Final Fantasy 12
TRUE FEELINGS
INHALE
She had asked him.
"Find my sons, bring them back to me."
Seeing her again, after all these years was another scar to bare on his already decorated body, but it cut deeper than the others and the pain was always there. It seemed more intense to see her so despaired and more than anything he would help to alleviate it. He would do anything for her, nothing would be impossible, he would bring her happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own.
Landis: Year: 685.
The blood spilling from his mouth only added a bitter taste to the hatred he was feeling now. His head was spinning from the punch, but he could clearly see him standing above with a furied look upon his face. Basch spat the blood along with his utter distaste for his brother.
"You would go to them?" he sneered. "You know as well as I that they were the ones who have taken our home from us! They've killed people we know and love and you would become one of them?"
He got no reply. His brother only held out his hand to help him to his feet but Basch growled and got up on his own accord. The twins had once been close friends, but Noah's decision had broken the bond that had lasted for fifteen years. Basch felt more alone now, wrenched with hurt and stricken with grief, he couldn't understand why his brother wanted to do this. Past sibling fights, Basch had been more than content to walk away, but not now. This time he had to know why.
"Answer me, Noah!" he said sternly. "Why go to Archadia?"
"Where else is there?" his twin replied. "Rozzaria? They are much to blame as well! This is war we're talking about! War where people like us are always the ones who suffer! I am going to Archadia!"
"You haven't answered my question!" Basch wiped the blood from his face with his arm and clenched his fists in anticipation of another brawl. "You are still going to the Imperials, knowing that their stupid war caused us to lose everything?"
"What would you have me do? Go to Bhujerba…work in the mines? Or shall I become a store owner, peddling my wares? I want to make a difference in Ivalice! I won't become some forgotten nobody! I will be known!"
"Be known?!!" Basch shook his head in disbelief. "For what? Betraying your people? Their memories? Betraying our parents?!"
"BETRAY?!" Noah's voice boomed with fury. "NO! Never! I'm doing this for mum and dad! For everyone who died! I will make a change! I will make this world remember Landis and what they have caused!"
The anger quickly faded from Noah's furied face and once more he held out his hand towards his brother.
"Basch…come with me. Help me make a difference, help me show the truth of this war!"
"No. I will not."
"Where will you go?"
That question was one Basch asked himself so many times. As the two of them stood over looking the ruins of their homeland, the imperial soldiers bustling through the streets and the sky ships soaring over head, Basch couldn't find an answer. He had no purpose now, his parents were dead…some of his friends and neighbours…everyone he knew had lost in this ridiculous war. Where would he go?
"I will find my own path." he muttered, not convinced at all by his own words.
"You would throw all this away? You would just walk away from Landis and think this all but a bad dream?" said Noah. "Come with me! We could become great…we can strive to end all this bloodshed."
"Yet you were happy to shed mine." Basch wiped his mouth once more and held out his bloodied hand. Noah sighed and turned to walk away. "You think that by joining them, you would stop all this death?"
"They asked for me. For both of us. I would not stand around and leave Landis to rot. I will not abandon my home."
"Abandon it? You betray it by siding with the Empire. There is no changing them, they will turn you into another imperial thug! You are a fool, Noah."
"I am a fool?"
Noah walked near to the edge of the cliff, he peered down with a look of ambiguous hate, sadness and longing. Their home had been a glorious and beautiful place, the cities and towns prospered, it had been a land of such serenity and peace. People from Nabradia and Dalmasca journeyed here to see the sights, but that would be no more. Even the grounds were scorched, black and filled with smoke, where there had once been endless fields of beautiful white and pale orange blossoms.
"Then I am a fool." he muttered. "For I will see to it that Landis is restored. Basch, if you do not come with me, I know you are a fool just as much as I. If you won't, I will just have to accept that you have made your own decision. But know this, whatever you do, don't forsake this place. Don't throw Landis away by shying back. This is good bye."
Basch couldn't say goodbye. He couldn't bring himself to say anything to his twin. He watched as Noah walked away down the long steep sloping path of the cliff and towards the people who had shattered their lives. The Imperials of Archadia had taken everything away from them and Basch swore he would never join them. He would fight them off with his last breath.
Bhujerba: Year 686
The squad welcomed a rest. The small bar in Bhujerba, the Cloudsea, was open and after long days of training, the young men needed a drink. Their Captain didn't mind either, for he looked just as parched as they were. The tavern was quite full, but the crowd of Bhujerbans parted for the Dalmascan soldiers allowing them access to the bar. They were greeted by friendly hand shakes and pats on their backs, a Bangaa even offered to buy the young trainees drinks, an offer they couldn't refuse.
