Disclaimer: I don't care what the lawn gnomes told you, I don't own it.
Chapter 3: Honest Work, Kinda...
The atmosphere in camp had been subdued to say the least, and it hadn't improved with sunrise. After oiling the crystal the night before, the three rogues were ready to proceed with phase two of Bal's plan.
It was mid-morning when a wagon rolled into town. It was carrying two Selkies and a moogle, all of which looked very sour and depressed. The attitude was due to a small detail that Bal had failed to mention: they couldn't wear their normal bandit garb. Instead of their classic purple they were dressed in practical workman's uniforms of a Clavat style and Artemicion had washed off his trademark striped paint. All in all, they looked like respectable, hardworking tradesmen.
It was sickening.
Their only consolation was seeing their work had not been in vain. After the hours they had spent smearing toad oil all over the giant crystal, coating it and inundating the ground around it, the huge gem was positively filthy. It looked dull and greasy, ready to wink out a moment's notice. It had also slid several feet out of its niche down the incline of the street.
A crowd of Clavats and Lilities (and two Selkies) had gathered at the base of the great crystal, dismayed over it's dimming state. The mayor was in the front of the group trying to calm the agitated citizens.
The bandits steeled themselves, determined to put on the best performance they could. Their cue came with Bal's relaxed "All right guys; it's show time."
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To say the Mayor was losing patience was an understatement. Though he was a calm and levelheaded individual, having a mob of upset townsfolk screaming at him was getting old fast.
He could understand their anxiety, he felt it too. The crystal was the only thing keeping the miasma at bay and them alive. It wasn't as if they had a spare crystal hidden away in the city hall; they didn't even have the chalice...
It was the stress of keeping the townsfolk at bay (and away from their pitchforks) that caused the harried mayor to snap at the brash young Selkie who cried "Never fear, help is on the way!"
"Just who are you to be offering help?" The mayor questioned harshly.
"I take it you're the mayor of this fine town, no?"
The mayor hated it when someone answered a question with a question. "Yes, I am. Now I ask you again: who are you?"
"Oh, forgive me." Hopping down off the wagon the boy placed a hand on hid chest. "I am Bal." Gesturing to his companions he continued "my associates are Meh and Artemicion. We represent Crystal Cleaners Incorporated."
"Crystal Cleaners?" The mayor asked incredulously, "You're crystal repairmen?" 'And you just happened to be passing through town when our crystal malfunctions.'
"Yes, our company was created to avert disasters like the destruction of Tida. It seems like you could use our help. You'll find our rates are very reasonable, 12,500 gil and 12 barrels of striped apples for a standard cleaning."
The mayor was painfully aware of everyone's attention directed at him. It was a simple choice: pay the men or death by miasma in the near future. Despite his reservations over trusting the unknown Selkies the frazzled Lility asked "How soon can you start?"
A/N: Couldn't you see the bandits as janitors? Respectable, hardworking folk just trying to make an honest living in a harsh world? Me neither.
Thanks to all my reviewers! I'm glad to know someone out there likes my work. (grin) Cookies for all!