The Eighteenth Chapter - The Sleeping Giant
Cyan Garamonde opened his eyes.Sunlight streamed through the canopy of the forest, sparkling in clear droplets still trickling off bright green leaves. The rain had stopped at last, leaving a clean scent and cool breeze. The steady sound of running water could be heard farther away; the stream nearby would be too fast-running to ford for a few days to come. The delightful smell of flower blossoms wafted beneath his nose. He sighed in contentment.
Spring.
He stood slowly, relaxed. The fields were muddy, but already the wild grasses had taken to the light of the sun. They curled towards the warmth, no longer burdened by snow that had buried them for the winter months. A faint memory floated to the surface, a vision of budding daffodils and bare-footed youths dashing along the damp ground. They danced through the meadows and he followed them into tasselled orchids filled with ripe fruits.
"Ha!"
Cyan left one daydream for another. His heavy winter boots dug deep into the muddy path, the last Knight of Doma attired in grimy pants and a dirty tunic. There were no children dancing through the gardens of his homeland, but one could not dote on the past forever. He smiled wistfully at the scene in front of him.
Relm's feet were spread for balance atop a precarious old tree trunk. The wooden column tipped from side to side like a child's see-saw as Relm moved to and fro. Her brow was coated with sweat, her shoulder-length blond hair drawn back into a ponytail that bounced up and down. She was dressed similarly, a comfortable loose-fitting combination that took advantage of the cool weather.
Her arms flexed, muscles flexing as her blade slashed falling leaves in half.
Cyan was silent, for Relm's back was turned and she had yet to notice him. He scrutinized her footwork, admiring her movements and noting the possible improvements. He wiped the smile off his face when she finally spun about.
"Uncle," Relm wiped the sweat off her brow and casually hopped off the fallen tree. "What did you think? Better?"
Of course she had noticed him, Cyan chided his own inattentiveness. "You would do better to continue your mediation, instead of dancing upon rotten wood," he answered her.
Relm frowned. She towelled off her face and tossed the rag over her shoulder. "I slept fine last night, even though the rain didn't stop. I don't need anymore rest," she retorted as she sheathed the sword. "Anyhow, I think it's time to play another game," she bubbled with excitement.
Cyan shook his head. "I asked you to mediate for an hour yet you practice your blade again. Chess is out of the question," he declared. He waited for the inevitable pouting to begin.
Instead, Relm sighed. "Fine," she growled. As she passed him, she handed back his sword with a reluctant, frustrated look.
Cyan watched her walk away, briefly wondering whether she had learned or was too impatient to even bother arguing with him. He sighed, knowing it was probably the latter. Perhaps he had been wrong. He always wondered whether he had made a mistake; she was a good student, quick to learn and always energetic. Yet she was ill-disciplined, despising authority and rife with snappy comebacks.
It was just the age, Cyan surmised. She would grow out of it. For now, he would have to accept her for who she was.
"Relm," Cyan stopped her in her tracks. She turned on her heel, simmering in anger but hiding it as best she could. "You're still putting too much weight on the right foot. Be weary of that mistake, for you continue to depend on your dominant side."
She frowned as she went over her motions mentally, and then nodded in agreement. "Of course," she sighed disappointingly. "Anything else?"
"You're doing well," Cyan answered. "There is only one oversight on your part that must be corrected."
Relm pressed her lips together as she tried to guess his meaning. "Am I still swinging too slowly? I just need more practice..."
"Prudence, dear one," Cyan sighed. "You must learn prudence."
She stuck out her tongue and slipped away.
Cyan growled under his breath and headed back to the cottage. The small, single-roomed dwelling had been expanded over the course of the winter. Cyan had worked hard to build a warm shelter for their faithful chocobo. He had expanded the fireplace. It had been immensely fortunate that most of the tools that had been left by the cabin's former owner had still been around when they returned.
The forests near the Tzen Mountains were peaceful. Cyan felt safe here, even if they had initially stumbled across the deserted dwelling through sheer luck and acted no better than the common bandit. He had thanked the former resident more than once for his foresight; dry firewood, healthy canned foods, everything necessary to survive the winter had been well prepared. What little had been missing, Cyan bought from the local villages such as Nestil.
The cabin was home now.
Cyan laid his weapon aside, in the corner beside a neglected longsword. He had bought it for Relm and though decent for an Imperial weapon, she still preferred his Doma-forged blade whenever they sparred. Though picky, at least she knew quality when she handled it.
He searched through his things, tossed rations and medicines into his pack, and then eyed the armor vest hanging off the wall. It was clean and well-maintained, but totally unnecessary throughout the winter. With a sigh, Cyan donned the leather and packed an extra change of clothes. He glanced around the cozy hut that had sheltered them, knowing that he had been beyond fortunate to discover such a dwelling, and then picked up his sword and scabbard. He replaced the weapon by his hip with habitual grace -- the familiar weight was a comfort -- while his eyes wandered across the messy piles upon the floor.
He hesitated at the sight of some dried, salted beef that had been carefully packed away and preserved. Cyan sighed deeply.
Outside, Relm was sitting cross-legged with her back to him. She was perched atop a rock, safely above the muddy ground. "News, uncle!" she declared as she turned around with a big smile. Then she saw that he was ready to travel, his pack already shouldered and hers in his hand. The self-assured cockiness vanished and she pouted. "You already knew!"
Cyan set her backpack against the cabin wall. "Nothing lasts forever," he answered vaguely. He wiped away moisture in his eyes.
Relm jumped off the rock. "If you already knew, why didn't you tell me? And why bother with my spells?"
"I have spent decades without magic, dear one," he straightened. "It would be folly for me to depend solely on your spells, but I would be equally foolish if I refused to acknowledge its benefits."
Relm pursed her lips together. "I bet you don't know what's coming though," she pointed out.
"A single man," Cyan answered.
"Wrong!" Relm declared with gusto.
"Upon two chocobos," Cyan finished with a raised eyebrow.
Relm grin faded away again. "Bah!" she grumbled.
Their cabin was quite far from the main trail, an old road wide-enough for chocobos that wound its way through the Tzen Mountains. The trail leading to their humble home had been hidden by the growing forest and neither Cyan nor Relm bothered cutting down the vegetation. It served to hide them from the outside world, which was important as neither especially cared for visitors. Their friends would find them regardless of the ruse.
"Who do you think it is?" Relm asked. "It could be Edgar or Gramps; it's been a couple months since they sailed away so that should be enough time for a coup, right?"
The sword by his side seemed heavier. "I can't imagine who else could have found us," he answered. At the same time, it didn't answer how Edgar could have tracked them down. Cyan knew it was best to assume that the visitor was unfriendly.
"Dear one, please see to the chocobo."
Relm gave him a dirty look. "I want to be here if it's dangerous. You'd need my help."
"Just ready our fine bird, we may need a quick escape," Cyan explained in a deeper voice. "The sooner you get that done, the sooner you can be back here."
As Relm hurried off, the Knight of Doma checked that his sword was clear in its scabbard. He had taken great pains to hide them away from the rest of the world, and he doubted their guest was either Edgar or Strago. Those two would have been smarter in their approach. No, this was undesirable and unexpected.
Cyan's plan had been to wait out the war and barter for passage back to the Northern Continent. He tried to keep up with the happenings of the Empire through Nestil, but then decided against it due to the fierce snow-squalls and his personal doubts. While Garrett would know how the Empire fared -- whether or not it was still embroiled in warfare or if its armies had collapsed and the iron fist broken -- it was unlikely that the Civil War would find any conclusion within the next few years.
Not even the blacksmith or the doctor knew that he was still in the Province of Tzen. He had kept a low profile all winter.
Cyan Garamonde stood in the middle of the trail leading to their cabin and heard the sound of footsteps. There was little point in stealth, the forest was not dense enough to offer a hiding spot and Cyan felt it unnecessary given the odds.
Leading two chocobos by rope, brown leather stalked around the bend in the trail.
"Paisy!"
Relm raised her arms in surprise, letting go of the reins to their chocobo. The bird was a patient, disciplined creature though. It stayed put as the little girl dashed through the muddy trail. She splashed through puddles and skidded to a stop in front of the boyish Imperial officer.
"Relm," Paisley raised his hand and touched his brow, a polite gesture that Cyan had never seen. The familiar Imperial Lieutenant laughed, returning the hug Relm that gave him.
