Chapter 2: Bound for Trouble
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	The afternoon was slightly overcast but warm.  A steady wind
blew from the northwest.  The surroundings seemed to fade into a
peaceful, timeless blur.
	In short, it was a perfect afternoon at sea.
	Alaric perched on the deck railing, strumming a simple tune
on his harp with a distracted air.  He hadn't been to Maranda for
a long time.  Not since the end of the world.  How had it changed?
Not for the better, that much was certain.
	Well, he would see.  But not too soon.  There was the matter
of Captain Ishmael's cargo, to be delivered to Thamasa.  Unloading
that cargo and loading the new would take at least two weeks, he
insisted.
	Which meant that it would take three, at the least.  Alaric
hoped that the rural village would offer some distraction.  Three
weeks, in one place!  And not even Jidoor or Figaro, but a small
village half a world away from everywhere else.
	Still, everyone knew that the Warriors of Balance had
visited the village.  Maybe there'd be something there after all.
And it wasn't just any captain who'd let a wandering minstrel pay
for a voyage by entertaining himself and the crew.  He appreciated that.
He slid smoothly from the rail to his feet without missing a note
of the increasingly complex melody.  No doubt they were close to
Thamasa.

		*	*	*	*	*

	It hadn't taken him long to discover that there was little
of interest in Thamasa.  The townspeople had been unwelcoming, but
that had changed when they'd learned he was an entertainer.
	He grinned at the memory.  They'd become more friendly after
a night or two of songs and legends.  He'd sung part of the Magi
Cycle, about the legendary heroes of the War of the Magi.  They'd
been very enthusiastic.
	Must be a local favorite, he thought.  'King Edward's Lament'
usually didn't elicit that response.  It was a beautiful song--
some said that the legendary Bard had written it himself--but it was
considered too long.  So they cut it down to 3:05.
	Tonight, he planned to perform 'The Fury of Eblan'.  That
one was a true masterpiece.  It wasn't uncommon for first-time
audiences to go from frowns of rage to tears of sorrow and back.
Such a fanciful story... an underground kingdom, a man who made
people into monsters, a fiery young prince.  It had been his favorite
part for months.  He'd even played at the Opera House, next to some
of the most brilliant musicians in the world.  And the actors had
been as talented as the orchestra.
	He almost regretted leaving.  Sometimes.

		*	*	*	*	*

	"So this is what happened to him."
	Alaric was talking to himself.  It was a habit he'd picked up
during his travels, since there was often nobody else to talk to.  He
leaned back, feeling the rough bark supporting him as he looked across
the small clearing at a large, smooth stone.  A monument.
	The final resting place of General Leo of Vector.
	"During his lifetime, he was the world's greatest soldier.
Maybe the greatest in history... at least, some people thought so.  A
living legend..."
	He had been walking across the grove, and he now stood before
the tomb, staring at the grey stone with unusual solemnity.  General
Leo of Vector, betrayed by his liege lord.  Slain (or so they said)
by Kefka himself.  "I suppose this is how all legends end...?"
	A small smile played about his lips, breaking the solemn
mood.  "Still, it would make a great song.  What to call it?  'The
Price of Heroes'?  No... 'An Officer and a Gentleman'?  No, that's
been done.  Hmm..."  Alaric tilted his head back, staring into the
sky as he tried to think of a title.  "Maybe 'Vector's Fields'?  No.
That's...  What?  An airship?"
	He blinked, trying to clear his sight.  Only the gambler
Setzer had built an airship.  Why would he come here?  But the vessel
remained.  He wasn't imagining things.  Still...
	He stared at the airship in shock.  "There's no balloon?
But..."  It couldn't be Setzer, then.  Who else would know how to
build an airship?
	Alaric froze.  Something was wrong.  Something had fallen
from the airship.  No, dropped!  "What..?"  No time.  "Come on...
Dodge!"  The words seemed to free him, and he leapt behind the stone,
falling prone.  He covered himself with his Zephyr Cape as an
afterthought.  If he was mistaken, he'd feel foolish, but if he was
right...
	Well, he knew the Magi Cycle.  He knew what the Red Wings
had done to Damcyan.  Maybe Leo's monument and his cloak would
protect him from the worst.
	A few moments later, Alaric knew he'd guessed correctly.
"No... not again..."  There couldn't be another war, not now.
But judging by the explosions that sounded behind him, there
could be.  There was.  Here, in a village half a world away from
everything else.
	Alaric's vain protests were drowned out by the roar of the
fire that rained down on Thamasa.