CHAPTER NINE: DUTY

"I'm Hanaa Mocorho and picking a fight with me is a one way trip strrraight to hell! Don't any of you bastarrrds dare forrrget it or else I'll find you and beat you even harrrder the next time!"

Her red boot meet with the rear end of the last drunkard still in the bar, knocking him through the front door and out onto the street. She shouted a few more profanities at him until he was able to stagger to his feet and run off into the night. She returned to the bar and picked up her chair that had been knocked down in the ruckus.

"That'll teach them…darrre to talk to me like that…don't they know who I am? I'm a…hero! Yeah, yeah I am. I am! I showed them," she mumbled into her drink.

From across the bar she sat at, the owner of the establishment (an elderly Elvaan male) starred straight forward, still in shock at what had happened. She reached into a pocket on her extravagantly laced red, black and white Warlock's Tabard with gold cuffs and shoulder pads before producing a hand full of gil and tossing it on the table.

"One thousand or so…that'll cover my drrrinks, a room for the night, and whateverrr damage was done, okay?"

He nodded and took the large amount of money graciously before disappearing into a kitchen via a door to the side of the bar.

Slumping forwards, her chin was held up by the mug of ale in front of her and her elbows were going to slide off the bar if she let them keep going. She blew a bubble in the corner of her mouth that tickled her nose. She sneezed. With a grunt to no one in particular (the room was now empty), she felt along the top of her head with one hand and sat back up in shock. She had lost her Warlock's Chapeau.

Lazily, she stepped off the stool and almost fell as she did. In a very slow way, she began to check behind the toppled tables and chairs for her beloved hat. Eventually she found it in the corner under some table cloth. Picking it up, she brushed it down and adjusted the feather sticking out the top before placing it on her head and patting it down to make it tighter.

Something out the corner of her eye caught her attention. Someone was standing in the doorway to the bar. The person was dressed in black from head to two and the cloth seemed to have grey lining running down the front and arms. They were motionless and silent.

"Who the hell arrre you?" she asked.

The figure did not answer, but raised their face to reveal a strange mask. It had red paint under one eye and a darker green under the other. Where the eye holes should have been there were only dents in the wood and there was no mouth hole either. There was a sound of metal scrapping across metal as a blade appeared at the bottom of the cloth surrounding the figures left arm. A scimitar fell into place and was held towards her.

"What's this? You seem more serrrious than those louts from before. Just what the hell are you anyway? Has anyone told you that you don't have a face? How do you breathe in that thing anyway?"

Despite being somewhat drunk, she was able to recoil just fast enough to avoid the scimitar being sliced upwards. The air in front of her face swept across her skin from it passing by so closely. Taken aback by the sudden attack, she took another step back and watched as the top half of a white feather slowly dropped down in front of her eyes.

"Oh, you've done it now," she snarled and reached for the rapier attached to her belt.

Stabbing forward with her rapier resulted in it being parried and thrown across the room with utter ease. She held up her other hand in time to stop the scimitar falling on her head as a huge cyclone spread from her fist into a cylinder shape that rammed into the figure, tearing at their clothing with dagger like slashes and sent them flying out the doorway and into the street.

I was only just fast enough to cast that Aero magic, this guy is really, really quick…or maybe I'm just too damn drunk… I shouldn't drink that's what he always told me, it always gets me into these messes…should have listened to that guy, who was it again…?

The current situation drew her attention back as she heard shocked cries from outside. Taking up her weapon again, she held her hand above her head and summoned a blue crystal like shield before her that slowly faded, but remained present. She then used more magic and created a multicoloured haze that formed into the shape of a shield and was absorbed into her body.

Outside, a cold night air nipped at her nose. There had been some rain earlier in the evening drenching the coast side village. The ground was still damp and a humid smell was in the air. The night sky was overcast and the only lights around were the enclosed lamps hanging from the wooden stalls and over metal beams.

The masked person that had attacked her had been thrown across the ground over the edge across the street and down through the top of a wooden stall. A dirt track in the damp ground formed by the attacker's body being dragged along by the magical wind made it easy to follow where they had ended up. Blood spatters were spread down both sides of the upturned dirt path confirming the spell had done its work despite her sloppy casting and forgetting to announce its name to focus her mind.

