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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 1: The Beginning

Chapter 7 - Confluence

Part 7.2 - A Game of Chess

Draco stood before the large table and studied the three people in front of him. He had come here for more than one reason, and he felt that this "Committee" was entangled up with his reasons for being in Narsille. His primary goal was finding the Order priestess Cassandra, who had broken off communications over a month ago and had not been heard from since. His secondary goal was finishing what she started and finding the man Dune Karn, with or without her assistance. And his last goal was the one that the Committee assumed was his only goal here today - making sure he still was on safe ground with the most powerful nation on the planet.

The moment he walked into the room, his eyes went straight to the quiet man with the bright red hair and dark smile. He recognized the same black robe that Cassandra had worn, and knew the Order must be as much a power here as the Committee. He wondered who this man was, but he knew for certain he was not someone to be brushed aside as a hanger-on, whatever his demeanor may suggest. Draco had fought many battles against corrupt men who thought nothing of taking another's life or possessions, and he could see in those cold, red eyes the same look of soulless ambition. Draco feared no man alive, but he felt this person was something not of this world, and shuddered inwardly.

The second person he noted was the woman seated next to him, at the head of the table. Draco knew that she was Eva Dehr, President of the Committee for the Preservation of Peace, and effectively the most powerful person in Narsille. There were no kings here in this "civilized" republic, and it was more or less ruled by the largest corporations and organizations in the city. The Committee was at the top of this conglomeration of power, and Dehr was at the top of the Committee. She had the look of cultivation and power about her, from her neat and well-fitting business skirt and tightly wound hair to her disarming smile and open face. One look at her and Draco knew he was dealing with a female version of the former Prince Ralse. She may look like a harmless Narsillian business woman, but Draco knew her type well, and knew she would try to manipulate him into giving up more than Ralse had in his time. He had to give his old rival credit, he had known how to handle people, and Draco suspected he had frustrated Dehr's ambitions on more than one occasion. Getting information out of her would not be easy, and keeping information from her might be even harder. She didn't give off the same aura of menace that the red-haired man did, but she looked just as cunning.

The third person was a short, fat man in an ill-fitting business suit with balding hair and a sickly grin on his pallid face. He didn't seem like much of a threat compared to the other two, but Draco was no fool. Lions and tigresses were a known force, and people gave them their space. But the rat was unpredictable and ignored, and if pushed into a corner or allowed to roam unchecked, just as dangerous. The man was obviously the least important in the room at the moment, and he seemed to be aware of his own lowly position from the way he carried himself. Draco would not treat the man with any disrespect, knowing that the worse thing a person can do to men like this is act like they were lesser creatures.

As he measured each of the personages before him, he sighed to himself. Politics was not his strong suit, and he would prefer to deal with his opponents on the open battle field, not in stuffy meeting rooms of crowded cities. But times had changed, and peace was needed now, not war. For now he would play the part of Ralse, and do his best to manipulate these people as Ralse had, hoping to glean some vital piece of information from them. He steeled himself for the exchange and seated himself across from the President.

President Dehr smiled her most benevolent smile at Draco from across the table and said, "Welcome to our city, Lord Christophe. We have been expecting your arrival and look forward to continuing the era of peace between our two nations that Prince Ralse started. Please tell me, how is your nation faring since its recent upheaval?"

"You may call me simply Draco, Madam President," Draco said, hating the title of Lord. "I thank you for your warm welcome, and I am happy to say West Jidorik is well onto its way of returning to the once-thriving country that it was in my father's day. East Jidorik is even now helping us, thanks to old King Ralse's efforts to make amends for his son's sometimes rash initiatives." Draco paused here, wondering just how much these people knew of the real Chad Ralse, the man that had threatened to slaughter even an unborn child in his quest for power.

"But what of your own nation?" Draco continued. "I have heard tales of the wondrous city of dreams, where there is no war, no crime, and the sun shines year round. At the moment, it seems your city is suffering from a rather unusual storm."

