Smokescreen
If South Figaro was anything at all like Nikeah or Zozo, then an Imperial soldier running down the street half-dressed shouting after a street urchin wouldn't be at all odd. Nobody would bat an eyelash, nor would any heads turn in the direction of the frantic shouting about returning clothes dammit.
But South Figaro wasn't like Nikeah or Zozo. South Figaro was in the middle of being occupied by the Imperial military, so when one soldier was running and shouting, all the other soldiers within the immediate vicinity hurried towards the shouting and soon started chasing the street urchin as well.
"Give my goddamn pants back, you thief!" the half-dressed soldier shrieked, his white button-up shirt flapping behind him as he ran. He only had one sleeve on his arm, some scraggly socks that needed mending, his standard-issue helmet, and his underclothes, which honestly, didn't cover very much. But that didn't deter the man as he tried to catch up with his target, even though running through the cobblestone streets hurt his feet.
His thief didn't reply as he pitched himself over the brick wall at the back of a citizen's backyard at a full run.
By the time the group of soldiers reached the said wall, the thief had vanished.
"Fucking hell," the half-dressed soldier grumbled, seeing as he'd lost his new pair of pants straight from Vector.
"It's your own fault for letting your guard down, man." Another of the group clapped him on the back as they turned to walk to the inn they were using as barracks.
"He just ambushed me, I swear! Had a dagger to my throat and everything!" he cried in defense, glaring at his fellow soldiers who grinned or chuckled.
"Right, well, we can't have you parading around what the Imperial military has to offer, now can we? The townspeople will talk." A soldier in brown laughed, ignoring the dark look thrown his way.
"Those greenies just have to try to look tough, huh? I didn't have my knife out at all," Locke shook his head as he waited a few moments more in his hiding place before moving along. Sometimes the soldiers liked to linger.
After he went over the wall, he'd run across the yard and up and over another wall into a tiny alley between houses where the weeds were all dried up. Luckily it wasn't one of the poor alleyways where people dumped their chamber pots just willy-nilly.
"Dammit. I gotta get to Narshe fast. Too many of the Imperials here saw my face..." he muttered, crouching down with the pants in his lap.
He held the garment up to the low light, "Hope these suckers fit, at least."
Locke had been gathering supplies during his stay in South Figaro, and he finally got the last thing he needed before he did some major snooping around. So far, he had only been able to overhear snippets of conversation, like about how some of the soldiers viewed Kefka, or how they wished they could've stayed down south. And by nightfall, he was busy cutting wires in the Magitek Armor and replacing their ammo with trick bullets. It wasn't his fault if maps, letters, and rings went missing in the process, of course not.
Most of the people of South Figaro were awfully quiet about the occupation, whether it be from seeing defeat clear on the horizon or from hoping that it would end soon due to the efforts of the Returners, so the soldiers didn't have much to do other than stroll around town with their guns for show, drinking at the pub, and generally lording over the citizens when they were allowed out to do their shopping.
Only merchants and certain ladies in red were allowed to go about their business without much hassle, though the ladies would run into a bit of trouble every now and then when a lower-ranking soldier was wandering around the streets drunk off his ass.
The faint complaining and joking from the soldiers faded away finally, signaling that Locke could emerge from his hiding place. He stuffed the pants into the front of his own and under his shirt and tried evening them out so he wouldn't look too odd and climbed quietly up the uneven brick wall.
He was in a little neighborhood on the east side of town where the middle class lived. At the end of the main street towered an Imperial officer in a suit of Magitek armor blocking the entrance to the shopping district to all except for other Imperials. The Magitek Knight didn't look like he had a sense of humor under that helmet, so that route was out.
All around South Figaro were walls that surrounded the land side of town to help protect the people and provide a means of getting from one district to another. Houses were clustered together along the tall walls, some only accessible by sets of stairs leading up from the roads.
A quick glance around let Locke know that quite a few of the walkways and staircases were blocked by Imperials. At least he could get to the general store without trouble. Every other route that led down to the streets was blocked off by checkpoints where the soldiers loitered and sometimes napped until their shift was up. It was odd that every way leading down to the street was blocked though. Locke figured that the soldiers were told to stop slacking by a superior officer and figured that guard duty was an easy way to look busy. He sighed and carefully lifted himself over the wall as slowly as he could to avoid notice.
He hurried down the landing to the general store, trying to stick close to the walls so he wouldn't draw attention from the soldiers on patrol above. He reached the door to the shop without incident and slipped inside.
The owner was wiping down his stomach-level counters with an old cloth while his blonde granddaughter dusted the curtains and clocks.
"Hey there Locke," the owner said, smiling, kind of, through that thick gray beard. "Have fun out there? We heard all the yelling..."
His granddaughter giggled from her place at the window. She turned to face him, "Yeah, why did you steal pants of all things?"
