Chapter LXXXIV: Agendas, Part One

The evergreen leaves of the Great Star Tree rustled as they were shaken by the late autumn wind. Colder air was beginning to blow in from the north, and soft dirt of Sarutabaruta was hardening with frost as each frigid morning dawned. With no sunlight to warm the air, ice was being seen in the temperate region for the first time in decades. Above, not a single cloud blotted the sky, yet it was still gray and dark as the heart of winter.

Secure's breath steamed as he looked out from the knoll upon which he stood. Windurst still stood, and his gaze matched the temperature around him. He had leveled its buildings, slaughtered its defenders, defeated its champions, yet still they rallied against him. His glorious war machine had been broken, torn apart by the fangs of the Great Beast Fenrir upon the bloodied streets of the Federation.

Yet his numbers were still vast. Though his behemoths now lay dead and bloated, his legions decimated and demoralized, his numerical superiority was still intact. He had spent weeks grinding Windursts defenders down, a strategy which would yet win him this war. Though less than half of what he had started with, once he reorganized his Vanguard and brought the Kindred to heel, he would storm into Windurst anew. All their struggling would yet prove for naught.

He felt a hand gently brush his shoulder. Soft and soothing, a reassuring touch let him know his plans would still come to fruition. He had strength, the only true thing in the world, and it would guide him to victory. All he desired would come to pass.

Like lightning, his gauntleted hand swung back and struck the person touching him. Blood flew from Cullen's mouth and nose as Secure's slap took her from her feet. She tumbled to the ground, coughing as tears of pain ran down her swollen cheeks. Secure looked down his nose at her, the wind whipping through his silver-gray hair. The black-haired woman was garbed in dull red rags, no longer worthy of the rich Eastern gowns he had dressed her up in. Slowly, she rose, wiping the blood from her chin as she gazed up at him pathetically. Remaining supplicant on her knees, she awaited further punishment for her failure.

Secure spit at the ground on her feet. "Heal yourself," he commanded, walking away imperiously. He had thought the woman a useful tool, but her failure to assassinate the Star Sibyl had proven him wrong. She would serve him now in hopes of redeeming herself, and perhaps that was just as well. His uses for a woman who considered herself his equal were limited.

Several of his commanders were waiting for him. Today they would discuss bringing back together the scattered horde still wandering Sarutabaruta and the neighboring Tahrongi Canyon. Some of the more powerful beastmen from Dynamis as well as Kindred from Xarcabard whom had joined their brethren after they broke free assisted him in controlling his multitudes. Once they had fully reassumed control, they would storm into Windurst once more and lay waste to the Star Sibyl, Meowolf, and everybody else still living within its walls. He would yet see Heaven's Tower in flames.

The large canvas tent wherein his command waited down the slope from where he stood, just past the large, shallow stream which fed into Windurst. He had longed to poison those waters, but it would have been wasted effort, he knew. They would have either purified the contamination with their accursed spells or simply drawn from any of Windurst's many self-contained lakes. As it was now, the water was beginning to freeze over, and a thin layer of ice stretched over the babbling brook. He stepped through it, frozen shards breaking off under his heel, heading for his meeting.

Suddenly the pearl tied around his neck jumped. Momentarily, he stopped in astonishment. It had been weeks since any of the others had contacted him. It vibrated against his chest, and he grasped it in between his armored fingers. Immediately, a familiar voice filled his ears, clear as if the speaker were right next to him.

"Secure," Doshu's Imperial accent still irked the Paladin when he heard it. "what are you doing?"

His surprise quickly faded into suspicion. "This had best not be a social call," he growled, stepping out of the water. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath his boots.

There was a quick, biting laugh. "Your welfare is always in my thoughts, my friend." He spoke with all the assurance of a particularly venomous snake promising not to bite. "I just wanted an update as to your progress."

"Windurst is mine," Secure snarled, his grip tightening on the black pearl between his fingers. "Their death throes have shaken my forces. It will be one more week to regroup, and a day or so after that to take the city and kill all those within." His eyes smoldered. In his mind's eye, he could picture the slaughter which would soon take place.

There was no response at first, and Secure briefly wondered if perhaps Doshu had indeed only wanted to inquire as to his progress. Then the man in black spoke to him again.

"I need you to withdraw from the region."

Secure nearly choked. Rage bubbled into his voice as he angrily shouted back. "I have this battle won! I will not flee from these peasants!"

Doshu's silken voice was calm as ever. "It is for the greater good, my friend. Windurst can wait. It has come to my attention that there are elements crucial to our success in Castle Oztroja."

"What are you talking about?"

"Eudon has found the survivors. One of the five souls we need is amongst them. We were already planning to take the castle for the Magicite inside, this merely pushes our timetable forward. March your forces north, we will need them to breach Oztroja's walls."

"I will not leave!" Secure insisted. "Send the thief or the wizard, this task is beneath me."

"No, you are right," Doshu said soothingly. "There is nothing for you at Oztroja. After transferring command of your forces to Eudon, you will return to Jeuno."

"You arrogant worm," there was cold fury in Secure's tone. "to order me around as such. I am not your puppet, Doshu. I will see Windurst fall. Find someone else to run your errands."

"Don't be a fool," this time there was no honey in the Ranger's voice. "Your petty grudge is worthless to our cause now. You can return later and kill them if you like, but trust me when I say such things will soon be beneath you. However none of that will happen if you start being stupid now."

"How dare you - "

"How dare you!" Doshu shot back. "You know how sensitive everything we have worked to accomplish is. Would you jeopardize everything now? Are you going to ruin everything we have spent years building towards because of your petty bloodlust? This is for our cause, Secure. You let me down here and it might as well be meaningless."

Seething, the Paladin ground his teeth in fury. The pearl strained in his clutches, threatening to splinter under the pressure. He could feel his face flushing with anger. He was to be denied his revenge. The thought of watching the life slip from Meowolf's eyes as he crushed the Galka's throat in his hands was fading away.

But the prize they had their eyes on was so much greater. He hated Doshu for ordering him around like some rank and file peon. More than that, though, he hated him for being right.

"Fine," Secure snarled, letting the pearl slip from his fingers. The cold did not touch him at all. There was too much anger setting his blood to boil.

