711 Old Valendia.
Five years after the fall of the Bahamut.
1. Imagine
Larsa Solidor stood, paralyzed, aboard the Sky Fortress Bahamut.
People were dying just outside the great warship – in the sky above Rabanastre. They were soldiers: husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. No matter what side of the war they stood, most did not fight out of hatred. They fought to defend their countries, as well as the lives of the innocent people in the city below; they did not deserve such violent deaths.
Larsa turned his head, and beside him, his brother Vayne stood tall with confidence, his eyes focused and calculating. Vayne was the epitome of strength – always calm, unwavering, and never losing sight of his goals. Ever talented, Vayne was a military genius who commanded respect with ease. As far as Larsa could remember, he had admired him greatly – as a leader, and a man of House Solidor.
Until today. Despite the Resistance announcing their surrender, Vayne decided to press on with the attack. As airships outside fell and crumbled into nothing, so too did any admiration Larsa had left for his brother.
His heart ached. Another airship fell from the sky. How many more people had to die today? Why must these people suffer while he watched from the safety of the Bahamut?
He had to do something. But he was not the emperor, no – it was Vayne who inherited that title when their dear father had passed. However, he was there with him. He could try to persuade Vayne to stop the senseless killings, to end the war right then and there. So Larsa tried, but his brother would not heed him. Larsa had never felt so powerless, and he hated it. He was always taught that words were powerful, but today, his words were meaningless. As Larsa continued to urge Vayne to stop the war, he both felt and heard his voice fade into nothing. And even though his lips moved and his throat ached from screaming, his voice was completely muted – it was useless.
All he could do now was try to slow his breathing.
The devastating echo of airships shooting, crashing, and crumbling bled through the walls of the Bahamut. Distant screams rang in Larsa's ears even through the warship's paling. And over the sound of it all, Vayne's words rang the loudest.
"Observe well, Larsa," Vayne commanded, and a hidden ferocity began seething through his usual calmness. "Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule, yet lacks the power."
It was a warning, Larsa knew – one that was directed only at him. Should he become Emperor, and should he fail to lead his people…
But he didn't have time to think on that now, as he saw the Princess Ashe of Dalmasca and her party approaching them.
Vayne narrowed his eyes at the princess. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule. Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost!"
Larsa looked up at Vayne, and no longer saw his brother – instead, a malicious gaze pierced through him with eyes that glowed red. And when Vayne spoke to him so coldly, it was as though nothing remained of his humanity. "What of you, my dear little brother? Are you fit to bear the burden of rule? As I weep for Dalmasca and their powerless Queen, should I too, then, weep for Archadia's future?"
This was not right, Larsa thought, as he failed to slow his breath. This was not how it happened. None of this was right – neither his brother's words, nor his inability to do something. In this moment, he was supposed to cast his fear aside and fight his brother. Instead, he was allowing it to fester – and soon it spread from his stomach to his heart, and it consumed him until his entire body trembled.
He turned around and ran.
He ran faster than he ever had before, the world blurring around him into a sea of red light. His breathing became heavier, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ear. There wasn't enough air to breathe, and there wasn't enough distance he could put between himself and the stranger who wore his brother's face.
Larsa woke, gasping. His rapid heart and airless lungs pulled him out of his dream and into reality. He sat up and took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm.
But that was no dream, he thought, as he felt beads of sweat run down the sides of his face and onto his neck. It was a nightmare – the third one this week.
After the red lights of the Bahamut and Vayne's malicious eyes quickly faded from his memory, one thing remained: the echo of his late brother's last words.
"Are you fit to bear the burden of rule?"
When he tried to remember more, the painful pulsing in his head ripped him from his thoughts. Pounding since the day before, his headache was relentless, and it engulfed the entire left hemisphere of his skull with a blanket of knives.
He heard a firm, yet gentle knock on the door, followed by a voice. "Are you awake, my lord?" He recognized Basch's deep timbre filtered through a judge's helmet.
Larsa had asked him long ago to please call him by his name – but unfortunately for him, Basch was a man of formality. With unwavering fealty, Basch had been serving as his Judge Magister for five years now. However, he was more than Larsa's personal guard, and he was more than a commander of the military. Over the years, Basch had become family – the closest Larsa had, as there was no one else in Ivalice who bore the blood of House Solidor.
"Yes," Larsa called, "You may come in."