"Paisley," Cyan began suspiciously. He noted that there were two mounts, yet only one rider. His instincts screamed danger.
"Sir Cyan," Paisley saluted after Relm let go of him. "It's good to see you well." He caught the questioning look on the Knight's face. "Ah, I'm the only one here. The second chocobo was for you, though I can see that you kept yours through the winter. That couldn't have been easy, there's not that much for the bird to eat in these forests when they're frozen over," Paisley gestured around them.
"'twas difficult yet manageable," Cyan answered. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Lieutenant?"
Paisley chuckled. "Straight to the point? I expected you to ask how I found you."
Relm pulled on the Imperial officer's pant leg. "Come on, we'll get you something to eat, you must be starving."
"Not at all, but thanks for the offer," Paisley answered. "It also looks like you're both ready to travel, so we best be on our way."
Cyan folded his arms. "What is the meaning of this, Paisley?" he asked again. "I am curious as to how the Empire found us, but I would prefer to know why you are here."
Paisley shrugged. "Just because I thought you would ask doesn't mean I have an answer," he said with a wink. "As for why I'm here? Well, it appears that I am uniquely qualified for the role of a messenger."
"That seems counter-intuitive for an officer of your ranking," Cyan remarked.
"Yes, well I am both unimportant enough to be lacking a command that desperately requires my day to day oversight, yet at the same time, important enough to not be slain by yourself, Sir Cyan."
Cyan grunted. "And your message?"
"You have been summoned to Tzen," Paisley pulled a leather-bound envelope from his pocket. "The official notice is here, but I do believe the terminology is that they request and require your presence at the capital."
"What does Danielle want with us?" Relm interjected.
Cyan nodded. "That is the question, isn't it? After all, I see no reason why we should respect an Imperial summon."
"True," Paisley agreed. "However, I should point out that it is Brigadier-General Terrance Cassidy who has summoned you-"
"Is Farin with him?" Relm interrupted.
Cyan growled. "Patience, dear one, let him finish."
Paisley saw the frown on Relm's face. "Unfortunately, General Starson is otherwise occupied and isn't even in the province at the moment," Paisley answered her question.
Relm nodded dejectedly. "Too bad," she mumbled.
Paisley shrugged. "As for General Cassidy, the details of this message were hidden from even myself," Paisley handed the envelope to Cyan. "I was ordered to bring a chocobo and escort both of you post-haste to the capital. I suggested coming alone, I figured it would be safer if I didn't show up with a squadron of soldiers."
"So you are unware of what Danielle's lackey desires?" Cyan asked with a leery glance at the boyish Lieutenant. "I see no reason to speak with a mere servant."
Paisley cleared his throat. "General Cassidy is fully independent and commands the armies that protect this province. He's more than a servant of the Empire; he's pretty much the Governor of Tzen now. The Empress already refers to him as such; he just hasn't taken the title officially."
"Empress?" Cyan whispered.
Paisley blinked blankly, confused by Cyan's expression. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. "Of course, you've been here all winter! I can't believe it, you must have heard the news at some point. How could you have remained totally isolated? There's no farming in the winter so you had to have visited to the villages for food... and then, I mean... news travels fast. How could you not have known? "
Shivers traveled down Cyan Garamonde's back. "Know what?" he demanded.
Paisley straightened. His voice took the authority of a herald, deep and booming. The pride in his voice was palpable.
"There is a new leader sitting upon the throne of Vector, Commander of the Armies and Fleets of the Empire. She is Lady and Imperiatrix, the Empress Danielle the First, of the House of Meras."
---
Edgar Roni Figaro ascended the damp wooden steps with grace. His cape fluttered behind him and he wore attire befitting of the formalities that were to come. Edgar had left his armor behind and instead the traditional colours of his House and Kingdom shone brightly under the warm, midday sun.
The gathered sailors and soldiers straightened in his presence.
Edgar clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall upon the quarterdeck beside the imposing blue-coat and gold-trim of the vessel's ranking naval officer. With a wide-brimmed hat, long hair pulled back and grim attitude, Sir Douglas Pellyn was confident in his fleet's ability to perform the task necessitated of it.
"Your eminence," Douglas started respectfully. "He is boarding as we speak."
Edgar took a deep breath. "Are you sure of his identity? I don't want another surprise."
He shifted his feet uncomfortably. "There is little to mistake, for your advisor confirmed it," Douglas answered.
Edgar glanced behind him. Beside the congregation of the battleship's lieutenants, Strago Magus winked knowingly. The lore-master was wearing a blue coat similar to the Admiral's, though it was without the gold trim or the crests of the naval officer's high station. His beard was freshly trimmed, his white hair shimmered, and the smile on his face was so wide it almost looked painful.
"Very well, who else is with him?" Edgar asked.
"There are few of any recognizable importance, likely sailors that are considered expendable. However, there is a child," Douglas answered.
High-pitched whistling welcomed the important guests. Edgar's attention was directed towards the man climbing onto the ship. He broke into a huge smile when he saw who it was.
"Sir Cyan Garamonde of the Kingdom of Doma," Douglas hollered from the raised quarterdeck. He gestured. "Welcome aboard the Allegiance, flagship of the Figarian Navy!"
Cyan looked around the battleship, surrounded by some three dozen friendly sailors with marines maintaining guard nearby. "'tis an honour," he replied gruffly. "To whom do I have the pleasure?"
"I am Admiral Douglas Pellyn," was the slightly embarrassed answer; Douglas cursed himself for forgetting his manners.
Beside the Commander of the Fleet, Edgar smiled. "Sir Cyan!" he called out formally.
Douglas raised an eyebrow and gestured beside him. "His eminence: the King of Figaro."
---
An Admiral's meeting room was a large, expansive place; even though it was aboard a warship in which comfort was no priority. However, it was where great strategies were planned and renowned Captains gathered, so aboard the flagship of the Figarian Navy, there was room for such excess. A finely lacquered table of golden wood -- likely a traditional colour and perhaps a symbol of sorts -- was surrounded by equally exquisite chairs. They were a glossy copper in shade and despite a salty sea breeze, the soft smell of hazelnut wafted about the room.
Typically used for matters of the gravest importance, the mood around the table was anything but. Four hardened, battle-scarred men had their concentrations focused upon a bubbling mass of energy bouncing up and down. Relm Arrowny was all smiles as she sat in a chair that was almost older than she was. She and her grandfather had exchanged heartfelt hugs on the quarterdeck already, but they had been hustled into the meeting room shortly thereafter.
"Well then, perhaps a meal could be prepared while we wait for our guests from the Borealis?" Douglas glanced over at the child in their presence. "My steward is one of the best in the fleet, an Admiral's privilege of course," he winked.
Relm chuckled. "I'm pretty hungry, they didn't offer us anything in Tzen. So rude..." she trailed off with a sly smile to calm Cyan's frown.
"Imperial hospitality does leave something to be desired," Edgar offered. It provoked a chorus of polite laughter, though it had not been intended as a joke. "Perhaps some biscuits to tide us over for now," he suggested.
"Too dry," Relm retorted almost immediately. She smiled shyly at the Admiral, seeming almost apologetic for refuting the King.
"Well perhaps a stew is in order, perhaps beef?" Douglas inquired. It was lavish, almost wasteful aboard a ship whose chances of re-supply were of a questionable nature. Cyan and Edgar exchanged a look; Strago's granddaughter certainly had an effect upon the unwary.
Relm nodded enthusiastically. "I haven't had any beef since fall!"
"Then so it is!" Douglas excused himself and stepped out the room.
"Relm..." both Cyan and Strago began at the same time. The two men looked at each other in surprise and then burst out in laughter.
"I see that living with Cyan for several months still hasn't taught you any discipline," Strago said after recovering. "Incorrigible child!"
Relm stuck out her tongue.
"It's good to see both of you safe," Edgar said as he stood from his seat. "Strago might be embarrassed to admit it, but he was worried sick the entire time."
Strago shot a friendly glare at Edgar. "Now let's not start outing each other's secrets, lest the Admiral discovers his King's inhibitions."
"Fair enough," Edgar replied as Cyan laughed. He stood over Relm and rustled her hair. "What is this, are you growing out your hair? I dare say you would look fantastic with golden locks halfway down your back."