He would abandon the siege of Windurst. He would go into the tent in front of him and order his commanders to round up their errant soldiers and begin marching to Meriphataud Mountains. He would do as Doshu said.

Then one day, when all had been won, he would make the bastard in black pay.


"Yo, I'm happy for your plan, and I'mma let you finish," Greyheart interrupted Ayn, "but that President guy has some of the best schemes of all time. Of all time!"

Ayn slowly turned his head as his eyes narrowed, a look of revulsion quickly spreading across the Hume's face. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Instead, he turned to the burly guard standing outside the gate of the Elvaan's cell.

"I'll give you ten gil if you beat him into unconsciousness."

"Hey!" Greyheart complained, pushing up against the bars. "That's not fair!"

"You're right," Ayn agreed, looking around the stone floors of Norg's dungeon. It took him a moment, but he located a sizable loose rock, scooping it off the ground and presenting it to the jailer. "Here, use this, I wouldn't want you to bruise your knuckles."

"Ayn," Tikinas said, taking the Thief's attention, "ignore him. We need to focus."

Raking a hand through his wavy black hair, Ayn turned away from the Red Mage's cell. It hadn't taken much to convince President that they should remain locked up. After all, these were uncertain times and you never knew who your friends were. Despite what they had done in Ifrit's Cauldron, it was better to keep an eye on the strangers. The strategem turned out to be a double-edged sword, however. Zealot, Menphis, and Greyheart remained imprisoned for most of the day where they couldn't bother him. Trying to have a conversation anywhere with Tikinas that didn't entail being absurdly ambiguous in order to avoid the hidden ears of Norg, entailed coming down to the dungeon.

So, they unwillingly shared their plans of escape with their unwanted companions, but no one listened to them so it wasn't that big a deal. The guard Ayn knew he could trust. Not out of any sense of loyalty, but because he had lost his tongue to a Sahagin a few years prior. Ayn never inquired how that happened, and the weathered pirate certainly wasn't talking.

"We've got to get out of here," Ayn continued where he had left off before Greyheart's interruption. "President's already cooking up something new for us, I can feel it." He nervously fingered the handles of the twin knives at his belt. "The old man's got us back and now he wants to keep us here. We'll never get out if we don't go now."

Tikinas nodded, her tail swishing back and forth. "The problem is how? He's got every ship in the water, it could be weeks before we even get the chance to stow away. And if we hide in Kazham he's sure to find us out." Leaning back against the dark rock wall, she idly twirled her two kunai in concentric circles on her fingertips. "Maybe we could fake our own deaths?"

Ayn shook his head. "Tried that on him once a few years ago. He didn't fall for it then, either."

The white-haired Mithra curled her lip back in thought. "We could always hide in the jungle if we're willing to rough it out. But . . ."

"But we don't know if the jungle's going to be safe." Ayn sighed mightily. There were still random demons wandering through the bush, and the normal monsters seemed especially agitated. More distressing than that though, Sahagin were starting to disappear from their home in the subterranean tunnels of Sea Serpent Grotto. No one knew where they were going, but the last time there had been a war the fishmen had sided with the demons. There was no reason to believe their stance on that had changed.

"So . . . " Tikinas was out of ideas. Ayn shook his head. He had nothing to offer either.

Both of them slowly turned as the bars of one of the cells clanked loudly. Staring hard at the two of them, Menphis was rattling his cage. The mute guard looked uncertainly at Ayn, but the Thief waved him away. He stood down with a shrug.

"What do you want?" Ayn asked disinterestedly, stepping towards the Ranger's prison.

Menphis's hard gaze met the other Hume's. "Get me out of here."

Rolling his eyes, Ayn turned away. "Once we're gone you'll be either set free or thrown to the sharks. Either way you just have to wait."

"No," the young Ranger hissed, "if you're leaving so am I. I have to get back to the mainland."

"I want to leave, too," Zealot complained from across the room. "It's dark in here, and there aren't any great axes."

"Shut up!" Ayn snapped. "I have my own problems. Let's get out of here, Tiki, this was a waste of time."

The Ninja sighed. "We'll think of something, Ayn," she said reassuringly.

"Oh, Master Ayn?" Greyheart called out as he and Tikinas began ascending the roughly-carved stone steps back up into Norg. Ayn knew he would hate himself for it, but he turned around anyway. The gray-haired Elvaaan poked his face out from behind the bars, smiling brightly. "I just wanted to share an observation with you."

Ayn steadied himself. They surely would believe he slit his own throat. No one would question it. How did all that blood get on your clothes, Ayn? they would ask. I bought them that way, he would tell them, gore and viscera is all the rage in Bastok right now. It sounded totally rational. "What is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Well, without much to focus on except the meaningful conversation," he indicated their mute guard, "I've been able to see a number of things down here, and I thought you should be made aware." Greyheart spread his hands through the bars generously, as if offering something of value.

"Get on with it," the Hume said, exasperated.

"I think you should know, your silent friend there has mastered the art of communicating with hand gestures. There's a whole language of the fingers, you know."

A chill suddenly went down the back of Ayn's neck as his eyes widened. Bounding down the steps, he found himself in front of the Red Mage's cage, peering at him dangerously. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Greyheart nodded. "It's an entire language. And I've observed our guard knows it. Also, from time to time when he stops in to check on us, I've noticed that President speaks it, too."

"Aye," came a voice from the top of the stairs, "that I do."

Ayn clenched his eyes shut, feeling the will draining out of him. "You betrayed me, mute guy." He turned an accusatory stare at the now-grinning pirate. His tone was acidic. "How do you sleep at night?"

Standing with his fists at his hips, President looked down upon them with an expression of mingled anger and pain. "Ayn, what are ye doin? Why are ye tryin t' leave?"

Tikinas stepped aside as the pirate boss slowly descended the stairs. Ayn said nothing as his mentor slowly approached him, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped beneath his heavy black coat, his posture hurt, or perhaps defeated. Ayn had never seen President look this way. He wasn't sure how to feel.

"I can't trust anybody else, Ayn," he told him sadly, "I can't trust them not t' let me down. You, I can always turn to. And ye don't want to help me? Ye're runnin' out right when we need ye most?"

