Author Note:

First, I want to thank the game developers of Final Fantasy XII for the good game and my inspiration for this story. As any other fan fictions, many characters and settings in this are taken from the game, but a few are somewhat the work of my invention, so I hope to retain proper rights on them. Also I want to thank my sister for proofreading and addition to my work; I knew it was not an easy job.

Next, this is what I think could explain some flaws in the story of Final Fantasy XII and what I believe would happen after the story ended. But, nothing is impeccable, so if I have some detects of my own, feel free to show me, and I'd love to hear other's opinion and ideas as well.

One more thing I don't know if I should put it here, it's about Japanese honorific, namely suffix -san and -sama. For example, Larsa addressed both Penelo and Ashe with suffix -san, but it's lost in the English translation, but I'll keep it and some other cases also. In case you don't know what they mean, just search 'Japanese honorifics'.

Last but not least, enjoy my writing and thank you for reading it :)

EPISTLES

– A Final Fantasy XII Fanfiction –

Over the course of history, Ivalice has always been in a great struggle of dominions between great empires and kingdoms. In my time, it was Rozarria in the west, and Archadia the east. Circa year 704 the east empire made the first step in her westward march consuming two kingdoms – Nabradia and Dalmasca – in the hellfire of war. However, in year 706 as the fleet of Bahamut, Lord of the Sky, under command of the then Emperor executed the last step in her march; arose the unexpected: her advancement was hindered by Dalmascan insurgents in the Sky Battle above Rabanastre. With her commander died with honor in battle, Archadia soon fell into a cease-fire with Dalmasca – the proof of an undeniable defeat, yet also the dawn of a new era.

Three years after the Battle, a going from the tall tower I made in pursuit of an answer. What was the very cause of his doing? A desire for power or a devotion to a united Ivalice? A deed of vengeance or an act of love? The further it discloses the more puzzled I become. Yet it escaped me, the irretrievable time. The whole Ivalice is still slumbering in peace. A peace hanged by a single hair of a chocobo's tail…

First part of the twelfth account in Rareza Memoria
From the Royal Library of House Solidor

Prologue

Month of Gemini, year 709 Old Valendia
Rabanastre – the Royal City of Dalmasca

Penelo looked up the Royal Castle. A half of the city was still slumbering in the castle's dear embrace. Its tall towers pierced through rosy dawn sky. Only absent gazes of goddess statues answered her look. She turned away to leave then glanced back once more as if someone called out for her, only to see the slight bow of the messenger which caused her to nod awkwardly in return.

As he was straightening his back, the messenger secretly appreciated the maiden standing before him. Her golden hair was tied back in two long plaits. She dressed in dancer attire – pink baggy pants and a fitted top exposing her bare midriff. His gaze absently anchored at her mid-torso for seconds, and disappointedly at a bag of foodstuffs held in front of her chest. The bag concealed upper part of her belly and her belly was so beautiful that it caused him to wonder what sort of affairs she had with the judge for whom he worked as a go-between.

Were Penelo a clairvoyant, she would blush at his thought and embarrassedly clarify their relationship. Actually it was not the judge but his master whose letter she had been longing for. In twist of fate, she was befriended by the fourth son of the late Archadian emperor; and ever since they were corresponding until she had to leave Rabanastre for adventures with Vaan - her childhood friend. And when she returned, the very first thing she did was to write him a letter.

Her pen friend was never a poor correspondent. However, a period of time passed without his reply, and visitation of the castle was her daily chore during that time which was long enough for Penelo to feel troubled. Now with awkwardness of continual bothering added to her anxiety, going back was her best conclusion, but coming back would be for tomorrow.

People poured and filled in the once-empty lanes. A busy day was beginning. This was Rabanastre, the capital, the liveliest and the biggest of Dalmasca. Penelo went strolling along cobbled streets with her head low as if she was trying to tuck it into the bag. The tangy smell of starfruits crept into her nose reminding her of the excitement that she had when she encountered them in Muthru Bazaar, but the next thing came to her mind was how things completely contracted to her expectation.

Penelo-san!

A gentle voice wafted across warm air of the Royal city, yet it was likely just her imagination. That person could not be here, and it should be thus. For how she could bump into him crossing the road like common folks? He was an emperor now...

Penelo sighed and looked up the sky. Blue as ever. Little clouds scattered at the horizon disclosing clear azure sky. A typical beautiful day of Galtean peninsula. The thought that he may be looking at the same sky as she was now made it appeared brighter.

Isn't it wondrous how we're spreading over the land still gazing at the same sky? Whenever I look up at the sky, I feel happy that we are under the same sky.

