Two weeks had passed since Fran's escape from Onzale and Isander's execution. Losrin had not been in to see him, nor had there been any whisperings among the guards about their escaped viera prisoner. That at least gave Balthier hope that Fran had been able to escape successfully. Perhaps she had gone to Rabanastre to tell Ashe what was going on, but he had his doubts. He knew what Losrin and Isander had related to him, but had Fran been privy to similar information? Besides, since she'd been given the same indoctrination as he, perhaps she was en route to commit some dastardly deed?

Balthier received one meal a day from a different guard each time, and that was on good days. The week before, he had been forgotten for two days in a row. He'd had to beg for water. What had obviously not been forgotten were his scheduled infirmary visits. After the two doctors had seen him that one day, Balthier realized that they were changing what they were doing to him. He no longer felt ill during the day, but he now realized that he was missing time.

He first noticed this a few days ago. Upon waking up that morning, he distinctly remembered watching the usual activities in the prison yard. He recalled the shuffle of the chained workforce as they embarked on their daily punishment. He had to have been standing there for some time, but the next thing he knew, he was sitting down on his bed like he'd never been at the window.

And he had blood on his hands.

He had examined himself for wounds, but there were none there. What were they making him do? He had a very good guess, and it worried him sick. His dreams about harming Ashe were just a prelude to the real thing happening. Whatever they were injecting him with must turn him into a blasted puppet, malleable enough to commit any act they ordered and then once he regained his own mind, he would have no memory of having done so.

Would they drop him in Rabanastre like nothing was wrong and just let him kill Ashe? Would he be able to stop himself? These questions plagued him every hour, but at that moment he was granted a reprieve as he heard commotion in the hallway. There had never been a lot of other noise in the months of his captivity, so something significant had to be going on.

He pressed his ear to the door and heard the muffled conversation going on in the hallway. The guard who had brought him his meal the other day was telling some visitor that the prisoner was screaming about conspiracy and Ashelia Dalmasca, so they moved him to this block to separate him from the others. Someone else was being held here, Balthier reasoned, and maybe he would know what was happening in Dalmasca.

Balthier continued to listen as the visitor spoke up. The voice clearly belonged to an older Rozarrian man, but he did not recognize it. And the man was furious. "I don't care whose son he is! He is a traitor!" he was screaming at the guard, "Your incompetent staff allowed him to spew his lies around other prisoners! Your orders are to take the traitor into the yard and kill him. Immediately."

"But my lord, he is your own family. Surely a trial is…" the soldier protested, but Balthier heard a loud slapping sound. What in Ivalice was going on? He heard the soldier open another metal door and some shuffling. Whoever was being taken out of that cell had been gagged because Balthier could only hear mumbled sounds of protest. The prisoner was dragged down the hallway.

The sky pirate moved to the window to see them drag the prisoner to the yard. Balthier was shocked to find it was Al-Cid Margrace being brought out to the same spot where Isander had been murdered weeks earlier. He was distracted then by his own door being opened. Captain Losrin entered and shut the door behind her. She hurried to the window and stood beside Balthier.

"I vowed to serve the Margrace family, and now they butcher one another. No better than the Solidors," she muttered. Balthier stepped away from her and looked at her critically.

"The same way you killed Isander?"

She looked down at her feet. There was then the loud blast of a gunshot, and Balthier looked back to see the Rozarrian prince collapse to the ground. He had never cared much for the young aristocrat, but seeing him bleed to death mere yards away made his stomach turn. The two stood in silence as his body was dragged away like a common criminal, and he shuddered at the sight. His visitor spoke softly, clearly affected by the upheavals in her country.

"There is much for me to explain, Balthier. I want you to know right away that we have not been able to recover Fran yet. And I do not think we will, because I was the one who set her free." Balthier's eyes widened with this revelation, and he allowed her to continue. "Isander got caught in the process. I ordered him to search the infirmary for clues of what they inject you with while I let Fran escape."

"You let him get captured and then you pulled the trigger on him."

She nodded. "He believed as much as I that what they are doing to you is wrong. He knew the risks of my orders that day." She smiled then with tears brimming in her eyes, "Isander said that he was proud to uncover this conspiracy, and if he was discovered, he felt honored that I would be the one to execute him. He was true to me to the very end, not revealing my own involvement in this treason."

Balthier let her words sink in as he moved to sit on his bed. "I worry that all your efforts may be for naught, Losrin. They are escalating their treatments. I am losing hours of time each day now. Do you have any idea what they are making me do?"

Losrin sat in his chair and held her head in her hands. "You are taken out every day for what they call tactical training. Well, that is what the guards are told. But with what you and I have uncovered, it is obvious to me that they are preparing you to assassinate Ashelia Dalmasca."