"Boss, I . . . " President waved his words away, stifiling a sob. Slowly, the pirate ran a gloved hand over his face, combing it through his salt-and-pepper hair as he turned away. Trudging up the stairs again, he stopped at the door, sighing heavily.

"Ye really let me down, Ayn. Ye really let me down."

Ayn was about to speak when suddenly President spun around, his arm flashing in the dark. Instinctively, Ayn snatched at the air as something whizzed by his face, missing it by a hair's breadth. The elder pirate's knife struck the wall in Greyheart's cell, embedding itself solidly between two stones. The younger Hume's head arched up as President's booming laughter filled the dungeon.

"Har har har har! I can't believe ye fell for it! The only thing I'm disappointed in is that ye didn't make it off the island before I found ye out. Now round up your friends, I got a mission for ye and ye're leavin' right away."

"Damn you, old man!" Ayn swore, shaking his fist. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders.

"Like I said earlier . . . " Greyheart started saying from behind him. Ayn jerked his fist back without looking, but felt the satisfying impact which sent the Red Mage sprawling.

"President," Tikinas said, giving the Hume a smart bow, "forgive me, but Ayn and I don't want to get mixed up in this." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was very rare amongst dealings with pirates or Tenshodo that one so bluntly stated their reasoning. "We appreciate everything that you've done for us, but we've already helped you once. Ayn - and myself - we've spent a lot of time trying to establish ourselves as just Ayn and Tikinas. Not pirates or thieves or Tenshodo, just us. I'm truly sorry, sir," she bowed again, "but I speak for both of us when I say we'd rather just be left alone."

The old man smiled magnanimously at her, placing a hand on her black-garbed shoulder. Creases in his face became pronounced as he offered his toothy grin, and deep, reassuring voice. "Tiki, yer the apple of my eye. I've watched ye ever since ye were a lass, and now ye're the finest Ninja ever to step out of Norg. It would break my heart to turn down so heartfelt a request from ye." Slapping her shoulder brusquely, he turned around and headed back up the stairs. "So, I'll start cryin' first thing tomorrow, after you lot head out for the Temple of Uggalepih."

"Damn you, old man!" Tikinas snarled at him. She sighed as she and Ayn both exchanged the same look.

"Now look here," President said, rounding on the duo from the top of the stairs. "I understand yer wishes and full well intend to honor them. If ye don't want to be tied down by th' life we lead, that's yer decision, and yer well past th' time when I can order you around. But right now th' world's in turmoil and there's a lot of work t' be done." He looked down on them with those wise, authoritative eyes Ayn hated looking into, as they were right far too often for his liking. "So ye're gonna do yer part to pitch in and see us through the storm. When it's all over, I'll grant ye both yer freedom. Ye'll never work another job for me, nor Gilgamesh, nor even Aldo if he's still out there somewhere, unless ye really want. Deal?"

Sighing, Ayn nodded. "Deal . . .but, the Temple of Uggalepih? What could be there?"

A twinkle shone in the older Hume's eyes. "Someone's waitin' there. I need you to pick 'em up for me."

"But," Tikinas protested, "there are Tonberries in the temple."

"Ye'll have yer friends with you," President offered, gesturing towards the cells.

"Right, but what if all three of them die before Ayn and I can safely escape?"

His laughter filled the dank dungeon again. "Ye both are always so funny. But, I actually have made arrangements for ye - or, I should say, somethin' fell into my lap and I'm takin' advantage of it."

"I know I've done that before," Greyheart called out. Ayn's fist snapped backwards, but found nothing between the bars. He craned his neck around to find the Red Mage rubbing a bruise on his forehead, and standing a safe distance back.

"Allow me t' introduce yer newest teammate," President said, stepping aside. "Or, since she can do it herself, I'll let her."

Metal clanked against stone as a figure stepped into the light. Ayn had to strain his eyes to see up from where he was into the bright spot at the top of the stairs. There was a slim figure standing there, and from the silouhette she cast he could make out a tail gently moving back and forth. Two feline ears twitched atop her head, and the armor she was encased in was near-blinding while backlit in the darkness. He could see the fang-revealing smile on her face, however, as she snapped a smart salute. Tikinas practically leaped with surprise as the newcomer identified herself.

"Pinkfae of Those Guys, rrrreporting for duty, and to rrrrepay you for saving my life!" The Paladin was awake and fully alert, a state she had not been in since they discovered her at the entrance to Movalpolas all that time ago. What really caught his attention was the "Those Guys" part. The woman was a member of one of Vana'diel's most famous linkshells.

"You're all better!" Tikinas exclaimed.

"That's rrrright," she concurred. Her voice was of a higher register than Tikinas's, and she rolled her "r"-sounds like most Mithra did. "And believe me, have I got a storrrry for you."


West Ronfaure forest sprawled out before the city of San d'Oria. In brighter times, this had been a lush, green area, home to abundant wildlife. Red foxes would hunt pheasant through the dense shrubbery, when they themselves were not being hunted by the king's hounds. Deer and rabbit abounded, as well as feral funguars, living mushrooms with legs like frogs. The sun would sream in through the canopy, shedding light upon the peaceful glens. The Knightswell, Cheval River-fed waters a haven for carp, would glitter on quiet mornings where many a fisherman left a lure bobbing in the water while they napped against its sun-dappled banks. Travelers would admire the natural beauty of Ronfaure's hills and valleys while walking along its well-patrolled paths, where Royal Guardsmen kept the people safe from roving Orcs or Goblin brigands.

This was not the Ronfaure Ryu Akanei and Shaohuan ventured into. The trees were blackened with fire, rotted husks barely supporting their own weight. Green blankets of grass which had covered the rolling forest hills had vanished. In their place was ground which was cracked and dried, scorched with the flames of war. Even with his dragon's eyesight, Ryu could not see a single living thing in any direction. Not a bird nor mouse nor monster of the forest, nothing still dwelled in the ruined corpse of Ronfaure. Far off in the distance, plumes of black smoke still rose from behind the walls of San d'Oria. Snow was in the air, but falling only lightly, not near enough to cover up the ugly black spot marring the beauty which had once defined the Kingdom.

