He was falling, the ocean below churning and strewn with rubble. A hundred feet above, coming toward him as fast as she could, was Terra, her skin blazing with energy, her mouth open in a wordless cry. He tried to reach her, to slow his descent, but he couldn't. The sea below him came closer and time slowed, his fall ground to a halt and he could see, with perfect clarity, Terra closing in on him and, behind her, the Imperial fighter spinning crazily through the sky. Suddenly, time sped itself up again and he crashed into the water as the ship slammed into Terra and sent her spinning away.

He sunk quickly, the scale shirt he wore dragging him down into the inky water, past the bodies and debris showering from the chaos above. He clawed frantically at the straps of his armour, trying to lighten himself, but the salt water had swollen the leather tight against the brass loops. Panic began to set in as his vision began to fade, the salt water stinging his eyes. He reached out to grab a piece of debris floating toward the surface and screamed as he recognized the drowned, bloated face of his brother. Sea water filled his lungs as he thrashed frantically, trying to get to the surface. The weight of his armour and the searing salt in his lungs were too much for him to fight against. He felt his muscles slacken as the pressure around him grew greater and greater. He closed his eyes and relaxed. There was nothing left to do but wait until...

He awoke with a start, gasping, shivering and covered in sweat. He took a moment to catch his breath and looked around the small room he had rented. The rough uniform of the Crimson Bandits lay in a heap in the corner, alongside the rest of his meagre belongings. Outside, a ship was pulling into the dock, carrying with it the stink of the sea air. Beside him, a warm shape moved in the bed and pressed itself against him. A soft voice purred from the shadows. "Mmm... Why are you awake, Gerad? Didn't I give you enough of a work out last night?" A smooth hand snaked under the sheet and along his leg. Gerad shook his head and looked at the woman laying beside him. "Just a bad dream, m'Lady," he said with a smile.

"I can help you forget it, love," she replied as she leaned against him and kissed his neck.

Gerad shook his head, smiled at her and pulled away.

He got out of the bed and began collecting his filthy uniforms the first feeble rays of sunlight were beginning to work their way through the shutters. As he dressed and looked at the woman still laying in bed, her tangled mess of red hair standing out sharply against the dirty white linen and smiled at her as he pulled on his rough grey trousers. "I've no doubt you would, my dear," he said with a wink, "But I've a busy day ahead of me and I need to get going." Tucking in the tails of a stained red shirt, he blew the woman a kiss as he slipped into his boots. "The next time I see you, I'll be as rich as a king, and you can be my bandit queen, sound fair?"

The redhead sat up in bed and gathered the sheets around her. "Sounds wonderful, your highness," she said with a laugh, "Just make sure you remember little old me when you and your boys have a whole castle full of girls to play in."

Gerad looked over his shoulder as he opened the door to their room and nodded. "My dear," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice, "I never forget a Lady. I'll see you when I get back."

Edgar closed the door behind him and rubbed at the short beard he'd affected over the last eight months. The thing itched and stubbornly refused to grown in fully, but the patchy, rough hair marred his features enough for most people to not recognize him, so he kept it. After all, it wouldn't do for Gerad, the Prince of the Crimson Bandits to be revealed as King Edgar of Figaro. Who knew what Kefka would do at that point? Especially as - so far as Edgar had been able to determine - he was the sole surviving Returner. He'd spent six months scouring what was left of the world for the barest rumour of any of his friends, but nothing had panned out. Once, almost immediately after he'd washed up on the shore, dazed, battered, hacking sea water from his lungs and marvelling that he survived the fall, he'd heard a rumour that Terra had been seen in the ruins near Mobliz and set off to find her. A week of scouring the rubble and ruined basements hadn't turned up any sign of her, though, and after four long months of chasing rumours - his brother having become a champion gladiator in the Colosseum near the northern pole, Setzer having drowned himself in grief after losing his ship, Locke spending all his days in vigil over a dead girl in a Kohlingen basement and others even more unlikely - he fell into despair.

