Chapter II: Things that go 'bump' in the night.

Al-Cid could hardly contain his laughter.

'Oh my,' he cried out in his heavy Rozarrian accent, 'It appears dear Ffamran is losing his touch.'

'Shaddup,' Ffamran muttered sulkily from the depths of a glass of Nabradian wine.

'That was the single most hilarious thing I've seen since your pet chocobo ate your favourite cufflinks at the Archades-Rozarria conference three years ago.'

'They had cost me a years worth of gossip. Pure High Arcanum!'

'You just keep believing that.'

There was silence for a moment as the Rozarrian continued to clutch his sides and gasp for breath at his friend's expense.

At length, Ffamran surfaced from his wine and asked, grimacing,

'Al, was she blind?'

'I'm afraid not my friend. It seems that she just didn't find you as gorgeous as you do.'

'Hmmmm.' Ffamran looked dejectedly at his reflection in the rosy red contents of his glass.

'C'mon Ffamran, buck up. Depression doesn't suit your complexion.'

Receiving no reply, Al-Cid strode over to his friend, stooping so as to seize Ffamran by his collar.

'Let's go grab something to eat from the kitchens.'

Ashe took a vindictive bite out of the savoury muffin in her hand.

That jerk. That arrogant, stuck-up pig.

Who did he think he was? Coming on to her like that, it made her so angry. It didn't help that she had no one to talk with to alleviate her frustration. She had watched him go and talk to a young Rozarrian in the corner and then disappear out into the corridor to go and do Gods know what; probably chat up some maids.

'Lady Ashe?' a gruff voice asked.

She turned to see a dark haired man looking down at her with a concerned expression. She recognised him: Agrias Solidor, second son of Gramis Solidor.

'Are you troubled?' he asked.

'Oh no, my lord. I'm simply,' she was too irritated to mince her words, 'I was musing at the failings of men. No offence meant.' She added hurriedly, looking up. He seemed almost amused.

'Go on.'

So Ashe told him all about the young Archadian. He looked both amused and angry that she had been subjected to such crude flirtation.

He was silent as she finished her account. The man must have seen her looking wistfully out the window as he tapped her shoulder and said that there would be no harm in her leaving the party early so long as she remained in the building and out of trouble.

Needing little persuasion, she thanked him gratefully and began to make her way to the large double doors that lead out into the corridor.

Just as she reached the door, Ashe's attention was drawn to a well dressed figure in the corner, away from the crowd. It was an older man in a pair of spectacles and white gloves. He seemed to be talking to something over his shoulder that she couldn't see. His words were rushed and toned with a dry humour.

'Those fools,' he whispered, with a smile, not noticing her, 'If only they knew of what has been prescribed for them.'

At length the man felt Ashe's gaze and looked over. He bowed his head to her. She wrenched her gaze away and pulled herself through the doors and into the cool corridor.

Odd... She though as she wandered through the high roofed corridors carpeted in rich red. The lights of the city blocked out the stars through the window. Although curious to ponder what the man could possibly have meant, more than ever she just wanted to go home so that she could at least dread her wedding day in a familiar environment.

Just then, there was a muffled crash from down the corridor followed by what sounded like a groan. Ashe froze, mind wiped clear. This was Archades. Where there were just as many deceitful thugs within its grand skyscrapers as there were in its alleys.

She was at least five minutes away from the great hall. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek and then get help depending on what the problem was and if absolutely necessary, she had been pressed by the Captains of the Guard to carry with her a small knife when possible. Leaving it in her ankle boots undeclared seemed all the more worth it now.

'Hard to get.' Ffamran explained, shaking his apple at Al-Cid who was sitting cross legged on a box on the floor of the kitchens. 'I tell you, she was playing hard to get.'

'And I think your mind is the one playing games with you.' Al-Cid said in a tired voice, taking a bite from the fat sandwich he was holding in his hand, washing it down with a swig of pomegranate juice.

'Well why else would she reject me?'

'Because you came across as an arrogant arse?'

Ffamran frowned, thinking hard.

'Look Ffamran,' Al-Cid began, treading lightly. Ffamran was a good friend despite them only seeing each other when their countries were at war or thinking about going to war. Of course, that meant that they saw each other every third month. The Archadian was sensible and straight-forward about everything except relationships. When it came to girls he was a commitment phobic monkey with his head in his pants. 'Girls need more than good looks to keep them happy. And maybe it's because she comes from a small country. She's probably not used to guys getting straight to the oh so pointy point. She might need some time to get used to you.'

Ffamran looked him straight in the eye.

'You're not exactly my kind of agony aunt,' he said in a stern voice.

The two of them burst into laughter. After a few more apples and at least another bottle of juice they got up and exited out into the corridor. Al-Cid was to return to the party to meet the Marquis Ondore.

'So what will you do?' he said, stretching is neck.

'Might head out into town.'

'Won't your father mind?'

'Hah. If I were brutally murdered my father wouldn't notice I was missing until he was sent the autopsy a week later.'

The Rozarrian shrugged, 'Suit yourself. I'll see you tomorrow at the conference.' He walked off, hands in his pockets.

Ffamran sighed and stretched his arms up, groaning. The embarrassment with Lady Ashelia still stung but it was nothing a night on the town in some faceless club wouldn't numb. So he began to dawdle down the corridor along to where the elevator was. He jumped as he heard a crash and a groan from directly above. Not pausing, he instead ran to the stairs and rushed up, two steps at a time. Judging where the sound must have come from by his position when he heard it on the floor below, he ran towards one of the meeting rooms of the Bhujerban embassy.

Girls pushed clear out of his mind, he reached for his pistol, a gift he had bought for himself after he'd weaselled some gil out of his father. Ffamran had told him that his birthday had been a week ago. Of course, he pulled that trick three times a year and it was testimony to his father's inattention that he fell for it every time.

It didn't take Ashe long to find the room where she had heard the crash. Silently, she put her ear to the door. There were groans and muffled shouts coming through the polished wood. At length, the shouting stopped. Well aware that this was probably a job for Captain Basch or Azelas, she opened the door silently, other hand clasping what would best be called a sharpened butter knife.

Peeking around the door, she felt her stomach drop out from inside her as she saw the eldest son of the house of Solidor lying splayed out on the floor, blood oozing from multiple wounds. His eyes were milky white and his mouth gasping like a fish out of water.

Looking up, Ashe saw he who must have been the murderer flit out a side door that led to the corridor on the other side. Feet too full of lead to follow, instead she fell to her knees beside the dying man. She put a finger to his neck and through the film of red found a pulse. Instinctively, she found the main wound on his chest and placed both hands over it, trying to stop the flow of life.

As she pressed down on his chest, the man turned his lifeless eyes towards her and she thought he tried to mouth something. Breath beginning to shorten as shock set in, Ashe shook her head desperately to indicate that she didn't understand. He tried again several times, palms tightening and loosening alternately with desperation and pain. He would press his bottom teeth to his upper lip and make a sort of hissing sound before opening his mouth to speak the rest of the word, coming out as a long, repeating 'f.'

But she couldn't make it out. Then somewhere behind his eyes, Ashe saw something disappear and while the blood continued to find rivers out from behind her fingers, she knew he was gone.

So light-headed was Ashe that she didn't really notice when the door behind her crashed open and a pair of strong arms lifted her up, away from the body. Whoever it was frog-marched her down the corridor and into the nearest bedroom where they roughly shoved her head in a sink of cold water in the en suite bathroom.