The Dalmascan soldiers were always revered and although these young eighteen year olds were being trained for horrible battle, they were honoured for their duty and bravery. The soldiers mixed jovially with the other clientele of the Cloudsea, under the ever watchful eye of their Captain.
But Captain Jarve of the Dalmascan Order had also noticed someone else.
One young patron was left alone in the far corner of the room, everyone else giving him a wide berth. He looked an absolute mess, wearing tatty and blood stained clothes with plated armour sheathed over his muscled frame. His grubby hands were clutching onto a mug, numerous empty ones surrounded him, but he never lifted the mug to his lips. Instead his head would flop down, long greasy blond hair sagged over the mug and long drawn vile slurps sucked from beneath the tangled locks. The young man was clearly drunk and some who dared to look at him were laughing at his inebriated state.
The Captain watched the man swaying in his chair, mumbling to himself and every so often one of his hands would release the mug and start rubbing at his clothes in a frantic notion to get off the stains.
"He's been in here since this morning." said the large fat Seeq behind the bar. "He's been on the Madra. How he is able to stay up right after drinking that stuff is beyond me."
"Yet you still serve this young man?" asked the Captain in disgust. "He doesn't look over age."
"He's not! But I can't refuse him, if I do, he gets quite irate and…well that's when the sword starts swinging about!" The Seeq quickly served another customer and then pointed a fat finger towards the youth. "I don't know how this all started, but no one can get him out…so we just leave him alone."
"I shall have words." said the Captain. "This youth would drink himself to death if left to his own devices! A troubled man, if there ever was one."
"I don't want trouble, sir."
"You shouldn't have served him."
"I know! But he looked so much older! Please, Captain, leave him be…he'll pass out eventually."
"After FIVE pints of Madra? That boy would be dead if he was truly Hume! I will sort him out."
There was genuine fear on the Seeq's face, but Jarve was not going to allow this to go further. He took a swig from his own drink and went to rise from his chair. But events played out before he could even get across the room.
The young man had finished his drink and had shoved the mug away with such force that it slipped off the edge of the table. The smash caused the room to fall silent and all eyes were fixed on this man. The Captain saw him lift his head, the dirty hair fell to the sides revealing a broad but very youthful face.
"God, he couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. So young…how was he allowed to get in this state?"
The smashed mug had caught the attention of his squad. A little moogle had nearly been hit by this flying cup and was now spinning in circles squealing in hysterics, until a barmaid picked him up and placed him on the other side of the bar with a free drink.
One of the trainee soldiers that had been with Jarve had also gotten up and he was over at the table before his captain.
"I think you had better go." said the young 18 year old. "You're annoying the customers."
The other patrons of the Cloudsea remained hushed, worried expressions looked to a long sword propped up by the wall, within easy reach for the drunk. They had seen his outbursts before and like the owner, wouldn't dare to interfere. The sixteen year old looked up, six full pints of Bhujerban Madra intoxication swam in his blue hazed eyes and a snarl pursed on his lips. He started to mumble once more under his breath, his hands rubbed against the blood and dirt stains on his clothes and deep breaths heaved from his lungs.
"I said, you have to leave." said the soldier as others from his squad stood behind him. "Or we will move you ourselves."
The sword propped up against the wall was in the teen's hand in a blink of an eye. The table was toppled over and the air was cut with the swinging blade. The Captain watched in amazement as the youth battled against his squad. These Dalmascan soldiers were the elite of the new recruits, but still this drunken man defended them off. Swords clashed, yet the youth kept on his feet and parried well. The rest of the Cloudsea had either stayed at a safe distance to watch the fight or ran out into the streets, but the only injuries sustained were a few knocks and bruises to the soldiers. The teen himself looked very cut up, his shirt was ripped and his plate armour was nearly about to fall off, but eventually the constant fighting tired him down. The sword became limp in his hands and he staggered unevenly.
"I will not be forgotten!" he spat, an unusual deep gruff growling voice. "Landis is not dead!!"
The atmosphere changed in a second. The rest of the squad backed away from the man as he slowly slumped to his knees, his fingers desperately clinging to the sword, tears trickling down his cheeks. The Captain pushed his way through the distraught on lookers and saw the young man finally pass out through his drunken stupor.
"This boy is from Landis?" asked an inquisitive Hume man. "The poor sod."
"I thought they were all killed." said another Bangaa.
"Not all. What good is a country like Landis for the Empire if it's people are all killed. This boy here probably witnessed some horrible things….." The Captain replied. "But his actions here are not to be ignored because he hailed from Landis. Vossler, pick him up and take him to the holding cells. We shall deal with him."
The tall dark haired boy nodded in acknowledgement and with the aid of others, picked up the fallen teen and dragged him out of the tavern. The Captain turned to the Seeq owner, throwing a purse of gil on the bar top.