Clutching the dark cape flowing from his armor, Ryu moved forward with silent steps, keeping his head low. Shaohuan followed noiselessly behind him, the only thing marking her passage wisps of steaming breath which dissipated in the cold morning air. Only the rhytmic beating of Bo's wings made any noise as he hovered around the Dragoon, his sharp liquid eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The tiny party crept through the gloomy, dead forest, heading eastward at a crawl. Through the steep hill passes was the eastern portion of the woodlands, and it was there they would find the tomb of King Ranperre.

Ryu had told Shaohuan most of what he was going there for. He had explained seeing the rift open in Xarcabard, and his encounter with the Wyrmking. She knew what was at stake should he fail. By and large she had seemed to believe him. As long as she stayed relatively out of the way, Ryu found he was actually somewhat happy for the company. After so long trapped in Ordelle's Caves, the Dragoon found he appreciated the interaction. Bo also seemed approving, often protectively pacing around her when they would set up their camp for the evening.

Nevertheless, there were still some things Ryu had not shared. Such as the message the Wyrmking had given him shortly after they emerged from their encounter with Devul. A raging firestorm in his brain which took the shape of words in the language of dragons. He had brushed off his collapse upon receiving it as a moment of weakness following their battle.

The words did not translate directly into his own tongue, but their intent was clear nonetheless.

Vana'diel's judgment was near. His time was running out.

Questions flooded Ryu's mind. How was he to find Vrtra, a wyrm long believed dead? Would freeing him truly stop Bahamut's fires from eradicating life on Vana'diel, or merely buy them a temporary stay of execution? What was it that the Mithra was forcing the prisoners to carve? Who was the man in black, the one she called Doshu, and what was his connection to all of this? First and foremost, could he really accomplish the task which had been set out for him before it was too late?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed Bo's urgent sense of warning piercing his thoughts. It wasn't until Shaohuan grabbed him by the shoulder that he snapped back to reality, quickly turning his head to see what was the matter.

The Thief had dropped down, belly on the frozen ground as she gestured for Ryu to follow. Beside her, Bo had also left the air, flattening himself as much as he could. Spreading out his cape, Ryu covered both of them in its folds, the dark cloth hiding them against the blackened ground.

"What is it?" He whispered, silently as he could.

Shaohuan shook her head, gesturing with her eyes out over the burnt ruins of West Ronfaure. Ryu turned his gaze to follow hers, trepidation building in the pit of his stomach as he realized what she was looking at.

Outside the gates of San d'Oria, a host was gathering. Lining up in columns twenty and thirty deep, surrounding giant machines of wood and steel, the Orcish army was massing. Heavily armored commanders walked through ranks of grunts, swinging swords and shouting in the throaty Orc language. Demons flitted about, mingling with their ranks of flying above them. Some of their number were the gray-skinned Orcs which had emerged from Dynamis, but by and large they were Vana'diel's own green variety.

As Ryu watched, they began marching south from the city, trampling the already-ruined ground. War machines rolled by as thousands of Orcish feet made the forest tremble, and demons screeched from on high. They kept still as stone as the beastmen made their march past them, headed in the direction of the La Theine Plateau. At such a march, he expected to see woodland creatures fleeing or taking wing, but there were no such beasts left in Ronfaure. Thus the Orcish host pounded through the dead forest, the new-fallen snow the only thing disturbed.

When the first column had passed them by, Ryu rolled over in a flash, tumbling down a short hill to let the earth conceal him. Bo crawled on his stomach down after him, and a nervous fear gripped both of them through the bond. The forest shook all around them as the Orcs made their way by. There he remained hidden, pressed up against the ground as the rocks leaped up at his feet and dying trees groaned. It was a long time before the shaking ceased, and even then he remained there, back to the ground, ears sharpened for the slightest disturbance.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when a whisper hit his ear. "I think they're gone," it told him.

"Shaohuan?" The Dragoon breathed, turning his head both ways, but seeing nothing. "Where are you?"

Then, right before his eyes, the Thief appeared in a flash. He would have yelped if Bo's sense of smell had not warned him where she was at the last instant.

"How did you do that?" He demanded.

"Keep your voice down," she insisted, still keeping herself hunched down low. "It's something you pick up as a Thief. Trade secret. But I was watching them, and they're gone."

"All of them?"

She shook her head. "That was just two detachments. There's still a big bunch of them that I can see near the city." The Hume girl's eyes caught Ryu's and he was surprised to see an uncertain fear lingering in them. "Ryu, what's happening? Where are all the Orcs going? What does this mean?"

Ryu remembered Bahamut's message to him, about the time of judgment drawing near. Resolutey, he drew his cape back, standing into a crouch and resuming his slow trek east.

"It means something big is about to happen, Shaohuan. And we haven't got a moment to spare."

Ducking and hiding, slithering their way through the ruined trees of Ronfaure, Ryu and Shaohuan continued their quest to King Ranperre's Tomb.


"I shouldn't have done that," Bongo reflected for what was not the first time. Sighing, he once more examined the ruined fragments of his broken bow.

"No," Hubby concurred, "but I'm guessing it felt amazing."

"Yes," the Ranger agreed, "yes it assuredly did."

Two weeks prior now they had parted company with North and November. For a brief moment, the two had been united in their victory over Keftenk and the recovery of Guttler. Putting aside their past differences, Bongo and North celebrated the hard-fought battle and acknowledged each other as worthy allies. Then, the following morning, North had made clear his plans to return to the Labyrinth of Onzozo.

"I must reclaim my kingdom," he said as he buckled the still-grumbling Guttler to his side. "This cannot wait."

"Fine," Bongo said, not really wanting to lose the Beastmaster's power, but at the same time understanding of his situaton. "But before you go, you promised you'd have the beasts tell us where we can find more survivors."

"That trifle? They're in Castle Oztroja, if you really want to know." North dismissed the Ranger's question as common knowledge, even as he summoned Panzer Galahad. Fully healed, the beetle happily walked by his master's side.

"Castle Oztroja," Bongo repeated flatly, watching the Elvaan prepare to simply turn and leave.