Two people stood on the edge where the figure had fallen with a third on the way from the steps further down. One seemed to be a part of the village's militia, clad in cheap steel mail and equipped with a short sword. The other seemed to be just a passer by, a Hume female in fisher's gear with the days catch in her hand. The third person was another member of the militia, who ordered Hanaa to stop.

"Hey!" she shouted back, "I was just defending myself, that guy…that thing, whatever, that perrrson attacked me! Don't you orrrder Hanaa Mocorho arrround!"

"Did you…kill him?" the third militia member (a Galka) asked as he approached the crushed stall to examine the body.

Peering over the edge of the small drop, she could not see much inside the ruined wooden stall. Torn bits of black cloth hung from the splintered shards of wood and smaller pieces were still in the air. There was a lot of blood, maybe even too much. Her spell could not have been that powerful in her current state of mind. It was possible the fall had done more damage, but it did not seem likely given the amount of blood.

The figures hood and been torn from around its head revealing that the strange mask they wore went right around so no hair was visible. Its neck (which was out of place quite badly) seemed to be covered as well; at least, that is what Hanaa guessed. The skin, if it even was skin, was the exact same dirty cream colour the mask was. From the looks of it the fall had made the figure snap their neck. Whatever she and the militia were starring at it was definitely not a regular person.

Suddenly, the strange persons head snapped into place and its arm rose up and pointed towards Hanaa. The tip of a spear shot out from under its right arm with only a broken section of the hilt still attached. She could not move fast enough and it struck into her.

A blue hexagon shook as cracks spread from the point of impact and vaporised. The blade had passed straight through the protection magic and into her chest, but was cushioned by her phalanx shield that then also turned to multicoloured mist as the spear head dropped to the ground with a clink.

The thing that had fallen through the stall leapt to its feet, bent down slightly, then shot forwards through the air back up at her with more agility than she had even seen Mithran Monk's use. She was able to raise her hand as he was directly level with her body.

"Thunder," she said sternly.

A purple streak of lightning shot from the palm of her hand straight through the chest of the thing, firing it higher into the air and far into the distance. It fell out of view behind the ticket booth for the boat dropping blood out of the sky as it went. They heard the splash of water as it impacted and then there was nothing else.

Hanaa howled to herself and fell on her backside, "I shouldn't use so much magic when I'm drrrunk! Hey you, yeah you, the Galka guy, go make surrre I killed that thing and then drag me to my bed!"

With that she toppled backwards onto the ground, dropping her sword and letting her hat fall on her face. The Galkan militia member looked to his Hume counterpart with a bemused look, unsure of what to do. The female militia member was just as unsure, and did not want to be the one to check if the strange attacker really had been killed.

While they debated whether or not to listen to her abrupt orders, there was the increasingly loud sound of snoring coming from under Hanaa Mocorho's chapeau.

Bastok Mines was surprisingly quiet. To Alain, it seemed the least lively of all of Bastok, no matter what the time of day. The Galka took up residence there in the lower west area below the streets leading to the larger residential areas and rarely did they ever cause a ruckus. The miners going to and from the mines never really stopped to chat either, they were to busy contemplating how overpriced they wanted to try and sell their latest darksteel ore for.

After coming down a dirty track past wooden pulleys and mining carts it was a short walk over the gravelled work area past the mining depot building (that was where miners stored their finds after a shift change) to the slope leading to Ore Street.

This aptly named street was where Gumbah's residence was, on the upper floor amongst the few homes between the Alchemists' Guild, the Bat's Lair Inn, and a few shops catering for weapons and armours fit for a Galka. The majority of the other homes for the miners were in a side street off from Ore Street along side (though at a lower level) to the residential area. The upper area of the district was where the south Auction House was built as well as the Chocobo Stables for the city.

While thinking about the cities' stables, it made Alain remember his Chocobo. He hoped the other Moogles left behind to care for their mansion were looking after it as well. He missed the days where he could ride it down to Selbina in complete anonymity.

He passed by the slope that led down into Ore Street and noticed a Galkan wearing Iron Musketeer armour at the very bottom. Then he went under a small stone arch that took him right by Bat's Lair Inn. He took a wooden bridge across to the opposite landing next and then another small one and followed the street along looking on ahead for the turn leading directly to his destination.

