Chapter 4

"Where is the king?!?" Steiner boomed, scrambling around the castle. "Have you seen him?!? You?!? ANYONE?!?"

He dashed down the main hallway, red-faced and breathless. Beatrix suddenly came out of a door, extended a hand in the universal "Stop" command, and Steiner skidded to a halt before her.

"Woah there, cowboy, where's the fire?" she asked, smiling.

"The king… is amiss! I haven't… seen him since… this morning! I am… beginning… to fear that he… left with those… Tantalus criminals… when he left… this morning!" Steiner replied, panting heavily.

Beatrix chuckled. "Wouldn't surprise me. He's been under a lot of stress lately. Honestly, if he did, I can't blame him. But we still have to find him."

Beatrix's understanding nature and calm tone almost overwhelmed Steiner, who was ready to call out the navy. But he knew that his wife could handle it better than he – after four years, he had come to the somewhat upsetting understanding that she was much more level-headed than he.

And yet, he was very angry. This was exactly the sort of immature, bull-headed thing that Zidane would do. How dare he just up and leave?

As Steiner pondered over these thoughts, his face contorted with anger and Beatrix pictured steam shooting out of his ears.

"Why that no-good monkey! Leaving the queen just like that! Why, the nerve of that boy! And to think that he is the king!"

As the word 'king' left his lips, he immediately changed tune. "I…forgive me, I spoke out of turn… he is the king, and I…I…I…"

"Hey hon, don't let the queen know, okay?" Beatrix began, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I-I-I don't know if that's such…"

Beatrix planted a kiss on his lips. "Come on, Lovey-Bear. You just let me handle it, okay?"

"O-O-Okay."

"Good. Now go to bed. You look exhausted," Beatrix ordered, opening the door she had just come out of and forcing Steiner through with a gentle but firm touch. "He can get so worked up over things," she said, grinning. "I love him for it, though."

Beatrix started walking down the hall towards the dining hall where dinner awaited. She already knew what she would tell Garnet.

As she entered the dining hall, she immediately spied Garnet at the end of the table, being served by several chefs, Quina included.

"Delicious food, tonight! Special recipe!" s/he said, presenting the queen with a roast duck. Beatrix tentatively approached, but regained her resolve.

"Beatrix," Garnet began, catching the general off-guard.

"Um…yes, your majesty?"

"Where's Zidane?"

Beatrix gulped, and then outwardly laughed. She was scared of lying to Garnet. She really was dutiful.

"What's so funny?" Garnet asked, smiling.

"Oh," she began, "nothing. Anyway, that's what I wanted to tell you. You see, Zidane had to go on an emergency trip to Lindblum. The lift down to the harbor is malfunctioning, and someone needed to go request service from Lindblum, since they did, after all, design the lift. We are also going to proposition Cid for a new flagship to replace the aging Red Rose. Zidane simply insisted that he go in my place, but asked that I bring the Red Rose after him tomorrow. He left with Tantalus, for old times' sake, I suppose. To be honest, your majesty, I think he was getting stir-crazy."

It wasn't actually that big of a lie. The lift was malfunctioning, and Beatrix was going to go to Lindblum with the Red Rose both to get a technician to fix it and to ask Cid to start a new airship tomorrow. Adding Zidane to the equation just protected him from punishment for a crime that Beatrix, honestly, completely understood.

"Huh. Because I heard Steiner running through the castle yelling about how Zidane ran off with that "pack of roughians!"" Garnet replied. Beatrix's stomach sank just a little, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Oh, don't listen to him, your majesty. We neglected to inform him, and he jumped to conclusions when Zidane left for the Prima Vista this morning," Beatrix said, metaphorically patting herself on the back. She never knew how treacherous she could be.

"Really?" Garnet asked, a piece of duck lingering succulently on the fork just inches from her mouth.

"Indeed."

"Really really?" Garnet asked.

"You have my word, your majesty," Beatrix said, bowing.

"Okay," Garnet replied, popping the piece of duck into her mouth. "I've seen how he's been lately…maybe this trip will get it out of his system. When you go tomorrow, just make sure you get him to come home soon, okay?"

'Wow,' thought Beatrix, 'she's just making this easier for me.' She saluted. "Of course, your majesty! I think this will be good for him."

With that, she took her place at the table next to the queen and their conversation got much easier. The duck was delicious too. Quina was improving as a chef every day.

The steady gaze of Amarant Coral could unnerve anyone foolish enough to look at him funny, and today was no different. The big red-headed man gazed plainly down at the scumbag on the sand beneath him, a big revolver pointed at his head. Amarant's left arm hung limp beside him; this dirtbag had hit a cluster of nerves with the butt of his lance.