Locke went over to one of the straight-backed chairs and sat down roughly. "How could you accuse me of all people of being a pants thief? I'm hurt!" he wiped at an imaginary tear with his finger.
The girl pointed at Locke with her feather duster, "Then why do you look super happy to see me and like you've gained twenty pounds only in your thighs?" She went up to him, giving him a little wink and a flip of her long hair. "Somebody's hiding something."
Locke rolled his eyes at her, withdrew a wad of bills from his pocket, and tossed them at her. She snatched the money out of the air with nimble fingers.
"There's an extra fifty in there for your discretion," he grinned, to which the shop owner and teen nodded.
Locke moved over to the counter, making sure that neither the shop owner nor girl could see anything, and unbuttoned his denims so he could pull the soldier's pants out of their hiding place.
"Want me to fetch that sweaty helmet and jacket?" asked the older man.
"Please and thank you. I think I can get by with the boots I'm wearing already," Locke folded the pants and sat them on the counter, "I couldn't get my hands on that idiot's boots—he kept trying to smack me in the face."
"He didn't see your face though, did he? Like the others?" the girl wandered back over to Locke, not seeming too concerned, merely entertained.
"Nah, I sneaked up on him in an alley while he was taking a piss. He only saw the back of my head after that."
The shopkeep barked out a laugh, "Dirty trick! Caught the poor man with his pants down!" He'd moved on to tidying the bottles and packages of medicines on the shelves behind the counter. The newspaper rack was completely empty thanks to the Imperials blocking all the radios and outside communications the citizens had access to before.
The bell hanging on the door rang and in came a merchant dressed in the typical fancy robes with satchels lining his belt, and a nasty grimace on his face. He didn't say hello to the shopkeeper or excuse himself when he nearly knocked over the girl. He let the large canvas sack fall from his shoulder onto the countertop with a thump.
"There's your order."
"Well hello to you too," the shopkeeper replied with his eyebrows furrowed. He started unbuttoning the bag to examine the contents. "Did the Imperials give you any trouble?"
His granddaughter sat her feather duster down to go help organize the bolts of fabric and the large spindles of thread.
The merchant crossed his arms and scowled, "You could have at least warned me that the city's occupied now!"
"They've been preventing everybody from sending letters," Locke said, eyes on the packages of chocolate that the owner sat on the counter next to bottles of potions and eye drops. He hadn't had chocolate in a while. He glanced back at the merchant who was glowering at him, his eyes squinted.
"You look familiar…" the merchant took a step closer and tilted his head to the side. "Wait, you're that damn thief, Locke, aren't you?"
The shopkeeper chuckled at that and resumed sorting through the new items. His granddaughter looked from the merchant to Locke and raised her hand to her mouth, "Uh oh." She hid her smile.
The merchant continued, "You've been making the rounds every time you pass through Nikeah, haven't you? My friend lost fifty thousand gil thanks to you!"
"I'm not a thief," Locke gritted through his teeth, glaring back at the merchant.
"Yes, you are! Everybody's been talking about it! I outta get the Imperials to string you up!" He turned and waved his arm to the window, gesturing to the Imperials nearby.
The merchant was shouting now, "Or maybe they can just zap you with one of those big ass machines!"
When the merchant turned back around, he didn't see anything past a gloved fist. The back of his head smacked hard against the wall, and he fell in a heap on the floor. His hat with the big white plume tumbled off his head, and bottles and bags full of coins clattered and crashed from the large pockets in his billowy robes.
"I'm a treasure hunter! I'm not a damn thief!" Locke accented his statement with a kick to the merchant's chest, causing the man to let out a high-pitched yelp of pain.
With his arms covering his face, the merchant cried, "Fine, fine! You're not a thief!" There wasn't a lot of blood coming from the gash on the back of his head, but it still looked like it smarted.
An idea popped into Locke's head. He crouched down next to the merchant. Upon seeing him so close, the merchant cringed away, guarding his busted-up nose even more. Locke pulled one of his hands away from his face so he could see the merchant's eyes, "Gimme your clothes."
The girl by the counter giggled, "What? Really?"
The merchant looked horrified, "B-but these are new silks! I just got them!"
Locke started pulling the merchant's fingers in the wrong direction, causing the man to cry out, "I don't care, just give 'em to me! Now!"
"Don't you already have a set of robes stuffed away?" The shop owner asked, amused, not at all worried about the mess on his floor.
"Those are too tight!" Locke looked back at the shopkeeper, "His look like they'd fit better." He let go of the merchant's hand and started yanking at the man's robes, trying to be careful of ripping them.
The merchant started flailing his arms, swatting in Locke's general direction and crying out, "No, no, no! You can't have them! Why aren't you two helping me?!"
"'Cause he paid us off." The girl giggled again, now sitting on the counter to watch the show better.
"Oh shush," the shop owner shook his head at his granddaughter with a sigh but didn't contradict her. They both watched as Locke manhandled the poor merchant while he blubbered and put up with being undressed and smacked in the face when he tried to fight back again.
