near his waist, almost involuntarily. Johann waved him down and the new arrival let his sword hand drop.

"I am Musicaa... of the North," he said gruffly, but quietly. "I have matters of importance to discuss with Edga- I mean... the King of Figaro. We will encounter opposition soon, Johann. I suggest we move from this place, very soon." Johann stood up and lifted Lok up. "I have something I need to tell you Lok, but it may have to wait until another time. Musicaa's instincts are not to be taken lightly. Lead the way, Musicaa."

Musicaa inclined his head slightly and swept out of the cave.