Relm rolled away from Edgar in jest, slipping out of his grasp and dancing away despite the rocking of the Allegiance. She jumped onto the windowsill overlooking the Figarian Fleet and crossed her legs. "What did the grumpy old man just say about you?" she stuck out her tongue again.
Strago growled at his unruly granddaughter as Cyan suppressed his laughter. Edgar shook his head. "What a sharp tongue," he remarked as he eyed her. Edgar pressed his lips together and tried to eyeball her height. "How much have you grown? Sheesh, at this rate, you'll be taller than me in another year!"
Relm crossed her arms and pretended to be hurt. "An entire year?"
Cyan forced the grin off his face. "'tis good to see both of you well, and at the head of a fleet as promised," Cyan began. "Impressive to say the least, you should see how worried the Imperials are. It appears that you caught them off-guard, with the majority of their vessels massed elsewhere and otherwise engaged. You have weeks before they can muster up the force necessary to dislodge this fleet from the mouth of the Zarren."
"Well, we have excellent scouts," Edgar said with a knowing wink to Strago. "Though the Imperials aren't any worse off; they found both of you rather quickly," the King pointed out. "I only resorted to demanding your safe return when Garrett told me he had not seen either of you all winter. Did you decide to not hide in Nestil?"
"I decided against the village, for the Imperials knew of our previous presence there. We stayed in the same area though, I just felt no pressing need to alert the blacksmith," Cyan answered. "The less who knew of us, the better."
"Well that made it hard for us to find you," Edgar pointed out. "Had to make demands of the Imperials in Tzen, though they didn't seem to mind... then again, we were practicing their form of diplomacy."
"It seems that the Empire's intelligence gathering has not taken a turn for the worse," Strago mused. "Things seem well in hand for the Empire."
Cyan was silent on that note, as he mused on what General Terrance Cassidy had spoken of. He had met the Brigadier in Tzen shortly before boarding a quarter-boat that took them Edgar's fleet. The General had been vague on many things, cleverly side-stepping political issues, and this only worried the former Knight.
"Has there been any word from Sabin?" Cyan asked, concerned for the safety of his friend.
Edgar shook his head. "We didn't dare sail westward, not with an Imperial fleet massed in that direction. It was way too dangerous to risk."
"What of Garrett?"
"He's heard nothing," Edgar said. "I'm sure my brother is fine. He tends to come out of the craziest situations unscathed," he sank back into his chair, confident in his brother's resourcefulness.
Cyan nodded in understanding, but that knowledge didn't ease his worries. "How was your... excursion?" he asked in the awkward silence. Relm tore her eyes away from the endless expanse of the ocean, her interest piqued.
Edgar and Strago exchanged careful, measured looks with one another. Suppressed smiles were followed by the clearing of their throats.
"Well?" Cyan repeated himself.
Edgar's grin threatened to conquer more than half his face. "Well, it was a struggle," he began.
"A glorious struggle," Strago added with an equally mischievous smirk.
"And there were many hardships," Edgar continued.
"Terrible hardships!" Strago contained his chuckling.
Relm rolled her eyes. "What happened already?"
Edgar and Strago again exchanged a series of looks, communicating without speech. "Well, first there was the sea-battle," Edgar said.
"They came upon us without any warning! And we, surrounded by enemies, were forced to escape in the face of hundreds," Strago's eyes looked upwards and his fingers tapped the table, as if he was counting every cannon at that moment. "Nay! There thousands of guns firing every moment! Smoke and thunder all around us! It was the storm of battle, the chaos of war; a crusade of epic proportions!"
Cyan frowned, confused by their attitudes. "Doubtless that is some terrible fortune," he remarked. "Escape?" he echoed.
"And then there were the sharks," Edgar quickly pointed out without paying heed to Cyan's question. "Damned fast, those things."
"Barbaric creatures," Strago nodded.
"Later, there was the imprisonment."
"Terribly chafing, those chains. And the whips! Don't even get me started on those!"
"In addition to the army," Edgar's grin was still unfazed as Strago's face twisted in horror. "Oh, and that business with the aristocrats. You'd think years of noble upbringing would eradicate such coarse manners!"
Cyan crossed his arms. "Really..."
"Don't forget the monster hoard!" Strago wiped his brow of fake-sweat. "What trouble there! Horrifyingly dangerous!"
Edgar started laughing. "And then the look on Daggart's face!"
Strago's hand was against his heart. "I shall never sleep soundly at night again," he whispered in mock-terror.
"What a load of crock," Relm grumbled.
Cyan shook his head in frustration. "Honestly now, you two remind me of conniving-"
It was at that moment that the door to the cabin opened and in strode Douglas. The Admiral was accompanied by another Figarian. Edgar's naval officers struck a noble pose with their fine blue coats, golden trim and silver buttons accompanied by crisp triangular hats bearing the crest of their Kingdom. However, it was the two men behind the new arrival that caught Cyan's attention.
The Knight of Doma stood in their presence. "Banon! Arvis!" he exclaimed. "'tis an unexpected yet delightful pleasure, sirs!"
The two Returners returned the smile. "It's been a long while, Sir Cyan," Banon said as they shook hands. "I'm sorry for making you wait, the Imperials didn't tell us you were coming until after the fact. We set off from the Borealis as soon as we could."
"The Borealis?" Cyan echoed.
Douglas cleared his throat. "This fleet is a joint taskforce between Narshe and our Kingdom," he answered.
"Please, if you would all sit down," Edgar gestured at the seats from the head of the table. He readjusted his collar, his attitude serious and his posture formal. "And Admiral, if you could have someone escort Relm?"
Relm frowned. "I want to stay," she stood her ground.
Strago glowered at his granddaughter. "Listen to Edgar, Relm. This meeting doesn't concern you."
Cyan interrupted Relm before she retorted once more. "Dear one, please. Time is of the essence," he pointed out.
Relm glared at both Cyan and Strago. "Bah!" she grumbled as she stormed past the two marines Douglas had just brought in.
"Children," Strago growled under his breath. "Always a pain."
"Wouldn't know," Douglas replied as he took his seat. "Never had any of my own, too much trouble with one that wasn't even mine," he continued with a mischievous grin unbefitting a man of his station.
"Admiral, was that backtalk?" Edgar raised an eyebrow, trying to remain perfectly serious.
"Of course not, my King. You were a fine student as you grew up, taking to naval combat much like a cat to water."
There were more polite chuckles at Edgar's expense as everyone took their seats. Admiral Douglas Pellyn was not at the head of the table, for this was not a matter of the fleet in particular but rather a gathering of powerful men. Instead it was the King of Figaro, Edgar, who sat in the Admiral's chair. Flanking were the two officers of importance, Douglas and the un-introduced man. Those three represented all of Figaro.
Sir Cyan Garamonde, retainer to the King of Doma and perhaps the only surviving official of that broken Kingdom, seemed apprehensive. Once again, he was the principle repository of Imperial knowledge in a gathering of those in opposition. Beside him was Strago Magus, Advisor to the King of Figaro and representative of Thamasa. The descendants of the Mage Warriors had done little to affect politics since the War of the Magi, but it was nigh-time for such power to be put to proper use.
Banon, leader of the Returners and political scholar extraordinaire, sat beside the Figarian Admiral. His long grey hair, heavy beard and rather humble attire hid the fact that he was the principle instigator of many historic events. In addition, the rebel forces that had long opposed the Empire commanded an extensive web of spies. The quality of their information network was no surprise for within were hardened, experienced men like Locke Cole.
Last, but not least was Arvis. A stone-faced man with short brown hair, he had been Edgar's principle contact amongst the reclusive Northerners. Despite being a Returner though, his loyalty was to the city-state of Narshe. He had saved Terra from the slave-crown and the Narshe mobs, but only for the greater good of his homeland. At the moment, Arvis represented the Elder, too old and fragile to go on such a dangerous voyage. In addition to his increased authority, he had brought alongside the Figarians a sizable portion of the city-state's naval capability.
The council of six men looked at each other, faces growing grim as they turned their minds to the darkening future.
"There is much to talk about and little time," Edgar began. "I'll skip the ceremony, all of us here have worked together in the past and we should be comfortable with one another. Cyan, you have not yet met Rear-Admiral Raimondi here. He is a highly decorated naval officer who is second to only Sir Douglas." He waited until the two men had exchanged quiet greetings. "There is one pressing matter at the moment, and another of such importance that we cannot ignore it for long. Admiral Pellyn, if you would begin."