He looked to her then, urgency in his voice. "You cannot let me get out of here, Captain. They will probably smuggle me to Rabanastre. Promise me you will keep me in here," he begged.

"But you will die here. You just saw what they did to a member of their own royal family. Once you outlive your usefulness, they will do the same to you."

"Then let them!" he cried angrily, "They are stealing my life away from me as it is! I'm not going to kill Ashe!" With that remark, she was out of her seat and across the room before he even realized it.

She slapped him across the face. "What has gotten into you, Bunansa? You are not the irritating pirate I encountered several months ago. Stop this self pitying and take charge of your situation!" He scowled at her, and she went on. "Look, we do not know what will happen if you stop receiving these altering draughts from the doctors. Perhaps the effects are temporary and you will recover. I can get you out of here and to a safe place until you are healed."

She was right, Balthier admitted. He needed to confront his situation, not resign himself to it. "How soon can you spring me from this awful place?"

Losrin considered this for a moment. "Well, I suppose we just missed our best opportunity with the execution out there. But I do know that Ashelia Dalmasca hosts another peace conference in two weeks' time. If there was any time they would send you to commit some hideous deed, it would be at that conference."

"I saw the search parties Fran garnered with her escape. I fully expect a manhunt a thousand times grander. You may not be aware of this, my dear Captain, but I am the leading man."

She grinned. "About time that arrogance returned. Emotional outbursts and crying do not suit you. Believe what you want, pirate, but everyone is the leading man of his own story." She rose then and made to leave. As she opened the door, he called to her.

"Then allow me one last emotional outburst. Thank you for saving my pirate behind. I promise to make some attempt to save yours someday. If there's time. And if I'm not too terribly busy treasure hunting." She shook her head at his remarks and exited the room.

In two weeks' time, Balthier thought. Then this can all be over.

Larsa Solidor rarely admitted his weaknesses. But that evening at dinner in his chambers, he confessed to his most trusted official that he was at a loss. And Basch could do nothing about it. For the past month since the break-in at Draklor, the young man had spent all his free time trying to decipher the writings of a madman. But what he had discovered made very little sense.

Basch watched his young charge with concern as he poked at his food. Every other minute he simply stopped eating to look once again at the stack of papers in front of him. Finally, Basch leaned across the table and snatched them away from him. The young emperor protested. "Judge Gabranth, I was just beginning to follow along with those pages Lady Ashe sent to me. You will give them back."

The knight shook his head. "You are not sleeping, my lord. You do not eat and you are delaying important matters of state. I cannot have you jeopardizing your well-being over these papers. We depart for tomorrow's coronation in hours, and you will need to rest during the flight." Just days after he had sent his message to Rabanastre, he received a reply from the queen. Al-Cid Margrace had been caught in the possession of other items nabbed from Draklor. Ashe had forwarded the papers on to Larsa in hopes that he could reconcile them with the other stolen items.

To keep things quiet, Al-Cid had been spirited back to his home, and Ashe was going to have a new representative in his place at the conference. The official excuse for the Rozarrian prince's absence was to be illness and no one other than Ashe's cabinet and now Larsa's would know what occurred. The latest word from Renot Margrace, who had just recently returned to Rabanastre from the Ambervale, was that Al-Cid was being held under house arrest pending a full investigation by Rozarrian authorities.

Larsa frowned, deep in thought. "Clearly there is a dangerous plot afoot in Rozarria. With the coronation and peace conference upon us, I must do my utmost to make sure it can continue as scheduled." Basch sighed and slid the papers back across the table. "Thank you. Now what I have determined based on the original documents I analyzed and now those from Lady Ashe is that Rozarria must be developing some sort of brainwashing method. Dr. Cid only jots down instructions for creating a liquid to be administered in these papers. It is obvious that nethicite was his main obsession at Draklor. This must have been a side project that held little interest for him since it lacks much detail."

Basch considered Larsa's explanation. "Who would Rozarria need to brainwash? Do you think they are indoctrinating their citizens to be spies? Perhaps they are planning to infiltrate the peace conference with sleeper agents."

Larsa shook his head. "I wonder if that is the true motive. I am still distressed at Al-Cid's involvement in this plot. I truly thought I knew him. Perhaps he sought to overthrow his own government and become its leader. Turning people to your side is much easier when you have a potion to do it for you."

An aide entered then. "Sorry to disturb your dinner, my lord, but there is a woman here with urgent word from Rabanastre." Larsa told the aide to send in the visitor, but both he and Basch were startled by the person who entered the room.

Though considerably thinner and clad in a dark hooded robe, the distinctive white ears with black markings clearly identified her. Larsa stood up in disbelief. "Simply extraordinary! Is it really you, Fran? How is this possible?"

