To the Capital

It was an extremely bright Sunday morning and Vik deeply regretted taking the window seat. Then again, the scenic view of the eastern ocean was pretty awe inspiring, but when a billion-watt ball of gas is shining in your face, you try your best to look the other way. Grumbling, he pulled down a shade of thin fabric over the smudged glass.

"Pull that shade back up!" Demanded a voice next to him. "I'm trying to read, kupo."

"And I'm trying to get some sleep." Vik argued, "I had to get up at 5 AM for this stupid train."

"We all did." Kili pointed out.

"Not you. The train arrived at your stop at 7. You had two full hours more of sleep than the rest of us." Vik returned. "And I'm not pulling up the shade so you might as well take a nap."

Kili scowled as he slammed the book shut. "Kupo! I could always move somewhere else, you know." He said, a huge grin spreading across his lips as he began to rise from his chair, "Maybe I should go sit next to Saria..."

"Don't you dare!" Vik said, grabbing the top of Kili's head and forcing him down, which wasn't a difficult task since his companion was barely two feet tall.

As the train turned a corner, the capital finally came into view. It's magnificent skyline was dominated by the towering walls of a marble-brick palace. A proud lighthouse stood at the end of a steep cliff, it's great light extinguished at the moment. Mustard-colored houses with green-and-white awnings were lined up along the shore. The sight would have been breathtaking had the window shade been up. Vik could have made out the vague outline of the great city if he squinted really hard but he had more important things to think about. The night before, he had called up his entire clan (minus Kili) and asked them to meet them at a small cafe at the corner of his block. The conversation they had was still fresh in his mind.

---

"You did what?" Elena looked like she was about to explode, a look that fit her personality a little too well.

"I enlisted our clan in a government support program." Vik repeated, eyeing the room for the quickest way to escape.

"I heard you the first time!" The Viera snapped. She seemed to be the only member at the table who had any sort of reaction. Everyone else was staring at their food in a state of mixed emotions.

Finally, Mosely looked up from the drink he ordered. "Did you have a reason for doing this?"

"We all had fun being in clan, didn't we." Every head around the table nodded in agreement, even Elena's. "Well, school is almost out..." Vik continued, "And I'd hate to see this group break up. Believe it or not, we've come pretty far and we work pretty well together. So I was thinking...maybe we could form a clan. A REAL one this time."

"Yeah, we got that much." Said Elena, "But why did you volunteer us to do the government's dirty work?"

"We aren't doing their dirty work!" Vik insisted, "The school isn't going to be around anymore and we can't even set foot in a pub. How else are we going to get mission requests. Besides, working with the government yields unexpected rewards and we'll always have a few friends in high places to bail us out."

"Ssso instead of lapdogsss..." Hissed Yolando, "We'll be leachesss."

"Exactly." Vik said, though the title did seem a bit disturbing. "Besides, we'd be free to accept and decline any mission we want. If we feel one of them is unfair to the other clans, we don't have to take it. So what do you say?"

"It sounds reasonable to me." Remarked Saria. "Me too." Mosely replied, nodding in agreement with Yolando. They all turned to Elena, who offered a simple nod of approval before going back to her pasta.

"So it's settled then." Vik said, motioning to the waiter for the check. "Tomorrow we'll all go down to New Bervenia and officially register our clan before signing up as a government support group. Now there's one more issue we have to take care of..." A disgruntled bangaa slid a slip of paper onto the table, which Vik looked over quickly. "I'll cover the tip but you're all responsible of paying for what you ordered." And with similar expressions of discontent, the group pooled together their gold.

---

It was nearly 10 o' clock when the train finally pulled into the final stop. A large plastic sign greeted them as they walked off the train, advising them to try the new Bacon Double Cheeseburger. A 5-second escalator ride brought them up to street level. Having missed the view of it on the train ride, Vik was amazed by is size. He had only been there once when he was four years old and at the time, it was well under construction. Vik remembered seeing wooden scaffolding and cement mixers every hundred feet. Now, just a bit over ten years, the town had become a thriving city. Restaurants, Coffee Shops, and stores selling anything you can possibly imagine were line up on either side of the avenue. Cars and buses, along with Chocobo-pulled carts, filled up the space between the two sidewalks, running side-by-side in opposite directions on the blackened pavement.

