Babus's Troubles

It's truly alarming how many things I've experienced in just twenty years. As far back as I can remember, Llednar was always trouble…Prince Mewt never really liked him. Llednar was seen more as a guard than a playmate—the honor of becoming a playmate to the young Prince was given first to me. With all the things I've done throughout my life, I cannot imagine a closer friend to me….

But now, I'm afraid I don't find any solace in looking at Llednar's hateful eyes…. They're goldish, a sort of sinister amber, both ice and fiery rage caught in every devious stare. He doesn't like me—rather, he seems to hate me—and I've not a clue what I did. Perhaps it's the fact that I've always been close to the Prince, and Llednar Twem is nothing more than a source of fear to the poor young lad. Mewt is but four years younger, a handsome lad if there ever was one…and though I don't think he's in danger, I know Llednar means nothing of good for me—

And the worst part is, I'm not certain I could tell the Prince about it, even if I knew precisely what Llednar was planning…. Even if someone in the palace received word of Llednar's intent, I wouldn't say a single word of it to Mewt, I suspect…because if he is not in danger, my life is not important in the end.

It's a warning I shall take to my grave, I suppose…hopefully, that day is far from now.

 

* * *

 

Ink-smudged hands tugged lightly at his collar, untying the leather underneath it. He stripped off first the band in his ear, then the heavy medals hanging at his breast…. The small star medal around his neck, and then the collar, tumbled onto the silk pillow laid upon the tiles. Babus tugged his blue tunic off, then the light green mail beneath, and finally slipped from his trousers, standing bared to the fur by the royal baths. "Seems those new law cards haven't dried well…." Idly he rubbed his palms together, frowning at the blue, green and red spots over his fingers and in the webbing. "I'll have to refer their maker to Sprohm for a review."

Ah, but that was folly in the end. For now, the Runeseeker needed rest—and rest he would have. His back cramped with the constant leaping swings he'd taken with his mace, his shoulders with just the act of holding it, and if he had to blow dust from one more spell book, he'd sneeze so hard his ears would fly off.

'Looks like it's empty in here.' All the better. He didn't need overzealous Templars bragging their scales off about their latest exploits…Viera were notorious for finding the strongest males and taking them for a run in the jagds. If they came back, the long-eared bints would simply drag them off to an inn, where they wouldn't be seen for days. And all that rough and raucous talk didn't please Babus any more than it should have—honestly, these were the royal baths. If men couldn't act like gentle creatures, they had no right to enter.

Sitting down, he slipped from the edge into the warm, lightly fragranced water, and submerged himself from head to tail. What kind of rot would he have to deal with next? The only mischief he'd not had to deal with today was Llednar's, and he feared to think of what the Biskmatar could have up his sleeve…if there was already this much trouble in one day, Babus knew there would be something worse before it came to an end.

From far away, he heard the door opening—someone had come into the room, and if the clack of those boots was to be believed, the guest was no one he wanted to see. Ducking his head further, Babus moved to the bottom of the pool, wishing he could hold his breath long enough for Llednar to leave. Why, oh why, did he have to have such terrible luck? And if his luck wasn't bad enough, his lungs couldn't hold anymore—

Babus burst upward from the water, gasping and coughing. He floundered, swam to the side, and held on—but the eyes looking down into his weren't friendly at all.

"I see you've been hiding from me," Llednar purred. "Any particular reason?" Oh yes, there was a reason—that snakelike smile, those icy eyes, didn't promise him a pleasant chat. More, he'd have the opposite…the blond Biskmatar wasn't the type to be friendly, and especially not to someone as lawful as Babus. He wondered whether Llednar was lawful at all, honestly.

Babus rolled his dark eyes in their orbits. "Not likely. I find you about as threatening as a dwarf Jelly, and twice as harmless." That might've been a lie, but the sparks of red that flashed in Llednar's eyes told him his barbs had hit their mark. Hopefully, then, Llednar would leave him alone…and if not….

"You need a little attitude adjustment." Those amber eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't suppose you know how I fight, Babus…there aren't any Law cards to protect you from what I can do." What, was he trying to frighten Babus? Really, there wasn't much he could do, except—

Llednar leapt into the pool, clothes and all, and shoved Babus's head into the drink. Shocked and unprepared, the Runeseeker choked—his lungs, those fairweather organs, soon filled with hot and bitter-tasting water…. He broke away to the surface and hurled up a glut of it, struggling and sputtering…and now, Llednar grabbed him up, threw him onto the tiles, eclipsing his blurry vision with a mask of hate.