Douglas nodded, setting aside his hat and taking a deep breath. "As you all know, this taskforce represents a significant fraction of both Figaro's and Narshe's naval power. Our current position has blockaded the Zarren, a river that leads directly to the capital of Tzen. It is a waterway of such expanse that even our battleships could sail in unhindered."
"A daring display," Cyan interrupted. "I must inquire as to how this fleet has maintained her good fortune for so long. There is no evidence of general action and Lady Luck a whimsical creature."
The newly-arrived Figarian nodded in agreement. "An excellent question and I would take the opportunity to answer your concern. In addition to my duties as an Admiral, I am the principle coordinator of all naval engineering. For this mission, the King has assigned me command of the UCS and now there are several teams in charge of digesting the slew of reports. They work around the clock to give us an accurate picture of the Imperial coastline and the dispositions of their fleets."
"UCS?" Cyan echoed.
"Underwater Combatant Service, sir," Raimondi answered without missing a beat. "My men scout the waters and ensure that the Imperials are not planning anything sneaky, even if they claim otherwise. For now it appears the majority of their fleets have been split apart. They have found refuge outside Pendleton Sound and Lechmere's Bay. Though several ships of the line are docked within the shipyards of Ethelben and Tzen, they are too few to challenge our line of battle, even if they were to miraculously combine into a single force."
Cyan frowned. "Underwater?"
"Yes, boats that travel invisible to the eye underneath the surface of the ocean," Edgar quickly interjected. He held up a hand and cut off the elder Knight's immediate question. "It is true and quite possible without magical assistance, and it is not an abomination of machinery," he soothed over Cyan's worries. "Admiral, please continue."
"The situation is that our fleet requires constant re-supply. With freighters from both Narshe and Figaro working together to sail around the storms, we are quite comfortable; our blockade could hold indefinitely. However, this kind of warfare is dangerous; losing a single supply ship would not hand us defeat, but combined with protracted action and we may find ourselves unable to return home," Douglas continued. "The situation is strategically untenable."
"Edgar, has there been any update on the Imperial end?" Banon asked.
"The Imperials have extended an invitation to allow several ships to dock, as well as keep our men supplied without having the need to sail halfway around the globe," Edgar answered. "I have stonewalled them for quite sometime, demanding the safe return of Cyan, Relm, Terra and Locke before continuing negotiations."
"And where is the intrepid Esper?" Arvis spoke up. "While she was once of the Empire, I still fear for her safety."
Banon nodded. "And despite with Kefka's attack in Thamasa, the Espers are still the most important ace up our sleeve. We'll need their aid in the struggle to come."
"I would not put too much hope in such a course of action," Strago folded his arms and waited until all attention was on him. "The Statues raised the Floating Continent and with it, the Gate to the Esper World. I loathe admitting this, but with the collapse of the Floating Continent and the uncertainty of the Statues' formation, we may very well be on our own... perhaps forever."
Both Returners grew silent while the Figarian officers nodded blankly; they had been briefed on Esperkind, but neither truly grasped the ramifications of what Strago was implying.
"The destruction of the Floating Continent could have long-standing consequences," Cyan pointed out. "Strago, I fear I do not understand fully what you're suggesting. Are we cut off from magic?"
Strago shook his head. "I don't believe so. Magic still exists, and the laws of physics have yet to rebel so I believe that the formation of the Statues is stable... however, the chaos generated by the Floating Continent's destruction could plague the world until the end of time. Certainly the storms that criss-cross between these two continents show no signs of abating."
"The beams of light never reached Figaro," Edgar interjected. "Most of the destruction that we saw within the Empire never crossed the ocean. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise?"
"While that might be true," Douglas interjected, "every single man on watch reported the sunrise coming from the south. My fleet was near the mouth of the Lete River at the time, almost as far north as Narshe. That we could see it... thinking about that day still sends shivers down my spine."
"The King and I have spoken about this many times," Strago pointed out. "Our conclusion has not changed. There is no reason to believe that we are in danger from the Floating Continent. However, we must plan assuming that the Espers cannot assist us with the Empire," the lore-master concluded soundly.
Edgar sighed. "Then back to the Empire. The General that I have contacted -- Terrance Cassidy -- has left me the impression that Terra and Locke are ill-disposed. That they found you, Cyan, so quickly and yet cannot produce our two friends worries me greatly," Edgar explained. "I fear they're covering up our friends' deaths and that Tzen will be little more than a trap."
"Cyan, you've met this General, haven't you?" Banon asked. When the Knight of Doma nodded, the leader of the Returners continued. "The original plan was to demand our friends back, thus delaying any need for decisive action. We didn't know the character of these Imperials and had the upper-hand. Now that time is no longer on our side, what do you think of this Terrance Cassidy?"
"I met him shortly before arriving aboard the Allegiance. His command is currently based out of Tzen, though the city itself is less militarized and perhaps he was only there to ensure my cooperation," Cyan answered. "I trust you are well aware of the Empress?" the Knight of Doma asked in bitter tone.
Grim nods around the table.
"That would be the secondary matter, and of the gravest importance," Douglas finished.
"Empress Danielle," Edgar said plainly. "However, there is certainly no reason to believe that she has actually unified the Empire; all contact has been restricted to the regions we already knew were under her command. Cyan, you would know more about this, so I give the floor to you. What of Terrance Cassidy and the alleged Empress?"
"What sort of man is he? Trustworthy?" Arvis interjected. Certainly out of protocol, but everyone was willing to let it slide considering the gravity of the situation.
Cyan folded his arms and thought. "He was well-meaning, an educated man that has seen more battle than is healthy at such a young age. But he spoke with grace and seemed different from the Imperial Generals I have met in the past. His concerns were far-sighted, almost humanitarian in nature."
Edgar and Banon exchanged serious looks. Cyan was about to inquire about their curiosity of the General, but Douglas interrupted. "What of his fleet?"
"While his ships did not seem prepared for the offensive, the Imperials are inclined towards duplicity. That Danielle Meras has taken the throne of the Empire proves that, does it not, King Edgar?"
He referred to Edgar and Danielle's discussion many months ago. Strago and Cyan both glared at Edgar meaningfully and the King nodded... almost reluctantly.
"From what I was told of the Imperial Civil War," Douglas started. "The situation before the winter was a difficult deadlock. With multiple factions contesting control of Vector, it seemed like there was no solution on the horizon. Could this Empress business be a hoax?"
Cyan sighed. "My understanding is that Danielle's forces had breached the Gap of Reddenhurst in the deep of winter. I was there," he explained to wide-eyed stares. "Her forces numbered well over fifty-thousand even after battle with a vicious foe that had been heavily entrenched and evenly matched."
The Figarians seemed most shocked by this development. "Why is this so surprising?" Arvis asked.
"The Gap of Reddenhurst is the ideal defensive line," Douglas answered. "Historically, offensives across the Gap required ten-to-one odds."
"An even victory would certainly imply strategic brilliance and an unimaginable understanding of tactics," Raimondi continued. "Given the evidence and our assumption of the numerical parity between these Imperial factions, the odds of taking Vector seem in her favour."
"However," Cyan continued. "With all of the Imperial Core ablaze in warfare, I did not believe it was possible for the Civil War to end so quickly. Even the leaders I spoke with such as Farin Starson, they were under the impression that the war could last for years."
"War is unpredictable," Banon stated. "History is rife with examples of abrupt changes, like a flash flood that sweeps all aside and changes the course of civilization. Perhaps something similiar happened here, so the more pertinent question is whether you believe Danielle would be supported by the people of the Empire."
Cyan thought of Paisley. "The men that serve her are fanatically devoted," he answered. "I do not doubt they would hail her as an Empress."
Edgar slammed his fist on the table, cursing in a manner far beneath his station. He shot to his feet and spun away in frustration. The window of the cabin looked out to sea, where the concentration of Figarian battleships stretched all the way to the horizon. An uncountable number of white sails fluttered in the ocean breeze, lustrous under the spring sun.
"Thank you Cyan, your opinions match those which my sources have managed to gather," Banon said with a concerned sideways look at the King of Figaro. "However, the Empire is quite a bit weaker than the rosy picture they have painted for us."
