Chapter Three
Considering that it had been through a burning by General Celes Chere, a Cataclysm by
Ex-General Kefka Palazzo (me), and a wave of escapees from Zozo, I was surprised at how little
Maranda had changed. I'd come to this town when I was a grunt, way back in the dark ages, and
that staircase had been just as uneven and cracked, its bannister just as rusted, as it was now. The
blue-roofed, packed-together shops hadn't fallen any further into disrepair than they had been
then. The Inn was still a dump, and dogfighting still seemed to be the employment of choice. The
town was nostalgic for me, but not near as nostalgic as what I saw next.
Magitek Armor.
It was piled into corners, stacked under tents, and littered on the cobblestone like old
candy wrappers. Though utterly useless without magic power to operate it, it was made of the
best metal the Empire had been able to afford, and it had a lot of intricate little moving parts.
That must have been why they'd decided to sell it as scrap. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I
had to resist laughter, lest I be heard.
Since nobody could see me, I slid down the bannister and began to look around. Most of
the suits were small, one-man machines, but they couldn't be what Natissa was describing. I
looked for something big enough to weigh thirty-eight tons, with a "shell casing" that could be
used in a drill. There was only one armor that fit that bill, and it was under a pleasantly cheap
plastic yellow canopy that I found it: the Guardian. Only four had been made. One hadn't
worked, I'd stolen one, and one had been destroyed with Vector, making this the last.
Now, to make it deadly.
I removed the main gun, pulled the mantlet away from the console, and rerouted the
cooling lines. Those foot-wide stiff pipes served a dual function; while they ran coolant through
the many gears of the Magitek armor, they also served as extra support. Gestahl, my dear hack of
an Emperor, seemed to know how to turn the most expensive project into a half-assed failure, and
the Guardians were no exception. Of the thirty-eight tons of metal on the machine, a good
twenty-five was in the turret and basket; that is, on the top. And of course, they'd stuck the top
on a ball race, which meant that twenty-five tons of steel was sitting on top of a flimsy metal ring
and a handful of marbles. That was what had made the prototype collapse, and those cooling
pipes were where most of the extra support came from. By moving them, I made the top-heavy
Guardian unbalanced and very easy to push over. When Natissa got close, I was going to shove
twenty-five tons of the Empire's Finest on her head.
"Hope she has a hard hat," I mumbled.
I had just finished twisting the gun back onto the machine when I heard female voices. I
vanished quickly, snuck behind the Guardian, and waited for Natissa to show.
But it wasn't Natissa who came through the door. It was Terra Branford.
Branford, the Imperial Witch.
Branford, who'd been in my regiment.
Branford, who'd shoved me to my death.
What was she doing here?
"Wow, I forgot how big this thing was!" She ran up to the Guardian and began to walk
around it. I watched helplessly, wishing I had breath to hold and hoping that she wouldn't touch
it and ruin my opportunity to kill Natissa. She didn't. "It hasn't been that long. I wonder if the
programming's still operational?"
"Don't think so," A slight figure bounced to Branford's side. "The computer ran on magic, didn't it? I guess it would be erased now."
That was Relm, holding her paintbrush and wearing her silly, floppy beret like some kind
of mini-bohemian. Behind her stood a group of other children, some older than she was, some
younger, and beside her was her black dog, Interceptor. Relm set down her paint set, stood by
Branford, and stared up at the Guardian, her mouth hanging open. I tried not to think that I was
a mere shove away from wiping the little moppet and my protégée off the face of the planet. I
tried to concentrate on my bet with Wrexsoul.
"You're right. How silly of me."
"You are silly. Coming out here on the basis of some anonymous note..."
Branford smiled and patted Relm on the back. "You've called me worse. Come on.
Let's go look at the Heavy Arms."
The two walked out of the tent, and the other children followed. Relm forgot her paints.
I wondered how long it would take one of them to notice. That was why, when I heard footsteps
and chatter about ten minutes later, I thought it was them. It wasn't. It was Natissa, in some
violently purple and pink applique mutation of a satin dress, trailed by Bedivire and a greasy, one-eyed salesman who must have come from Zozo.
"It's amazing, the condition we found this in," The salesman said. "I'd say that, if you
could find a power source for it, it would run good as new."
"I don't need it to run," Natissa said.
"How will you be moving it, by the way?"
Bedivire grinned as stupidly as he ever had. "We'll take it by train down to Albrook.
We've already got a ship reserved for it there; that'll get it back to Jidoor."
"Good. I want this thing off my hands as soon as possible. Children keep sneaking in
here to look at it. I'm afraid one of them'll hurt themselves and I'll end up paying for it." He
chuckled a gurgling chuckle that sounded like it came out of a pool of oil.
Natissa stepped forward. Come on, I mentally goaded, just a few more feet, come on.
"Mind if I...?"
"No, no. Go right ahead, Ms. Drakken."
She took three wide steps forward and started to climb the front of the machine. I
couldn't have asked for a better shot. With a swift, ghostly kick, I booted the top of the Guardian
off balance. It teetered, back and forth, and then it started to fall.
The rest felt like slow motion. Natissa looked up at the creaking sound, widened her eyes,
and gaped. Bedivire and the salesman both jumped forward, both knowing full well they'd never
make it in time to save her. And then, a green blur shot across the front of the Guardian,
dragging Natissa out of danger just as the metal crashed into the ground and crumpled like
diaphanous toilet paper.
Branford.
Branford lifted Natissa from the ground. "A-are you all right?" She asked, in her usual mousy voice.