"Come with me, you pompous royal plaything," the mage knight hissed. "You and I are going to Jagd Helje."

 

* * *

Jagd Helje…Jagd Helje….

Babus stayed far away from the jagds if he could help it. Not because he was afraid of dying; no, his tunic was stuffed with auto-raising Phoenix Downs. He'd never had a problem with losing consciousness in battle anyway. The problem with the jagds was not what one could do to another person in them…but what was in the jagds themselves, waiting for the hapless combatants. Many times, even an experienced Templar didn't come back from a jagd fight. And while Babus was experienced to say the least in magic, he really didn't do well with fighting hand-to-hand…and he suspected he would have to overcome Llednar with just that, if he wanted to get out of here.

His head hit the rough streets, stars exploding behind his eyes. "I can't believe this—!" Lurching upward, he found he sat—or rather, slumped—in front of a shoppe he didn't like the looks of. A nasty-looking Viera stood over him, grinning widely.

"So, Llednar. This is the prince's plaything, huh? Not surprised you dragged him here…." Withdrawing a flail from her belt, she snapped it lightly and licked down the length. "Don't worry about Babus…I'll have him 'whipped' into shape in maybe a day or two. But then…, here…." She looked away from Babus, to the sky. "I could keep him here for longer than he'd know. Eternal darkness is a real boon to the cause…."

Llednar crossed to stand in front of Babus, smirking. "Good, Vili. Very good…you can have him for all I care. I doubt the prince is going to miss his little toy, once he has a replacement…. And if he does miss Babus after all—" His brows lowered.

"If you dare to lay a finger on Prince Mewt, I swear you'll regret your first breath." Babus staggered upward to his feet, weaving for a moment or two before he buckled back to his knees. "I need not touch you to make you suffer…." Pretty words, weren't they? Llednar literally had no idea that behind him, someone in the shadows—someone Babus knew—watched beneath a night-dark cloak. Vili might have known, but when the creature slunk away into the gloom, she didn't take notice. Didn't even bat an eye…why?

Her pink eyes narrowed. "Forget it. I'm not getting involved, Llednar. You want him messed up? Take him to Sprohm Prison…the men there'll be more than willing to take down a lawful creature like him. He probably sent half of them there in the first place."

"Whassamatta, Vili? Chicken?"

"No," the Viera assassin snarled. "I just don't value my life over the Prince's. And you know if he finds out Babus is here, he's gonna come storming in—there's no replacement for how much Babus means to him. You're fucking ridiculous if you think anyone but a suicidal maniac would help you." Casting a glance to Babus, she tossed the flail over her shoulder and stormed off. "…Fucking fuck…thinks I'm going to throw it all out the door……Who does he think he is, the Judgemaster?…Exodusdammit, I'm not going back to jail……."

Babus grinned up at Llednar. "Seems your plan has backfired…whatever will you do?"

"Nothing you're going to like," the Biskmatar growled, seizing up the flail. Despite Vili's hasty exit, Babus still instinctively backed away, down the stones, until his feet slipped out from under him. He was left grasping at the edges of an oubliette—it'd likely been hidden here for years…. And when he chanced to look below, the bones he saw down there were not Viera…or human, for that matter. He'd venture to guess they were too unbroken even for Bangaa, and too large for a moogle….

'Oh, Ultima.' Babus almost crossed himself—but he would've fallen. Instead he stared back up at Llednar, wishing he hadn't had such an enormous mouth…the royal Nu Mou had had enough room for both of his feet this time. 'Don't let him step on my fingers….'

"Like I was saying—," the mage knight's boot heel crushed into Babus's hand, "nothing you're going to like." With a malicious grin, he ground his heels into the Runeseeker's fingers, those amber eyes narrowing with filthy pleasure. "Sweet dreams, you overstuffed sycophant…. Better hope you're soft enough to live through the fall."

Babus's thoughts scattered as his fingers gradually slipped away from the edge. 'If I ever get back to the palace…, I'll give Ezel Berbier an Immunity law card…. Him, and every single member of that renegade Marche Radiuju's clan—I'll issue Vili a full pardon—'

Promises were easier to keep than a soul was, though….