It was one last rumour that had rekindled the spark of life in him. The Chancellor of Figaro had submerged the Castle just as Kefka's Light of Judgement was making it's way to Figaro and tried to escape. The Castle became trapped, though, when one of the tunnels collapsed and was somewhere under the Great Desert. If it proved true - and as no-one had so much as seen the Castle since the Disaster, it seemed likely - then he would have his Kingdom back and, more importantly, the battalion of cavalry that had been stationed in the Castle. The Chocobos were likely dead, but the eight hundred men-at-arms could still be alive and, with them, a chance at striking back at Kefka, at uniting the other Kingdoms and restoring some sort of order to the world.

Of course, before he could oust Kefka and restore order, he needed to find the Castle, and he and the Crimson Bandits were planning on heading west that day, through the Figaro Cavern and into the tunnels. Hopefully, he'd find what he was looking for down there, but if not then at least his Bandits would have their fill of plunder and he could start building them into a force to rival Kefka.

As he came downstairs, Edgar nodded to the trio of Bandits sprawled in chairs across the tavern's main room. Two of them were staring blearily at the two people who had just entered and Edgar followed their gazes. He nearly shouted as he saw Sabin and Celes - both a little worse for wear and Sabin sporting a massive, tangled beard - standing in the doorway. Kicking the chair of one of the Bandits, Edgar motioned to the doorway. "Let's get it in gear, you lazy tubs of guts," he growled loudly in a thick Kohlingen accent, "That castle ain't gonna loot itself. I wanna be in the tunnels before sundown, so go pull the others off whatever they found to hump and let's get goin'!"

The Bandits grumbled and muttered as they brushed past Sabin and Celes. Edgar followed behind them and gave Celes a perfunctory nod and did his best to eye her lecherously as he walked past. "Sorry about the language, m'Lady - gotta keep the boys in line, you know."

As he closed the door of the tavern behind him, he let out a long breath and headed toward the copse of trees the rest of the Bandits were meeting at. Hopefully, Celes and his brother had realized what was going on and would follow along behind him.

It was almost a week since he'd last seen Celes or Sabin, and Edgar was beginning to worry. The caves that the Castle had carved out through years of use were now unstable thanks to Kefka's Light and already he'd lost a half-dozen Bandits to sink-holes or sudden cave-ins, not to mention the constant attacks by the creatures who made their home below the surface. The remaining Bandits - thirteen desperate men who were torn between risking more attacks and collapses during a flight for the surface and delving deeper into the caves, and possibly running out of fresh water - were on the verge of mutiny. They were sitting huddled around a meagre fire - mostly moss and scraps of cloth, really - muttering darkly about their situation when one of the men, a rough sailor from Nikeah, stood up, his face obscured by the smoke hanging above them. "Right, sir," he said as he fingered the hilt of a slim-bladed dagger, "We followed you this far, Gerad, sir, but we ain't goin' any further. For all we know, that castle is buried under a hundred tons of rock and swarmin' with monsters. Me and the lads think it's time we leave."

Edgar regarded him for a moment and then stood, a friendly smile on his face. "You and the lads do, now, do ye Gilbert?" he asked lightly, "Well, let me see which of the lads think it's best fightin' their way back past whatever fiends are comin' up behind us, and which of 'em think that there's a good chance we'll get food, fresh water, gold, gems and more women than we could dream of once we find the castle? Can't be more'n a day away now. Lads? What do you say?"

The men looked at one another, raising eyebrows and making short, sharp gestures in the sign language thieves and sailors used in ports to identify marks and warn each other of city watch and guards. Edgar forced himself to keep calm kept his eyes on Gilbert as the men debated amongst themselves. After a few tense moments he flicked his eyes to the group squatting near the fire and smiled. "So, lads, what do ye say? Fightin' through hell and gone to get back out there, where we're poor and hungry all the time or one more day of this before we're swimmin' in coin and women?"