"That should pay for the damages and disruption." he said. "But in the future I would avoid selling alcohol to children. Or this establishment will be forced to close."
Before the Seeq could protest, the Dalmascan Captain had exited through the door, slamming it harshly behind him.
"Let's see you fight boy. Lets see if there is potential for you."
The hangover had been awful. Basch couldn't remember much from what he had done, but waking up in a Bhujerban cell and looking up into the eyes of a Royal Knight, told him that it had not been good. Captain Jarve had taken him out of the city to one of the grassy parks, the fresh air did little to make Basch feel better, and neither did the sight of Ivalice so far below the floating city. He felt sick, he felt humiliated and tired, but the Captain had insisted he train. Why? Why was he getting this kind of treatment?
The sword held in his hands was different from the ones he had been using as he toured Ivalice. Heavier, but stronger, Basch lifted it with ease and offered up a stance for defence.
The rest of the squad attacked him as before, but there was no holding back this time. Although they weren't going to kill, the older boys had no qualms about inflicting more harsher injuries. Neither was Basch.
The hungover state he was in, didn't help him to prevent cuts and scratches. His whole body was aching from a night on the cold cell floor, but the weapon in his hands still swung and danced in the air as if it was a part of him. It was all one act, the sword flew around at the soldiers, the momentum and grace so easy that eventually Basch needed only to hold the heavy weapon in one hand. Thrusts and parries, blocks and swipes, punches, head butts and kicks, everything was a blur. But in the end it had been one of the young soldiers who had caught him squarely on the back with a mighty crack of the hilt of his sword that sent him crashing to his knees once more.
Lightening pain screamed through Bash's head and body as he went down with an almighty thud. His stomach groaned and churned and before he knew it, vomit was spewing from his mouth.
"Aww that's disgusting!!" moaned a solider who had nearly caught the brunt of the spray.
"Captain! Why are we even doing this with him?!! This is some common drunk who started a bar fight! He is not one of us! I cannot believe that you would think a person like this BUM would be worthy of becoming a soldier in the Dalmascan army!"
"Silence your opinions, Vossler!"
Vossler's angry words trailed away after receiving such a rebuke from his Captain. Jarve waved his hands for the soldiers to back away and he approached the groaning boy on the floor. He knelt down, his old face creased up with disgust at the smell of sweat, blood and vomit.
"You are pathetic, boy." he said. Basch moaned. "This is no way for a son of Landis to behave. You have suffered greatly…I empathise from the loss of your homeland…but this is a sorry sight before me. What have you done with your life this past year to drag you down to this level?"
"I have no goal." groaned Basch getting to his hands and knees. His stomach lurched again, but the sickness did not erupt from his lips. "My life ended with the occupation of Landis, the loss of my parents…"
"Many have lost their lives, boy. This on going war always spills into other countries and you think you're the only one to have suffered? You have skills…I've seen the way you fight. Those scars on your body…" Jarve pointed to the large scratches, bites and burns on his torso. "You've battled fiends. Burns from the Cerberus? Yensa claw scratches….and if I'm not mistaken bites from the Seekers in the mines. Yet you still live after fighting them? You have a death wish that is not being granted."
"I'm already dead." Basch slumped onto his bottom and ran dirty hands through his sweat drenched hair. "I've gone throughout Ivalice doing what I can…to make me feel something other than the nothingness I've become. But no amount of fiends could give me what I wanted."
"You took risks and drowned in drink. You are a fool."
The same words he had uttered to his brother, yet Noah had been right and Basch hated himself for realising it. He had gone from Landis, alone and still mourning for his family, only to take up arms and slaughter fiends in the deserts and plains. He had done nothing for Landis, he was a failure and a disgrace. Basch decided then and there to wait to be taken back to the cells, to live out the rest of his life in dirt and obscurity. He was expecting severe scolding from this Knight, punishment to go along with the sick and gut wrenching agony he was feeling now, but he was more than surprised when a soft smile spread across Jarve's lips.
"What is your name, son?" asked the man, gently resting a hand on Basch's shoulder.
"Basch. Fon Ronsenberg."
"Well, Basch Fon Ronsenberg of Landis…I suggest you go have a shower and sober up. We leave for Rabanastre this afternoon."
"What?" Basch looked up at the older man, stunned. Jarve helped him to his still shaking feet.
"I am giving your life back, boy. A sense of purpose, one I think you should have realised a year ago. This war between Archadia and Rozzaria is ever on going….it's brutal battles have strayed into our lands too many times. We need men to help defend the King, the people and this very land. You can learn just at these young men have, the ways of honour…loyalty and duty! Serve this country now , Basch Fon Ronsenberg…put your skills to use and help save us from more tragic and pointless deaths."