"Alright guys," Vik announced, "First, we're going to find the Clan Regulation and Census Bureau and..."

"Ooooh!" Squealed Elena, "Those are the cutest pair of shoes I've ever seen! Com'n!" She grabbed Saria around the arm and pulled her into the closest clothing store.

"Hey look! Mystic Quest 4 is finally out!" Kili cried, running into the game store, shortly followed by Yolando.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Vik shouted after them, but to no avail. Growling, he turned back to Mosely, who was quietly walking away. "Don't you leave too!"

"Sorry, Vik." Mosely said, "But there's no need for all of us to go down to the Bureau. You don't need five other people to help you fill out a simple form, do you?"

"No..." Vik replied, "But..."

"There are no 'buts', Vik." Mosely said firmly, "It's not every day that we get to visit the capital. Let them run around. Let them have some fun for once."

"So you were all just going to go off and leave me with all the work?"

Mosely gave a light laugh. "That was the plan." He said, turning around and walking across the street. Vik tried to chase after him but a huge bus pulled to a stop in front of him. Mosley was well out of sight by the time the bus pulled away. (Vik spent a good 10 minutes explaining to the driver, who had an extremely weak grasp on English, that he didn't want to get on). Sighing and already tired from jet-lag, Vik trudged off down the street.

---

It didn't take long for Vik to locate the C.R.C.B building. The establishment stuck out like a sore thumb. While all the buildings around it were made of sandy brick, the C.R.C.B was made of smooth metal. Vik had no idea why this was necessary; it must get pretty hot inside during the summer. But as he stepped inside, he found it to be the exact opposite. An air conditioner cranked up to full blast cooled the area by the door, blowing waves of frigid air at Vik's face. He stood there for a moment, absorbing the ice-cold relief, until he was interrupted by a small cough from the information desk.

"Can I help you?" Asked a tempered Nu Mou.

"Um...yeah. I want to officially register my clan. Because you see there was this..."

"Third door to your right!" The Nu Mou interrupted before going back to her Crossword puzzle. And without doing more than raising an eyebrow, Vik turned the corner and walked into the appropriate room.

Vik didn't think it was possible, but the attendant in the registration department was even less courteous. The Bangaa simply handed Vik a form and went back to twisting his Rubics Cube. At least the form was simple enough. It only asked for the name of the clan and its members; everything else was optional. "Excuse me, where do I turn this in?" He asked the Bangaa, waving the completed form in front of his face. The Bangaa grunted; the universal language of office attendants. Vik just blinked. "Well?"

Growling, the attendant snatched the form out of Vik's hands and looked it over. "There are a lot of empty ssspacesss." He hissed, glaring up at Vik.
"I didn't know how to fill them out." Vik responded, "Besides, the form said they were optional."

"True..." The bangaa looked over the form once more before turning a weary eye to the computer on his desk. "Alright. I'll run it up for you. You'll have recognition of an official clan leader in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Vik said, offering a small bow before heading out of the room.

He walked back towards the entrance and stopped in front of the information desk again. "Whattya want?" Asked the Nu Mou.

"Which room do I go into to register for the government support program?"

"Not any room here." Th Nu Mou said, erasing number 21 across from her puzzle. "The Judgemaster takes care of these things by himself. You'll have to take your business over to the palace." Vik's jaw dropped upon hearing her words. The Judgemaster? Suddenly, the task at hand got a whole lot more complicated not that he had to talk to the king himself. Another cough from the Nu Mou brought him out of his shock. "If you don't have any more to do here..." She pronounced crossly, "I suggest you leave. We're very busy people."

"Yeah right." Vik mumbled as he pushed through into the bright morning sun.