 

* * *

"Huff…phew…." The cloaked figure leaned against the door to Cadoan's secret shop, fumbling beneath his raiments for the key. As soon as he'd found it, he shoved it into the lock, turned the key and the doorknob, and hustled himself in.

Tearing off his cloak, the overworked Hermetic slumped into his plush seat, rustling through his maps. "Let me see…. Jagd Helje…near to Babus's position would be…."

"Ezel! You here?" An unfamiliar male voice cut through the silence. Uneasy, Ezel found the map, turned his chair around, and listened. Templar boots…the knocking of a mythril staff against the ground…. "Ezel Berbier, I order you to show yourself! I have business with you!"

'Oh Ultima,' he realized. 'The brat Prince is here.' Turning the chair back to face the desk, Ezel pasted on a saccharine smile and stood to bow. "Why hello, kiddo. I suppose you're looking for your friend, hmm?"

"Babus was supposed to visit you today." Mewt frowned down at Ezel.

The Hermetic reached into his desk, pulling out a bottle of good Cadoan wine. The best he had, but hells, if the Prince wasn't a good reason to take it out, who was? "And, eh, you are here to deliver cards instead? (Sit, sit, your Highness. I will not have a fine man like yourself standing when he can relax.)" He poured two glasses—then, thinking of it, four shots for the Templars behind Mewt. "Please, boys, have some wine. I indeed have news of your noble fellow, but it's not a happy tale I have to tell."

"What do you mean?" Mewt sat, accepted a glass, and nodded to the others. They took a shot each and stood there, sniffing the liquid guardedly…didn't they trust him? "Babus isn't hurt, is he?" Nervous, he drained the glass—and the others licked theirs clean.

Ezel unrolled the map and looked over the lone threat Jagd Helje had near Babus's last position. An oubliette, a deadly one…and the likeliest place Babus was. "He is here." He pointed to the map's title. "Llednar, that scoundrel, dragged Babus over there. He originally intended to pawn him off to Vili, but the smart girl refused. I think she could use some kind of reward for refusing to hurt your attendant…she probably has no love for Babus, considering how often he's sent her to prison. I believe her words were…, 'I don't value my life over the Prince's.'"

"She knew that if I found out Babus was in trouble, I'd rush to save him." Mewt puffed out an anxious breath. "She was right. I've got to go and find him. How deep is that hole there…?" He pointed to the oubliette—smart boy this kid was, not just a brat. Obviously he knew what was at stake here.

Ezel squinted to see the scrawl. "My boy, it looks like the oubliette is twenty  floors deep. Babus is either critically injured, or he is dead…a fall like that, with all those bones at the bottom, would be almost impossible to survive. There are more Nu Mou remains down there than anything…the jagd snipers have excellent aim. Get the opponent near the oubliette, shoot or injure them in some way…knock them into it…and they don't have the strength to pull themselves out. They fall…and die."

"No!" Mewt covered his mouth with his hands, his eyes glazing with tears. "No, not Babus—I've got to save him!"

Sighing, Ezel pulled out a small box. "I owe these to Babus for his work anyway. These are highly experimental cards I've created…that is, they work on one person, rather than an entire field. There are…Null Gravity, Earth Move, Reverse Demi…all sorts of things he could use right now. And these—" He handed over a small pair of dusk-colored boots; they looked like Babus's, but for the wing prints on the inside. "If he's alive, toss these down to him. They'll prevent any future trouble Llednar can cook up…at least, if it involves a fall."

"I owe you a lot for helping," Mewt murmured, "and this should be a start." Turning to the Templar nearest him, he nodded, and the Bangaa produced a thick, wide stack of excellent card vellum—that, and a purse of what had to be hundreds of thousands of gil. "When Babus recovers, I'll repay the rest."

"If he doesn't recover—," Ezel sighed, "I'll lose more business than I can afford to. Good luck, kiddo…and let me know what happens, either way."

"I'll do that." Mewt took the boots, the box of cards, and rose to his feet. "Thanks." Apparently royal decorum left the Prince when he was worried over Babus…he did have good points after all. The Runeseeker was lucky indeed to have such a friend.

Ezel looked over the map once more, marked a safe path to the oubliette, and handed it over. "No thanks is needed…I need that man on my side more than you know." Lowering his head, he sipped lightly at his wine. His stomach ached over this whole thing.

"Go," he instructed. "He's in bad shape…and it will only get worse."

 

TBC