"Become a soldier? To kill others? Humes? I don't think I could! I'll take my chances with the fiends."
"Then you will die with no honour and your life would have been meaningless. There is more to being a Dalmascan soldier…it will give you the purpose and goal you are looking for."
Basch nodded, regretting it almost immediately as the dehydration caused by the Madra made his brain throb even more. At this moment in time, it was either become a soldier or find himself back in the cell. He saw the disgusted look on the faces of Vossler and the other men…they did not think he should be given this chance. Deep down, something stirred inside Basch Fon Ronsenberg, something that he hadn't felt for a long time. Hope.
Rabanastre: Year 686
He had never been to Rabanastre. The royal city was too large and full of too many people. But upon entering through the south gates and seeing the tall majestic towers of the palace, Basch had felt an immediate change. The small glimmer of hope grew and the thoughts of becoming a soldier or even a Knight like Jarve, inspired him. This was what he should have done, what both he and Noah should have sought out. To fully pledge allegiance to the King and keep out the Imperials….that would be worthy of remembrance, for his parents and the people in Landis.
He had been given new clothes and after his shower in Bhujerba, Basch felt so much better. His long blonde hair was cut to a more reasonable length to just above his shoulders and he was even given back his old sword. This was going to be a new start, but it wouldn't be easy.
"You've got a lot to live up to, Ronsenberg." hissed Vossler as the squad walked through the streets towards the palace. He smiled falsely, appreciating the waves from the on lookers. "Your training is going to be brutal."
"I will endure it." said Basch, who was wondering why a group of young Hume girls were looking at him and giggling. "I've been through a lot worse."
"I have no doubt." Vossler scoffed. "But…know this…don't take it lightly. To serve the King of Dalmasca is a high honour…if Captain Jarve insists on having you train with us, I will not tolerate any disrespect. Just watch your back."
Basch heeded those words, but the entrance to the palace grounds captivated his attention. The gardens were huge and filled with lush plant life from all over Dalmasca, courtyards were a bustle with servants and soldiers going about their duties and somewhere within the great palace walls, music could be heard. It was like a lulling dream, calling for him, pulling him into this new world, it lifted his once hell trodden spirits.
Jarve took the young men round the back, to where the biggest courtyard of all was filled with soldiers training. Weapons were being made, swords, bows and shields, armour was handed out to other new recruits and this was all being done in the sight of the on lookers up in the balconies. They were the higher ranked officers, the members of the Order who protected the king and his family. Just like Jarve, they were striking and magnificent in their more elaborate and shining armour, Basch knew straight away that one day he would be up there. He was more determined than ever in his whole life.
He was momentarily startled when Jarve stopped. He turned round and addressed Vossler and the others.
"Carry on as you would. The royal princes will be down shortly to join you to begin their own training."
"Yes, Captain." Vossler replied smiling graciously.
"Put Basch through his paces for a while. Test him out once more. I need to seek an audience with the king."
"Of course…" Vossler grinned. "Captain."
And the dark haired man took his sword from his sheath and beckoned Basch to the main sparing court. Upon seeing Vossler and a new recruit, all the others scurried to the side and became a dreaded audience for this fight. Basch took his own sword from his side and glanced quickly up at the Knights on the balcony. They were more than amused by this sight, some of them were laughing and it was clear to Basch, they were laughing at him. All they saw was some lowly common boy, but he would show them all.
"Let's do this." said Vossler.
"Of course." Basch bowed, an action that seemed to amuse everyone watching. He held up his sword and already it was a blur as it spun in his hands. The very air was slicing with the dancing blade, as the sword arched in great circles round Basch's body. He was ready.
Vossler attacked, his sword slashing out at Basch's chest, but Basch leaned back, the tip missing his chest by mere inches. His sword swung back, but Vossler had ducked. The sword had already swapped into Basch's other hand and his next strike swathed towards Vossler in his crouching position. Metal struck metal and the two youths were caught in a struggle that none of them seemed to be able to break. So, Basch allowed himself to fall back, dropping to the ground in a roll and flipping Vossler straight over his head. The older man landed with a crunch, but neither the hurt to his bones or his winded lungs, kept Vossler down.
Both were on their feet, the fight continued like a dance, dodging and jumping with spins and jumps. Basch and Vossler could have been acrobats, if the punches and jabs to each others bodies and nicks from sword tips didn't draw blood. The other soldiers were all cheering, for whom, neither of the youths could tell, for all their focus was to be better than the other.
Time went on and still neither one of them would relent, they weren't showing signs of tiring, though Basch was feeling it on the inside. He wasn't at his peak thanks to the Madra and that allowed him to smile. He could take Vossler. He could win, if he hadn't had this splitting headache. The smile on his face only infuriated Vossler further. The dark haired youth lunged, but before Basch could even respond, a voice spoke out from above.