North flicked an eyebrow up, almost irritated. "I did not stutter. Was there anything else you needed before I depart? I am in a hurry."

"Yes," he replied, gripping the curve of his bow tightly, "you can stand still."

"What - " North didn't get the chance to finish before Bongo broke his bow across the Elvaan's jaw.

November shrieked as splinters of the war bow flew from North's face. The Beastmaster's head twisted around unnaturally as he fell into the sand. Hubby and Luma were there in a flash, holding Bongo back as he struggled to draw forth his knives. The situation rapidly declined from there.

"We were right there!" Bongo shouted. "We were right there and you took us away!"

"You can't . . . possibly conceive . . . " the Beastmaster's breathing was labored, "how much more important this was . . . than your finding your friends."

"You son of a bitch, North!" he raged. "When I get my hands on you - "

"Not if I do it first," a gruff voice growled from behind him. Dantrag tore an axe free from his belt, eyes blazing as he advanced on the fallen form of North. November was there almost immediately, raising her staff defiantly as a tongue of flame burst from its tip.

"Dantrag, don't!" Hubby called, still trying to hold back Bongo

"If you come another step I'll char the flesh from your bones!" November warned him, flames appearing at her feet. The Elvaan raised his axe threateningly as the Summoner called forth her power.

"Stop!" They looked up, then quickly down again, to find Qwid standing between them. The Tarutaru was ablaze with ferocious eldritch force, eyes glowing as he separated the two.

"It's his fault, dammit Qwid!" Bongo snapped, straining to break free from the two Samurai. "We'd be back with the others already if not for - "

"And Keftenk would still be walking around with Guttler." The Red Mage's tiny face was hard. "We know where they are. Let's not waste time fighting amongst ourselves."

"He struck North!" November hissed, the ground undulating beneath her as she pointed furiously at Bongo, crouched down at North's side. "This will not go unpunished!"

Qwid turned his head slightly, sparks leaping from his eyes as they fell on the Summoner. Bongo saw her gulp as a wave of the Tarutaru's power swept past her.

"Don'taru push your luck," he warned.

"I think perhaps," Hubby managed, pulling back to keep Bongo from lunging, "it's time we go."

"Nice meeting you!" Luma smiled at the duo from Onzozo. It was not much longer before they parted ways, abandoning the Valley of Sorrows and beginning their long journey back from where they had come.

It was when they had arrived upon the bleached sands of Valkurm Dunes that Bongo had requested their detour north. After much conversation and convincing, the five had gone across the La Theine Plateau, up into the blighted forests of Ronfaure. They had been appalled at the devastation as much as they were the sight of Orcs freely roaming the forests. Dantrag had stopped cold at the scene, witnessing his beloved city in ruins. Only through intense convincing that they would see this right did he agree to keep on moving. Concealed by the ebon skies of Dynamis, they slinked past the greenskins, and made it safely to Bongo's objective.

As frightening as the prospect of a San d'Oria overrun with Orcs was, equally unsettling was the discovery that Fort Ghelsba was almost completely abandoned.

The sprawling encampment wherein the Orcs made their fortress was practically bare. Naught but some roaming lizards and empty tents whose open flaps beat against the chilling winds. Winter was quickly encroaching, and already a smattering of white was decorating the landscape. The stream which ran through the Orcish base was hidden beneath a layer of ice, though Bongo could still feel the presence of fish running through the frigid waters. Try as he might though, he could sense not a single beastman anywhere in the area. Ghelsba had been emptied.

Whatever that portended, it would have to wait. For now, he was happy for the absence. It made his task that much easier.

"Yughott Grotto?" Hubby questioned as they entered the series of caverns. He eyed their surroundings suspiciously, fingers on the hilt of his great katana.

Bongo nodded. "It's a shortcut." Peering into the darkness, he could see a few bats hanging from the stalactites, but not an Orc in sight. "We'll get there faster this way."

"Ronfaure's connected to the Outpost, the Outpost connects to the Grotto, the Grotto connects to . . .Horlais Peak." Luma smiled her fanged smile, winking at Bongo as she sang. "And that's the way it goes. HA!"

He cocked an eyebrow at the eccentric Tshayan, but confirmed her suspicions. " It's like Luma says. We'll be there soon."

"So what's up here?" Qwid inquired as they neared open air again some time later. The wind was bringing wisps of snow their way, alerting them that they were coming upon an exit to the sprawling caves. The Tarutaru removed his cornered hat, using it to shield his face from the cold.

"It's a long story, but there's really only one important part." Bongo took hold of a rock, pulling himself free of the tunnels. "It starts with my father - Genji Demynix."

"Genji Demynix?" Hubby exclaimed, and Luma's eyes went wide as well. "Your father was Genji Demynix?"

Bongo cracked a smile, brushing a hand through his black hair. "The very same. What, you think these good looks are an accident? It's all in the blood, friends."

"Who's Genji Demynix?" Qwid asked, looking puzzled.

"He's a true genius," Dantrag said, looking at Bongo as if seeing him for the first time. "I never suspected."

"The master!" Luma exclaimed. "Reknowned, a legend in his own time! And also a lover of wine and a cheater at cards."

"Nobody ever proved that," Bongo snapped.

"Genji was the greatest swordsmith of the last era, and perhaps the greatest Samurai as well. If not the best, he certainly trained some of the best." Hubby recited the facts with practiced ease. Everyone who studied the art of the Samurai in the last three decades learned about Genji at some point or another. "They say he could clip the wings off a gnat from fifty paces with an arrow, and cut a treant in two with a single stroke of his blade. He was the Samurai who introduced the way of the spear into standard combat training. I'd heard he had two sons, but I had no idea . . . "

"It's not a fact I put out there a lot," Bongo's voice was distant. Leaning down, he took hold of Qwid's arms and pulled the Tarutaru free from the cave, and all four stood upon the span of Horlais Peak. The view from the top went on for yalms beyond measure. They could see all of Fort Ghelsba and its outpost beneath them, and the entire expanse of Ronfaure beyond that. Stretching out from East Ronfaure, Bongo's sharp eyes could make out the Ranguemont Pass, the mountain trail which was the sole land route to the Northlands. Even there on the horizon, he could see distant snow-capped peaks which could only be Beaucedine Glacier. Further east from Ronfaure was the densely packed woodland of Jugner Forest, and Bongo was convinced that on a clear day, he would be able to see as far as Jeuno. They all paused to take in the incredible sight. Even with the darkened sky above, and the sight of San d'Oria below, there was no denying the breathtaking beauty of Vana'diel.