The door automatically opened with a hiss and Basch entered the room in full armor that clinked with each step he took. He removed his helmet, revealing a warm smile – Basch loved mornings. "Did you sleep well?"
Larsa wanted to say yes. But in truth, he hadn't had a decent night of sleep all week, and his pounding head and empty lungs didn't grant him the strength to tell his usual white lie. He brought his hand to his left temple and attempted to ease his pain with a gentle massage. "I am afraid not," he admitted, his voice hoarse with dehydration.
Basch's smile fell. "I am sorry to hear that." He looked down at a white envelope in his hand. "But perhaps this will lift your spirits." He walked over to Larsa and handed it to him.
Upon taking it, Larsa immediately recognized the Queen of Dalmasca's seal- but once he opened the envelope and pulled out its contents – a single-page letter – he knew it was not from Ashe. He recognized the soft, rounded ink strokes as Penelo's handwriting. And as he looked over his friend's delicate, yet whimsical penmanship, he could almost ignore the pain in his head.
After the war, everyone had parted ways. The year 706 was coming to a close, and Larsa worried he would not see or hear from Penelo ever again, so he sent out a letter in hopes to maintain their friendship. Just when he started to think she wasn't planning on writing back, he received a reply, and they've been writing to each other ever since.
But before he could begin reading the letter, Basch had one more thing to say. "Just a reminder: your meeting with the Senate leaders will begin shortly. I will wait for you outside."
"Thank you, Basch." Larsa was truly grateful for all he did for him – especially now with this pounding head. He gave him a small smile, and as Basch took his leave, Larsa began to read the letter.
...
Dear Larsa,
How are you these days? I overheard Archadian sky pirates from Balfonheim spreading rumors that you're falling ill, but I know it isn't true; you're one of the strongest people I know.
Anyway, today I'm not writing to catch up. Ashe has assigned me to invite you to her twenty-fifth birthday celebration at the end of this week.
I know you're busy, and have been for the past few years (five, right? Or is it six now?), but it would be nice to see you again. My troupe will be performing a new routine in Ashe's honor. It should be our best performance yet!
I hope all is well with you. You're my best friend; please don't forget that. If those rumors are true: please take care of yourself.
Your friend who misses you,
Penelo
...
Larsa's lips curved into a tired, yet sincere smile. Penelo's words warmed his heart – they always did. He hoped he had been able to do the same for her.
Guilt struck him like a blade to the chest – had he really been neglecting his friendship with Penelo?
It had been nearly three years since he last saw her – at Ashe's birthday celebration as well. He had been invited every year, and he attended the first two. But every year after that, he had been far too consumed in his country to leave it. The reconstruction, expansion, and integration of Old Archades was a task far more overwhelming than Larsa could ever have imagined. The bill barely passed into law – a narrow victory with the Senate's final vote at 14 – 11 in favor of the bill. Despite its status as a new district being passed into law, and its new name given, the district of Orbon, there were those who still saw it as Old Archades. To the gentry of Tsenoble, Orbon was a district designated for the poor, and they wanted nothing to do with it.
There was still so much classism, entitlement, stubbornness and materialism, and Larsa was losing his patience for all of it.
Immediately after his inauguration, Larsa had worked tirelessly day and night to bring this new district to the capital – all while helping Ashe with the reconstruction of Dalmasca. And yet for Larsa, it wasn't enough. The Empire's hands were still stained with blood, and there was still so much work to do.
He supposed this was exactly why, after the war, he, Ashe and Al-Cid decided to form the Council of Ivalice: a gathering of leaders and ambassadors that met every year in hopes of promoting and maintaining peace. The meetings served as a time when leaders could learn from each other, but once a year wasn't enough for him – not when he was still so young, and there was still much room for improvement.
A part of him wished he had someone to guide him, as Lord Al-Cid had his own father and brothers in Rozarria. And yet, he wished to forge his own path, as Lady Ashe seemed to be accomplishing so well. As a child, in times of doubt Larsa would turn to his father and brother. As the fourth and fifth Emperors born of House Solidor, Gramis and Vayne had built a great reputation - one that was far too heavy for Larsa to uphold on his own. Were they here, he would seek their council. However, they had left the world long ago; who was he to turn to now?
Larsa took a deep breath and exhaled a heavy sigh that relieved only a small fraction of the figurative weight he felt on his shoulders. He looked over Penelo's words once more, and took them to heart. He gazed out the window to his left and saw a clear blue sky, and it reminded him of Dalmasca.