By the time Locke had the robes folded in a bundle and stood back up, the merchant was lying on his side only wearing his underwear and slippers, still crying and asking himself over and over why he couldn't keep his mouth shut for once.
"Okay, I'm gonna get dressed in the back and slip out that way," Locke fished out some more gil from his jacket pocket and put it in the shop owner's outstretched hand. He turned back to the merchant on the floor, "Now, you're not going to say a word about seeing me or what happened to your stupid robes, or I'll rip your lungs out, got it?"
The merchant nodded vigorously at that, "Yes yes! I promise! I promise!"
The teen on the counter snickered, "You better listen, or he'll probably take your clothes again too!"
As Locke was making his way behind the counter to the back of the shop, he muttered, "Goddamn right I will."
Walking around South Figaro dressed up as an Imperial soldier was a bizarre experience, but an interesting one at the same time. Locke wasn't chased around, yelled at, or had things thrown at him like knives while wearing the green, still sweaty uniform. He was able to just waltz on through the checkpoints, saying that he was on break or needed the toilet when asked by higher-ranking officers what he was doing. They would wave him off without much hassle.
One asked where his standard issue rifle was, but Locke was able to slip away with a simple, "Oh, I forgot it by my bed! I'm going to get it right now!"
Another soldier decided to head to the largest inn they were using as barracks with Locke because he really wanted some whiskey.
"Good thing you came along, pal. I'm thirstier than a fish in the desert!"
Locke was glad that he was able to shade his face pretty well with the oversized helmet. As long as he kept his head angled down, he would be difficult to recognize from a distance. He was also glad that he wasn't the only soldier wearing a travel pack strapped to his back or else that could have caused him some trouble. He couldn't keep the merchant's robes and spare supplies stashed at the general store forever.
"So've you sampled some of the girls in town yet?" The soldier had been jabbering away about food during their walk down the street, but this question made Locke's eyebrows go up.
"Nah, haven't seen anybody I like yet," he answered, trying to keep the derision out of his voice. "What about you? Found a special one?"
That made the goofiest grin bloom on the soldier's pimply face. "Oh, gods yes! She's been having dinner with me almost every night, and she's such a beauty too." They reached the double doors of the inn, and he held the door out for Locke while he continued to gush.
Apparently, she's only been spending time with him, he never sees her with another soldier around town, she laughs at all his jokes, wears the flowers that he gives her, and when he gave her a sapphire necklace he got from when they raided a house, she spent the whole night with him in a secret room in the Addison's basement.
"I haven't gotten to go to Addison's place yet," Locke cut in when the soldier started talking about how smooth the girl's legs were. "Do we get to do anything fun there?" He'd seen Imperials going in and out of the Addison's mansion at all hours of the day and night the entire time he'd been in South Figaro. The curtains were always drawn during the day. Those flowers Mrs. Addison's been growing must be suffering.
They were making their way to the pub at the other end of the inn and none of the soldiers they passed paid them any attention. Many of the doors to the rooms in the corridor were open and unfortunately, Locke saw soldiers in varying stages of undress and consciousness. He was itching to do some exploring but his companion had such a loose tongue he'd be stupid to skip out on sticking by him for the time being. Mud was crusted on the carpet in the corridor and the stink of sweat and gun grease permeated the whole place. Cigar smoke was added to the mix when they entered the pub.
"Let me get us a couple of drinks and I'll tell you all about it!" the soldier winked at him and ushered him to a nearby booth.
He didn't have to worry about being overheard asking questions that a normal soldier should already know the answers to because all of the other patrons were drinking, dancing, singing along to the phonograph blasting the newest records, and speaking to each other so loudly Locke couldn't tell if they were arguing or having a good time. He took the seat facing the bar and sat his bag down next to him out of reach of the other soldiers. He didn't take his helmet off like some of the other soldiers and rested his hands on the table.
It was becoming more and more difficult to keep a straight face the longer he spent around the Imperials. He knew that soldiers liked gossiping but didn't expect them to be practically yelling about what an asshole Kefka was and who they voted would be next to become a Magitek Knight.
"I'm telling ya, Cid's got those injections down perfect now! Look at how Captain Rucker turned out!" one soldier said with his mouth full of peanuts.
"I dunno man, I wouldn't let Cid stick me with one of those needles." Another shook his head and took a drag from his cigarette. "They say that esper juice is what made Kefka go batshit crazy."
"Well, I heard that Kefka was batshit before he even got those injections!" the soldier Locke came in with interjected while he walked by the debating Imperials. He handed Locke a tall glass of beer before sitting down across from him.
Locke took a sip from his beer, "I haven't worked under Kefka before. Is he at least good at being in charge?"
A chorus of confirmations came from the nearby tables.
"Oh yeah, if you want somebody who threatens to chop your head off if you don't obey him."