"From here," Luma's voice was solemn, "it's still so pretty."

No one said anything for a long moment. They simply basked in the truth of the Mithra's words.

Bongo drew in a cold breath, folding his arms over his chest into the folds of his leather jerkin. "Anyway," he continued, "I thought it was more important to make a name for myself. So I don't go touting my last name."

"But you called yourself Demyn?" Dantrag queried. "Isn't that a little on the nose?"

The Ranger shrugged. "Sometimes it's easiest to hide in plain sight. Everyone who knew my father's reputation assumed I was just one more person trying to emulate the master. Besides," he clarified, "Demyn was a name I earned."

"Alright," the Warrior replied, "I'll give you that. But what does your being Genji's son have to do with this place?"

Bongo took a long gaze into the distance. The wind whistled, breathing across the frozen surface of the mountain stream before them. Qwid gestured briefly with one hand, creating a bloom of heat which warded off the chill.

"This really is a beautiful view," the Hume said after a long moment. "I always cursed him for making it this difficult to come see her, but whenever I do make the trip I'm reminded of just why my father buried my mother in this spot."

Nobody spoke, though a ripple of surprise ran through the small fellowship. Bongo slowly raised his finger towards the banks of the stream. What looked like a random gathering of rocks leaning against the water was, upon closer inspection, a polished grave marker surrounded by smooth stones. Etched in its surface in a carefully written script was a simple epitaph.

"Tomoe Aizu Demynix - May Her Grace Light the Heavens."

Bongo paused in front of the stone, saying nothing as he stared down. Dantrag moved closer, but Luma snatched his arm, shaking her head. They remained still, watching the Ranger as he stood over his mother's grave.

"Hi, Mom," he chuckled, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long, huh? I hope you've been alright. I know we don't talk very much anymore." His smile slowly faded as he spoke, drawing in a breath. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in so long. And I'm sorry I'll be gone for awhile after this, too." The Ranger sniffed, roughly rubbing his eyes with a leather-gloved hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't find Xaekid, Mom. I swear I never stopped looking."

"Xaekid?" Luma whispered. "What's that?"

"Bongo's younger brother," Dantrag answered quietly. "He almost never mentions him."

The Mithra tilted her head. "Aren't they close? Sibling rivalry, maybe?"

"Xaekid was killed," the Elvaan said simply. "He died during a battle against Orcs many years ago. Bongo spent years searching for a sign that he might have survived, but . . " The Warrior raised his head, looking at his friend with a pained expression. "Bongo's the best hunter in the Middle Lands. And he never found anything."

Luma lowered her head, white hair tumbling over her eyes. She remained silent as Bongo spoke again.

"Things are pretty bad, Mom," he continued, his voice wavering. "I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure what will happen to me, or any of us. But, I've decided to fight, as hard as I can for as long as I can. I'm going to find out what caused this and make it right again. And if I can't . . . " he sniffed again, running a hand down over his face and then giving another brief chuckle. "If I can't, I'll see you and Xaekid again soon. Okay? So we'll win one way or the other."

Bongo bent his knee, leaning down into the frozen grass before the grave of Tomoe Demynix. From his side, he clutched the hilt of one of his daggers, pulling it out of the sheath with a metallic ringing sound.

"Bongo?" Hubby moved towards the Ranger as he raised the blade upwards, holding it over the stones. Then in a flash, he brought it down, directly into his mother's gravestone.

It sank into a hidden slot in the rock, and an audible click sounded through the mountaintop. Bongo stood, withdrawing his knife as the water in front of the grave began to bubble and froth. The others watched in amazement as he strode out into the pond, breaking through the thin autumn ice to wade into the water beneath. With a sound like shattering glass, a long box made of wood and encrusted with jade broke through to the surface. The Ranger wrapped his hands around its twin brass handles, wrenching it forth from the water and heaving it onto dry land. His feet and hands soaking, Bongo stepped out after it, once again leaning down to the ground and flipping open the latches sealing it shut.

The lid slid aside with the sound of wood grinding against wood. Gathering close around it, the others leaned in to see what was inside.

Resting against a velvet cushion lining the box, two great katanas lay embedded. Taking hold of the longer one, Bongo removed it from its rest. It had a long, flat blade of black steel, on a tightly wrapped grip with no crossguard. Slowly, he slid it onto his back, where it fit perfectly into a gap between the two quivers of arrows strapped across his shoulders. Once it was in place, he pulled out the other sword, a slim weapon still wrapped in its sheath.

"Hubby," Bongo said softly, "this was one of my father's swords. You're letting me use your bow," he indicated the short black-and-white Samurai bow by his side, "it's only fair I return the favor."

"One of Genji's katana?" His voice was almost reverent. Bongo gave a short laugh.

"This one is more of an heirloom, I think. Not my father's best work." He drew out the blade, showing it was chipped in several places. The Ranger slammed it back into the hilt. "Still, I'd prefer knowing it was in safe hands."

Hubby took hold of it, looking his friend square in the eye. "I'll do it honor," he promised.

"And I'll hold on to Hagun for the time being." The Ranger took another long look at the empty box in front of him before sliding the lid back, latching it shut once more. The weapon secure, he slid it back into the water. They watched as it slowly sank beneath the surface, bubbles rising to the top quickly at first, and then gradually diminishing as the box returned from whence it came.

Bongo watched it go, his eyes distant. He turned with a half-hearted smile when Dantrag clapped him on the shoulder. One final time, he wiped his eyes, frozen tears vanishing into the soil below.

"Well," the Ranger said, visibly shaking off whatever was on his mind, "I think it's time to get going."

"You're sure?" Hubby's tone was concerned.

He nodded, a smile breaking through. "Absolutely. Let's get a move on guys. It's time to find our friends."