"Perhaps I overburden myself," faintly, he verbalized thoughts he should have stated long ago. Recently, most of his thinking had been out loud – it was the only way any thought could stand out amongst the hoard of ideas, worries, plans, and regrets that crowded his mind every day. "But there is far too much progress to be made, if I am to build a better world." His words reached no one's ears but his own, and now more than ever before, he wished his friend was here to hear them.
A wave of peace washed over him as he gazed into the soft blue of the summer sky, and it was then he understood how someone could choose to live the life of a sky pirate – sometimes he wished he could just fly away from it all too.
But he couldn't. He had that meeting with the Senate leaders to attend – one that he had been anticipating for months now. He wasn't going to let anything stop him from introducing this next bill – not even this damned, pounding, headache.
The Secondary Senate Chamber was a smaller, quieter version of the primary, and was used only for meetings between the Emperor and the four Senate leaders – including the Chairman. Of all the rooms in the Imperial Palace, Larsa especially liked this one for its exceptionally large windows that extended from floor to ceiling, allowing for natural light. In the mornings, the gentle rays of the sunrise peered in through the windows and softly blanketed the chamber in its warmth, and Larsa likened it to the glow of magicite.
During the days of Lord Gramis's reign, Senate meetings were always shrouded in darkness, held in windowless rooms well-hidden within the underground levels of the Imperial Palace, impossible for any Rozarrian spy to find. However, on the day of Larsa's first meeting with the Senate, the poor, dim light left his mind so clouded and unfocused, he did not hesitate to remove himself from such a grim room, and asked the senators to join him in finding a chamber with proper lighting.
On this particular morning, however, Larsa wished he could reverse time and stop himself from making such a foolish mistake. In front of him, Basch stepped forward to trigger the automatic doors to the Senate Chamber, which opened with a swift hiss. Instead of the inviting glow he was familiar with, today the sun's rays were blades of steel to Larsa's sensitized retinas: a most unfortunate symptom of his headaches. Maintaining a pleasant expression on his face as not to offend the senators, he tried not to squint as he entered the room, instead settling on directing his gaze to the floor.
"Emperor Larsa of House Solidor," Basch's voice boomed through his helmet as he announced his arrival. Unfortunately for Larsa, sound was also amplified by his headaches, and every excruciating syllable of the announcement made his head pound harder.
The Senate leaders each silenced themselves and stood as Larsa entered the chamber, his boot-bound footsteps echoing off the walls as he strode. They did not sit again until Larsa took his seat at the head of the round table.
"Good morning, Senators," Larsa greeted them calmly, masking the discomfort that pulsed in his eyes and head. "Thank you for joining me for today's meeting." As he spoke, Basch made his way around the table and handed to each senator a copy of a new bill. "Tis the first day of the month, and as such I thought it a time appropriate enough to introduce a new beginning for Archadia – one I hope will further our cause for peace. If you would all please turn to page one of the bill, I can begin the introduction."
The senators removed their focus from Larsa and glanced at each other with a mixture of curiosity, caution and anticipation as they flipped over the cover pages of the bill. The sounds of rustling paper faded into silence, and Larsa began. "Fifty-First Imperial Senate – First Session," Larsa took a deep breath, and the pounding of his heart calmed. "I.S. One-Thousand, Three-Hundred and Thirty-Three: For the purpose of abolishing the use of Chops as proof of status, a requirement for entry to the Imperial City of Archades, and all its districts. And also, for the purpose of abolishing the existence of social status, including the titles of ardent and gentry."
It was as if a bomb had been dropped in the Senate Chamber. Eyes widened and brows rose as senators sent messages of concern to each other with nothing more than sharp glances. Larsa could sense the newly created tension in the room, but he wasn't going to allow the senators to object – not yet.
"We, the citizens of Archades, pride ourselves on our knowledge, yet we do not seek it beyond the walls of our own city. Our minds are trapped in our own country and culture, ignorant to the world around us. Allowing free entry into our city will open our minds to new information. This will grant us not only knowledge of facts, but understanding and compassion for those from other nations. These are important factors needed in order to promote and maintain the peace we have worked tirelessly to create between Archadia, and all of Ivalice."
The moment of silence was interrupted by the sound of Chairman Garamondt clearing his throat. Willard Franck Garamondt was an older gentleman of sixty-five, and had been a member of the senate for nearly twenty years. The senate appointed him Chairman after the death of Gregoroth, and he accepted the position with much respect.