"Or blast you with a bolt of lightning!"
The soldier across from Locke gulped at his beer and shook his head, "I tell you what, things'll end up worse here if Kefka comes back."
"Oh? He left?"
"Man, did you show up with the last ship or something?" one of the soldiers in brown nearby asked, eyebrows furrowed at Locke. "Whoever briefed you sure left out some details."
"Kefka gave us orders and left to join Leo in Doma. That bitch was supposed to be in charge here but—"
The soldier in front of him got cut off.
"Shut up, you idiot! Not around the civilians."
They all looked up and saw the bartender watching them while wiping down the counter, only to jerk his head down, eyes determined to stay on his hands.
Locke fought to keep his face passive and keep from asking more questions. Who was supposed to be in charge? He only knew of one female general serving under Emperor Gestahl…it must be that young woman from the newspapers. The one who led the attack on Maranda.
And if Kefka and Leo were in Doma already, then they must be readying for another attack! He needed to get to Narshe! Everybody needed to know! Maybe they could send carrier pigeons to warn the people of Doma if he wasn't too late. He tipped back his head and drained his glass in one go.
"So, do you think I could visit the Addison's mansion?" Locke asked, smiling.
The soldier across from him grinned back, "Eager for a promotion or something?"
Locke put on a sheepish smile, "Do you blame me? The money's good!"
"Can't argue there, bet you've got a honey back home to provide for," the soldier waggled his eyebrows at him. "I know how it is, but a handsome guy like you shouldn't have to worry so much about getting the ladies!"
"Nothing wrong with trying to guarantee things," Locke shrugged.
"There's not much you can do other than follow orders, maybe catch some civilians trying to escape in the underground tunnels. We won't have a battle for awhile, so you won't get any action until they're done with Doma."
Locke let out an exaggerated sigh and pushed his glass away. "Aw, well, thanks for the advice, I need the washroom."
He gathered up his travel pack and stood up from the booth before his companion could protest and hurried out the door. With the loud music, it was easy for him to focus on gathering his thoughts and getting away from the raucous Imperials. The streets were nearly empty when he left the pub, save for a Magitek Knight hanging out in his armor with his nose in a book, blocking the bridge that led to the docks.
Underground tunnels…he hadn't heard of them before in all his time visiting South Figaro. Locke turned onto the main street leading north to the wealthier district of the city. He didn't see anything wrong with trying the front door.
Like the last time he saw the mansion, there were Imperials everywhere. Two Magitek Knights were stationed out front along with higher ranking soldiers in brown and black standing guard at the main entrance and in the front yard, all wearing frowns and shiny rifles, likely loaded and ready for firing at people they didn't like the look of.
Locke adjusted the brim of his sweaty green helmet down to cover his eyes, straightened his shoulders, and walked carefully up the stone path leading to the front stoop of the Addison's mansion.
"Here goes nothing."
"Good afternoon sirs! Can you let me inside?" Locke tried to make his voice friendly and naive as he approached, holding his hand out to wave, showing his lack of weapons. The soldiers in black on the stoop blocked his way, one even aimed his rifle at Locke's head!
"No entry for a grunt like you!" one practically growled in a voice heavy from cigar smoke.
Locke was pushed backward and stumbled off the stoop, arms pinwheeling to regain his balance.
He couldn't think of a reason to get them to let him in the mansion other than lying about having a message. But with the soldier aiming the barrel of that rifle at Locke's head and the others glaring at him, his excuses and pleas died in his throat.
"Get back to your post!" another soldier added, sweeping his hand as if to shoo Locke away.
"Okay, okay," Locke spun on his heel and scurried away, not paying attention to where his feet took him. He had a nasty feeling that if he tried arguing, he wouldn't be standing anymore.
By the time he stopped, seeing more Magitek armor in the distance, of course blocking more streets, he was in the market district where a couple of dozen citizens were milling around with their shopping baskets, heads bowed, avoiding eye contact with the Imperials. There were only a few stalls open for the day selling vegetables, bread, and meat. However, one stall at the end of the street had its counter lined with tall glass bottles and there was only a middle-aged man and a boy talking to the merchant. The man looked familiar so Locke headed in their direction.
"Now Andre, you bought up my last bottle yesterday. How about you try this nice spiced plum wine? It's imported from Kohlingen," the merchant was holding up the green glass bottle with both hands with the label facing up for the man.
"I don't like plums, never have, never will," the older man grumbled with a shake of his head. "What about that spiked apple cider from Nikeah? They have some good breweries there, don't they?"
That voice. Locke had heard it before! He was Mr. Addison's butler!
The boy by the man's side turned when Locke was a few paces away. He glared, eyes going from the green helmet to his uniform, "What do you want? We're not doing anything!"
The merchant and older man turned as well to face Locke. The merchant's eyes went wide, the hands clutching the wine bottle slipped and it tumbled onto the counter.