One of the men looked at Gilbert and shook his head. "He's not talkin' for all of us, Gerad. You done fine by us as far as we've gone so far an' you're right. Out there all we got is hunger and gettin' spit on. Might as well take the chance. If it don't work the way you say, it's better'n goin' up there empty-handed"

Edgar smiled and nodded, then sat back down. "I thought you'd see it my way, Devon. Now, let's get us some sleep before we go and get our treasure." Gilbert still stood, though, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger reflexively. "No," he said angrily as he pulled the dagger from it's sheath. "I ain't lettin' this go on any more, Gerad. You're gonna get us all killed and I ain't gonna die for you or for some empty pile of stone down here." Gilbert turned away and began walking back the way they had came.

Edgar shrugged as he watched Gilbert walk away. Leaning against against his pack, he closed his eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.

The Castle was there, less than three hundred paces ahead of them, and Edgar could see a few soldiers manning the embrasures, the stubby barrels of their autocrossbows spitting bolts at the creatures surrounding the walls. The dozen bandits looked at Edgar expectantly, and the young king nodded. "Right, lads," he began, the lilting Kohlingen accent he had affected slipping away, "Let's get in there and get those boys out of whatever trouble they got into." Daggers, clubs and axes appeared in the Bandits' hands and Edgar drew a broad-bladed sabre from it's battered scabbard. Holding the sword over his head, he let out a fierce-sounding war cry, somewhere between a keening wail and the howl of a wolf, and charged, the Bandits hot behind him.

The creatures that were assaulting the castle were a weird amalgamation of mollusk and man, their limbs boneless cords of muscles and their heads were fleshy lumps with snapping black beaks. Edgar's charge slammed into the rear of their lines, the Bandits hacking at tentacles and crushing bulbous heads to jelly. The fire from the Castle began to pick up, as more autocrossbowmen joined their comrades at the embrasures and added their fire to the attack.

Edgar split one of the boneless creatures from what would have been it's shoulder to it's hip and watched with disgust as it flailed at him feebly. He hacked at another creature and cursed as it slid around his blade and slapped him with a vicious backhand. Another creature, it's skin a dark, sickly green, pointed at Edgar and lanced a bolt of energy at him. One of the Bandits dove in front of the bolt and cried out as his flesh seared from his bones. Seeing what had happened to their comrade, two of the Bandits turned to run and were flayed by more bolts of energy from the green-skinned creatures. The pale-skinned creatures formed protective circles around their green-skinned brethren, bludgeoning and crushing the Bandits who tried to break through.

The momentum of their charge lost, Edgar again bellowed his war-cry, hoping to startle the creatures and encourage the men in the Castle, as well as rally his own dwindling band, but to no avail. The fire from the walls did not slacken, and the few Bandits still alive did not flee, but more died as the green-skinned creatures turned their attentions from them to any autocrossbowmen who showed himself at an embrasure for more than a few seconds. Edgar began hacking his way toward one of the green-skins, cutting down three more of the tentacled warriors in his way. The creature opened and closed his beak hungrily at Edgar as he approached, raised an arm and loosed another bolt of energy.

Edgar raised his sabre to try and deflect the sorcery but, a heartbeat before it slammed into his chest, the bolt veered away and the cavern was bathed in a pale blue light for a moment.

The same war-cry Edgar had shouted echoed through the cavern as Sabin and Celes, her sword still glowing from the energy it had absorbed, charged the creatures. The half-dozen Bandits left alive watched as Sabin and Celes hacked, battered and blasted their way through the creatures, then quickly joined their efforts. In less than five minutes, the creatures were fleeing, casting their bolts ineffectually at the victors as they retreated into the darkness.

Edgar planted the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned against the hilt, breathing heavily, and grinned at Sabin and Celes. The two of them were filthy, ragged and covered in the creatures bilious blood, but otherwise appeared to be in good health. Celes ran to embrace Edgar as Sabin ambled up behind her and slammed a heavy hand onto his brother's back. The three of them began talking excitedly, their words running over one another's. After a moment, they stopped and laughed, Edgar slapping his brother's back and slipping an arm around Celes' waist. "It took you two long enough," he said, laughing, "I was afraid you didn't recognize me back in town."