"Your Excellency," Garamondt's voice was always coarse due to his frequent coughing. His gray eyes were wide, and his brows, just as gray, rose in alarm. "By introducing this bill, are you admitting that it is your full intention to abolish the Chop System in its entirety?"
Larsa looked Garamondt right in the eyes. "Yes, Chairman. That is my full intention." It was then that Larsa pushed his chair back and stood, tossing protocol out of those extremely bright windows. He began to saunter around the table, arms held behind his back. "In this time of peace, the Chop System has become outdated. Do not mistake me: I do believe it was established with noble intentions. To place importance on the value of knowledge and generosity is noble, however: it has come with a price." Halfway through his circle, he stopped next to a window, the bright light from it compelling him to squint.
He turned, the eyes of the Senate watching him, and he continued his walk. "We have become a society obsessed with gaining power over others, aiding those in need only when there is something to be gained, and that is not true generosity. Instead, it is a means to prove we are superior to those we help. Those with no chops are never granted any favors, and are thus perpetually at a disadvantage. That does not sit right with me, and it never has. It is time to end this." Larsa found his seat and returned to it.
An irritatingly familiar baritone cut in. "Your Excellency, forgive me for my plainness, but this is extreme. " A man of forty-five, Bacchus Caine was twenty-eight years Larsa's senior, yet his manner would seem to prove otherwise. Despite having only served as Senator for one term prior, he had somehow proven himself fit to be elected a Leader, to speak on behalf of the Senate. Perhaps it was his charisma, Larsa thought, or maybe his courage to speak as plainly as he did – too plainly, at times.
"I agree – it is," Larsa admitted, "But I believe there are circumstances when we must be."
"Your Lord Brother once held the same belief, if I recall correctly." Caine responded, not hesitating to curve his lips into a victorious smirk. Vayne was a sensitive subject for Larsa, and he disliked being compared to him, and Caine knew that.
Larsa narrowed his eyes out of annoyance now rather than to keep the sunlight out. "The beliefs of my late brother bear no relevance to what we are discussing today."
Caine's smirk remained. "My apologies for venturing off subject, my lord."
Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat with a rough ahem, and the echo of it brought everyone back to focus. "Your Excellency, my main concern is with Title I of the bill: eliminating the chop requirements to enter the city. It lacks a replacement for the Chop System in terms of security. As I hope you can recall from your history lessons, the Chop System had more intended purposes than those you have mentioned."
'As I hope you can recall?' Does he think me a mindless, ignorant child?
Of course there were other intentions for the Chop System: Those taught in formal history lessons, and those that were withheld from public knowledge. "Yes," Larsa replied, "It was also created to discriminate and exclude."
"What you call discrimination, we call security," Garamondt challenged, "The Chop System was created to keep enemies out, and it has proven successful for nearly two centuries. Not once since its enactment has our city been under threat. I see no reason to eliminate such an effective system, especially at a time when war is still fresh in the minds of our former enemies."
Must he be so paranoid? "And I see no reason to keep a security system that is unnecessary," Larsa challenged, "We are at a time of peace. The Rozarrian Empire is no longer our enemy, as you said. House Margrace has loosened border security in their own capital; I feel we should do the same. My friendships with Lord Al-Cid and Lady Ashe hold strong; should either Rozarria or Dalmasca ever bear ill intent on us, I would hear of it through them."
"Your Excellency," Senator Caine intervened, and he was folding his arms now, resting his back fully against his chair. How could he be so relaxed? "You may hold friendships with some of Ivalice's leaders, but they do not represent everyone. Surely you don't honestly believe that? Do you believe your policies represent the entirety of Archadia? It is my knowledge that they, and you, do not."
He's veering from the subject once again, all to paint me as some naïve child.
But Caine wasn't finished. "Furthermore – I understand that at your age, five years is quite a length of time still. But to us, and many of our former enemies, warships flew the skies just yesterday."
That was it. That was the last he could stand from Caine, the last he could stand of any rude interruptions, and the last he could stand from this pounding, piercing, headache.
"I did not plan this meeting to be insulted for my youth." Larsa had no patience to hide an irritable tone. He allowed his eyes to rest on the table. He couldn't stand to look at it all: the sunlight that just got brighter as the minutes passed, and that disgustingly smug smirk on Senator Caine's face.