"This is new to me," Douglas' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why was this not brought up earlier? Any information would be highly beneficial for my staff; the more we know about the Empire and especially its weaknesses, the better our plans are to counter its advance."
"I had just received my dispatches no less than an hour ago. They are not as complete as I would like, due to a hasty compilation."
"So they are unreliable?" Raimondi asked.
"The opposite, actually. The reason why my sources are incomplete is simply due to a preponderance of reliable information. Sorting through it and finding relevant material is quite the task."
"Well then, do enlighten us," Douglas spread his arms. "We would all love to know about the Empire's weaknesses."
Banon nodded. "It appears that the Empire is still at war right now. The Civil War did not entirely end, or at least, was not wrapped up in a very satisfactory manner. Apparently an entire faction was made irrelevant and still exists, probably quite disgruntled and most certainly dangerous. They have fortified their positions and are holding the Empire at bay for the moment, though no action has been seen for quite a while."
"A possible ally?" Arvis asked.
"Not exactly. It appears that this faction claims loyalty to the Maverick," there were foul curses around the table at that name, "and to worsen their cause, they have executed crimes so heinous that I would not suggest associating ourselves with them. Their evil taint may rub off."
"What sort of crimes have they committed?" Strago asked.
"Their worst is the Rape of Vector, it appears," Banon answered to the astonishment of all. He shrugged. "I'm as surprised as you all are," he said with a shake of the head.
"Former Imperials sacking their own capital?" Douglas rubbed his temples in disbelief. "I find this impossibly hard to believe. Their army has always been disciplined, aside from one or two errant Generals," a look of apology was directed at Cyan.
"There are barbarians amongst them," Cyan interjected. "It only takes a single soul to spread such a disease."
That was a depressing thought.
"In addition to the simmering war with the subjugated remains of Maranda, there is some additional civil unrest in the east," Banon continued. "Not all is well with the Empire, even if it has reunited under a new leader."
"The military scenario does not seem so bleak, though both situations sound short-lived," Raimondi reasoned. "We have built up our navies because that is where the Empire is weak; her armies are simply too vast for us to stand against. These two brushfires do not have the benefit of an ocean between them and the mailed fist of the Empire. We cannot expect much from either; they may become irrelevant within the month."
"Agreed," Arvis folded his arms. "As far as Narshe is concerned, there are but two choices. Neutrality is impossible, we've seen the Empire's view of that notion." He referred to the Imperial attacks on Kohlingen and more recently, two military assaults on Narshe. "We fight, or we become friends with the Empire. That it has reunited under a common leadership might be in our favour, for otherwise we might have been dragged into the war with a disadvantaged faction."
"Friendship might not be an option," Douglas cleared his throat, reminding all that Figaro had been an ally with the Empire for a decade. "However," he began with apprehensive looks at his king. "Because of the rise of a militant tyrant in Vector, the possibility of protracted war might be equally inadvisable."
"Narshe and her peoples do not wish to enter a fight with the Empire," Arvis pointed out. "In the past, we were still reeling from the Empire's attacks. Now that blood-thirst is gone. While we have been certainly amicable towards combining our industrial might and vast natural resources with those of your Kingdom -- the free-trade agreement only benefits everyone and a closer alliance equally so -- there is simply no will to fight such a far away war!"
"Indeed, and even if the entire Northern Continent banded together, we are still decades from matching the Empire," Douglas added. "This should come as no surprise, but city-states such as Kohlingen, Zozo and even Jidoor are nigh-useless. The rich of Jidoor might even welcome the Empire, they've historically cared for little more than their own pockets. Zozo is nothing more than the abode of criminal scum -- the storms have allowed them to thrive -- and Kohlingen is distant and her industry laughable. Hell, most of their people are pathetic pacifists, certainly not the type of men we need."
"Their sciences are quite developed though," Raimondi was quick to point out. "I would not discount Kohlingen's benefit to our war effort, even if they are a loose confederation of pacifists. Their education system is well-developed, the bases we have in Northern Figaro were positioned for both secrecy and to benefit from the cultural exchange of ideas."
"I don't want to jump to conclusions," Douglas growled. "But as nothing more than an administrator for our Research and Development division, you should know that new weapons of war would take too long to develop. That Kohlingen has sciences doesn't change the fact that they can't contribute."
"I disagree," Raimondi gestured around them. "Major developments have been lost because of our lack of a close alliance with the academia of Kohlingen. Airship theory that should have become Figarian was bought and further developed by the Empire; to their great benefit."
"Technology is merely an enabler for men," Douglas glared at his fellow officer. "War is fought by men; won by men! It is through our blood, sweat and tears that victory is achieved. That is what we need, not fancy machines but more warriors, more sailors, more cavalry and many more battleships!"
"That this fleet is here is purely due to our research and the success of the UCS," Raimondi scoffed. "Had we have sailed to Ethelben as you initially suggested, we would have been caught between the hammer and the anvil, with a massive fleet in Pendleton Sound against our backs! Technology has turned the tide of war and will continue to do so, no matter what you and your simpleton soldiers think!"
"Gentlemen, please!" Banon interrupted. "It is clearly obvious to all assembled that the Empire is a war-machine unmatched. Now let us focus on the solution, rather than the problem."
"The Espers-" Arvis began.
"-are out of the question," Strago cut in with a frown.
"What about Thamasa? Would the Mage-Warriors be willing to lend their support in these dark times?" Banon asked.
Strago sighed and sank into his chair. "We are a small village, isolated from the world for so long that we have forgotten what it means to fight for freedom. When the Empire revealed its true nature, we were too afraid to raise our arms and fight back."
"Then you understand the risks now," Banon theorized.
Strago shook his head and frowned sadly. "I'm sorry, but our wounds have only deepened the hatred of fighting. My people would not be willing to help; we are too few and have lost too much."
"Cowardice," Douglas mumbled.
"Have a care, Admiral," Cyan interrupted diplomatically. His grim presence was a reminder of an even greater mistake that everyone in the room shared.
But Strago nodded anyway. "I will not defend my people. Fear is a tool in a tyrant's disposal that is deadlier than any blade, and we have surrendered thusly."
"We must make them understand our cause then," Banon pointed out. "We made the Espers understand our cause; we will reach out to your people similarly."
"No! They're too few in number to seriously make a difference and I would not spare a man to convince them otherwise," Raimondi answered. "Without industry worth mentioning and being nothing more than a gaggle of pacifist mages, Thamasa won't swing this war to our side. Maybe if we had a century, then we could incorporate your knowledge into our technology... but we cannot hope to match the Empire's magi-technology at the moment."
Silence, for it was a wholly depressing meeting that had gone nowhere but only highlighted their weaknesses. They said nothing and brooded.
Edgar finally turned around.
"We're sailing into Tzen. I will speak with General Cassidy personally," Edgar's voice was calm and soft, but it cut through everyone with grave authority. "All of you have made it rather clear that if we pursue a course of hostility, we will likely lose. Even if I were willing to concede to worldwide warfare -- to force many of my people to die in a fight far from their homeland -- I will not allow us to follow a course of action leading to certain defeat."
"My meeting with Danielle had been to ensure a treaty between her faction and our Kingdom. That her faction might control all of the Empire is only beneficial for all of us," Edgar continued. "We have no choice but to follow through on that course of action. As for the fleet, it will serve as an escort, staying within range to cover an expendable sloop. I will not endanger anymore people than is absolutely necessary."
Everyone turned to Edgar in surprise. "My King, that's beyond ludicrous," Douglas began. "We have Tzen under our guns, it is fully within our power to demand General Cassidy's presence aboard the Allegiance!"
"I would rather-"
"My King," Raimondi interrupted. "With all due respect, if your sloop is lost, this fleet would retaliate against the city regardless of your wishes. It wouldn't be our decision at that point."
The ranking Admiral nodded. "I can't even guarantee we would keep to military targets. Most of the commanders, while loyal, did admire Daggart's speeches. They remember South Figaro and dammit sire, it still hurts to this day! If you fall, the consequences would be much worse than if we lost a battleship or two escaping with your eminence."
"It would be akin to antagonizing a sleeping boar," Raimondi continued. The two Figarian officers were of like mind on this topic. "There's no telling what would happen once blinded by rage. It could easily ignite the war you fear."
"They are correct, Edgar," Banon pointed out. "You are indispensable and this fleet serves to protect you, not the other way around."