---

"I wonder how Vik's doing." Kili suddenly blurted out. For a second, Mosely and Yolando gave him perplexed stares; as if they had already forgotten who he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. Vik..." Mosely rejoined, his carefree feeling slowly melting away upon realization. "Yeah, we did leave a pretty important job in his hands. I sure hope he didn't get lost."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Chimed Kili, "Let's stop by the police station later. I'm sure he'd end up there sooner or later; one way or another."

---

The colossal walls of the palace seemed to rise as Vik drew nearer to the front gates. The building dwarfed him and the houses around it a little bit more with each step. The wrought iron doors were coming into view now along with two muscular bangaa guards, both clad in similar red temple robes and carrying identical royal spears. "State your businesss!"One of them growled as Vik approached.

"I'm...I'm here to see the Judgemaster." Vik said quietly. The guards exchanged looks of half amusement.

"Is that ssso..." The Bangaa on the right smiled with the side of his mouth. "Well nobody getsss in here without an appointment. Ssso tough luck, kid."

"But I...do have an appointment." Vik replied. He was lying, of course, and he wasn't making it any less obvious. This only made the Bangaas's grins wider.

"Don't kid yourself, child!" Hissed the other guard, "If you really had an appointment, you would have put on sssomething a little more...formal."

Vik looked down at his current apparel. He admitted that it was nothing special; just a blank blue T-shirt and green cargoes but he didn't look bad. "Well, I had to take a train here." Vik responded, "And I thought a Tuxedo would look a bit out of place."

"Nice try, kid." The Guard said, smirking. "But you're not getting through these doorsss. Now ssscram before I..."

"Just let him in, kupo." Called a fourth voice.

"Eh?" The two bangaas turned their heads in the direction of the newly emerged voice. They already knew it was a moogle, but that didn't tell them much. The moogle the voice belonged to was standing only a few yards away. He was wearing a green, long-sleeved shirt and orange pants. A pair of Half-moon glasses sat at the end of his nose in front of his dark brown eyes and a feather quill nested safely on his right ear. In his left arm he carried a leather-bound ledger, which was easily half his size. The guards suddenly became petrified when they realized who it was. "M...master Montblanc...Sssir!" Stammered the first guard. "What are you doing here?"

"You have no right to know, Watz!" Snapped the moogle, "Now stop stalling and open this door!"

The Bangaa on the right opened his mouth to protest but received an immediate glare from the moogle. He silently nodded at his partner before pushing open his half of the doorway. At one point in history, it would have seemed funny for a tall, burly Bangaa taking orders from a moogle. But those times were long gone and because they were, Vik was now hurrying through the castle halls alongside Montblanc. Vik was in awe at...well, everything actually. The walls were made of a milky white-white marble, adorned with paintings of previous Judgemasters. Pairs of Corinthian columns ran along the walls, reaching from the red velvet carpet to a gold-plated ceiling. Brass chandeliers were hung every few feet, illuminating the walls with a soft, orange light. Vik wondered how in the world the government could afford this, even with tax dollars but immediately remembered his history teacher saying something about alchemists. Halfway through, he remembered his manners and lowered his head to a bow. "Thank you for helping me back there, sir." He said. The moogle just gave him a weary nod.

"What are you doing here anyways, kupo?" He asked.

"I came to see the Judgemaster." Vik repeated.

"I know that already!" The moogle said abruptly, "I heard you when you were talking to the guards. The judgemaster is a very busy man, you know. Is this an important matter that requires Marche's attention immediately?"

"No...not really. I just wanted to sign my clan up for government support."

"Well if it's not urgent, you should have made an appointment." The moogle pointed out, "You can't just barge in here unexpectedly and request an audience with him. You should have called ahead."

"Then why did you invite me in if you were just going to turn me away?" Vik uttered in an angry tone. He had completely forgotten who he was talking to. Adviser Montblanc was the Judgemaster's closest friend and he could easily had Vik executed if he did as much as raise his voice. Fortunately, the moogle didn't seem to mind.

