�Lord Edgar, let me first begin by thanking you, as Terra has already, for the open arms with which you have received us into your castle. We come with news from Narshe that will surely alter the course of history within the next few months, if so much, and we come to ask your aid in the Returners� battle against the Empire.�
Edgar snapped his head away from his view of Terra, shock painted clearly across his face. He had knocked over the glass of vintage wine which had been near his hand and the dark liquid seeped into the material of the table cloth quickly, leaving a horrible stain that would probably never come out. Edgar was unaware of this, however, as he continued to gape in shock at his friend.
�Locke! Do you know what it is you ask? Can you conceive the immensity of your request? Figaro has long been allies with the Empire and they do not treat their enemies with kind regard.� Edgar stood up quickly from the table and began to pace the floors of the throne room anxiously.
�My friend, there is much more at stake now than ever before, and the playing board has been stocked with new pieces that must be taken into account before we consider our counter.� His reference to Edgar�s favorite flatboard game was the easiest method of getting his message across to the King. Or so he thought.
The double doors of the throne room burst inwards as Merlith, the young go-between for the gate guards, charged head-long into the throne room at full speed. He was totally out of breath with the day�s work behind him and drew several deep, ragged breaths into his chest before he spoke again.
�Lord� Edgar� Imperial� troupe� coming�� he tried to get out, short-winded as he was.
�Relax, Merlith, take your breaths, and be at ease. It is probably that joke of a Prime Minister which the Emperor seems to think is capable of running his sovereignty. We shall be out to meet him in proper time. Hold him at the gates, Merlith, until we have time to get our thoughts organized.�
All this Edgar said with a patient smile upon his face. Merlith bowed deeply at these orders and then took off yet again towards the front gates and would probably deliver the message in as many words as he managed to provide here in the throne room.
Edgar turned quickly to Locke, his air of relaxation evaporating as quickly as water in the desert�s heat. Fear and anxiety drew deep furrows across the King�s brow and he swallowed once before he stood and spoke to them.
�Get her somewhere safe. Now!� was all Edgar said. He turned quickly on his heels and ran out of the throne room himself. Locke was already out of his seat and grabbed Terra by her arm, pulling her gently but firmly to her feet.
�Come on, Terra, let�s go!� he said.
�Where are we going, Locke? What�s going on?� Terra asked in confusion, a tinge of fear showing in her voice.
�We are going to hide for now, my dear, and pray that this day sees us both alive at its end.�
He stood before the castle gates. Within his mind, he smirked at the sight of the colossal structure. It reminded him of� something. A long time ago he stood before a similar castle. A larger castle actually, in another place, and at another time. He furrowed his thin, finely plucked brows at this thought, lost entirely in the memory. The image given by his mind�s eye seemed quite out of place, almost as if it were something from a thousand years ago, a fleeting glimpse of an era long lost with the passage of those many years. It pleased him to have such visions, shrouded in mystery though they often were. Perhaps one day he would understand their relevance to his plans. For now�
For now, he stood before the castle gates.
A gust of blistering desert air swirled around him, flapping his silk cape about his body and casting dust into the eyes of the two soldiers that stood on either side of him, the blundering cohort of imbeciles that his foolish Emperor insisted he bring along with him. Despite the heavy clothing he wore in this devilishly hot wilderness, not a drop of sweat marred the fabric of his tunic.
�Edgar, you pinhead!� he shouted into the wind, his words blown away before they reached his own ears, �Why do you have to live in the middle of nowhere, and a desert of all the forsaken places in this world?�
Kefka closed his eyes to the wind, slowed his breathing to an almost standstill, and felt his own heartbeat thunder to a halt. A few moments later, the sudden gale died as quickly as it had begun and he reopened his eyes to see the two moronic sentinels, clad in the signature crimson suits of Vector�s Elite, dusting themselves off in an attempt to keep their uniforms as clean as possible. He smiled at the significant improvement in the control of his abilities and then decided to have a little fun before completing his mission.
�My shoes,� he said, slowly and deliberately, �have SAND on them!�
The guards immediately ran forward to him and bent down on all fours, cleaning the desert sand off his boots. Kefka laughed loudly as they did this, enjoying the debasement of these obviously unimportant push-overs. Idiots, he thought to himself, your essences are meaningless in the greater scheme of things.
Once the guards were back up on their feet, Kefka strode past them towards the towering gates of Figaro Castle, intent on getting this boring recon mission done as soon as physically possible. As he drew closer to the gates, he could see the hustle of the gate guard as they strode about in preparation for his arrival, no doubt set into a flurry of fear at the very sight of his party. You are all meaningless to me, maggots.
One of the smaller guards, wearing armor that seemed three sizes too large for his meager bones, strode forward to welcome the Imperial faction. The young man seemed nervous, and very out of breath, almost as if he was running around the entire day and streams of sweat were coursing down his face into his breast plate. Kefka took malicious pleasure in seeing the tyke in such an uncomfortable position, probably nowhere near as experienced in mediation as the King himself. This would take very little time.