"I think that will be enough."
Basch was distracted and Vossler's momentum still carried him forward and both men were sent to the ground once more. There was huge applause, but Basch only found the world spinning around him.
"This isn't finished!" hissed Vossler as the two of them tried to detangle themselves from each other.
"Fine…" Basch groaned. "Whatever you say….."
"Are you mocking me?"
"Not at all….I…"
The two of them slowly got to their feet, realising there had been a very hushed silence over the courtyard.
Not even the music that had been lulling through the palace was playing now. There were the sounds of footfalls approaching and when Basch and Vossler turned, they both dropped once again to their knees.
"I am impressed." said Raminas holding his hand out to pick up Basch's fallen sword. "Very impressed. This is a good sword too…balanced well and still sharp despite it's age. It would be in better condition if it had been looked after. Captain Jarve…."
"Your majesty?" Jarve stood next to the King, the both of them trying hard not to smile at the two cowering youths before them.
"I've seen your training methods…young Azelas here is credit to you."
"As were his brothers before him."
"He has not yet seen battle?"
"No, sire."
The King's smile vanished.
"It is a shame for any of the young men to go. Life is too precious to be wasted at such an age. Or any age."
"But they pledge allegiance to you and Dalmasca, sire."
"Allegiance. They say an oath and I send them into battle. It doesn't sound fair."
"War never is, your highness. They fight for the freedom of the people in Dalmasca, we all do. We have taken the oath and honour it."
"But this young one hasn't." The King pointed to Basch, who was trying hard to keep from toppling over. He was feeling the brunt of his drinking binge and the fights, his knee was twinging and he wanted to get back up. "He is the young boy you picked up from Bhujerba? The man from Landis?"
Jarve nodded.
The king approached Basch and looked down at him, but a warm and friendly smile drifted across the old man's lips. He was more than amused by the cowering boy, who refused to look up, grovelling on his knees. All this was not necessary, in fact, Raminas wished no one had to do it or at least not to such an extent that bordered on verge of fearing of him. Though Basch had astounded the King with his sword skills, it was not Raminas who wanted to speak to him.
"If you carry on with talents like that, young one….you will go far. I see a bright future for you."
Basch muttered a mumbled thanks under his breath, still unable to look up and gaze the King in the eye. He was more than surprised he had voiced his words at all.
"Already such humble and faithful devotion…a Knight in the making, perhaps? We shall see. Azelas also…gentlemen….keep up the good work…be strong, for all of us."
The King paused for a moment, waiting to see if these two sparing soldiers would ever look up to face him, but after a few minutes of silence, it was quite evident that they couldn't, so with a chuckle and a beaming smile, Raminas turned away and walked over to a group of youthful boys, who were no doubt his sons.
It was Jarve who gained the two youth's attention, the elderly knight beckoned them to rise and then took them away from the centre courtyard. He lead them to a sheltered corridor, the walls of which were overgrown with sweet scenting white flowers that Basch knew only too well. The heavy aroma was thick with the sweet smell of jasmine, and every breath he took, reminded Basch too much of his old home.
"Knights in the making indeed." Jarve said, looking at the two of them with concern. "That may be. I don't doubt you both have the talent and vitality for the Order, but you have a long way to go. I have just received news about the war and actions must be taken to intensify your training. We shall begin in an hours time…are you both ready?"
"Aye." Vossler replied. "I am ready."
"And you Basch?"
The new path of life offered to Basch was opening up, more by the second. For the past year he had been downtrodden with no goal and no reason to want to serve anything, but it was always the hope, that kept him from walking away. If he was to take the Dalmascan oath now, there would be no backing out. This would be his life now and Basch was afraid. Was he really doing the right thing? Would this whole immense pressure have been any less, if Noah had been here? His eyes wondered to the flowers, the walls and ceilings covered in a sea of white petals, and he allowed his mind to wander.
He remembered the battles with fiends that had already scarred him, so close had he come to death and Basch had wanted to let it embrace him. He had wanted to die and join his parents and friends, he had wanted only this.
Was he ready? Basch wasn't sure. Conflicting feelings tore at his insides, but still the sight of the flowers and their sweet aroma eased the memories of the past. It aided his nagging conscious, if only little. He would be a solider and he would have to take the lives of other Humes and that was what doubt was ripping apart.
"I…."
He didn't have time to finish his sentence, for a young woman, around the same age as Basch and dressed in a gown of white approached the three men. Her hair was a deep raven black and she walked with a grace of a lady. She stopped just before Jarve and bowed, almost as if she thought he had been the King himself.
"Captain…forgive my interruption." she said.
"There is nothing to forgive, Arla." Jarve replied. "Speak."