When she had last been in the Imperial Throne Room of the Empress Nashmeira, Jinxie had been awed by the extravagant beauty of the palace. Even the simpler, far more confined Imperial Chamber held within it a quiet but pronounced power. No one who entered the enormous brass doors which led to the Empress could help but feel humbled by the aura of the palace itself. Jinxie had been no exception upon her first visit. Now she barely noticed her surroundings. They were unimportant, insignificant. Every second she spent here was one that could be out searching for her son.

But she couldn't, not yet. There were things that needed to be done, preparations to make, plans to conceive. She was trying to remain calm and think her way through things, but the thought of her defenseless baby in the hands of the Lamiae was just too much. It was all she could do to keep her focus on what was happening around her.

They had all gathered in the Imperial Chamber, in the presence of the Empress herself. The Imperial Puppetmaster, Aphmau, was there as well, with her two puppets Ovjang and Meijang. Razfahd had removed his corazza, returning to the more official robes of his office. All six Serpent Generals were together, Gadalar, Mihli, Najelith, Zazarg, Rughadjeen, and Kkel, with Pixel by the side of the latter. Not a single one of them wasn't sporting some sort of bandaging or poultice, yet they had managed to make it for this gathering. Isset and Speed stood behind Jinxie, and even Naja Salaheem and Abquhbuh had been allowed in. Conspicuously absent was Xaerus. The Mithra had not been seen since her battle against Medusa.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Xaerus now. Her riddles and secrets had grated on Jinxie since the beginning of their quest. Yet she had always been helpful in dealing with others in the Empire, especially Razfahd. Now, when she needed her the most, the blind woman was in the wind, with no clues as to her whereabouts. That left her alone to take on the Imperial Court.

She didn't want to do this. She wanted to go after her son. She wanted to make the Lamiae pay for taking him. She wanted to collapse to the floor and cry. But she couldn't. She had to remain strong. Thus she kept her back straight and her chin up, betraying as little as she could about what was in her heart as Razfahd began speaking.

"I do not know," he began, stepping before Nashmeira's dais, "if the turmoil in the Middle Lands is related to the individuals I have been working with, but I would not find it surprising to say the least."

"Razfahd," came a voice from behind the curtain, "tell us what you have done. Everything you know that might be of use."

The Grand Vizier's lip curled, but he still gave a perfunctory bow. "Yes, Empress, I was about to do so." Clasping his hands behind his back, the Imperial's eyes turned on Jinxie. "Roughly six years ago, I was approached here in the palace by a man who identified himself as Doshu."

"Doshu," Rughadjeen repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Wait a minute," this time it was Najelith, the Hume woman reflectively staring up at the ceiling. "Doshu . . . there was a Doshu amongst my personal archers some years ago."

Razfahd turned his head to the Galeserpent. "What do you remember about him?"

She put a thoughtful hand against her chin, tapping her foot as she struggled to recall. "He was from the border cities, I remember. One of the outlying territories. A good shot, and ambitious, too. He was always willing to undertake dangerous assignments." Najelith paused, trying to think of anything else, but ultimately spread her hands. "He vanished several years back. We were defending the city from the Trolls, and after the fight he was nowhere to be found. I always assumed he'd been captured, or killed."

"If it is indeed the same man, then he has gone far beyond a simple soldier," Razfahd said darkly. "He exuded a presence I have not felt before. The power he wields now is frightening. He wears a ring and a cloak which appear crafted from the night itself, and holds a silver gun that I would swear had a life of its own."

Kkel gave a start. "Him!" The Blue Mage's hand went for his sword, only to realize that there were no weapons allowed in the Imperial District. Without a blade, he began exuding a blue aura instead. "That's the man in black I encountered in Quon. He's the one who tried to kill Pixel! You were working with him!" He lanced an accusatory finger at the Grand Vizier, eyes full of fire. "It was a set up after all!"

"Kkel, calm down!" Rugadjeen implored, stepping in front of the other Elvaan. Zazarg quickly moved behind him, ready to restrain the Sunserpent even as Gadalar began calling forth a fiery shield.

"Kkel," Pixel said, smiling up at him, "I want to hear what he has to say."

He looked down at the Bard, then to Razfahd's glaring eyes. Frowning, Kkel released his power, standing down. "Let's hear it, Razfahd." The other Serpent Generals all breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"I'll thank you for no further outbursts," the dark-eyed Grand Vizier said haughtily. "The facts are this. I knew nothing about any sort of attempt on your life, Sunserpent. The assignment I gave you was very real, though none of us have any reason to believe the Blue Mages you were sent to track down were not also in league with Doshu. His schemes are like a web carefully woven to catch as many insects as possible."

"What did he offer you?" It was Aphmau, the blonde-haired girl in red, sitting on a large pillow beside the Empress. The two puppets in her command stood languidly in front of her, facing towards the Grand Vizier. Razfahd's eyes drifted upwards, taking on a reflective state.

"He promised me an end to the beastmen raids upon our city. All I had to do was keep the Empire out of the affairs of the Middle Lands." He returned his imperious gaze to the others, not a hint of remorse showing. "I did as I was asked, recalling all of our ambassadors and scholars abroad. Sure enough, sieges against Al Zahbi dropped significantly as soon as the bargain was struck. I'm not sure how he did it, but he was able to keep the savages away from our Astral Candescence." Razfahd faced the gathering, his jaw stiffening. "No matter what else happened, the end of those attacks have saved countless Imperial soldiers and citizens over the last year. I have no regret for my actions."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Rughadjeen asked.

"That was the first and last time. Since then all of our dealings have gone through a surrogate - the man you saw prior to the attack, Chiz."

"So, fergive me, your Majesty, Grand Vizierrrr," Naja Salaheem stepped forward as she spoke. The diminuitive Mithra looked at a loss as to what to do with her hands without her crushing mace nearby. She continually shifted between having her hands clasped in front of her, folding her arms, or shoving them in her pockets. "I have to ask, what exactly was this Doshu fella's plan, anyway?"

Razfahd shrugged. "I only know that he required we remain away from the Middle Lands. The root of his scheming no doubt lies there."

"Whatever it was," Mihli Aliapoh mused, "it must have been, or perhaps still is, very delicate."