The house was not of the conventional sort. None of the Galkan ones were, really. They were usually just one large room or one room cut in two. The Galka working in the mines never had much gil and as a result did not need a lot of space for belongings. If they ever vanished on their journey to be reborn they could not take anything with them anyway. The door was flimsy wood and he was sure if he knocked too hard it would topple over. It did have a lock, but that seemed more for show than for any great purpose.

Knocking gently on the door, he awaited any sign of life from within. He waited and waited. He grew worried as Gumbah did not often go out anywhere beyond the Galkan areas of Bastok and it was still quite early in the day. He knocked again, harder this time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard footsteps approach the door from the opposite side.

"Huh? Is that you, Alain? Why on Vana'diel are you wearing those dirty clothes? Anyway, I didn't think you would get here so quickly, come inside."

The small (by Galka standards) boy disappeared into his home and Alain followed close behind. He found Gumbah rummaging through a box against a dirty looking fireplace. The Galka was wearing traditional Galkan grey robes with a yellow and green zigzag pattern down the centre and along the shoulders. His face was somewhat hidden by the pull over hood that covered parts of his ears and chin as well.

His home was as empty as Alain remembered it. There was some stools, a table, a few books and a few barrels filled with grain. The next room probably just had a cupboard for his clothes and a bed to sleep in. There was nothing unique, nothing that made the home stand out from any other. It was just the Galkan way, but it never did sit right with Alain.

There was a strange distance to a Galka's true persona, one that no other race could quite grasp. He could only guess why they were that way and always wondered why they were so submissive in the past and practically treated as slaves. He never spoke of it to Gerdinus or any other Galka for that matter, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with their recurring life through rebirth and memories of their exodus from Altepa centuries ago.

Perhaps they had grown tired of life and simply suffered through it every time the cycle began anew, but he was sure there was passion buried in them somewhere, he had seen Gerdinus reveal it on the battlefield many times. There was a repressed rage to be found inside every Galka's heart, he was sure of it.

"Oh, I have another letter in here as well. Zeid sent it during the war, I think. I never translated it since you were away for so long, but I can do that now if you give me some time."

"…Don't worry about that one, just give me the one my friends and I need to hear," he said in reply, trying (and failing) not to let his frustration over his past with Zeid show.

"Well, alright," he replied in a strange tone. "Here's the translation of the newest letter. I suggest you memorise it and then burn it as you would not want Jueno getting their hands on this."

Gumbah handed him a wrapped up scroll. He hastily undid the red band around its middle and spread out the paper to read the message written inside. There were lines of strange symbols that he did not understand, but underneath each a translation and been scrawled in black ink.

"To the Six Champion remnants travelling together,

I learned of your amnesia far later than expected, but have now finished collecting the information I required. Pieces of what happened will know doubt be slipping through by the time you read this. For the rest to be unlocked you must find your way to Norg, the hidden pirate town. Lion awaits you there, with the means to unlock your amnesia fully.

Do not concern yourself about Gerdinus, as I have found him and, by the time you have read this, we will already be in Norg. I attempted to find the final member of your group, but could not. I followed rumours of her travels to Selbina, but was forced to leave before finishing the search. She either still remains there or it is possible that she took the boat across the sea to Mhaura.

The rouge Armathrwn Society members that sided with Kam'lanaut have been ordered to find and kill you. I have seen the strange dolls, the ones without feeling, yet flow blood when cut. They are not to be taken likely and seem endless in supply. They have infiltrated many places, so do not delay.

Find your Mithra companion and head across the sea to Kazham. Do not use teleportation magic. Norg is known to the people of Kazham, though you may have to pay to find out its true location. Do not delay. Time is against us."

Alain crushed the letter in his hands then let the ball burn as fire spread up through is palm. He tossed it on the unlit pile under Gumbah's fireplace where it burned to cinders amongst the piles of black ash. The short Galka asked to make sure he had understood everything he had read, but the honest answer was that he had not.

"I've heard of magic that could erase memories," Gumbah muttered, "But the mind resists it heavily. If you and your friends were all stricken by a magic induced effect then the person who cast it on you had to be very powerful and you had to be close to death, otherwise your mind's subconscious strength would have been immune to such a specific memory wipe. To be more exact; I don't think wipe is the right word, its more like the memories are hidden from you and that would explain some creeping through."