�Lord Kefka,� the young guard began, �we did not receive notice of��
�Out of my way, fool! I have no time for your idiotic ranting. I will see your King immediately if not sooner, is that as clear as your cloudless sky?�
Before the inexperienced sentinel even had time to register shock at being dismissed so smoothly, the Imperial delegate had swooped past him altogether and were moving towards the castle. Kefka strode straight into the castle past the gate sentries, into the main battlement at the front gate, right past the Chancellor and was about to cross the courtyard when a shout echoed from up ahead.
�Ah! My Lord Kefka, I see that you have graced us, once again, with your presence here in this dusty heaven. Welcome, my liege, and well come to Figaro, the land of innovation and invention.�
King Edgar Roni Figaro, that mulling brat who once sat upon the lap of this realm�s last ruler not but twenty-five years ago, strode across the courtyard with frenzied gait in order to meet Kefka, most likely to stall for time. Kefka knew without a doubt in this godless world that Terra was here. He knew it. He could feel it� that scent, that resonance was almost palpable. If he only closed his eyes, he thought he might be able to turn his head right towards her. He smiled at this thought as it rolled through his malicious mind, watching the ignorant fool of a king play his games as he attempted to hide the girl.
Edgar walked up to the flamboyantly clad Prime Minister, took his hand in a seemingly honest salutation, and shook it with fervor. Kefka pasted the most ingratiating smile he could muster upon his face and conjured several murderous scenarios, which he would eventually have liked to play out with hateful vengeance. Oh you will feel the full force of my wrath, insignificant jester. One day, you will dance to my tune and the melody will be death! Kefka�s smile broadened reflexively, and Edgar mirrored this in frank camaraderie.
�Please, Master Kefka, indulge yourself with my hospitality. Make yourself quite at home, while you stay here. May I ask,� Edgar continued, pausing for effect, �on what business does the Empire send their most respected officer into the harsh and bitter wilderness of Figaro Desert. Surely another, less-prominent delegate could have been�
�Where is the girl, young king?� interrupted Kefka. Edgar stood there with his mouth agape mid-sentence, uncertain of how to respond. There was an uncomfortable pause now, and a number of the Figaro elite were slowly closing in to offer assistance to the King if needed, baring their swords and setting their faceplates to ready. Edgar saw this, and raised his hand, requesting a halt.
�Which girl do you speak of, Master Kefka? Will you not come inside so that we may discuss��
�Where is the girl? I refuse to ask you again, young king.� Kefka stood there smiling insanely now, almost as if he was enjoying this charade and knowing that Edgar was as uncomfortable as could be. Edgar furrowed his brows in confusion. Obviously the king was getting the point. In no time, he would hand over the girl and they would be on their way back to Vector.
Edgar nodded his head slowly, and then returned a most ingratiating smile of his own to Kefka. The fa�ade of control slipped somewhat, and Kefka�s smile thinned at this response.
�Ah, yes! How could I forget the girl! Lord Kefka, please, inform me of this girl�s appearance so that I may let you know if she is indeed here in Figaro, for you must understand, there are more girls here than grains of sand in the desert. Oh my,� he sighed in an expression of complete sorrow, �such an inconvenience of being a king.�
Within his soul, Kefka screamed. He raged against the mortal casing that limited his advancement, he roiled over his role in this moronic war, but mostly he was intensely angered at this fool of a king who dared to show his insolence before such a mighty being. At these thoughts, Kefka�s smile grew wider, splitting his mascara-laden face into two halves. He walked forward towards Edgar, stepping slowly and deliberately closer to the King and suddenly, only the sounds of the blazing wind through the courtyard and the even steps of an insane madman could be heard. Kefka stopped within an inch of the king�s face... and laughed softly, maleficent glee radiating fevrishly from every fibre of his being. To Kefka�s great delight, Edgar stepped back with the smile wiped from his face.
�My dear Edgar. Your father would have been so proud to see you here today, were he here with us.� Edgar�s face betrayed his anger at these words. Kefka knew the nature of the poison that coursed through the fool�s father�s veins at the time of his demise having chosen it for that specific purpose. King�s Bane it was called in other parts of this world. Perhaps the little boy knew of the conspiracy surrounding his father�s death, but this concerned Kefka little. For now, he knew that such talk would prod the idiotic king into revealing his secrets. Edgar just stood there now, unmoving, an air of royalty surrounding him like a cloak.
�Ah well, I really wish I could stay, my Lord Edgar,� Kefka exclaimed loudly, turning to address all visible within the court and brandishing an exceptionally hateful glare at the Figaro Elite, �but other matters of importance lay ahead. I do hope, for your own sake Lord King, that you have told me the truth today.�
Kefka turned around and began to walk away, but before the threat implied within his last words had time to sink into the atmosphere, he paused mid-step and looked around at the castle before him.
�Ah what a wonderful place,� he said softly, as if only to himself although his words carried to the king knowingly. �It would be such a pity if something were to happen to this glorious edifice.� And with those words, and a parting glance back at the King of Figaro, Kefka strode off into the darkness of the battlement laughing maniacally.