"Her Majesty, the Lady Amalia wishes the Fon Ronsenberg boy to be in audience with her. Now."
"What?! Me?" Basch almost choked. "Why?"
The lady called Arla looked at him and frowned. This woman was not used to being questioned about such summons.
"I would have thought that obvious." she said. "Follow me."
Obvious? Basch looked to his captain who just beckoned for him to follow. Vossler seemed even more annoyed with this new recruit, for already winning such high favour with the King and now the Lady Amalia. So, without saying another word, the young soldier followed the woman, his head reeling with the effects of his hangover and fights and now, with endless questions as to why the Queen of Dalmasca would want to see him.
He couldn't remember the route they had walked to get to the throne room. Except that all he did recall was that the palace felt more like home, for in every room was displayed at least one of the flowers that had once grown so plentiful in Landis.
People are born. People die. It is just the way of things. But one special birth would change the future for Dalmasca in a way none thought possible.
The passing year had been nothing but constant skirmishes to defend Dalmasca's borders, Basch himself had proved his worth as a fighter, though the sleepless nights and deaths of so many he had trained with, made his spirit wane. Yet still he fought, he forced himself to do what he had been unable for Landis, pushing himself beyond what anyone had termed the call of duty.
They made him come back to Rabanastre, Vossler had to drag him back for rest. Yet he found none. Until once again, he had been called into the palace by Raminas.
Then he met her and finally his true purpose and reason for fighting became clear.
Rabanastre: Year 692
She didn't seem like a girl grieving. She had stood at the coffin with no real emotion at all on her face, but her hands would every so often reach for the flowers covering the alter. Her tiny little fingers would pluck one of the white petals, crush it daintily between the tips and she would breathe deeply in the smell. The girl hadn't left here for hours, she was silent and tearless, only occasionally turning round to gaze up at the one person who hadn't left her side since he had come back from fighting.
"These were her favourite." she said, holding out the flower to Basch. "Home always smells like this…of her…so we have to keep plenty stocked."
"As you wish." Basch replied, taking the petal awkwardly in a large metal gloved hand.
"You know what they are called?" she asked, thinking that he couldn't possibly know.
"Indeed, princess." Basch approached the coffin and gently laid the plucked flower back in amongst the others. "How could I not know what these are called? When they came from my home…from Landis."
"Like mother?" The princess allowed a weak but comforted smile upon her lips as she accepted this soldier's answer. "Is that why she and my father made you one of my protectors?"
"It is one reason, Highness."
"Then it is good enough reason for me. I will allow it."
"Thank you….Highness."
Though the little girl hadn't any choice in the matter. Her father had years ago already made that decision. When Basch wasn't out on the borders with the other soldiers, he had been, as a newly ordained Knight would, protecting the family. What was left of it now.
The Royal B'nargin family had been a large one, a family that Basch liked to consider his own, but too much tragedy had been bestowed upon them. Eight sons, some of whom Basch had grown up with, were killed. By Archadian forces, fiends…such devastating fates had been given to those boys. Now the Queen herself, Amalia of Landis and Dalmasca, had died from ill health.
Her grief had been immense having lost all her sons, Raminas had tried to comfort and support her but Amalia's constant depression proved an ill toll on her body.
Now an elderly King was left with a daughter that he could hardly keep up with. He too had grown frail with remorse, but Raminas was determined to stay strong for his last remaining child, he was not going to leave her alone in this world. But there were times when he would falter and he relied on the Knights to ensure her safety. The young princess was surrounded by guards and always members of the Order, with whom the King trusted. Especially one.
"I like you Basch." the princess said in a matter of fact way. "You are much nicer than the others. Especially Vossler. He shouts and snaps too much. He is very rude."
Basch resisted the urge to grin. Vossler Azelas was more of a gentleman than Basch was, it was just that this little girl always new how to wind him up and to push his "buttons" as it were.
"You tease him too much. He is only trying to keep you safe."
"I tease you, but you don't shout at me."
"There is no need to."
The princess smiled, a small yet proud smirk.
"There is no need to YET." he said. "Everyone has their limits. Even me."
"Even you, Basch?" The girl spun round, forgetting she was still standing at the side of her mother's coffin. She looked up at Basch with wonderment. "I don't believe it! You are like the beings in the old Dynast-King stories! The Espers! Un-defeatable, strong and powerful! I've seen you train! You are invincible!"
"No. I'm not. I'm just lucky." Too lucky he thought, as he had still lived through so many battles. "I think it is time we left this place."
The princess closed her mouth. Her jaw clenched with a sudden fierce determination and her hands closed into fists. It was now, that the twenty two year old, could see tears forming in the little girl's eyes. He had said the wrong thing to her. She was grieving more than she ever let on.