"You people are absolutely-"
"Edgar," Cyan interrupted steely. "This is not a matter to be discussed. If you are speaking with the General Cassidy, you will have an escort worthy of your station. That is the only option." All knew that in this regard, the word of a former retainer to the King of Doma was undebatable. Edgar relented hesitantly.
"There is still a slight problem here," Strago pointed out.
Edgar sat down, depressed and apprehensive of the future. "I know, Strago. That we didn't pick up survivors certainly doesn't help the situation. It won't look good at all."
"Those orders came from Daggart personally and again, I'd be hard-pressed to find any in the fleet that would have honestly cared to save the Imperials, even if it is against the code of a sailor," Douglas defended his men's actions. "Their assault on South Figaro was reprehensible!"
"I know Admiral, and I don't blame the navy. However, it might be the breaking point for the Imperials," Edgar answered. "There is no easy way to excuse what we've done."
"Of what event do you refer to?" Cyan interrupted.
The five men turned their attention to the Knight of Doma. None seemed willing to voice the matter, for it seemed like saying it would only worsen the situation.
But as always, it was Edgar that had to shoulder the difficult burdens. "Cyan, the Imperial fleet that sailed with us -- including Danielle's personal bodyguard and her trusted Admiral -- never survived the journey. We were waylaid by a Figarian line of battle and reports stated that every vessel was destroyed; even if they surrendered."
"But how did you two...?" Cyan's speech failed him, so aghast at the sheer ruthlessness of their actions. It had been merciless.
"It was my doing," Strago was blunt, and little details were offered.
"Surely there were survivors," Cyan spluttered. "Not everyone could have..."
Edgar shook his head. "Those that were captured were publicly hung. The rest, including all hands aboard the Admiral's battleship, were claimed by the deep blue sea. Not a single Imperial survived."
---
General Cassidy was quite young for his office. It was this inexperience that Edgar hoped to exploit, for the Brigadier was quite trusting. He had agreed to meeting aboard a small frigate of the Figarian fleet, sailed within range of the many guns gathered within the waters of the Zarren.
"Your Majesty," Terrance bowed slightly, a gloved fist against his heart. "I am Brigadier-General Terrance Cassidy, Commander of the Third Army of Her Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces."
Edgar straightened slightly, a frown on his face. There was something odd about the posture, so familiar...
"King Edgar?" Terrance asked, confused. "Is something amiss?"
Edgar smiled as he noted the gesture. "Nothing, General, and welcome aboard this ship," he said as he remembered his manners. "I was merely remarking on your acquaintance with Figarian traditions," he remarked. "Please, the Captain's Mess has been prepared."
Two Figarian Marines led the way as the General, bereft of an honour guard of his own accord, followed two perfect steps behind the King.
"I take great pride in civility," Terrance answered Edgar's question as they strolled through the vessel. "In uncertain times such as these, it is all that separates man from beast."
Edgar smiled and slipped through the opened doors to a deserted room, slightly smaller than the one aboard the Allegiance that he had spent long hours within. "A noble thought, from a noble man," Edgar slurred the last two words meaningfully as he gestured to the seat facing the head of the table.
The General looked only briefly surprised and quickly recomposed himself. "I apologize. I did not think it was meaningful. I meant no offence; it just seemed silly to lather oneself with pointless praise that only Peers would care for."
Only after Edgar sat down did Terrance follow. The two men watched each other from across a table perhaps two sword-lengths apart, though neither was armed. "May I inquire to your lineage?" Edgar asked.
Terrance nodded. "Of course; I am Terrance, son of George of the House of Cassidy. In recent times, I have become the Marquis of Driscoll and its subsidiary peerages, including the Earldom from which my House was named."
Edgar burst out laughing.
"Excuse me?" Terrance was rather concerned.
Edgar shook his head. "Banon was right," he muttered under his breath before regaining control of himself. "I'm sorry for my breach in protocol, but we are closer friends than you might imagine Terrance, if you don't mind the presumption."
"No, certainly not King Edgar. But I must apologize, I'm not sure I follow your meaning."
"Just Edgar is fine," he quickly extended the same courtesy. "As for what caused my poor manners, your father was Lord George Cassidy, a man whom I was briefly familiar with."
Terrance smiled knowingly. "Ah, yes. My father was once given the privilege of being the Ambassador to your Kingdom."
"That is what I'm referring to, and I suppose he's the one that taught you some of the more esoteric Figarian traditions. He was always interested in the archaic."
Terrance chucked wistfully. "Yes, my father was always one to delve into ancient customs. I take it that such deportment is now out of style?"
"Overly formal, but never without style," Edgar grinned. "How fares the Lord Cassidy?"
Terrance wet his lips. "I'm afraid to disclose that my father fell recently, during the turmoil after the Long Night. The proscriptions claimed his life, though such matters should be discussed another time."
Edgar nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss, Terrance. He was one of the best Ambassadors, with a genuine interest in maintaining common friendship between our two peoples."
"And I am no less interested," Terrance took Edgar's bait and quickly addressed the matters at hand. "I have been empowered by Her Most Imperial Majesty to begin the formation of a treaty discussed between your persons many months ago."
Edgar sighed with relief. "That would be a pleasure, though I am surprised that the Empress is not here to conduct such business herself."
"She sends her gravest apologizes, but there are... matters in the southeast that has taken her away from Vector. Certainly the details will be discussed in person, when she returns to the Imperial Core. Until then, there are various matters that must be discussed, including a somewhat-" Terrance paused as he searched for the right word, "-bold positioning of your fleet."
Edgar laughed. "Terrance, please, we're both learned men and such sophistry is unnecessary. I'm sure it's nigh-hostile in your view as a General of the Imperial Armed Forces. I apologize for our presumptuous manoeuvres, but it was necessary. Last I knew of the Empire, Civil War had all but engulfed the entire continent. I did not know if Tzen was friend or foe."
"I do not fault your escort," Terrance answered. "Your ships are impressive; certainly capable had your fears proven true and Tzen fallen to the barbarian. Equally understandable is your concern for your fellow friends, figures of importance such as the esteemed Sir Cyan Garamonde."
"I still would like to know where Terra and Locke are," Edgar pointed out quickly. "Your response was that they were ill-disposed, and yet you found Cyan quickly enough."
"They are quite busy in Vector, but I guarantee you of their safety. You will see for yourself once you reach the Imperial Core; I have no doubt that they would desire to meet once you arrive in Mansfield."
"Excuse me?"
"I did not intend to presume, but surely we are of like mind. Such historic matters could not be concluded aboard a humble warship. Mansfield is a city of dignity, and is incidentally convenient for the Empress on her return from the city of Vickers."
Edgar sighed; pompous, yet progressive. It was an interesting mix for a nobleman.
"My forces here will extend every courtesy to your fleet. We do not have the berthing for so many ships of the line, but we will supply and allow a number of your vessels access to dry-dock. There is peace in the Empire now; your men will be free to wander this fair city in safety. The Empress has deemed us friends, and I am quite happy to oblige. What remains is merely formality."
"The Empress Danielle is far too kind," Edgar said wearily.
"Her foresight is divinely," Terrance agreed with reverence. "There is another matter of which I must inquire though."
Here it comes, Edgar thought.
"Of the fleet that sailed with you, and the Diodorus and the Tiernay, I note that they are not within your fleet."
Edgar swallowed. There was no point in hiding it any longer. "I'm afraid that in the process of ferrying my person across the ocean, they were lost in battle with all hands. I survived solely by the grace of the gods. I am terribly sorry."
Terrance's chest heaved. "I see," was his answer.
"Figaro would welcome the Empire to inquire more deeply. However, I think it would be best for such dark matters to be removed for another time," Edgar continued.
Terrance nodded slowly. "Yes. I should think that the Empress would be quite interested in that tale."
---
Cyan Garamonde stepped out of the house, deep in thought. He quickly thanked Lowell, the librarian that had been their principle contact in Tzen, and pulled tight his blue cape over a gleaming set of plate armor. Cyan had been concerned for the old man's safety, fearful that the Empire would strike back at those who had harboured Returners.
It seemed at least that in this, Danielle had kept her word.