A knock at the door startled them both. Alain shot past the Galka into the next room (the bedroom) and hid behind the door right up against the wall. He counted the steps the Galka took across the room to the door and raised one hand up and round the hilt of his sword. The door opened and there was a moment of silence. He resisted the urge to look around the corner.

"Guards?" he heard Gumbah ask.

A female voice replied, "Bodyguards to be exact. My father doesn't trust Jeuno or its agents within the city…"

He turned the corner after releasing his blade and was not surprised to see President Karst's daughter; Cornelia. Since he had spent time with Gumbah in the past during his training as a Dark Knight he knew that she often visited the Galka. They seemed to have a strong friendship built on years discussions about political topics. He was not sure how Karst looked upon the friendship, as he was quite old fashioned when it came to the topic of Galka, but he doubted any objection from the president would stop them meeting.

Cornelia was startled to see someone and seemed very confused as to who he was at first. Then she seemed to remember seeing him in his aketon alongside Nokum-Akkum before their adventure had even started. Rather than ask him, she enquired as to his identity from Gumbah.

"He is Alain of the Six Champions," was the reply.

He waved, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, one of the people Jeuno is looking for. Nice to meet you formally, Alain. My father has not told me all the details, but Uncle Cid was able to tell me some extra things. I won't ask why you are here, its probably better I don't know. Just don't leave right this second, my bodyguards are outside."

Suddenly feeling quite ignored, Alain silently sat down where he had stood and rested his back against the wall while Cornelia and Gumbah chatted. They spoke about the miners being pushed harder than usual to meet ore order requests as well as a scheduled construction of new homes across from the warehouses in Port Bastok.

The labour to build such things was often Galka workers led by a Hume foreman. It was a set up centuries old that had never been changed. Galka would always be far stronger than Humes when it came to physical strength and machinery was expensive so it was the easiest set up. There were probably ethical problems making the Galka do such jobs, but the subdued giants rarely complained.

Gumbah wanted what was best for the Galka. Though he was in the body of a child, he held the knowledge of many generations inside him. That was the gift granted to the Taleskeeper of the Galkan race. A month or so ago there had been a rebellion amongst the Galka miners and builders when a false Taleskeeper attempted to make them rise up against the oppression. Gumbah, with the help of some willing adventurers, was able to convince his people that it was a fake Taleskeeper attempting to stir up trouble and the rebellion was squashed. It did bring up the negative feelings amongst them though and things had never been the same since then.

"Look," he said at last, "I really can't stay here…Can you get rid of the guards so I can sneak out?"

"Yes, alright, I'm sorry. I know whatever you and your friends are doing is important," she replied and stood up. "I just get so little time to come and speak with my friend. Be careful out there as Jeuno has quite a few spies inside the city. They dress like normal, but it's so obvious to tell. One has been following me, I think. Uncle Cid even said he had three keeping an eye on him. Of course there's no proof so we can't do anything about it yet, but…"

"…But, what?"

"It's just odd," she replied. "Jeuno issued an arrest warrant for you and your friends and put these spies all over the place, but I don't think they are working with the black cloaked guys. It's almost like the two aren't connected and Jeuno had some other reason for issuing the warrant. Anyway, I'll go now. Wait at least five minutes before leaving after me."

The five minutes after her departure seemed far longer than they actually were. It had given him time to plan his route back out the city and to dwell on the content of Zeid's letter.

The letter had confirmed that the archduke was up to something. He was the cause of whatever was truly going on and, by extension, also responsible for trying to have them killed. It was all connected to the Shadowlord's death and whatever happened right after, he knew that much. What the archduke could possibly hope to achieve by repopulating the northlands with the Kindred Demons he could not fathom at all, but that seemed to be what was going on. Then there were the hordes of society members destroying Dynamis realms as well. Knowing that he was only going in circles, his mind was set back on how to get out of the city.

Bluffing his way back through the mines was the obvious choice. He could tell the guards he forgot something, or got a message through a pearl from his friend still inside. There was no reason the guards would not buy those excuses, so it seemed the safest route. He really did want to speak with President Karst, or at the very least Chief Engineer Cid, but the risk involved would be far too great.