Draco looked out one of the windows as he spoke, noting the almost black overcast sky and thick patter of rain against the pane. He had looked forward to getting out of the rain-drenched Jidorik region and enjoying the artificially maintained paradise of Narsille, but was chagrined to find a downpour here even worse than Jidorik's seasonal storms. Draco wondered if the storms had followed him here from his homeland. Sometimes he could swear the clouds outside seemed alive, swirling with an all-too-human look of malice. Was it an omen of the danger he was in? Draco did not know.

Dehr seemed unaffected by the weather outside, however. She calmly waved his concerns away and said, "Ah that is nothing to worry about Lord, I mean Draco," Dehr smiled that disarming smile once more, "Our ATLAS is malfunctioning, and the only man that can fix the machine is away at the moment. He will be back shortly, and our city will be the one you have seen in your dreams once again."

She pulled the curtains down over the windows as she spoke, though, and Draco knew fear when he saw it, however imperceptible it may be in someone as trained to hide her real feelings as President Dehr was. There had been that familiar flicker in her eyes as she spoke, and Draco knew something was definitely wrong in the city. He had seen that same look greatly magnified in the citizens of the city as he made his way to the Committee headquarters this morning. From what he could gather, the storm had started suddenly a week ago almost out of thin air, and had not ceased for one moment since. The citizens claimed nothing like this had ever happened in the thirty years since the machines to control the weather had been put in place, and were on the verge of panic. He could see that same panic in the President's eyes as well. The fat man who sat at her side, Cruz she had called him, had that same look, much more pronounced, but the red-haired man, who Dehr had strangely not mentioned, did not show even the faintest trace of fear or concern for anything. Never had Draco seen such a mask of cool indifference. If this man feared anything on this earth, Draco would be surprised.

"Now then," Dehr said, returning to the point of the meeting. "I have the treaty documents here ready for you to put your seal to, if you have no further questions..."

"Actually, I was wondering if I may inquire about someone I think may have been from Narsille," Draco said quickly, pouncing on this opportunity to find out what these people knew about Cassandra and Dune.

Dehr paused with a slight air of uncertainty, but allowed him to ask his question.

"There was a woman by the name of Cassandra that I had come into contact with, and was hoping to see here in Narsille when I arrived. Do you happen to know where she may be? I believe she was a member of the Order of the Pearl, like your companion here..." Draco waved his hand politely in the direction of the red-haired man, hoping he could gain some information about both Cassandra and him at the same time.

The man made no sign he heard or cared about Draco's question, but Dehr was ready with another calm platitude.

"Cassandra...," Dehr made the appearance of accessing a terminal in front of her, then continued. "Ah yes, there was a member of the Order by that name living here. Our records show that she has returned to her homeland for an indefinite amount of time . I am sorry to say you have missed her. May I ask how you knew her? Order members do not tend to associate with the outside world."

Draco knew a lie when he heard one, and wondered once again what had happened to the poor young girl that had burst into his throne room three months ago with claims of prophecies and doomsdays. Draco knew he must lie in turn to protect her, if he had any power to still protect her now.

"I had met her while traveling here. She was a missionary, trying to spread the word of the Order. I had enjoyed talking to her, and said I would meet up with her again if I ever ventured to Narsille. I am sorry to have missed her."

Draco paused for a moment not knowing whether Dehr believed his story or not, and then framed his next question in as innocent a light as he could. This would be a trickier name to drop, and he had better be ready to explain himself.

"There was one other person I was hoping to meet here, if I may trouble you one more time."

Dehr seemed a bit more agitated by his continued questions, but kept her face calm and did not waver in her hospitality.

"I am a bit of an amateur historian of my country and the lands beneath it, and was told of a man here that was well-versed in ancient lore and geology, especially of the Jidorik region. I believe his name was Karn?" Draco drudged up the vague information he had been able to learn from the carrying case Cassandra had brought him. He hoped the man was well-known enough that his story was believable. He seemed to have high credentials, and apparently was employed by the Committee.

Draco saw a visible look of surprise on both Dehr's and Cruz's faces at the mention of the man, and even thought he saw a brief flash of anger through the mask of the unknown man. No one spoke for a moment, but the red-haired man glanced at Dehr and then back at Draco, staring straight into his eyes for what seemed a lifetime. Draco did not flinch, and returned the man's stare with as innocent a look as he could muster. After a tense moment where Draco swore the man was ready to attack him right there in the meeting room, he glanced again at the President, but said nothing.