The older man glared at Locke like the boy, "You don't look like a soldier." His voice was matter-of-fact and the accusation stunned Locke speechless.
The merchant fussing over the wine bottle he thankfully captured before it could fall to the cobblestones and shatter sputtered, "What do you mean, Andre?! He has the uniform!"
"That doesn't mean shit," the old man's words were slurring a bit. "The fact that he hasn't yelled or threatened us yet means I'm right."
"Yeah! So spill, what do you want, Mister Impostor?" the boy asked too loud for Locke's liking. His eyes darted to the Magitek armor down at the end of the nearest street. Sweat beaded on his temples.
"Don't call me that!" Locke hissed, "I need to get out of the city without getting caught. Any ideas?"
"Ah, got yourself into a pickle. I won't ask, these are hard times, I understand," Andre nodded his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked to the merchant, who was looking more nervous by the second, "Where's that one asshole living again? The one who sells cider?"
The boy at his side sighed and rolled his eyes, "Don't you think you've drunk enough, Grandpa?"
"You try getting fired from your position of thirty years and tell me how you like it!" Andre snapped at the boy. The boy just crossed his arms and glared back at his grandfather, looking like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. They must have been having this argument for quite a while.
"I believe he's moved to the apartment under the Good Times pub," the merchant said, "He got kicked out of his girlfriend's house."
"Okay," Andre stepped closer to Locke and jabbed his index finger at his chest, looking brazen to anybody observing, "You go get me a few bottles of cider and I'll help you get out of town. Bring it to my house…"
Andre looked Locke up and down, "Maybe change your clothes when you come since it'll look fishy for an Imperial to enter a house alone."
"Sounds good! Where's your place?" Locke asked, excitement rising in his chest. He knew exactly where the apartment was!
Andre pointed at a large house in the distance on the other side of the marketplace, "Right there. Both doors have poppy wreaths. You can't miss us."
The Addisons must have paid Andre extremely well over his years of service, judging by how big the house was and the new tiles on the roof.
Not wanting to waste any time, Locke said, "I'll be back soon!" and hurried away to the Good Times pub. It was a smaller pub opposite the one attached to the inn he visited earlier and there weren't any Imperials hanging around outside, so Locke was able to go in without any notice.
Unlike the other pub, the Good Times pub was cozy, with worn leather seating, shined tables with their own vases of flowers, and few patrons. The bartender looked up when Locke entered and gave a nod, seemingly unbothered by an Imperial, the only Imperial, visiting his establishment. A couple of ladies shared a small table, puffing on thin cigarettes and chattering about their plans for the coming evening. Other patrons were settled at different places, all seeming at home with their glasses and bottles and snacks, only glancing up when Locke passed by and didn't say a word when he made it to the stairs at the far end of the large room that led down to an old apartment that changed renters with the same frequency a low ranking Imperial changed his underwear.
The door swung open too quickly after Locke knocked, causing him to stumble backward to avoid getting swatted in the face.
"What the hell do you want?" the man sneered. He was wearing elaborate robes, much like the merchant Locke disagreed with earlier that day, and his attitude was even worse.
"I was hoping to buy some cider. Got any good bottles in stock?" Locke kept his voice even, ignoring the rude welcome.
"Why should I sell to an Imperial pig like you? Your lot are ruining my business!" the merchant narrowed his eyes at Locke, seething poison.
"With an attitude like that, no wonder your sales are down," Locke shrugged, "I'm trying to buy some nice cider and all you do is insult me?"
"I'd rather get pulled apart by rabid chocobos than take money from an Imperial!" the merchant took a swing at Locke, aiming his soft fist for his jaw, but missed when Locke ducked out of the way. He swung his foot and hooked it behind the merchant's legs, and then the merchant was on his back with the wind knocked out of him.
Looking inside the apartment now that the rude man was out of the way, Locke saw crates of sparkling cider organized by which fruit they were made from and which region they hailed stacked in the corner. He kicked the merchant as he passed by, earning a cry, and grabbed a couple of bottles from the nearest crate. The merchant in the doorway was making groaning noises and clutching his stomach.
"You…bastard!" the merchant wheezed, coughing. Locke sat the bottles down and went over and grabbed the merchant, pulled him into the room, and shut the door behind them.
"I'll leave you money on the table for the damn cider," Locke said, taking off the green helmet, sweatier than ever, and dropping it on the rug.
Then he sat his pack down and started unbuttoning his jacket and pants.
The merchant looked at him, horrified, "What in the hell are you going to do now?!" He wrapped his arms around his knees and curled himself as tightly in a ball as he could from his place on the floor.
"Huh?" Locke dropped the jacket next to the helmet and started pulling down his bright green uniform pants, "I'm just changing clothes, not planning on jumping your bones, don't worry." He laughed and started digging through his pack for the robes he stole from the other merchant. Thank gosh he decided to take them instead of sticking to the set he "found" previously. Those would have been way too tight over his denims.