Amarant looked up at the sky for a moment – pure blue, like some endless ocean. Cloudless, and yet, somewhat hazy, like the heat rippling off of pavement on a hot day. Today certainly was a hot day.

"…You hot?" he asked at last. The cowering man, who had kept his eyes closed in fear this entire time, now opened them.

"W…w-what?"

Amarant let the hammer of his gun off and spun it around, holstering it swiftly. His left arm was beginning to regain feeling, but not enough, so the big blue man lifted the seedy bastard off of the sand with his now-free right arm.

When the dirty Burmecian came to eye-level with Amarant, who was a good two feet taller, he gulped. His feet dangled limply beneath him.

"I said…are you hot?" Amarant asked again, grinning calmly.

The Burmecian gulped again. "I…uh…yeah?"

Amarant reached down with his left arm, which had enough feeling to grab a lance, and lifted the Burmecian's weapon up. He slid it through his belt and started walking, still carrying the rat with one gloved fist.

"It's a hot day. Not surprising," Amarant said, plodding along through the desert sands at a leisurely pace. He felt tranquilly calm; the Burmecian, on the contrary, had a pulse that was off the charts.

In the distance, the new town of Luxor sat, rippling behind a veil of heat. Tall palm trees hung low like some withered blade of grass. Just another scorching summer day on the Outer Continent.

Way off across the desert, Amarant spied the mountains that concealed the now-empty palace that Kuja had once occupied. He thought of the cylindrical cell that he had been thrown into and grinned – that pansy never had the guts to actually kill them. Any good villain would have just offed all of Zidane's comrades then and there. Hell, he would have.

Over the last four years, Amarant had started up bounty hunting again. It started out small, operating out of Treno, but soon, he moved out here to the Outer Continent. Luxor was barely three years old and already it was a hive of scum and villainy.

"Y'know…," Amarant began, eyeing the Burmecian hanging limply from his collar – Amarant's arm wasn't even tired yet. "…I knew a guy like you once. He was a loser. Always goin' 'round pickin' fights with everyone he could find…just to prove that he was tough. But really, he was just a loser. Is that what you want to be?"

The Burmecian, though terrified, managed to sass him a little. "Is that the speech…that you give to all of your marks? Just your pathetic inspirational speech before you lock me away?"

Amarant grinned. "Oh, I dunno. It's kind of like my motto. Not my slogan, though. Slogans need to be catchy. That sure isn't catchy."

"Got that right," the Burmecian spat, regaining a little of his former guff.

"So what did you do to piss off Calister that bad?" Amarant asked, still meandering along, slapping his left hand gently against his left, trying to get some more feeling into it.

"I…eheh…slept with his wife."

Amarant laughed. "Oh, that's all, eh? Sounds like she's just as much at fault as you."

"Exactly! But no, that pompous asshat has to get all…offended. No, his wife could never do anything wrong, I must've put her up to it! The rich abuse their power!"

"…You didn't put her up to it, right?"

"Course not! She was just drunk at the pub, n' one thing lead to another, and…"

Amarant stopped and set the Burmecian down. "Tell you what. I don't really want to turn you in. But I've got a job to do. N' you see, you're really just an unfortunate bystander in a deal between me and Calister. So you pay me, say…five-hundred gil…and I'll just tell Calister that you got away. That's half of what he offered me, y'know."

The Burmecian grinned. "Really? You got it! Anything to avoid jail! Here, man! Keep the change! I'm getting out of here on the first airship I can find."

Amarant pulled the lance out from his belt and presented it to the Burmecian. "Good luck, Tirkto. Only the best awaits."

As the rat, Tirkto, made his way off towards the airport, he waved back. "Thanks, man! Saved my skin!"

"Just lookin' out for those in need," Amarant replied, continuing his leisurely stroll into town.

He glanced back to make sure that Tirkto was out of range before laughing. "Sucker. Calister only offered me two-fifty."

He twirled the fat sack of gil around on its string and dumped it gracefully into a pocket on his brown leather jacket.

As he passed the entryway into the dusty little town some fifteen minutes later, he grinned. "Nothing quite like the feel of hard-earned cash in your pocket."

"Amaraaaaaant!!!" came the booming, throaty croak of Calister, a fat little man from Treno. He had came out to the Outer Continent to pursue his fortune, as if he weren't already set for life. His big, gray curly mustache always twitched when he was angry, which was very often.

Amarant turned to face the little man, who always wore a fine black suit that was always caked with dust by the end of the day. Judging by how it looked currently, Amarant figured that he was about halfway to the day's quota.