"No, I'm not going to turn you away." Montblanc said calmly, "I am only giving you a fair warning. Let us know when you're coming next time." He pulled out the ledger and laid it on the ground. The pages were already filled up with names, times, events, and random notes. Montblanc ran his finger along the leaflet and stopped at an empty space in the middle. "Name?" He asked, dipping the quill in a small bottle of ink he produced from his pocket.

"Vik Fellcrest."

The moogle quickly jotted down his name along with a few numbers. He then made a few down-turned arrows at the appointment below it before slamming the book shut. "Marche is in a meeting at the moment. And right after that, he has lunch but he usually finishes early. I'll send for you when he's done. Because of the circumstances, I cannot guarantee you'll have enough time to address the desired matter, but that's what you get with sudden arrivals." He pointed at a room just a little bit off to his right. "You can wait in there until he's ready to see you."

"Thank you." Vik said, bowing again. The moogle rolled his eyes and marched down the halls, muttering to himself.

---

"If you direct your attention to your left, you'll see a picture of the palace's Architect, Nono." Chimed a young Viera in employee uniform. Vik groaned upon hearing this, attracting annoyed glances from the visitors. He had listened to the exact same speech from four different tour guides 17 times already.

"How can anyone take this long to have lunch!" Vik screamed mentally. He had been waiting for over 4 hours already and in boredom, had memorized the plaque on the wall. All 115 names. Something sparked in the back of Vik's head, calling for him to plug his ears. Upon doing so, the tour guide made a ridiculous gesture and the visitors broke out in laughter. "Lame joke: Right on schedule." Vik thought. "God I hate tour guides."

The viera gave Vik an angry look before ushering the visitors into the next room. As the door closed behind them, a new group emerged, led by a moogle in a similar uniform. "I can't take this anymore!" Vik thought, pushing past the flock of tourist and back into the hall. He didn't care what Montblanc said, if he had to listen to another tour guide explain the life of Sir Irving Taylor, main contributor to the capital's reconstruction one more time, he would go insane. Something told him to not stray too far away so he entered the room directly across from him. He quickly scanned for tour guides but found it clean. He closed the door behind him before taking a closer look at the room. It appeared to be some kind of sanctuary. Candle stands were set up along the room, bathing everything in a tame, yellow light. Like other rooms, the walls were lined with paintings; seven on the walls on his sides and 6 on the one behind him, displaying noble Nu Mous, elegant Vieras, prominent Humans, courageous Moogles, and Powerful Bangaas. Vik had stopped to study a painting of a moogle brandishing a glove fitted with knives when something caught his eye. In the center of the room was a statue of a hunter. It stood about ten feet high and was made of dusty limestone. It was wearing the normal hunter attire minus the ridiculously flared knicker-bockers. His right hand gripped a jewel-adorned greatbow while his left reached for a quiver mounted on his back. A wolf carved from granite stood defensively at the hunter's heels. For an odd reason, the man seemed strangely familiar to Vik. A brass plaque mounted on the statue's base told him he was Gale Maytron but nothing else. "Wierd..." Vik said to himself as he ran his fingers along the engraved name. "I know I've heard that name before. But where..." He lifted his gaze from the orange plaque and searched the room for anything that might tell him the rooms purpose and his gaze fixed on a door at the end of the room. Seeing nothing else in the room with any significance, he strode over to the door and cracked it open.

"What are you doing in here?" boomed a deep voice from behind, causing Vik to slam the door shut and spin around to face the speaker. Vik was relieved it wasn't a guard but the feeling was overcome by the shock of who it really was. Standing at the opposite end of the room, framed against the doorway was a 20-year-old man clad in silver armor. He had cow-licked blond hair and blue eyes. A crystal judge sword was strapped on his back, glinting softly in the candle light.

"Judgemaster Marche!" Vik gaped, forcing his rigid body into an awkward bow.

"So you noticed." Marche said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he strode over to Vik. "I'm assuming you're Vik Fellcrest. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you were told to wait in the Hall of Design."