He once told her so. Penelo beamed at the thought, but her smile did not last long as a pedestrian collided with her. A cry of surprise was her sole reaction before the man walked away. A curse for her carelessness stayed in her mind a little after his shadow had gone. She stooped down to pick all the fruits and breads and Cockatrice meats that scattered by the collision. Walking shoes and boots passed her and her precious starfruits, but against the currency, a pair of leather boots was approaching her. She met a gloved hand while stretching for a starfruit, Penelo turned up but before she could say a grateful word, what she saw caused her unable to utter anything but his name.

"Larsa-sama!" cried she.

He replied with a tender smile and offered a hand to help her stand up. Behind him was his protector. Opposite to his master's small frame, the protector was a big, brawny man. He was holding her breads which gladly were warped in thick paper. Penelo could easily make out the scar across his left brow. The man she once knew as Basch now was an Archadian Judge called Gabranth. He wore close-cropped hair and black judge armor (without his helmet and cape so that he would look less conspicuous).

Penelo was whispering his name in her mind, but she had second thoughts and exchanged it into a common expression of amazement. "What a coincidence!" she uttered as she retrieved her bread from the judge, "what're you two doing here?"

"Could it be fortuitous that you're acquainted with a tavern by the name of The Sandsea?" asked Larsa.

Of course she was. The Sandsea was a popular tavern in Rabanastre, especially with hunters and sky pirates. Moreover, she was going in its direction.

"Excellent," he replied contentedly with her positive answer which met his expectation, and turned to his protector, "I shall proceed hereafter in company with Penelo-san. You may return to the Royal Castle with her lady Ashe."

"For I sue for a cessation of my presence as a third wheel," he added with a playful smile.

"Yes, my lord," Gabranth said, giving a shallow bow. He receded, but turned back, as if he forgot something, and added, "for I, too, sue for a cessation of my presence as a third wheel."

Before Penelo could express her bafflement and Larsa his protest to the remark, the judge had dissolved into the crowd. The young emperor whispered some inaudible words. A warm blush rose to his cheeks which he turned away to hide.

"Let us go," he said and segued into their walking.

Still his flush acted as a rush pushing his fleeting feet striding past Penelo. Until it quite cooled down (and he remembered that he did not know the way to the Sandsea), he reduced his speed to the extent that his position barely changed. She caught up and they started to walk side by side.

Penelo observed him; the first time since their coincidental meet. He had grown—a little taller than her now. He wore the same style as the first time they met—dark tunic over long-sleeved shirt and breeches under thigh-high boots. His signature collar brooch, which was in shape of two serpents coiling, was flapping in soft breeze. She noticed a new black coat perching atop his shoulder. An addition to his maturity.

"So what're you coming Sandsea for?" she asked.

"Oh, I have an appointment there."

Who could it be, she wondered, but decided not to ask. This could be top-secret. It's likely Al-Cid.

"Beautiful day, isn't?" he remarked, stretching his arm to touch the sky. Sunlight played on his silk sleeve and wind flirted with his black shoulder-touching hair.

"I hope that your plan went beautifully as the day," he turned to look her in curiosity.

Penelo wrote him about her plan, not revealing anything special. She wanted it to be a little surprise for him and would be more than happy to show off her accomplishment. Unfortunately, her plan was not even close to a success. She shook her head in reply.

"Then may Sor be with you as he was with me," he bid.

"So you meant you achieved your goal," she uttered out loud, "what was it?"

"I disregard it as a goal, but I'm glad."

He ran his fingers across his chin in contemplation. "My reply letter has not yet to arrive?"

"Not yet, but when you're here, why don't you just tell me?" she suggested; her honey eyes gleamed in eagerness.

"That'd ruin your delight of disclosing my letter, I'm afraid," he resumed his stroll, then with a mysterious smile, he looked at her eyes and added, "you will have to wait and see it for yourself."

It was his catchphrase; Penelo felt a mixed feeling of both love and hate for it. Larsa loved to keep his secret, and he did not mean ill by it. She giggled stealthily.

Time may have changed many things, but in his heart, he's still the same Larsa.

"Since 'tis hours before my appointed time, we could have a drink in the Sandsea where you could relate your adventures in Orladia," he suggested, and obviously, Penelo gladly agreed.

Her braids and his coat sleeves were fluttering in wind together as they were strolling. Wind carried mild fragrance of Galbana lilies; and it smelled clearer than usual and blended with another scent—a warm and woody, or perhaps her mood was just playing with her sense. She just knew that it was pleasant, and it was spring.