"How's it going, Mr. Calister?" Amarant began, staring down at the orb-shaped man.

"Don't "How's it going, Mr. Calister?" me sun! I just saw you let that damn rat go!"

Amarant stared out towards the desert and the airport, where he could see an airship just taking off. "Oh right…well, I'd say if you sprout wings right now, you've got a good chance of catching him."

Calister blinked a few times, not catching Amarant's full meaning. Then he stared up as the shadow of the ship passed overhead.

"Why would you let him go?!?"

"He gave me a better offer, whether he knew it or not," Amarant replied. "Look, sorry about that and all, but I've got to get back to the office, so…have a nice afternoon."

With that, he turned and continued walking.

Calister stuttered listlessly for a moment, fuming. Then, he exploded. "Now you hear ME, Amarant Coral, I OWN this continent! I'll have you boycotted from here to oblivion, you hear me?!? You'll never work on this planet AGAIN!"

Amarant simply responded by raising a rather rude hand gesture skyward.

He knew that nothing Calister said to anybody would affect his workflow. Law enforcement was virtually nonexistent out here, and aside from Lani, who now operated out of Conde Petie, he was the only thing even remotely close to the police. Calister didn't really own that much, either. He had a mining operation in the mountains nearby, but other than that, he was a mere spec of dirt on the carpet that was Gaia.

Luxor was a roughly circular town, centered around an oasis. The east side was bordered by a sheer cliff-face, under which Amarant had set up shop. This was known as the bad side of town, but given the size of the town, the whole place was the 'bad side of town'. The oasis at the center was actually quite large, meaning that the circumference of the town was quite large, tricking one into thinking that the town was also quite large.

As Amarant passed through the oasis, he picked up a stone and sent it skipping across the tranquil surface of the pond. The ripples made him think about the ups and downs in life – funny, he usually wasn't very poetic.

Amarant consciously felt the burning sensation of gil needing to be spent in his coat pocket, and figured he'd drop in at the weapons shop – he needed more ammo for his revolver, and Tirkto had inadvertently busted one of the blades on his left-hand claws. Speaking of which, he could now fully move his arm. If the stupid rat was easy to fool, he was still good at hitting nerves.

Amarant stepped down onto the dusty street in the 'bad side of town' as a carriage trundled by, laden with supplies. Across the street sat the 3's & 6's, a dingy pub and whorehouse where, he assumed, Tirkto had got lucky with Calister's hot wife. She must have been pretty wasted to want to get with a Burmecian. Ah well…

Right next door sat Dirty Larry's Fine Imported Weapons, which, had there been such a thing as a 'truth in advertising' law out here, would be called Filthy Larry's Crappy Handmade Toys. But at least he imported bullets, and that was all that Amarant really needed – he'd get a blacksmith to repair his claws.

As he crossed the street to enter the shop, a silver-haired figure stepped out of the dark alley next to the building, turned, and entered the shop. He was cloaked in brown robes, but Amarant could spy the tip of a silver tail poking out from the bottom of his cloak.

"What's a Genome doing out here?" he asked nobody in particular. "I've never seen silver-haired ones…accept for Kuja."

He slowly snuck across and placed his ear against the door, lest he enter and their conversation end.

"A whole lot," said the Genome. It certainly wasn't Larry who said it, anyway. Also, since when did Genomes speak colloquially?

Cough! Hack! "That'll cost ye. We dinnae git much in last tyme we gots a shipmen'." Oh yeah, that was Larry. The dwarf had a chronic case of lung congestion.

"Money's no object, my friend…" came the reply.

Hack! Wheeze! "Yae, I see. So, when kin I 'spect ye'll be by teh pick 'em oop?"

"In a few days. I'll keep you posted."

Cough! Spatter! "Aelright. I'll see ye then, eh? Say, jist a queshchun… Are ye one o' them critters livin' wit de Pyntie Hets?"

"No. What do you mean?"

"Ah…nothin', I guess. Anywae…I'll see ye later, eh?"

Amarant quickly moved away from the door and leaned against the 3's & 6's side. Larry's door opened and the silver-haired Genome strolled out. This time, Amarant got a better look at his tail. Definitely a Genome.

As the mystery man vanished into the oasis, Amarant turned over what he had heard in his head. This Genome needed a "whole lot" of something. He shall pick it up in a few days. He's, supposedly, not from the Black Mage Village.

Amarant unfolded his arms from his chest and marched down the boardwalk to the airport. "This merits visiting with Emotion Girl and Magic Lad…" he muttered, thinking of Mikoto and Vivi. "See if they know anything about this. Besides," he muttered, glancing up at the sun, which had just reached its zenith. "I have all day."