Chapter 3
The day dawned slowly. The top of the orange sun could be seen sharply rising above the great juts of rock, and the light fell so softly no one stirred but one. Her long, erect ears twitched and she turned her face toward the flaming star. A light breeze ruffled her fur and their clothes, and she breathed it in as if it were fresh from a salty ocean. All through the night the wind had nipped harshly at them, cutting their exposed faces and hands.
"G'morning, Fran," Penelo said, smiling drowsily, but looking refreshed nonetheless. She shook her head, and picked one half of her blonde hair to begin braiding it.
"Good morning, Penelo," Fran replied politely, but she did not linger on the girl and continued her eyes along the line. On her left sat Vossler, and even as she turned to him, his dark eyes were fluttering to wakefulness. When he saw she was looking she nodded in acknowledgement. He did not return it and got up quickly, preferring to stand and look at the sunrise than mingle anymore with the pirates. On his other side was Balthier.
Fran gracefully rose to her feet and stepped over to him and froze. Princess Ashe had a hand on his arm, and her head was pillowed into his shoulder; her legs were curled up beneath her to keep warm. Balthier was resting his head on top of hers. He was still asleep but faint bruises could still be seen under his eyes, indicating a troubled sleep, but for now he was relaxed and breathed easy.
There will be trouble if the knights see them like that, Fran thought, amazed that they hadn't already. She bent down to touch his shoulder, but the princess stirred. Her eyes fluttered and she seemed disoriented, but once she was awake she seemed to realize the predicament she was in. From the way her eyes focused on Balthier's intricate vest, it was clear she knew whose shoulder she had used. But she did not suddenly push away; instead she carefully slipped her head out from under his and stepped back gracefully as a cat. All she received was a small grunt of disappointment and a shiver from the removal of the source of warmth.
Ashe laughed quietly, "It's hard to hate what he is when he is smiling like that."
"I imagine that's what many women think when they wake up next to him," Fran said.
Fran watched as the expression on Ashelia's face turned to anger, and then smoothly transitioned to bewilderment before finally settling in her stoic mask; only the viera could have caught it. Ashe stood up and stretched her long form, and then stepped over to Vossler who had turned at their conversation. Fran watched her for a moment studying her movements. The Lady Ashe had not had need to volunteer for a watch in the night, and so was granted the opportunity to sleep more than any of them, and it showed. Instead of her haughty and agitated character the other day, she was calm and collected, yet no less determined than the day before. "Are you waking him? We should get started as quickly as possible."
Fran bent down and gently squeezed his shoulder and, as if she had pressed a button, his eyes flew up and he turned to her alertly and gave her a charming smile. "Ah, another day? What is there to eat?" He snatched up a bag and began rifling through it, pulling out a bag of dried berry and granola mix.
"Here, let me see that!" Vaan yawned and grabbed for the pack, but Balthier pulled it out of his reach. "Hey, give it back."
"Rations, Vaan. We have to share this. Hold out your hands and I'll poor you some," he said, giving the orphan a look that dared him to contradict his words.
It was still a little too early for Vaan because he gave in and cupped his hands obediently. He still found it somewhere to complain. "I could eat that whole bag!"
"Then make yourself useful by foraging for food and stop whining for ten minutes. And the pack is yours for the day. Remember, we're alternating. I'll take that sword." Vaan stared at him in bewilderment. Balthier merely shoved the pack into his arms and then neatly took the long sword from where Vaan had it standing by his side.
"Wha—? Wait a minute!" But Balthier had already turned away to stare out at the sandsea.
Ashelia looked between the two and sighed, "I suppose I will have to take a pack as well. Fran?"
The viera was studying her neutrally, and then she nodded and said, "If Penelo should not carry a pack then the other will have to go to Basch or our new arrival."
Vossler glared at Fran and said, "My duty is to protect her majesty. I cannot do it with a pack."
"Then I will retain my pack," Basch said diplomatically, trying to avert the hostile tension developing between Vossler and the sky pirates. "Let us continue, shall we?"
"Agreed," Vossler said, and began walking off.
And so the ragtag group started off again. Despite the awful sleeping conditions for last night, it seemed that Balthier had gathered something from the impenetrable darkness and howling wind that rejuvenated him beyond measure, and he was able to slash at Urutans with almost manic strength. It was partly due to this—although sprinting past the element Samsonite likely contributed to it—that they reached the Nam-Yensa sandsea by noon.
"Ah, look, Fran, we're making excellent timing," Balthier said as he silently reveled in the shade of a grove growing at the seams of the cliffs. They cut under the fronds of the palm trees and were slightly startled to see an Urutan-Yensa conversing with a moogle. It scuttled off upon their intrusion. "Well, that's odd." The moogle turned and then began jumping up and down, waving excitedly.
"Hello, kupo! The Urutan-Yensa are very isolated, but that one was asking for help. It seems the blood enemy of the Urutan is wreaking havoc on them. They cannot even hurt it, kupo." It looked them up and down for a moment, and then began hopping again. "Kupo, you look like you might be able to challenge it. The fellow did mention the treasure of the sandsea. It could be yours if you kill it."
Gathered around the moogle, the group stood for a moment pondering the offer when Vaan, who had been rubbing his chin in thought, suddenly asked, "Wanna do it?"
"Why? Unless that thing attacks us I could care less," Balthier replied, his eyes narrowed in irritation even as his stomach gave a twinge of hunger. The rationing of food was already starting to affect his mood.
"Balthier, it's their blood enemy! We should help them. Besides, treasure was mentioned," Vaan argued, frowning tersely at the apathetic pirate.