Damn her! If I hadn't been in a situation that required absolute silence, I would have been swearing like a trooper.
"What happened?" Natissa turned to the salesman. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Ms. Drakken, the Guardian model has always been a bit off-balance; that's why it never
went into mass production-"
Natissa walked shakily to the wrecked machine, knelt down and inspected the ruined
metal, then stood and frowned. "Fine, fine. I don't care. Where can I find a replacement?"
Branford looked from Natissa to the Guardian, and back again, her face running the
gauntlet from surprised to confused to shrewd. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I already told you I was!"
Branford's shrewd look turned even darker.
"Aren't you one of Edgar's... friends?"
"He helped me bring down the Empire. Of course he's my friend."
"What are you doing here?"
"I live in Mobliz. It's chocobo-riding distance." She nodded back to the entrance of the
tent. "The children wanted to see the Magitek armor."
"'Tissa, are you okay?" Relm ran to the wrecked Guardian, with Interceptor at her heels.
"Kuso, I thought you were dead for sure!"
Natissa's expression softened when she saw Relm. "I think I may have gotten a few
bruises. Nothing serious. What brings you to a place like this?"
"I forgot my paints." She scooped her pallette from the floor. "Terra said she'd let me
paint the Prometheus model."
"That is a lovely machine. Maybe I'll do one."
"Show me if you do!"
"You'll have to show me your painting, too." Natissa turned to Branford, and her smile
faded. She mumbled, "Thank you for rescuing me."
"I'm just glad I came in when I did. Relm? I'm sorry, but we can't stay for too long."
As quickly as she'd come, Branford left, dragging Relm by the arm.
Natissa straightened out her dress, then turned back to the salesman. "As I was saying.
This machine is ruined. What do you have to replace it?"
"That was the last salvageable Guardian, and there's no other Magitek that size."
"Are you sure? I'd pay double-" She grimaced, "-If you could find me another."
"The only other Guardian I know of is the one in Kefka's tower, and I wouldn't go
traipsing around those old ruins for any amount of money!"
"Kefka's fortress? That's past the ruins of Vector, isn't it?"
"You can't go in there; it's overrun by wild animals, and besides!"
"Besides?"
"They say... that is... people who have been there say it's haunted."
"I'm not afraid of ghosts," She snapped. "And if there is the slightest possibility that the
Guardian, or any of the machines in that tower, survived its collapse and could be salvaged, I'm
willing to risk the animals."
"Nobody knows if the machines are intact. Nobody's ventured that far inside."
Natissa straightened her hair. "We'll take a team, then. Bedivire?"
"I'll send for backup right away, your ladyship."
The salesman tugged Natissa's sleeve. "You really plan to go inside those ruins?"
"We have no choice."
She marched out of the tent, annoyingly calm for someone who'd barely escaped being
crushed by a giant suit of Magitek armor.
***
"I saw it, but I still don't believe it. I can't believe that, after all we've been through in the
past few decades, with Kefka's Cataclysm barely a month ended, anyone would want to do it all
over again!"
Branford's voice stopped me in my tracks. I ran up the stairs and peeked over the
battlement. There, in an alley behind the armor shop, Branford and Relm were whispering
intently, while those other children huddled around, looking confused.
"We don't know what she was buying it for," Relm said.
"What would you buy a weapon like that for? Decoration?"
"Probably. People in Jidoor are weird. Owzer commissioned a possessed painting from
me, remember?"
"But she was doing exactly what that note said she'd be doing!"
"We don't know who wrote that note, or why!"
"I don't care who wrote it. I can't keep this from Edgar. If she's found some way to run
those things, and if she's planning on using them, he'll be in danger!"
I nearly gagged.
"Let me guess," I said, already knowing who was behind me, "You wrote Branford a note
saying Natissa was buying Magitek to use on Figaro."
Wrexsoul appeared in front of me. "How did you guess."
"That was deceitful, manipulative, and shamefully low..."
"I thought we agreed that the rules allowed for dirty fighting."
"... and I like it." Actually, he'd worried me, but I wanted to hurt him. It worked. Even
though Wrexsoul had no face, I could tell by his eyes that the concept of gratifying me revolted
him.
"You know what will happen if Edgar hears of this. Edgar's going to start producing
weapons, thinking that Natissa plans to attack him. Jidoor will find out about Edgar's weapons
and do the same, thinking he intends to attack them. It will only be a matter of time, then, until
one of them breaks down and attacks the other. You're not putting up much of a fight, O Maniac
of Legend."
"You're counting your proverbial choco-chicks a little too early. In case you hadn't
noticed, Branford brought Relm. Relm and Natissa seemed awfully friendly back there. Are you
sure she won't work against you?"
"I suppose that, if worse came to worse, I could kill her and blame it on Jidoor. That is
the bulk of your plans, is it not?"
I smirked. "You don't have the balls to murder a kid."
Wrexsoul crossed his arms and tried to look imposing, so I knew I was right.
"I'm impressed that you were able to figure out what I was doing. Now let's see you stop
me."
I turned and walked away. I didn't want Wrexsoul to know how much he'd gotten to me.
If Branford were allowed to tell Edgar about the Guardian, he'd start working on defense
right away. Even if I managed to kill Natissa, he wouldn't find out about it soon enough to halt
weapons production, Wrexsoul's described scenario would take place, and relations between
Figaro and Jidoor would be permanently shot. But if I stopped chasing Natissa and followed
Branford instead, Wrexsoul could get to Natissa and do any amount of irreparable damage. It
was a little too early in the game to be sacrificing my queen.
Wasn't there anything else I could do?