A soft sigh of fake regret left Caine's lips. "Forgive me, your Grace. I have overstepped."
Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat louder than he had all morning. "Disregarding the last of Senator Caine's comment, I too am concerned with the possibility that we may have enemies Lord Al-Cid and Queen Ashe are unaware of. If we are to eliminate the entry fees to the city, I suggest we establish a new security system in its stead. We simply cannot be left without one. Do you remember, Your Excellency, when you swore on oath to Archadia to put the safety of its citizens first?"
"Of course I remember, Chairman, and that is what I intend to do." Larsa's calm tone belied his frustration within. Of course he remembered his inauguration. Of course he remembered his promise to protect his people who he loved so dearly. How dare anyone question his loyalty to his country?
Larsa's head pounded harder now, the pain so sharp it broke his composure. He closed his eyes and leaned forward onto the table to rest his face in his left hand, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger. Breathing was all he had the strength to do. "We will find a solution to this I am sure," he inhaled, "one that does not discriminate against those who wish us no harm."
The newest Senate Leader, Danfordt Brutias Rhys, finally broke his silence. The smooth hum of his voice was always a relief compared to the stern tone of the Chairman. "Your Excellency, are you alright?" he asked, "You look pale."
Larsa inhaled a breath so deep he was sure the senators could hear it. "I do not feel well," he responded, and the room had begun to spin ever so slightly, the windows across from him blurring into a whirlwind of piercing light. He pushed his hand down on the table for support as he stood up. "Forgive me," he breathed, "It appears I have neglected my health in this past month. It is unfortunate that I must postpone this meeting until further notice. Thank you for your time, Senators, and good day to you all."
Larsa gladly left the Senate Chamber, paying no mind to the stunned faces that watched him.
Basch hastily followed him into the hallway. "My Lord, what happened?" He said, and Larsa could imagine the Judge's concerned expression at the sight of him massaging his left temple. "Your head – the pain is becoming more frequent, I fear."
"Worry not; it will soon subside," Larsa reassured him. Unless it decides to plague me for the remainder of the day. "Basch, did you also receive an invitation from Lady Ashe?"
"Yes, I did," Basch answered, and Larsa could hear in his voice that he didn't understand why he would ask such a question at this moment.
"Well, I was thinking," Larsa stopped and turned to gaze at the doors behind him. "Since it appears our Chairman thinks he can rule Archadia single-handedly, perhaps he would not mind should I leave the Empire's burdens on his shoulders for the next three days." His lips curved into a mischievous smile no one saw.
"My lord – do you abandon your empire?" It was the concern in Basch's voice that drove Larsa to turn around. He was far too worried about this, and Larsa was far too tired. He looked up at Basch with exhausted, pleading eyes.
"Basch - I have overburdened myself, and I do not wish to fall ill. If this visit can heal my mind and body, then it is no abandonment. Let us go; I would like to reach Dalmasca before nightfall."
After a brief recess, Basch notified the Senate Leaders of Larsa's plan to depart to Dalmasca, and that their next meeting would be held the day after his return. His stay in the chamber was short, and he soon left to prepare for the flight.
Chairman Garamondt approached the round table, his expression contemplative. "Our young emperor cries of head pain and flees to Dalmasca. What are we to do with such a delicate flower?" He sighed as he took his seat.
"Chairman, do you speak ill of our emperor?" Rhys questioned.
"No," Garamondt furrowed his brows. "I speak of concern, Senator Rhys. Even so, this is no dictatorship. I am free to speak my mind, whatever I think."
Rhys sighed and shook his head, the dark curls of his hair bouncing slightly along with the motion.
Garamondt leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. He sighed as he clasped his hands. "I must admit, when his Excellency Lord Larsa was appointed Emperor, I had imagined he would be much more... compliant. He has grown to be a stubborn young man, much like his late brother."
Calm and composed, Rhys sat up with a clean posture that contrasted the Chairman's hunched shoulders. "That may be true, but unlike Vayne, Lord Larsa does not thirst for war. Surely that is an improvement?" And when he saw Garamondt narrow his eyes, unconvinced, he continued. "It is also worth noting that it was he who reinstated the Senate after Vayne's demise."
"Hmph," Garamondt shook his head, "And for that we are grateful. However, let us not look past his faults. 'Tis true he thirsts not for war, but neither does he prepare for it. The extent of his pacifism could cost us lives in the event we were to be invaded. He has disbanded our military so greatly I fear even Dalmasca could invade us successfully, small as their numbers are. Lord Larsa may be a man grown now, but he is still young and naïve. He believes talks of peace are enough to shield us from attack."