As Cyan made his way through the recently industrialized capital of Tzen, he couldn't help but worry about the future. The fact was that the Empress had stabilized the fall of the Empire and began reconstruction of all that had been lost. Whether the Empire rose or fell was no concern to him, but it was difficult for him to imagine a benign ruler upon the throne of Vector.
What if the Empire struck back against the world?
The Knight of Doma made his way back to the docks, intent on meeting Strago and Relm. The pair had decided to spend some quality family time together and Cyan was happy for them. It brought a smile to his face when the rest of the world was in such turmoil.
Lowell had kept up with Imperial politics in the recent months, invigorated by their visit. The old librarian had actually expected Cyan to return earlier and had plenty to say. Cyan had no doubt that much of what he had learned, Edgar would have discovered upon his second meeting with Terrance Cassidy. In fact, Cyan glanced at a clock tower, it was nigh-time that those two men would wrap up their discussion.
Their first meeting had gone as well as could be expected, given the apprehensiveness of both sides. The Imperials were well within their rights to be weary of the visitors from the Northern Continent, with such naval power mere minutes outside of the capital of Tzen and bringing news that the Imperials who had risked their lives to escort Edgar overseas had made the greatest of all sacrifices.
Thus, it was rather surprising that the Imperials still wished for Edgar to travel to the Imperial Core in order to officially sign a peace treaty. Edgar had submitted reluctantly and already, a suitable guard was being gathered from the fleet's marines. They were going not Vector, but Mansfield. It was strange and the excuses somewhat debatable, but then Cyan had discovered Danielle's motive for being so far to the southeast of the Empire.
She was personally crushing the insurgency.
Lowell had called it the Triskele Rebellion. The librarian had overheard news of the matter after speaking with ancient associates within the aristocracy. It appeared that an influential group of Knights, supported by the locals, had declared the Empress to be a pretender to the throne. They had rebelled and started a quarrel in the far reaches of the Empire.
The Empress was still a soldier and had gone with an army to oversee the campaign. Cyan could see the benefit there, for certainly a ruler that was quite comfortable with its commanders in the military was desirable. That she was returning and wished to save time by going to Mansfield instead of Vector seemed plausible.
Still.
"Strago!" Cyan exclaimed as they crossed paths just near the docks. Though dressed in Figarian blue, his frizzled white hair and a long beard were unchanged. He was still the same eccentric lore-master that Cyan had met in the chaos of Thamasa.
"Cyan," Strago wiped his brow. He seemed tired. "How is Lowell?"
"Contented," Cyan answered. "There is still some vigour in him."
"Of course! Don't you ever think poorly of us old men, there is always some fight left in us!" Strago said, though his blatant exhaustion was a contradiction of his speech.
"Relm is quite the nuisance, is she not?" Cyan noted kindly, but failed to stop his lip from twisting upwards.
Strago shook his head. "She was always a handful, but I don't know what you fed her over the winter. She's got twice the energy and thrice the intelligence. I'm having trouble keeping up with her, much less reining her in." He glared when Cyan laughed understandingly. "And I've already been through this," Strago moaned. "I swear experience means nothing here; doesn't help that the girl is magically gifted."
Cyan couldn't stop grinning.
"Wipe that smile off your face," Strago growled. His tone grew serious. "Relm told me what happened over the winter. Now I'm beyond thankful for what you did for her, but I can't say I'm pleased with your intentions in the past few months."
Cyan followed Strago as they continued back towards the pier. "You disagree?"
"Disagree? Dammit Cyan, she's ten!"
"Eleven," Cyan corrected.
"Only by your customs, and what does it matter her exact age? You're teaching a child the arts of war! How could you?"
Cyan paused in the middle of the street, forcing the crowd behind to avoid his large stature. He folded his arms and waited for Strago to make his way back through the stream of people.
"You would leave her defenceless? At the mercy of the enemy?" Cyan asked. His voice dripped with disapproval.
"Her magic-"
"-was not up to the task," Cyan interrupted. "Nor is she much younger than those I have trained before, and so far she has excelled beyond all expectations."
"That's not the point, Cyan!" Strago growled. "She's an artist, not a swordswoman. Instead of a blade, it should be a brush. But no! Gone are the paints and her canvas, instead she exercises and spars daily; you know that's not right. No child should have to learn to kill!"
"You have taught her equally deadly spells," Cyan pointed out to Strago's chagrin. "This is no different. One cannot be blind to what this world has become, nor will ignorance of the truth protect Relm from the darkness around us."
Strago's face twisted as conflicting emotions played havoc with the old man. At last, he sighed. "I wish you told me first," he grumbled in defeat. "She's such a headache now."
Cyan laughed again as the two men picked up their pace. "So where is the little devil?" he asked.
It was instinctive, happening so quickly that Cyan would later lie awake wondering how he knew. His foot slid aside as something wavered through the air he was just occupying, and then he quickly turned around and grabbed her by the hair.
"What a burden!" he exclaimed in jest, holding a fistful of blond hair.
Relm stuck out her tongue and twisted aside. "I almost caught you off-guard," she exclaimed proudly. "You were just lucky I moved too quickly that time!"
"What did I say about patience?" Cyan shook his head. "Such audacity," he said as he waggled a finger.
Relm made her cutest, most innocent face. "What some call insolence, others call confidence," she repeated.
"And where did you hear that?" Cyan mocked.
Relm grinned. "Look behind you."
Paisley straightened, clearing his throat. Cyan looked the Imperial Officer up and down, noting the assortment of medals and rank bars, as well as a freshly cleaned dress uniform. "Well, yet another chance meeting," he remarked.
"We met the man over a cup of tea," Strago glared at Cyan out of the corner of his eye. "A rather expensive tea -- I might add -- because Relm refused to have anything else but some specific leaf from the Northern Continent. Apparently, anything else was too bitter. And she refused to add milk and sugar, saying it was without grace."
Cyan shrugged. "I do not enjoy the taste of herbal remedies," he answered with some disdain.
"Of course," Strago replied, not entirely convinced of his granddaughter's idol. "Anyhow, I suppose you are ready, Captain?"
"Captain?" Cyan echoed.
Paisley smiled but kept his attention on Strago. "It would be more proper to ask if you are finished with your conversation," he pointed out.
Strago scowled. "Youth," he grumbled.
Paisley bowed his head respectfully towards Cyan. "My men are prepared, Sir Cyan. We merely await the arrival of the important guests."
---
"That's quite an escort," Strago remarked in awe. They had not gone far, for they were still within sight of the walls of the city. Newly risen watchtowers, in addition to half-built barracks were extending the limits of Tzen. The Imperials had begun expanding the capital as soon as winter ended, sheltering the once-temporary housing behind Imperial might.
Strago stared at the innermost collection of mounted soldiers and chocobo-pulled carriages, in addition to the many carts that would carry suitable supplies for the journey. They were gathered near two large boulders, half-cut and looking like they would form the foundation of an impressive arch.
As for the rest of the escort, Cyan had seen greater numbers before, but still... both Figarian and Imperial soldiers had formed proud, disciplined ranks. There were at least two-hundred Figarians alone, Cyan quickly counted, and at least twice that number donning the brown leather of the Empire. This was not going to be a mounted escort then, but Cyan had already expected that from the number of carriages.
"Sir Cyan, I will be the liaison for the duration of the trip. I have been instructed to ensure your comfort and to extend every courtesy to King Edgar and all your peoples. You are highly-valued guests of the Empire," Paisley declared royally.
"And pray tell, were you instructed of that speech as well?" Cyan asked.
"Yeah," Paisley rolled his eyes. "The General grilled me on it, as if it means anything."
"Well, congratulations are still in order on your promotion, Captain Paisley," Cyan commended. He smiled at the familiar, unbecoming boyish face and short-brown hair. "It appears you have been given a position of importance now. There is no one else in the Imperial Army I would rather trust to escort us to Mansfield."
Paisley smiled. "Thank you sir. That means more than you could imagine, coming from you."
The two men turned to the commotion caused by the arrival of Edgar. Flanked by a combination of Figarian and Imperial guards, the King of Figaro was accompanied by Banon and Arvis, as well as General Cassidy.
"I will speak with the Duke," Terrance was saying to Edgar as the two men strolled side-by-side, like equals. "He would be honoured by your presence, and I think you would enjoy his company quite a bit."
"Of course! Depending on how long we wait in Mansfield, I do not see a reason to refuse a man whose table you have lauded such praise," Edgar replied.