"If I want to stay?" she snapped back, her bottom lip now sticking out in anger. Basch sighed.
"You may remain." he said bowing his head in respect.
"And you?"
"I will stay as long as I can."
Which wouldn't be long. His whole body was still aching from defending Nabudis, a long gash on his side was causing him more discomfort than he could endure. He was worn and tired and he longed to just lye down and rest, but he didn't want to leave the girl on her own.
"I wish for you to remain all the time." The princess said more sternly. "For if you leave, I will be left with Arla who will keep nagging me! Or there will be some guard whose face I never see because it is hidden beneath a helmet!"
Stay, Basch thought. She may still need you, for despite her strong demeanour, the young royal cannot be alone in her anguish. Stay.
Basch went to bend down to her level but he only succeeded in staggering. His stitches in his side ripped and he felt the blood begin to seep through the bandages. A cold sweat dowsed him and he knew that he could not leave his wound to be so open.
"I can return." he grunted through the pain. "I need to change my bandages and treat my wounds…..but I will come back."
"No you won't!" the girl screamed suddenly. "No one ever comes back! You all leave me eventually! You go and NEVER come back!"
"That is NOT TRUE!" His booming voice shook the princess to her very core. Never had he shouted at her, she never thought he could. But the watery eyed gaze and quivering, trembling lips showed that Basch had more than upset her.
"Forgive me…." Basch said softly. The pain from his war injuries increased and his head began to spin. He didn't want to frighten the child, so he grabbed another one of the flowers and placed it in her hand. "I didn't mean to shout or upset you. I will come back…I won't abandon you, princess, but I have been fighting at the boarders of Dalmasca and received many scars. Some wounds have still not healed and they need tending to, or they could go bad."
She was still crying, but once again, those strong barriers came back up and prevented her from releasing everything inside. The princess wiped her face with her dress sleeve and breathed deeply. Basch was worried that she wouldn't let herself release her sorrows.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you too. It was not proper."
The Princess took the flower. She then kept staring at Basch's armour, her head turning round and inspecting and searching for something. A look of genuine concern and worry came across her face. "Are you okay? You have wounds? Scars? Can I see them?"
"No." he replied. "That would definitely not be proper. If I can go, I promise, I will come back. If you don't want to be alone I can fetch Arla."
The princess shrugged her shoulders.
"She doesn't like you much…does she?" she said.
"Never has. But, princess….are you….all right? I could fetch Vossler or one of the other Knights with whom you are familiar with."
"Just go. But I want you to come back though…you promised."
"I will do so, princess."
The girl seemed pleased with that and slowly sat down on the floor, facing the alter and coffin.
She was too strong, thought Basch as he headed for the door. If she didn't release her emotions soon, it would eat her up and she could end up like him.
She was all alone. If he could even make it to the door, he would have the other guards keep watch over her. His face was so cold and clammy, the amour was an added weight to the pain he was baring, Basch didn't know if he would make it to the medics at all.
He slowly walked up the long aisle of the church and to the huge ornate doors beneath the stained glass windows. They seemed too far, but he reached them and pushed the doors open. Moonlight shone into the church, painting the stone walls and floors in a silver radiance, but still Basch could not leave. He had one more thing left to say.
"Princess? Asheila."
The little girl turned round and saw Basch standing in the door way.
"Yes?"
"The flowers. You asked if I knew what they are called. They are Landis Asheilas and you were given their name."
Before she could even reply her thanks, he pushed his way through the doors and out into the corridor. Three guards were already posted around the entrance and upon seeing the youngest Knight in the Order stagger through, they snapped to attention.
"Keep watch over her." he growled, as he felt his blood trickling down his side and leg. He wanted to say so much more, but he could no longer bare the pain and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Rabanastre: Year 707
No one had expected this. The doors flew open and crashed with such force, they nearly came off their hinges. Vaan jumped back out of shock and seeing the enclaved Judge storming towards the nobles and servants, didn't do anything to calm his fear down. The black armoured man with the horned helm was like a demon baring down his anger on all in the room, even towards his "friends."
"WHERE IS SHE?!" came a booming yet muffled voice from beneath the helmet. The question was directed at the Queen's suitor, Danver, who was surrounded by his so called "advisors". The group of young twenty one year old men, never thought a Judge Magister of Archades could speak to them like this. Danver stepped forward, afraid and worried, barely able to speak his words.
"She is gone." he stammered. The Judge towered above him, threatening and full of menace.
"GONE?! The guards are supposed to be her protectors!!!! How could no one know where she is?!"
"Steady…."
The Judge spun round, an eyeless gaze bore on the pirate, a man who had fought so often at his side. From beneath concealed metal, there came a growl that made Balthier back off just a little. The sky pirate seemed a little annoyed that he was being treated like this, but he just shrugged his shoulders and kept away. Yet, Vaan thought he should have known better.