A cold snicker echoed across the chamber, inviting Rhys and Garamondt to follow it.
Bacchus Caine's body shook with laughter.
"Oh? What say you, Senator Caine?" the Chairman commanded, eyes narrowed. He was too old to be dealing with the laughter of children.
Everyone could hear the smirk in Caine's voice. "What say I? Forgive me, but I say Lord Larsa is the most radical, unorthodox, disrespectful emperor in Archadia's history."
The chamber went silent as all eyes watched Caine.
He didn't let their looks of shock stop him from continuing. He sat upright and unfolded his arms. "He disregards our laws and traditions, weakens our military, raises taxes and merges Old Archades with our capital. Now he criticizes our Chop System? What other foundations does he wish to rip out from under us?" He shook his head. "Even his form of dress disrespects tradition. Have you noticed his refusal to wear the Imperial diadem and robes passed down from his late father? Not to mention his disregard for his own safety: he traipses around the open streets unguarded, without a care in the world, as though being Emperor did not make him a target of possible attack. How could Lord Gramis have raised such in irresponsible child?"
The Senate leaders remained silent, considering over his words.
"And now it would appear he is falling ill. I question if he can bear the burden of empire." Caine crossed his arms, relaxing against his chair once again. He had spoken his piece.
A voice weak with age chimed in, "Yes, our young lord's energy appears to be dropping." At the ripe age of seventy-nine, Ronulas Willmundt was the oldest member of the Senate. "Some of you were not here when his mother was alive, but I recall she had her own illnesses. Lady Ellissa was a frail, skittish woman. She feared everything and everyone; she scarcely stepped foot outside the palace."
Rhys furrowed his brows. "You worry Lord Larsa takes after his mother?"
Willmundt shook his head slightly. "I will not rule out the possibility. And from what I have seen, these illnesses take time to develop."
The soft voices of Rhys and Willmundt were drowned out by the commanding echo of their Chairman. "Never mind what his mother was like," he snapped, "I am more concerned with this bill. We have much to discuss in the next three days; I suggest we begin immediately."
Cain hastily interjected. "Chairman, I have one more concern, if I may."
Garamondt sighed heavily. "Yes, if you will."
"If his Excellency does fall ill: what are we to do without an Emperor?"
The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Rabanastre was impressive in its scale, but even more so in the details of the architecture. Larsa entered with Basch, craning his neck to admire the height of the entryway that towered over them. Royal guardsmen closed the doors behind them with a thunderous roar, the echo of it rippling through the air.
The tapping of footsteps against stone floors traveled from across the hall, and there she was – Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca – approaching to greet them. A post-war world had done wonders for her; she looked absolutely radiant.
"Welcome. It is so good to see you again." Her smile had widened to a grin when she met them in the center of the hall. "Larsa," she greeted, and when she turned to regard the other man, she leaned in, "Basch." She spoke softly, so his true name could not reach disloyal ears.
Basch removed the horned helmet from his head, revealing a grin of his own, and he was no longer the Judge Magister Gabranth. "Your Grace, it has been far too long."
Ashe's eyes met his. "It has," she then turned to regard Larsa – looking up now. If Larsa recalled correctly, they were the same height when he last visited. "Three years now, is it? Last we met, you were still a child."
Guilt hit Larsa for the second time that day. He bowed his head. "I apologize," he said softly, then lifted his gaze to face her again. "I mean to visit more often, however, matters in Archades have been… difficult, to say the least."
Ashe gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have made much progress there; I am proud of you." The tone in her voice was warm and reassuring, and it was just what he needed to hear.
"As am I," Basch added, gladly placing his hand on Larsa's other shoulder.
Larsa smiled humbly, glancing at each of them. "I thank you both, but I am afraid my work is never-ending."
Ashe and Basch returned their hands to their sides. "Worry not of that now," Ashe shook her head. "Your primary concern should be joining me for dinner. You two must be hungry after your flight."
As she led them across the Grand Hall, for the first time in what felt like months, Larsa exhaled a sigh of relief.
Author's Note:
This story is set to have 20 chapters, an intermission, and an epilogue.
This chapter was named after "Imagine" by John Lennon
Beta'd by Ridorana AO3