"This is why you won't last as a pirate. A pirate does not care about anyone, but himself and his partner," Balthier said, giving Fran an appraising look. "Headhunters are practically my blood enemy, but I doubt anyone would dispatch them for me. I will do that in time. Also what the Urutan's consider treasure and what I do is subjective. They live in a desert—it could be water! No, I don't find the offer particularly enticing."
Vaan shook his head in disgust, but he seemed perturbed by the comment of not having the makings of a pirate. He struggled for something to say and finally settled on "you're hopeless" before Balthier continued leading the way.
"And a sky pirate does not spend so much time thinking. You must admit you fail there," Fran said with a small smile. It was just loud enough for Balthier to hear.
He smirked and said, "But, Fran, it may very well be what separates the exceptional pirates from the rest."
"I thought it was the size of your ego that separated you from the rest," Ashe said.
Balthier glanced back at her with that smug smirk on his face and replied, "You'll find, princess, that all pirates have big egos. It's only the ones who stay alive that have the bragging rights."
It was only a few moments later that they came across a giant tortoise snapping viciously at the Urutan-Yensa. Balthier scowled and said, "Well, looks like we don't have a choice but to fight it after all."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Vaan dumped his pack and rushed forward with a dagger raised and screamed an incoherent battle cry, "Yaaahhhh!"
"Vaan, wait," Penelo vainly reached for him but he was long out of her reach.
Balthier simply watched him. "I'm speechless."
"The sky must be falling then," Fran said. He turned to retort, but Fran cut him off, "We must help him." She looked back at Basch. "Stay back and guard his pack. We cannot afford to lose it."
He nodded and the three leading the way—and Vossler—nodded at each other to confirm their readiness. Balthier checked the Betelgeuse and ammo. With that shell I doubt the shot can penetrate, he thought, and then he holstered the weapon and brought out the sword resting on his back. They fanned out with Penelo and Fran firing arrows from afar, while Vossler and Balthier approached to hit the tortoise on both sides.
"Ffamran, you're to stay back here to be our back-up in case they breach the line. Remember, show no mercy," Bergan briefed the young man. His voice was calm but there was an underlying current of excitement, as though he could not wait to start the battle.
The Apprentice loathed the metal suits, particularly the stifling helmets, but they certainly came in handy. With it on Bergan failed to see the unease in his eyes and unnaturally pale complexion. And Fframran would not let him. He merely nodded and said a neutrally easy, "Yes, sir."
And now was the waiting. This was the second country the Emperor had decided to invade after they had two weeks earlier swarmed over its neighbor and sister country, Berdous. Though they fell a far cry short of Archadia's military strength, the people of Collus had decided to put up a terrific fight. He remembered Ghis making a snide remark about it: "It's a shame they do not know when they are conquered."
We would not be any different if the situation was switched around, Ffamran answered silently, though he had desperately wished to contradict his superior. It was probably a wise decision he knew, But that does not make it right. He smiled ruefully to himself. Since when was being wise wrong? When it blurred the lines between fear and truth.
It had been his fear of the Judges as a whole that had kept his mouth shut and he loathed himself for it. I should not be afraid. I need to be strong. His fear was not the problem though. His increasing discontent and disgust toward the empire's foreign policy and warmongering was weighing heavily on him. If anything it made him feel more self-loathing at being a participant and helping to implement these policies. Why me? Why not someone who truly cares?
It was no secret as to why he was there though. Not only was Dr. Cid effective at pulling strings, but his son's performance at the Academy had drawn important eyes as well. Rosker and Thrait were along only to make it appear as if there was not any manipulating; but everyone knew there was. You could not keep anything secret in Archades, especially with streetears like Jules scurrying around waiting for juicy morsels of information to drop to them, like rats in the sewer waiting for any edible garbage. He had to admit, though, the information had certainly padded his bank account from selling it to the wily streetear.
A sudden explosion jolted him from his musings and his eyes flew to the paling of the capital city. Even from this distance he could see it come crashing down as though struck by a powerful blast of lightning, and suddenly the blue shield prohibiting the warships from firing on the foot soldiers disappeared in a dazzling blaze of lights. At once the floating behemoths began raining fire on the soldiers, ally and enemy alike being struck. Ffamran winced and was immediately grateful he was not in the front-lines subject to such disregard.
His attention snapped back to his surroundings when he heard a voice shout, "A troop of enemy soldiers has broken through the lines. Back-up, dispatch them at once." Ffamran brought his sword out and stood in a combat stance with ten other soldiers, waiting for the rogues when suddenly they appeared. A score of soldiers ranging from hard-liners who had been around the block to rookies green to the core, but despite the differences each soldier was no less determined. They charged the small group of Imperials with fierce battle cries of, "For the king!"
A cold calm settled over Ffamran when they charged, his focus narrowed to their small group. He locked eyes with one helmed soldier and soon found himself in combat with the man. The Apprentice brought his sword up to parry a downward blow and easily stepped back as his footwork demanded to continue his blocking and parrying. And then a small sliver opened for a counter, and he took it, ferociously bringing his sword up with enough strength to disarm the soldier. He swung it around again to hit the man in the head, forcing him to the ground and his helmet rolled off.
Ffamran froze.
A boy no older than he had to be staring up at him with wide blue eyes; his mouth opened and closed like that of a landed fish, and then suddenly blood was seeping out of it. He coughed and tried to move away, but Ffamran mechanically stepped toward him and silenced him forever.
What have I done? Ffamran rotated his blood-soaked sword in his hand as though he were examining it for scratches. His mind after having detached itself when he saw the boy, came back and he suddenly began trembling so badly the sword fell out to clatter onto the ground. He ripped off his helmet and vomited on the ground, gasping for breath as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. The world spun dizzily around him and he closed his eyes to escape the torment, but the image of that dead boy with his sword stuck in him was burned into his memory and would not go away.
War. So this is war?