"I was just...lost, I guess." Vik said quietly. It would have been exceedingly less awkward if the circumstances were a bit different, but they weren't. After a few seconds of silence, he finally worked up the nerve to look Marche in the eye and to his surprise, he found them anger-free.

"It's been a long time, Vik. I could hardly recognize you." Marche said, "Then again, the last time I saw you, you were only a baby."

"You...saw me...as..." Vik couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Marche got the idea.

"I sure did!" He said cheerfully. "In fact, I was there when you were born."

"No you weren't." Vik returned, squirming. He was arguing with the most powerful man in Ivalice! "Both of my parents are doctors and they insist on doing home deliveries. They told me they were alone when I was born. Only family members are allowed in the room during the labor and I'm sure they wouldn't have made an exception for you. And if you were there, my parents would have never stopped talking about it. Believe me, no one ever forgets a visit from the judgemaster."

Marche gave him a confused look. "You mean you don't know yet?"

"Know what?"

"Oh...nothing." Marche laughed loudly, making the tension in the room build up even more.

In a desperate attempt to break the silence, he tried to change the subject. "Who's that?" He asked, pointing at the limestone structure.

Again, Marche gave him the same confused look from before but it was quickly shaken off. "Don't they teach you anything in school?" The judgemaster replied. Vik just shrugged, already at a loss of words. Marche shook his head as he walked over to the statue. "His name's Gale Maytron, as the plaque clearly states."

"I knew that already." Vik returned, trying his best not to make it sound like he was talking back. "But who is he? What did he do? What makes this place so sacred?"

Marche ran a hand through his mustard hair in frustration. Cautiously, he took a seat on the base of the statue and motioned for Vik to join him. Vik obeyed since he didn't have much of a choice, but sat as far away from the man as he could. "His full name was...is Galen Agenor Maytron." Marche recited. "He was born during the eleventh of Huntmoon in 2197. Graduated 2218 and joined the royal army one year later. By 2220, he was a first class judge official, the youngest ever I believe. Died tragically in 2221 at the age of 24. That's about all I can remember. If you want to know more, you'll have to look up the information by yourself."

"But what did he do to deserve...this?" Vik said, gesturing wildly at the room.

"He was a Martyr."

"A what?"

"He was a servant to his country and he willingly died for it."

"I see..." Vik remarked, taking another look at the statue. "So how did he die?" The question did seem a bit disrespectful to Vik, and the look he got from the judgemaster confirmed this feeling. "Never mind." He said quickly.

"Just why did you come here?" Marche asked.

"I came to sign my clan up for government support." Vik answered.

"Government support? Don't you think you're a bit...young?"

"There's an age requirement?"

"No, not exactly..." Marche answered slowly, "But the work we deal with is extremely grueling. Are you sure your clan can handle it?"

"Of course they can!" At that moment, Vik was so overtaken with confidence he almost sprang out of his seat. "We're ready for anything you throw at us!"

Marche smiled. "That's what I like to here. Just tell me the clan's name and I'll pass a note to the recruitment office."

"Thank you, sir." Vik responded. "Our clan's name is Senbunsu Hebun. I promise, we'll try our best."

The judgemaster's eyes seemed to light up when the name was uttered. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Sen-bun-su He-bun" Vik pronounced, noticing the expression on the man's face. "Is something the matter?"

"Huh? I mean...no. Nothing's the matter!" Marche replied quickly. Vik couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this.

"What's wrong? Is it that you can't spell it? It's quite simple, really. Es-ee-en-be..."

"I can spell it just fine!" Marche interrupted. "It's just...how should I say this...peculiar, that you chose that name."

"Why? What does it mean? Where have you..."

A loud knock on the door brought Vik's train of questions to a sudden halt.. "Excuse me, Kupo." Came a small but deep voice. "But the ambassador from Jagd Dorsa is here."

"Excellent." Marche called back, lifting himself from the statue's feet and turning to Vik. "I'm terribly sorry but we're going to have to cut this conversation a little bit short. If you ever need to chat, be sure to let me know. I'm sure I can make some time for you."