When the man on the floor saw that Locke had not in fact stripped buck naked, he asked, "What are you playing at anyways? Are you a spy or something?"
"Or something," Locke replied, muffled from pulling the flowy silk tunic over his head. He slipped on the loose gray coat and then the thin linen trousers over his denims. He did some tucking and folding to hide his jacket collar away. The looser fabrics weren't doing a good job of holding down his thick jacket and were trying to cling to his earrings. He ruffled a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, and pulled a couple of his bandanas out of his pack to tie his hair away from his face. The gray coat had a scarf attached, so he pulled it over his head, wrapped it, and clipped it in place to make a hood, hiding more of his head from view. Then he buckled the belt around his waist with its many satchels attached.
He turned to the merchant on the floor and held his hands out wide, "Ta-da! Pretty good, huh?"
The merchant just gave him a suspicious glower, still hugging his knees to his chest.
"Pah, you're no fun," Locke slapped some coins on a nearby table and put the bottles of cider in his travel pack, and settled the pack in place on his shoulders.
"Wait, you're just going to leave that uniform here?"
Hand on the doorknob, Locke looked back and said, "Maybe you can sell it to one of the soldiers when you see them running around naked and drunk!"
He didn't hear if the merchant responded because he was running up the stairs and hurried out of the pub without a word to anybody.
Once back on the streets, he made sure to keep his steps even instead of sprinting to Andre's house like he wished he could. He kept his gaze trained on the cobblestones underfoot as he followed down whichever streets he was able to without getting accosted by Imperials and soon saw that the butler's house was near the general store.
The red poppies stood out brightly against the cream-colored walls and Locke was able to scale the steps and knock on the door right below the poppy wreath without curious Imperial eyes watching him.
The grandson was the one who opened the door, and let Locke into the house after Locke whispered that he had the cider.
"Grandpa is in his office," the boy pointed down a short hallway off the main foyer and went along down a set of stairs next to a large grandfather clock.
In Andre's office was a cluster of records stacked haphazardly next to the record player, a bookcase with most of the books pulled out and strewn about the small sofa next to it, and an old desk covered in magazines held in place by mostly empty bottles of cider. No glasses were in the vicinity, so Andre must be drinking his cider straight out of the bottle.
"Hey there," Locke stepped into the room, being sure to avoid stepping on any of the records that had slid away from the stack, and made his way to Andre slumped at his desk. The older man had his cheek resting on a magazine, blocking the majority of the model and her "exotic" outfit which consisted of chocobo feathers, ribbons, and handcuffs. Locke withdrew the bottles from his pack and sat them in front of Andre's face.
"So, how do I get out of town?" Locke asked and watched the older man wrap his hand around the closest bottle and inspect the label.
"Hrm, good stuff you've brought me!" he uncorked the bottle, and like Locke suspected, took a long drink of the cider. "Haven't had that brand in awhile, nice, nice."
"Great, so..?" Locke raised his eyebrows at the man, "Have you got a secret tunnel under your house or something I can pass through?"
Andre looked away from the cider bottle and blinked slowly, frowning, "Yes, I do, it connects to the Addison's mansion. But…the one in his house leading out of town?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't remember where it is! There's a secret passage behind a bookcase in that scum's…somewhere, maybe the study…there's a painting of a cabin next to a door…that'll take you out of town, I remember that much. This is good cider you brought me, much obliged," Andre smiled up at Locke, "Go ask my grandson downstairs to show you where the tunnel is. I don't think I have my sea legs."
Biting his tongue, Locke nodded and left Andre to his liquor and magazines. He found the stairs the kid went down and found him sitting on the bottom step bouncing a ball on the floor in front of him.
"Hey kid, your grandpa said to ask you to show me where the secret tunnel is," Locke stopped abruptly to keep from plowing over the boy.
The kid gave a long sigh, "You gave Grandpa more cider, didn't you?" he looked back at Locke and glared. He stood, dropping his toy to the side, and letting it roll away.
"I just did what he asked. I've got to get out of here," Locke shrugged, watching the kid trudge over to the wall across from them and shoved an oil painting of what must have been a scene from an opera out of the way and smack a panel in the wood.
A door popped open on the other side of the painting with a creak and the boy held out a hand, gesturing to it, "There, it's a straight shot to Mr. Addison's kitchen. You'll come out at the servant's entrance."
Locke hopped, skipping the last few steps, and hurried to the door, flashing the kid a wide grin, "Thanks! I'll remember this!"
As the door shut, he heard the kid say, "And I'll remember you giving my grandpa more booze, you jerk."
He shoved away the brief sliver of guilt that popped up in his head and took a few tentative steps into the darkness.