"I...do not know of anyone by that name off-hand...," Dehr said slowly, and made the show of accessing her terminal again. "Karn...there is a man by the name of Dune Karn who is currently out on an expedition to the south. I do not know when he will return, but I can have him notified that you are interested in his expertise..." Dehr was obviously put off by the mention of the name, but she did a good job of maintaining her composure.

The other man, Cruz, was not nearly as adept at keeping his emotions hidden, and was visibly agitated by the mention of Dune Karn.

"And where did you hear that name at, if I may ask?" Cruz interjected roughly. The other two looked at him sharply, but made no attempt to stop him.

Draco remained as calm as ever and replied, "I knew Narsille was at the head of most sciences and technologies, so I inquired around the city and was told he was the best man for my needs. I had never heard the name before today."

The tension did not ease in the room, but Dehr looked around her and laughed it away as best she could. "Well my Lord Draco, I think it is time we signed this treaty. If you would?" She handed him a pen and a look that said clearly the time for idle questions was over.

"Of course, Madam President," Draco said without concern. He knew he had dodged a bullet, but from where he could not say. He made a few comments and revisions regarding the treaty, then signed it and made his good-byes to the Committee members. He looked perfectly at ease, but inside he was still concerned. He knew they were lying about Cassandra, and their reaction to the mere mention of Dune Karn was surprising. He bowed to them and left the room, wondering what he would do next.

Outside the meeting room, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He had not noticed it while he was inside the room, but it had become increasingly warm as he discussed matters with the Committee. Stepping out of the room he felt the cool air of the well ventilated main hallway hit his face. He realized with some surprise that there was sweat on his brow, whether from the heat or fear he did not know.

Standing in the large hallway waiting for him was his Eastern Advisor, Barden. The man had insisted on coming with him, to make sure there was a smooth transition from Ralse's reign into Draco's. Draco did not mind, since this man was Ralse's closest advisor, and privy to many of the plans and ambitions of the mad Prince. And unlike Ralse, Barden was an advocate for peace, and was happy to cut his ties with Ralse and join Draco's side.

"So how did it go, my Lord?" Barden said cautiously.

"I am not sure...," Draco said honestly. "There is much going on in this city, it would seem. The storm, Cassandra, and Dune Karn all seem to be topics of contention, and I am sure they knew far more than what they told me. Especially about Mr. Karn. I must find out more somehow."

The two men quietly discussed their plans to themselves as they walked towards the exit. Before they could leave the building, though, the large doors swung open with a gust of wind and rain. Draco and Barden stopped suddenly as the silhouettes of four men stood in the doorway, drenched by the rain outside. They looked like ghosts risen from the grave, but all four had looks of fierce determination on their faces, and Draco knew warriors when he saw them. He quietly pushed Barden behind him and stood aside to see what they would do. Surely they couldn't be here for him?

The four men strode into the hallway defiantly, not waiting to be seen or caring who was in their way. Three of them were old men, but all still strong and healthy, save for a missing eye and leg on one of them, a sea captain by the look of his coat. The other two wore the plain clothes of Narsillian workers, but had an air of nobility and confidence about them that Draco thought fitted them well. They could have been kings of some distant land for all Draco knew.

The fourth man was younger than the rest, though, and had strikingly grey hair for his age, tied back in a ponytail. The look on his face was one of grim determination, and it was he who led the group down the hallway, right past Draco as if he were nothing more than a fly. Draco felt a wave of coldness slam into him as the man passed. And then, a wave of recognition. This was the man! This was Dune Karn!

Without warning, Draco sprung forward and quickly stepped in front of the fearsome group of men. They looked like the might keep walking right through him, but the three old men stopped and one put a hand on the man that must be Dune to stop him. All four men looked at Draco suspiciously, and Draco returned their stare in kind.

"Are you Dune Karn?" Draco said firmly.

"I am," the man returned coldly. "What do want with me?"

Draco's hand went to the hilt of his sword, the Scion.

"I am Draco Christophe, and I am here to stop you!"