"Thank you, sir." Vik stood up and offered him a bow, which (to Vik's shock) Marche returned. "I better leave you to your business then. Good bye, your majesty" And with that, Vik started for the exit. His hand was barely an inch from the doorknob when he turned back to the Judgemaster. "By the way..." He began, "What's behind that door over there?" He pointed at the door opposite to him; the one he would have opened had the judgemaster not appeared.

Marche's smile disappeared; though from across the room, Vik couldn't notice. "It's a depressing room filled with regret and remorse." He answered, "It would be best if you didn't look in it." Vik nodded silently. As dense as he was at times, he had always been able to take a hint. If Marche didn't want him in the room, he wasn't going to argue. Gradually, he turned back to the door. A sudden flash of light burst from behind him as his hand made contact with the dark oak. Vik spun around to see what had happened only to find the judgemaster had gone. Shrugging, he pushed his way back into the hall.

---

As soon as the ambassador left, there was another knock on the door of Marche's office. "Enter!" Marche shouted, gathering up all his notes and plans and sweeping them into the garbage bin. The heavy redwood doors opened, allowing Adviser Montblanc access to the room. The first thing he noticed was the Judgemaster's frustrated expression and the trashed plans.

"Hey, Kupo." He greeted with a weak smile, "How'd it go?"

"Let's see..." Marche began, "We didn't last ten seconds before getting into an argument, he spat on me seven times in three minutes, and left right after throwing his drink, glass and all, at my face and saying Clan Hounds would ever surrender their turf to 'Iron Fist Consumerists' like us. All in all, it went pretty well."

"Great." Montblanc replied, sweatdropping. "So how was your meeting with Vik?"

"What else can I say; I'm going to sign him up for government support."

"You did? But what about the test?"

"I didn't have much of a choice." Marche answered, "The palace has fallen on hard times. We need all the help we could get."

There was relentless determination in the human's eyes and Montblanc knew he was in no place to argue. "Does he at least know yet? About the reason behind his gifts?"

"Unfortunately, no." Marche responded grimly, "It seems the martyr made it so Vik doesn't learn anything before he feels he's ready for it."

"And you didn't tell him about it?"

"I don't like to get mixed in with family matters."

"And what if he finds out too soon?"

Marche got up and walked over to the window. It was just past 7 PM and the sun was starting to sink into the jagged horizon; its orange light changing the judge's armor to a rusty gold color. "It does not matter if he learns his true identity ahead of schedule. In fact..." He said, "I hope he does."

---

Vik watched as the plastic hands of the clock strike 7:15. "Where are they?" He thought, scanning the platform. "The train's leaving in five minutes." Behind him, the engine roared to life and the whistle blared, signaling the last boarding call. Just as he was about to get on, he caught sight of them. About five yards away, carrying more paper bags than a small forest can provide, were his fellow clan members. "Hurry up!" He shouted before darting into the train car. Seconds later, the rest of the group joined him.

"What took you so long?" Vik asked as the doors closed and the train lurched forward. "I told you to meet me here at 7! You almost missed the train."

"Sorry. Kili got busted for trespassing." Mosely said as the moogle skulked in shame, "We had to sell a few things to pay the bail."

"And then we had to find the girlsss." Yolando put in, "You should have ssseen them. They were attacking every sssingle clothing ssstore in the area. We managed to track them down by following the trail of ruined department ssstoresss."

Vik stared at them, stupefied. He could honestly say they he had gotten accomplished more today than they did, but when he was asked how his day went, he "accidentally" left out the part with the judgemaster.

---

It was way past midnight when the train came to a complete stop. Jets of steam shot out from the terminated engine as the passengers filed out of their cars. As the now official Clan Senbunsu got up to leave, Vik noticed the pile of shopping bags, still stacked up by the compartment's door. "Hey, don't forget your stuff!" He called at his clanmates' backs. They replied with equivalent looks of confusion.

"Actually, Vik." Saria said, stepping up from behind, "They're all mine."