Locke expected to smell musty cobwebs and dust, maybe a twinge of scent from sewers nearby, but the passageway merely smelled stale, like the doors hadn't been opened in a while, like a house quarantined because the children had chicken pox. He didn't detect any dips in the ground, so he jogged through the darkness, keeping his hands out to keep track of the walls and to prevent running smack into one face first.
And soon, he came to the end of the tunnel where a steel ladder was bolted into the wall in front of him and led up to what felt like a trapdoor. Locke undid the latch and heaved it up. Sunlight spilled into the tunnel and the door fell with a thump on the ground. He froze, wishing he hadn't let it fall so loudly, but no voices or footsteps approached, so Locke climbed and poked his head up.
He was hidden behind large pickling barrels and stacked-up crates. He closed the trapdoor once out of the tunnel, slowly to avoid making more noise, and stood up enough to peer over the tops of the barrels. Nobody was there in the little alleyway tucked behind the mansion. A door was next to the crates, and Locke found himself in the oddly quiet kitchens of the Addison's mansion upon stepping inside.
A few puffy loaves of bread were on a counter along the nearest wall. Several large teapots rested on the stove and a mess of teacups and mugs were placed near the sink. There weren't any maids, butlers, or other servants around, doing the usual scrubbing or preparing food. Only messes were left on the counters and flour spilled on the marble floor where a sack was shoved in the corner.
"Where is everybody?" Locke whispered, taking quiet steps into the kitchens, bewildered at how such a wealthy family didn't have any servants to clean up after them. When he and Terra were dragged into the greenhouse for Mrs. Addison's impromptu tea party, he saw several maids going about their duties. The pair who attended Mrs. Addison even spilled the beans about her odd visitors to the master of the house!
But there wasn't a soul in sight or within earshot, so Locke chalked it up to good luck and crept out of the kitchens and chose a corridor at random where they split into two. Electric chandeliers were hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling, providing plenty of light to see down the quiet corridors. All the curtains at the windows were drawn, however, and all of the doors were closed.
He reached a part of the hall that looked familiar and soon voices drifted from a large open entrance. The strong scent of herbs reached his nose, and he knew he must be at Mrs. Addison's greenhouse. Maybe she was inside having another tea party. He saw that the carpet and rugs were stained with dirt and rifles were resting against the wall in a neat, long line. Looks like her party guests were soldiers.
Locke spun on his heel and practically dove around the nearest corner when a pair of Imperials left the large room, both speaking in low tones that Locke could just barely make out.
"Yeah, she's being held down in the basement somewhere."
"Who's keeping an eye on her?"
"Not sure, but I hope I get to visit her next…I'd love to get one last look at her before tomorrow…"
The soldiers were approaching fast, so Locke ran down the corridor with as quiet steps as he could manage and kept going until he reached another part of the mansion that seemed deserted.
The crash of what must have been a glass bottle shattering against the other side of the wall and screaming came from behind the nearest closed door. Frightened little yaps from a dog joined in the commotion.
"You disgusting coward! How could you do this to our family?!" a familiar posh female voice screeched, followed by thumps against the wall. Perhaps thrown books or knick-knacks.
Locke remained mostly hidden behind the enormous stuffed bear stood up on his hind legs to its full height, claws on its front paws shining in the intermittent lamp light from above them in the corridor. If Locke didn't know it was a hunting trophy, he would think it was alive, poised to strike any who dared tread down the long corridor that ran the length of the entire mansion.
"Oh, come on! The Imperials aren't causing us any harm! And you seemed to be enjoying the money they gave us!" a male voice replied, not quite yelling.
Another thump banged against the wall. "That was before I found out where that money came from!"
"You're just mad that the Imperials decided to use your greenhouse for their headquarters!" The voice belonging to who must be Mr. Addison cried out. "I'll buy you more damn flowers after this is all over!"
"Who said it'll be over? You moron, South Figaro is going to become just like the cities on the Southern Continent! Everything is ruined because of you!" the voice of Mrs. Addison was quickly approaching, causing Locke to shimmy himself away from the stuffed bear over to a set of floor-length curtains and ducked behind them right as the door slammed open.
Stomping footsteps rushed past his hiding place along with some furious and surprisingly creative cursing from the lady of the house. The last time he encountered Mrs. Addison was when she practically kidnapped Terra during their visit to South Figaro and he had to run after them. At that time, the lady seemed flamboyant, frivolous, spoiled, and damn near ridiculous with the way she spoke and decided that Terra was the savior of her puppy.
And he had a creeping feeling that she saw Terra's healing spell while they were in the greenhouse, judging by how quickly they were thrown out after. He wouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Addison told her husband about the incident.
The lady being so upset about the occupation and chastising her husband made his opinion of her rise a smidgen. She most likely contributed to the Imperial invasion if she talked about seeing Terra's magic, but at least she wasn't happy with the idea of the Empire taking over the city.
Locke waited, daring not to move an inch until he heard movement from Mr. Addison. Would he follow after his wife, pleading for forgiveness? Would he try to keep the argument going? Or would he slink off somewhere else with his tail between his legs like a kicked dog?