"It's been four months since her coronation and NOW you've have LOST her?" bellowed the deep gruff voice. "This is unacceptable! What progress have your search parties uncovered?"
There was a silence. No one dared to speak. The lack of progress at finding her was all too obvious to everyone and if they told this furied man, a worse anger would pummel them all. Vaan wished he could do something to ease the situation, but he knew this "Judge" all too well.
"We have found nothing, Magister." said one of the other guards. "She just simply vanished."
"Has she now?" The Judge sighed and turned away towards the window. Off in the distance lay the Giza plains, shrouded in black clouds and thundering storms. Would she be out there?
The man stood for a while glaring out to the far off land, no one was even daring to interrupt his thoughts, but they were thankful that he was no longer shouting. One man was the exception and he had something to say.
"You're thinking about going out there, yourself." said Balthier scratching thoughtfully at his goatee. "A mite bit predictable for you, but do you really think its wise? She could be anywhere by now. Besides, the search parties have already been dispatched…"
"She had reasons to leave." the Judge replied, his voice now reverting to a softer and more thoughtful tone. "What…I don't know. But I will find her!"
He spun round and addressed Danver.
"You will come with me!" he said.
"Me?" asked the youth, who was a fine example of a rich noble but with a more intellectual look rather than those of a fighter. "Magister….I'm not…."
"Don't argue with him!" Vaan said gently. "You want Ashe back as soon as possible, right?"
"The Queen….yes…I want her back." The man sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his brown hair. "Ever since I met her…I've loved her….but I'm not a fighter! I'm just a son of an Bhujerban lord who's known nothing about sword play! If you're expecting to go through the Giza plains through the rain season….."
"Someone get this man a sword and some armour!!" yelled The Judge. "We are leaving now!"
"But I don't know how to….!"
"You want Queen Asheila back?" asked The Judge standing before the twenty one year old. The smaller man nodded. "Then come with me…."
"Hey!" Vaan cried out. "What about the Emperor?! Aren't you supposed to stay here with him, protect him? What about your oath?!"
That stopped the Judge Magister in his tracks. His head bowed.
"Lord Larsa will grant me this quest." the Judge replied. "But thank you, Vaan for reminding me of my oath. I can only ask you to stay with the Emperor whilst I'm away. He will understand why I must do this and I trust you to keep him safe in my stead."
Before Vaan could even protest, his friend had disappeared. Murmurings and cries of outrage from all around echoed in Vaan's ears. Ashe's disappearance had effected everyone, especially at such a crucial time.
"You had to bring that up, didn't you?" sighed Balthier gently grooming his waistcoat. "As if our friend hasn't had enough to cope with this past year. Though to be honest, he never should have made that promise to that dead brother of his…but duty comes before play as it were. Quite riled up, isn't he?"
"He's like a bomb waiting to explode." Vaan said. "But I suppose I'd better go and find Larsa."
"He's with Fran in the courtyards." Balthier grinned, albeit a very sly one. "Be careful, Fran isn't feeling too much better either. Foul mood, even for a Viera. Take care of her for me."
"Why?! Aren't you coming?"
"Me?" Balthier laughed and whacked Vaan heavily on the back. "ME?! Baby sit and coddle the Emperor of Archades whilst "Gabranth" goes on a quest for lost Queens? I don't think so! Besides, I want to see if he really does end up throttling that youthful little scrote! It'll be a laugh. But before I go, do two things for me?"
"What?" moaned Vaan, who was more than upset that he couldn't come along. He wanted to find Ashe as much as anyone…well not quite everyone.
"One: Fran is not feeling too great. Keep asking how she is…pet and pamper her. She may tell you to go away, but keep at it. Okay?"
"Won't that anger her?" asked Vaan. Balthier shrugged his shoulders, pretending as if he didn't know. "And two?"
"Oh. What do you think of the beard? Rather dashing…is it not?"
"It's cool, Balthier." Vaan thought it was good change, but he didn't think it was a great time to be asking how wonderful his facial hair was, especially with Ashe missing. "It's cool."
"Excellent! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better catch up with Judge Temper Tantrum!"
The Sky Pirate strolled away in a casual manner, laughing, but Vaan couldn't help but worry. Why had Ashe disappeared? The thought of kidnapping had occurred to him, as the Queen of Dalmasca wouldn't leave at such an important time on her own accord. But then he thought of Penelo and what she had told him.
"She's been so sad. So drawn away. Vaan…I'm worried about her. I'm worried that she doesn't want this marriage to go forward. She won't do anything…rash, will she?"
Ashe B'nargin Dalmasca might do something just like it.