"Well," said Sabin, grinning, "It's not like we just took the walking tour to get here, Ed. We damn near had to kill half of those things' cousins on our way. What have you been doing, anyway? And what's with the beard?"

"Well, uh, about that. You ever hear of Gerad and the Crimson Bandits?"

"You mean the game we used to-"

"Yeah, that. Well, I, uh, I'm Gerad and those guys over there are the Crimson Bandits..."

Sabin looked at Edgar for a moment and burst out laughing. Celes looked at the two brothers and smirked. "Gerad and the Crimson Bandits? I think I'm missing a bit of a story here, your Highness."

"Well," Edgar began, his cheeks starting to flush, "I needed a name and-"

"And he decided to use the name of a game we used to play when our father would confine us to the Castle grounds as kids," Sabin said, grinning from ear to ear, "Gerad, the Crimson Bandit, would try to sneak into the Castle Treasury and empty it while brave Chief Guardsman Mash tried to catch him. One time, we burst in on Father negotiating with the Kohlingeners to get them to allow us to use their port for basing a few Navy ship at and you should have seen the look on Father's face. Ed all wrapped up in red towels, sprawled out on the carpet... All he needed was to blush a bit more and he'd have disappeared right into it."

Celes laughed loudly as she stepped away from Edgar and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, I didn't realize I was in the presence of the great Bandit King Gerad. Where are my manners?"

Edgar shook his head and smiled at Celes, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment "Well, it's alright, my dear, one can never be too certain with Gerad. After all, it's not like there are any pictures of the Bandit King. I'll forgive you... for a kiss." he added with a wink.

Celes was about to say something when Devon, his face pale and left arm hanging limply at his side, stepped toward the group and pointed at Edgar. "Did I... Did we...? Are... Are you really King Edgar?"

Edgar looked at Devon sheepishly and nodded. "Guilty as charged, friend. I'm sorry I didn't let you in on the ruse earlier but, well, it was for everyone's safety"

Devon shook his head and offered a ragged salute. "Not at all, Sir. Lancer Devon Albertsson, South Figaro Light Cavalry, Sir. It's an honour to have served you again, Sir."

Edgar returned the salute and smiled. "It's an honour to have served with you, Devon. Now," he added, nodding toward the Castle, "Let's get everyone inside and get that arm looked at before it gets worse."

Devon nodded and, along with the four other surviving Bandits, began walking to the Castle.

Edgar smiled and joined Sabin and Celes as they began making their way to the Castle. "Well," he said happily, "I'm glad that you two made it. The three of us should be able to start some sort of resistance against Kefka now. An organized one, at least."

"Four of us," Celes corrected. "If we can get Terra to come along with us, that is."

Edgar stopped and looked at Celes, his mouth agape. "What?"

"Well, she's taken to-"

"She's alive?" he asked as he grabbed Celes by her shoulders, "Where? How did I not... Where, Celes? Where is she?"

"She's in Mobliz," Celes replied, smiling sadly, "She's not liable to join us, though. She's... well, she's lost hope. I don't really know how else to put it."

"You saw her, though? She's alright?"

"She is, she's taking care of a bunch of orphans and foundlings."

"In Mobliz?"

"In Mobliz."

"Well," said Sabin, grinning at Edgar, "I suppose I know where we're headed to next, eh, Ed?"

Edgar looked at his brother and nodded absently. "Yeah, we need to get going. Make sure that she's... That she's going to be able to... help us out."

Sabin grinned and slapped his brother's back. "Of course. To make sure she can help us, King Crab. Now let's get going. I'm sure that the Chancellor will want to see you."

Edgar nodded and followed Sabin and Celes into the Castle, grinning broadly.