Eyes turned to face her. "How do you figure?" inquired Aphmau.

The Mithra's ears twitched as she thought. "This Doshu has obviously gone through a lot of trouble to do whatever it is he's doing. He's calculated things that could interrupt his plot and planned well in advance to neutralize them." She looked around the room, assessing each face in turn. "In making the Empire withdraw, he still planned to remove Kkel Solaar so as to weaken our military, just in case. Attacks on the city itself dwindled, but more and more beastmen have forced us to divert forces away from the capital to defend our outlying villages, even as the war in the Far East grows more intense. Knowing now that Doshu was likely dealing with the beastmen behind our back the entire time, it seems likely each new trouble was another layer of his scheme. In other words, just because he made sure the Empire wouldn't interfere right away didn't mean things would not change in the future, so he planned ahead to further bind us should the situation call for it."

"Sounds like a real character, this Doshu," Zazarg mused. "I wonder what else is going on because he's dipping his fingers into everyone else's business."

"We've got to find him," Kkel slapped a fist against an open palm, his expression resolute. "He's an enemy of the Empire. That's all the justification we need, not that we don't have plenty more."

"I recommend forming an expedition to the Middle Lands," Rughadjeen put forth. "We can begin planning immediately."

"But we can't know how long the beastmen scum will stay down," Gadalar protested. "Now's not the time to weaken our own defenses."

"Can we really let this criminal roam free?" Countered Najelith. "There must be an option which - "

"None of this is helping me find my son."

The conversation dropped immediately. All eyes fell to the center of the room, where Jinxie stood. She was shaking, her fists clenched tightly inside black gloves, eyes downcast as she held back her tears. Whether they were of sadness or rage or frustration she could not even tell herself anymore. Everyone else in the room looked away uncomfortably, save for Isset. The Puppetmaster laid a hand on Jinxie's shoulder, and she was instantly grateful for the support. Pushing back her emotions, she lifted her chin and stared down Razfahd and the others.

"My son." She stated simply. "We're going after him."

The Grand Vizier cleared his throat. "Yes . . . we will aid you however we can, but you can't expect . . . "

"They took my baby!" She screamed at Razfahd, advancing on him dangerously. It was impossible to deny the satisfaction of watching him flinch. "I lost my child to save your city and you're going to help me get him back."

"Of course," he said, trying and failing to sound unruffled. "However - "

"No, Razfahd. We will give her anything she requires."

The Hume staggered as if struck, then swiveled his head to face the curtain before Nashmeira. The Empress was sitting with her back straight, looking directly at her Grand Vizier. Razfahd turned and looked at Aphmau, but the blond girl only shrugged. Clearly restraining anger, he cleared his throat as he addressed the ruler of the Empire.

"Your Majesty," he began, "I realize we must repay the Bastokan, but surely apprehending Doshu - "

"You will do as I command," her voice took everyone in the room aback. "The full resources of Urghuum will be at Jinxie's disposal." Razfahd opened his mouth, but was cut off immediately. "This, I command!"

The Grand Vizier worked his jaw, but no sound came out. From her pillow, Aphmau giggled, and her two puppets hid their faces.

"Thank you, Empress Nashmeira," Jinxie breathed, bowing her head. "But I don't . . . I don't know where to start . . ."

And then a powerful presence asserted itself before her. She looked up to see the calming blue eyes of Kkel Solaar giving her a reassuring gaze. He smiled at her, and then turned to address the Empress.

"Your Majesty, if I may," he asked.

"Of course, Sunserpent."

He nodded. "We know Drake was taken by the Lamiae. We have no reason to believe they would not return to their home in Caedarva Mire."

"It's true," Najelith confirmed. "None of our forest scouts reported seeing any of them venturing away from their normal path home as they retreated."

The Elvaan nodded. "A full military strike against the Mire would be costly and ill-advised, but so would sending Jinxie in when the Lamiae will no doubt be on full alert. Therefore, I recommend we distract them while she and a small team insert themselves unseen to find Medusa and recover her son."

"Distract them how?" Razfahd queried. "And whom would take on this role?"

"Pixel and myself, naturally," he gave a wry smirk, and Pixel smiled at the Grand Vizier. "As for how, I've got a plan." He turned to the other Serpent Generals, and they each took a step closer. "I'll need each of you to handpick some soldiers for me. Once that's done I'll lead a series of assaults against the Lamiae's main outposts. Periqia, Ilrusi Atoll, and Leujaoam Sanctum. Using the Runic Portal, I should be able to practically be in all three places at once."

"This will force the Lamiae to move their attention in three different directions. With the bulk of their army distracted, Jinxie and a small team can move in undetected," Pixel followed up on Kkel's thinking. "It should be no problem at all for her to confront Medusa and take her son back."

"I know she can do it," Isset confirmed, "and I'm with her all the way." Shoki leaped up at the proclamation, spinning in the air.

"Rrright," Naja said, "and Speed, you're going, too."

"Wha? Where? Oh." The Warrior sighed, hooking his thumbs over his pockets. "Alright, alright."

"Lady Naja, will two mercenaries really be enough?" Abquhbuh pushed his glasses up his nose, fretting. The Mithra took on a speculative look, tugging at one of her brown ponytails.

"You're right, Abquhbuh. Jinxie, I'm going to find some more help for you. I've got two people in mind. I'll have them ready as soon as I nail their sorry hides down."

Jinxie took a deep breath. "Thank you, Naja."

"Then it is settled," proclaimed Nashmeira. "Begin making preparations immediately. We will not fail!"

The small crowd converged, plans being spoken at a rapid pace from all sides. The general chatter became a dull roar in the small Imperial Chamber. Kkel conversed with the Serpent Generals. Razfahd shared a hushed exchange with Aphmau. Isset and Naja discussed mercenary options with Abquhbuh. For a moment, Jinxie was left alone in her thoughts.

They were going to go after Drake. Everyone was willing to help her, as much as she needed. She would have the opportunity to lead the quest to rescue her son personally. Nashmeira, Naja, Isset, they were all placing a lot of faith in her. They believed in her.

As the talk swirled around her, she wondered how they would feel if they knew she had lost all her power.