He bid farewell to Gumbah and before he knew it he was out on the wooden platform passing by the Bat's Lair Inn once more. There was a change in shifts of the miners as he passed by the ore depot and was surprised so many seemed to be trudging slowly up the steep slope hauling sacks full of the most precious discoveries.

Stopping mid step, he held his breath and immediately twisted around. From the lesser slope leading down to the stone bridge leading across to the market district Mythril Musketeer Naji appeared. He walked more swiftly than before in the opposite direction back towards the Galka district of the mines.

"Alain?" he heard a voice call.

No, don't follow me Naji…Damn it…

He ignored the call of his name and walked even faster. He heard the chinking of red scale mail armour as Naji broke into a steady trot to catch up with him. He twisted away from the slope down into Ore Street, as it was a dead end, and instead headed east towards the south Auction House and gate.

"Alain, is that you? Stop running will you? Stop!"

Breaking into a full sprint, he darted behind the Auction House where there was a thin street blocked completely by a wall on the opposite side that acted as a means to wall off Ore Street. Naji was doing his best to keep up, but moved far slower in heavy armour than Alain was in his simple clothes.

Half way down the back of the Auction House he saw his folly. A large number of crates were piled up at the opposite end. It was the weekly delivery slowly being fed into the back of the Auction House where it was organised, catalogued, and eventually put up for sale.

Of all the times for this to be happening it had to be…

His thoughts were cut off as he heard his name called again. He came to a stop just a few meters more down the side street and turned to face the approaching musketeer. Thought only a small piece of luck, it seemed as though Naji was alone and must have been on his way home after a shift rather than out on patrol with other musketeers. He waited for him to speak first.

"I don't…believe it! It…is you. You…you're under arrest," he panted.

"Naji…"

He was interrupted, "I don't know what's going on…but Jeuno has put a warrant out on…you. President Karst ordered us to comply with Jeuno's order. You have to come with me."

They had met during the war. Naji was much lower rank then, but showed a lot of promise. His father had been a famous Warrior that was feared on the battlefield and Naji had inherited the same burning passion that seemed present in all Warriors. They had sparred quite a few times as they grew up and had sometimes gone drinking together to share stories.

Although Naji had made it to the highest and most elite rank of the musketeers he had lost his place on the battlefield and instead found himself in a mundane post meeting and greeting diplomats.

The contact between them grew much smaller after Naji's promotion. There was no time for sparring or drinking and the young musketeer always put his career first. They would stop and talk from time-to-time, but were much further apart than before. He always wondered if Naji had found any time at all to train.

His performance against the Moblins while they were searching for the lost San d'Orian embossed in the Oldton Movalpolos showed a lot of promise. Looking back on it now he realized that Naji had changed his sword stance since the days they sparred and now held his sword with an elongated arm bent at the elbow with the blade levelled horizontal; exactly how Captain Volker of the Mythril Musketeers held his weapon. That had to have been where he was getting his training from now.

"Naji, I can't go with you. President Karst knows why…he just can't publicly support us or it might start a war with Jeuno. You have to believe me when I tell you that there is far more going on here than you realize."

The musketeers face grow colder, "He told the Captain about your original orders… to find out what was going on the Northlands, he told us all that. But now he wants you arrested. I heard Jeuno say you tried to kidnap that ambassador and I know that isn't true…but, they say you killed three Royal Knights whilst escaping from San d'Oria! Just what in Vana'diel were you doing there anyway!"

What!

He had no time to think about what he had just been told and took a step back as Naji drew his sword from his belt.

Shaking his head he continued to back away, "Naji, I don't want to hurt you, but I can't go with you. You have to let me go so I can put an end to this. It isn't what you think; Jeuno must be trying to set us up!"

The musketeer stopped moving forwards and their eyes met. His blade dropped to the ground and he scraped it across the stone in front of him. It cut the surface of the rock slightly forming a faint white line.

"You won't get past this line while I'm still breathing. Would you really kill me, Alain? I still considered you a friend even though… You are under arrest, Alain. If you resist…I'll have no choice but to use force."

He drew his Great Sword.

"Forgive me, Naji."