Prologue: Service Unerring

AN: This fresh revision feels SO much better. I apologize for the two-year absence... Life has been beyond crazy. Onward with the laughsmiles! =D

"The skies are hollow without your... what?" The pen that Emperor Larsa Solidor had liberated from his lord father's study made a hollow thunk as he tapped it against the tabletop in thought. The boy-king sat in silence, trying valiantly to think of a word suitable for his cause. He was fain to use anything overly dramatic - after all, this was a letter to the sovereign of an allied nation - but at the same time, he didn't want to come across as vernacularly-impaired. What then could he do?

I wasn't made for this. Vayne was always the charming one, though I suppose I did have a certain usefulness at our lord father's parlies; I could stand in the background smiling and looking adorable and, invariably, any female members of the opposing party would break and join our cause. Though it wasn't worth the pinched cheeks and incoherent gushing.

The problem, Larsa realized, was that he was simply not attractive... in that manner. He was cute, yes. Adorable, as the Lady Ashe had once pronounced after having caught him glaring sullenly at Penelo and Vaan cuddled together in the Strahl. No, Larsa Solidor needed the expertise of someone who did possess certain charms – someone who had, as Balthier had once phrased it, "brought the airship safely in to dock" a time or two.

...

"Gabranth!"

Basch von Rosenburg, former captain of the Dalmascan Military and now Judge Magister of the Archadian Empire, belched loudly. The bacon and eggs on which he had broken his fast had been exquisite; the palace cooking staff had outdone themselves once again. Basch made a mental note to compliment any members of the staff whom he might happen to see that day. He wiped his mouth on one of the lace-fringed napkins that smelt of lavender which Emperor Larsa seemed to stock exclusively, and rose from the cluttered dining table in his solar.

Bash donned his armor in the semi-darkness, fumbled for a moment with the drawstring of the cape, and buckled on his sword belt, wondering idly if he had accidentally cinched it one slot too tight. He crossed the threadbare carpets to his bedchamber, withdrew his sword from its place in the weaponry rack that he had commanded installed at his bedside, and made for the door to the palace proper. He paused only to pick up and don his helmet, immediately hating the suffocating darkness that it imposed, and then departed his chambers.

Basch was pleased to find his young emperor in good spirits. Larsa had been hunched over the gilded, masterfully-crafted table that had been a gift from the emperor of Rozarria when Basch entered the airy study that conjoined to the emperor's bedchambers, scrabbling some letter to this dignitary or that dignitary, reprimanding the city guard for this or that... Basch didn't know what his young emperor placed in his letters; it was not for him to know. His only duty was to serve and to protect. As that particular role was not altogether different from the position he had held in the Dalmascan military, Basch found that it suited him. He enjoyed it. He was good at it, as any number of hapless assassins and would-be poisoners who were now shackled and rotting in the palace dungeons could attest.

Would that it were not necessary.

Basch turned his head ever so slightly when Larsa called his name.

"Your grace. How may I be of assistance?"

Gods how stuffy and muffled my voice must sound. A commander mustn't have a voice like that...

Larsa twisted slightly in his chair.

"Ah. There you are. I require your assistance in a matter of utmost importance. You see-" He tapped the unfinished letter that lay open on the table "I have need of your... expertise in a matter of, shall we say, delicate sensibilities. I have it from reliable sources – firsthand sources, you will be pleased to know – that you are quite, shall we say, experienced in affairs of courtly romance... as well as, pray forgive my crudeness, the acts that may or may not follow thereafter. I will- no, don't say anything; I can see your face glowing through that ghastly helmet- I will, as I said, require your opinion on something."

Basch stood unmoving for so long that Larsa leaned over as if to peek through the eye slit of his helmet, a look of concern evident in his eyes.

"Gabranth? ... Basch, can you hear me in there?"

At first, Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca had been greatly amused by the love letter that Judge Magister Gabranth – Basch – had traveled from the Capital City of Archades to deliver to her hands. Among the decidedly feminine handwriting and the odd hint of lavender that had wafted into her face upon opening the envelope, there were some exceedingly odd word choices and archaic metaphors that immediately identified the young Larsa, Emperor of the Archadian Empire as the letter's author. As Ashe's gaze roamed further down the parchment, however, her amusement turned to confusion before finally boiling over to shock.

"The skies are empty without your..." The young queen turned a brilliant shade of magenta as she silently mouthed the word, "breasts". The only other person in the sun-filled study was Gabranth, whom Ashe had ordered to stand just inside the door to ensure that it remained shut. The Judge Magister had nodded stiffly before silently taking up his designated post. Ashe mouthed the word in disbelief before looking up at Basch.

"Captain."

The same visibly winced at the chill in her voice.

"Yes... highness? What would you have of me?"

"I want you to read this," she fumed, "and tell me what it says. Now."

Basch nervously crossed the room and took the letter from Ashe's outstretched hand. He cleared his throat in what he hoped was a pleasantly surprised sort of way and read out, "How empty my heart has been. Your absence-"

"No, Gabranth..." interrupted Ashe. "The next line. The one about the sky."

"Ah," said Basch feigning innocence. "Of Course. Forgive me, highness." He cleared his throat again. "The skies are empty without your-" he paused for a moment- "... breasts. They are like petals of the-"

"That's enough, Gabranth," said Ashe, talking over him. "Thank you."

There was a horrible, horrible silence.

"It would seem," Ashe finally said, "that our young emperor has lost his sense of civility." Petite or no, Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca could still strike fear into the hearts of men with nary a glance... and Basch von Rosenberg, she was pleased to see, was very much afraid. He turned his head ever so slightly toward the door as if he were prepared to spring through it the moment she gave the slightest hint of turning violent.

"Aye..." Basch managed. "It appears so. Where does... Where does her highness think he might have learned such... vulgarity?"

Ashe stared at his faceplate for a moment longer before plucking the letter from his hand and turning back to the window. "Oh, how would I know?" she sighed. "Young Larsa's consorts are none of my concern." She half turned and cast Basch a glare of utmost disappointment. "I was under the impression that, as a Judge Magister, as well as his personal bodyguard, it falls to you to protect him at all times." She completed the turn and folded her arms underneath her breasts. "It is also your duty to protect him from more than physical harm." She waved the letter in front of Basch's face. "Lest this sort of thing happen."

Seemingly at a loss for words, Basch nodded and made a vague bowing gesture. "Of course, highness. I'll see to it that this situation is... sorted out. In the meantime, do you have a reply for his grace?"

Ashe frowned. Oh, now this was difficult. What did one tell a boy-king who, though having shown no previous signs of romantic interest in anyone, was suddenly compelled to write love letters to the queen of a rival country? 'Sorry kid, but you're just way too young?' No... She didn't want to start a war. Ashe suddenly found herself in a situation with which she had little experience.

Unless...

"Gabranth... I must confess, I am not well-versed in these matters. My suitors have been few enough. Rassler... that was... he was different."

Ashe donned her best scowl and crooked a finger at Basch.

"Yes, I believe that I will write a letter to our young emperor," she said sweetly. "...and I know just who is going to advise me in regard to its contents. Best pull up a chair."