"What!" Vik shouted angrily, not noticing that Mosely, Yolando, and Elena had snuck away and taken cover behind a row of garbage cans. "How in the world did you pay for them?"

"Um...kupo?" Kili motioned for Vik to kneel down. When he did, the moogle cupped his hands around Vik's ear and whispered. "They were stolen."

Vik immediately turned pale, staring wide-eyed at the packages. Kili took this as a sign to leave and quickly dashed out of the compartment while Saria stared shamefully at the floor. The two of them would have stayed that way if the conductor wasn't going around; checking to make sure every compartment was empty. "You kids bettah git goin'" He said, shining his flashlight in their faces. "Ah' reckon you lot got school tommarra."

"I'm so sorry, sir." Vik said, grabbing the packages and motioning for Saria to follow him. "We were just looking for something. We'll be going now."

"Well mebe Ah' could help find eet'. Just tell me what you folks lost."

"No, that's alright." Vik replied, already on the platform. "It wasn't important. Thanks anyways!"

"You kids take care of y'selves now!" He called after them. But he was only hollering at the wind, because the metal platform was empty and Vik and Saria were nowhere in sight.

---

Vik would have liked to call a taxi but he had just spent all his savings on the tickets to New Bervenia. Because public transportation had already stopped running, Vik was forced to carry the bags home by whatever way he could. And by that, it meant hanging the bags by his hands, arms, shoulders, teeth, ears, and neck. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but at least he was getting the job done. Saria trailed behind him, clutching the few bags Vik couldn't find a place for. They walked in silence along the deserted street. A cough or sneeze was exchanged every now and then, but they did their best to avoid the other's gaze. After what seemed to be a lifetime of stillness, Saria finally spoke up. "Look, I'm really sorry." She began. "They were all just lying there and I didn't know that..."

"No. It wasn't your fault." Vik cut in. Saria's embarrassed expression suddenly turned to surprise and then to confusion. "I was mine." He continued. "I never took the time to teach you about money. And stealing."

Saria started dragging her feet, allowing herself to fall back a couple feet. "So what do we do now?" She asked timidly.

"Well, we can't just return them. We left that option a couple hundred miles back at the capital." Vik responded. "I guess the only thing was can do is just pretend they were gifts." His arms were beginning to get a rash from the cardboard handles so he decided to take a rest. He laid the bags down by the sidewalk and flopped down on the curb. "Did you really steal all of this?" He asked, staring astonished at the brown parcels.

"Every single thing." Saria said, trying to conceal the pride in her voice.

"As immoral as this is, it's pretty impressive." Vik admitted, checking the contents of each bag. Each one was full of clothes, all tightly folded and piled to the top; enough to bring Saria's modest wardrobe up to normal standards. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about." Vik thought. He was not looking forward to living through another Madame Magnifique fiasco again. "So did you get any underwear?" He asked, trying his best not to make it sound perverted.

"What's underwear?" The girl replied with a lost and innocent expression back on her face.

Vik stood up and grabbed the bag. As cute as she is when she's like this, there was no way Vik was going into forbidden territory. "Let's go." He said, taking off down the street followed closely by a curious Saria.

A/N: Woohoo! Finally, some of the original characters made an appearance. Though two is nothing to brag about. But I promise every character from the game will make an appearance, including your friendly neighborhood Biskmater! Anyways, this story is FAR from over but unfortunately I can't say the same thing about the summer. School will be starting soon and updates will probably get slower. I'll try to fit in one more chapter before the end of the week but it's not likely. I've got some things to take care of that I distinctly set for the last minutes of vacation.

---

Marche: Why did that train conductor have a southern accent? We're not even in America.

Montblanc: And why did you have a random scene right in the middle of the story? It had nothing to do with the developing plot!

Author: Shut up! It's my fanfic and I can do whatever the hell I want. Now dance!

Marche and Montblanc: What?

Author: Dance! Or lightning shall rain down over your condemned souls!

M & M(hehe. I made a joke) +Dances+