The door nearby shut with a click and Locke heard movement and grumbling come from inside. Looks like Mr. Addison was going to hide in the room to lick his wounds.
Locke peeked out from behind the curtains after waiting a few minutes more just in case Mrs. Addison decided to return for another round of arguing or in case some Imperials decided to investigate all the noise and found the corridor was clear.
The butler, Andre, said that there was a secret passageway behind a bookcase in Mr. Addison's study. Locke needed to find the room fast before he came across any other people living in the mansion or Imperials wandering around. He'd made it past the entrance to the greenhouse already. He just needed to find a set of stairs and find the room with the painting of a log cabin hung by the door. He hoped that Andre remembered the right details. He seemed pretty drunk for so early in the afternoon.
Locke kept his footsteps light as he jogged down the long corridor, ears trained for any sounds besides his own, and after passing by numerous sculptures and more menacing hunting trophies, Locke spotted a set of stairs that went in a spiral up to the second floor. He paused, listening for a moment for voices or footsteps, before scaling the stairs and found himself in a dimly lit section of the mansion with only small kerosene globe lights lining the hall and an over-sized chandelier hanging from what must be the center of the hall, candles unlit.
All of the windows had their curtains drawn, but Locke denied the temptation to open one so he could see the paintings and portraits neatly hung along the walls. He was doing well so far to avoid notice and needed to keep it up so he could get his ass out of South Figaro. Too many Imperials had seen his face. And if the gossip from the pub was true, he needed to high-tail it to Narshe before Kefka sent a regiment of troops to the coal mining town. He needed to warn everybody before it was too late about Doma. And he needed to hide Terra from Kefka.
To say that the Addisons liked going to the auctions in Jidoor was a vast understatement. He wasn't sure which of the Addisons was the art lover, but they sure didn't discriminate between styles and themes. There were paintings of landscapes, portraits of royalty, depictions of battles, mighty ships in choppy seas, old maps, still-lifes, a log cabin, and an old bucket of all things.
Wait. Locke backpedaled to the picture of the cabin, and crept close to the door, listening for movement inside, before pulling the door open with a relieved smile on his face.
Mr. Addison's study was as over-decorated as the rest of the mansion from what Locke could make out from the darkness. There was a crack of light coming into the room where a set of curtains weren't pulled together all the way, but none of the little globe lamps. He was going to have to be extra careful to not knock anything over while he searched around for the right bookcase. He prayed to whatever was left up in the skies that the butler told him the truth.
He closed the door behind him as softly as he could and blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust to the dark faster. The shadows cast behind the large desk and sofa looked big enough for somebody to hide in. He shook his head at the thought. No point in making himself extra paranoid.
He went to the left, seeing tall rectangular shapes that had to be bookcases. The light from the window didn't reach that corner of the room at all, so he had to rely on feeling the smooth wood of the shelves, and the spines of leather-bound books, trying not to stumble when his leg bumped into the side of a low armchair, and keep vigilant for any oddities at the wall once he felt his way around the bookcase. It was one of those long and wide bookcases that are usually in libraries, so it took him longer than he liked to examine it in the dark without tipping anything over and making noise.
Once at the wall, he ran his hands up and down the wallpaper until his fingertips snagged on a small groove that dipped behind the bookcase. Bingo!
Locke shuffled closer, kept one hand on the grooves, and pulled at the bookcase as gently as he could until he was able to feel the beginnings of a panel a few inches past the grooves in the wall. When he pulled at the edge of the panel, it opened up with a jerk, and what must be the secret passageway lay within.
He let out a puff of air, tension lessening, and he slipped inside the panel, being careful to close up after himself. It was pitch dark in the passage, but all he could do was move along, being careful of any stairs leading down. He fumbled around in his pockets and found the familiar small box of matches he always kept on his person.
"You better not get me caught," Locke whispered to the match as he struck it and the flame flickered into existence. He wasn't sure how long it would take him to navigate the secret tunnels under South Figaro, or if he would run into any sneaking Imperials on the watch for escapees, but he knew he was on the last leg of his visit in South Figaro.
Soon, he could be sneaking out of the cellar of another house at the edge of the city near where the old forest began. He could ditch the merchant's robes in that cellar and run away before anybody was the wiser. Hope leaped in his chest and he couldn't keep the smile off his face. As long as things kept going his way, he could make it to Narshe within a few days and everything would be okay.
"Thank gosh for disgruntled butlers."
A/N: Hello again! Locke's scenario is in my top 5 favorite parts of FF6 so I wanted to make sure to make it a fun read! I always thought Locke stealing clothes should have been used more in the game itself because it was such a neat idea. It was a lot of fun figuring out how to implement all the shenanigans that happens during his scenario without it getting too odd.
We're officially meeting Celes next chapter!
Thank you so much for reading! :D