"His palate is excellent, and his chefs the best in all of the Empire. You will not be disappointed," Terrance stopped in front of Strago. "Lore-master Strago, Sir Cyan," he held out his hand and they shook in greeting. "I trust that the escort is up to your standards?"
Cyan nodded. "They are excellent, General."
"Very well, since you already know Captain Paisley here, I must take this opportunity to retire. I have reports to write -- a long stack that I detest -- before my commander returns from the Wilds. Captain, I leave our esteemed guests in your charge."
"Yes sir!" Paisley saluted crisply.
The General left, accompanied by his personal escorts, without exchanging the typical mantra of the Empire. It would not be fitting, given the presence of so many non-Imperials. Cyan noted this as Terrance walked away.
"Well then, I have some matters to take care of before we can leave. Once you have boarded the carriages, please notify the drivers and they'll get a hold of me. Until then, ah... your Kingship... Sir Cyan, I take your leave," Paisley scurried away quickly, clearly embarrassed by a lack of proper deportment.
They waited until he and the rest of the Imperials were out of earshot.
"Into the den of lions, surrounded by twice our number and engulfed by thousands more," Arvis mumbled.
Edgar sighed. "Yes, well we must see this through. There are no other options, and everything has been going our way so far." He turned to one of the Figarian officers. "Major, if you would see Relm back to the Allegiance."
"As you command, my King."
Relm frowned. "Wait, what?" She tore her arm away from the Figarian soldier and snapped a vicious glare at the warrior. "I'm coming with you!"
Edgar glanced at Strago and Cyan and then groaned at their response. "I'm not getting involved in this one," he said with his hands raised.
Banon and Arvis had, in their infinite wisdom, already slipped away.
"Gramps, Uncle!" Relm's hands were bunched into fists. "You're not leaving me behind!"
"Relm, be reasonable," Strago started. "This is not going to a fun trip, it's dangerous and I'll not have you in further trouble. Admiral Pellyn has already said he'd be quite willing to let you stay aboard the Allegiance, where it's safe."
"I don't want to stay on the Allegiance!" Relm cried out. "Cyan!"
"Dear one, this is not something to be debated," Cyan growled as authoritatively as he could. It was a grim, deadly tone that had struck fear in squires -- timid commoner and haughty noble alike -- for decades.
Unfortunately, it was a voice Relm had long since grown used to.
"I don't want to go! I don't want to be sent away. I'm not a burden, I can help!"
"It's too dangerous," Strago growled. "Please, just do as we say. The Admiral said you could have that beef stew everyday if you want."
"You're not buying me off with beef stew, old man!" Relm growled.
"Relm! Have some respect for your grandfather," Cyan snapped. "It is unsafe for you to journey with us, and that is that."
"But I can fight, I can defend myself," Relm answered back.
"Not in this," Cyan continued.
"Then you wasted my time all winter!" Relm retaliated.
"Relm!" Strago rubbed his temples in frustration. "Don't use that tone, Cyan is only thinking of your safety."
"Oh? And I suppose leaving me alone for days at a time was also for my safety?"
"What?" Strago asked, confused.
Relm folded her arms and gestured at Cyan with her eyes. "During the winter, he left me alone in the cottage for days while he rode off deep into the mountains on his chocobo," she stated indignantly.
"Cyan?" Strago looked at the Knight of Doma, who cleared his throat guiltily. "Is this true?"
"It was safer than taking her along, with the possibility of avalanches," Cyan answered.
"But still, such reckless irresponsibility! I trusted you to watch over her, and instead I find out that you are foolish enough to leave a girl barely two-digits in age alone for weeks at a time? For what, some sort of pride-ridden joyride in the-"
"Strago, to fall for such a transparent ploy..." Cyan snapped. He waited until the grandfather had his wits back before directing his attention back to Relm. "I'm disappointed in you, Relm. But that is a discussion for another time. Presently, you shall accompany the Major back to the Allegiance."
Relm turned to Strago, who was just as resolute. She even begged Edgar, but the King of Figaro maintained his distance from this argument and pretended to be deaf and mute.
"Go," Strago gestured at the Figarian Major.
Relm's eyes were focused on the muddy ground as she shuffled away, defeated. With her shoulders slouched and head down, the feeling of dejection was not entirely isolated to just the recipient. Three soldiers escorted her away, normally twice her height but towering evermore over the miserable little girl.
"That was bitter," Edgar muttered as he turned back around. He shook his head. Despite all his experience with the greedy nobility, hostile foreigners and innocent plebes, he had been powerless to calm that storm.
The two men nodded in solemn agreement. "She'll hate me for this," Strago remarked. "I'll never make it up to her."
Out of the corner of his eye, the King watched Cyan take deep, laboured breaths. "I don't suppose it ever gets easier," Edgar remarked.
Wrinkles deepened visibly, prominent on Strago despite his thick white beard. He was slouched, a heavy-heart that would not absolve him of guilty feelings no matter how soundly he had acted.
"Never. Nothing is ever easy."
---
Banon and Arvis were conversing with one another when Edgar, Cyan and Strago finally arrived. The two men had made themselves comfortable in a fine carriage, capable of seating four on top of plush, almost-velvety sheepskin.
"I trust that all affairs are in order at last?" Banon asked.
Edgar gestured. "We'll be as protected as possible, given the circumstances. The Imperials are going to lead the way and also act as a vanguard."
"They're going to quite a bit more trouble than Gestahl did," Arvis remarked. "I wonder what this means. Perhaps they're being truthful for once, or perhaps they're just that much more desperate."
"Whatever the case, we have no choice but to see this through to the end," Banon noted. "I have already sent word to those I trust in Mansfield, so that we'll have an outside source of information aside from what the Empress chooses to present us."
Edgar began to step into the carriage when he noted their numbers. "I'll ride with my ranking officer; ease his worries a little," he excused himself with a thin smile. "My men are justifiably scared. They'll appreciate it if their King rode beside them."
"Thank you for the gesture, Edgar, but I desire solace," Cyan pointed at the carriage. "Please, there is still much for you to discuss, and I am but a prideful warrior."
Before Edgar could say anything, the Knight of Doma strode away.
Strago watched Cyan walk away, silent.
Edgar put a hand on the old lore-master's shoulder. "Perhaps an apology is in order," he remarked. "You did speak without knowing all the details."
"Perhaps," Strago mumbled.
Edgar took his hand away, frowning at how obstinate Strago was. "Maybe later at camp, when we've all had time to relax."
"Speaking of camp," Banon started. "Are things in place with yourself and the Admiral?" Banon could easily guess what had happened between Relm and the two elder men. He had deftly changed the topic.
Edgar nodded. "Regular reports between our party and the Allegiance are expected. They'll be sent daily, written in a key that myself and the Admiral have already agreed upon," he took a seat within the carriage. "If any are missing, well... Douglas is quite prudent. He'll make sure the fleet is safe and word sent back to our homes."
"If Mansfield turns out to be a trap, then hopefully they'll have sufficient warning. Perhaps they can bloody the Empire into submission," Banon remarked. "But as for us, I fear even with all these troops, we might be lost."
Edgar put on his best, fake smile. "Cold feet?"
"I have lived a long, fulfilling life," Banon answered. "My legacy, the Returners, will persevere without me."
Arvis shook his head. "You two are so depressing to listen to. Remember, we have taken greater risks in the past."
Edgar chuckled. "Indeed, and don't doubt the abilities of our resolute friend here," Edgar patted Strago on the back. "He's got plenty of tricks in store, and I can think of one that would be more than helpful," there was a sparkle in the King's eye as he thought of Tzen.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Banon sighed.
"Well, perhaps I should tell you some good news?" Edgar asked. "General Cassidy has contacted the Duke of Mansfield. We'll be expected at his table the first night in his city. Apparently he has the best cooks in the Empire."
"I see that you and General Cassidy have hit it off quite well," Banon noted.
"You could say that. He's been quite forthcoming, much like his father."
"The Earl of Cassidy," Banon mulled over his memories of the former Ambassador. "I only met him briefly, though in retrospect he probably knew of my involvement with the Returners then. Still, he was a fine man, truly interested in maintaining friendship between the two continents. The Empire has been lessened by his untimely demise."
Edgar snorted. "Well, let's hope his replacements are no different."
"I shall pray every night for such a miracle."