"There is no time, Lord Larsa," the viera said evenly, walking up to the table. "There is something terrible happening in Rabanastre."

"How fares the queen? What is going on?" Basch inquired, watching Fran's every move. It was then that he noticed that there was a strange emptiness in her eyes. Before he could react, the viera had picked up a knife from the table and started slashing at Larsa.

The young man was struck in the throat, and he staggered away in surprise from his attacker. Fran lifted her arm to stab him again, but Basch tackled her to the marble floor, wresting the weapon from her hand. She struggled beneath him, and he was forced to strike a blow on her skull. With the wild viera subdued, Basch shouted for assistance as he approached the young emperor.

Larsa's eyes were wide as he clutched his throat with both hands. Blood trickled through his fingers as he looked to Basch with a very confused expression. The knight picked the young man up and raced him from the room. "Lock that viera in the dungeon and leave her there until I say otherwise!" he cried to all the dumbfounded guards in the hallway.

Guilt clouded Basch's features as he hurried the young lord to the palace doctor. He only hoped that he would be quick enough to save his charge. The time to consider Fran's reappearance and behavior would come afterwards.

Balthier sat with Ashe in the cockpit of the Strahl as it floated over the sea of clouds. He had had dreamless sleep as of late, with only his escape from Onzale dominating his thoughts. Well, what thoughts of his own he still possessed. His days were now full of blanks. Hours gone from the morning, half the afternoon flitted away, perhaps time for supper before he was waking up in his bed at the start of a new day.

That isn't to say he hadn't tried to make some progress at filling in those blanks. Concentrating very hard in one afternoon, he had repeated the phrase "Stay awake" over and over for a solid hour. The next thing he knew, he felt his body moving out of his control. He felt himself stabbing someone, blood spattering all over his clothing and face. He realized that he was practicing his new assassin trade on helpless prisoners. He could not make himself stop, but at least he could now see the horrors of his indoctrination for himself. When he regained his own conscious thoughts, he had punched the walls of his room angrily until his knuckles bled.

"The coronation is tomorrow. How do you suppose they'll have me kill you if Losrin fails to get me out of here?" he asked Ashe sarcastically.

She turned to him and smirked. Her neck in his dream still bore the red welts he had inflicted upon her in their last encounter. A constant reminder of the threat he was to her well-being. "Well since you are not going to be killing me, I do not find it worth discussing. A scoundrel of a pirate you may be, but you are not a murderer."

He laughed darkly. "Tell that to the poor chap I gutted the other day."

She searched his face sadly, placing a soothing hand over his. He intertwined his fingers with hers and looked away from her, choosing the peaceful clouds in the sky over her anguished features. "But you're getting stronger. You can make yourself see what is happening when you are under the potion's influence. If you can gain more control over your actions, maybe you could at least make some sort of commotion or warning."

"Bunansa…"

Balthier stared at his and Ashe's hands.

"Bunansa, wake up!"

Ashe pulled her hand away. He looked up to her, begging her with his eyes to forgive him for anything he might do to her. She smiled at him and faded away.

"You fool of a pirate. We need to get out of here!" Balthier stirred, finding Captain Losrin standing over him. She was out of uniform, clothed all in black with only a small dagger in a belt tied at her waist. Balthier had to admit that where she had looked menacing and powerful in her armor, she now looked tiny and almost childlike. But as young as she now appeared, her determined face was all the armor she needed. She had been shaking him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Better than a clucking cockatrice, you are," he muttered, sitting up. She pulled him to his feet.

"They are coming!" she whispered loudly. The soldier shoved a change of clothes and a pair of boots into his arms. "Hurry and put these on."

"These colors are all wrong for me," he protested, but she rolled her eyes at him. She moved to keep watch out the window and to give him a measure of privacy. He quickly changed, throwing his prison attire aside in disgust. As ready as he was going to be, he allowed her to drag him from the room and down the darkened hallway.

"I've cut power to the building," she explained as they hurried down the hall, "I only hope it will give us enough of a distraction to get you away from here." He wished fervently that she'd chosen some other deception as he collided with the walls repeatedly.

They emerged into the night, the crisp air cool against his skin. The stars in the sky and the meager prison lighting were their only guide on this moonless night. Balthier had no idea where they were going, but he was being rushed past the other prison barracks home to the quarry gangs. He had never seen beyond them, and they entered a dense wooded area.

As they raced through the trees, branches scraped against his face and arms. An alarm began blaring behind them and large floodlights drowned the skies with bright illumination. "Hurry!" Losrin cried over the noise, "The prison has a small aerodrome just past the clearing ahead." The sound of barking dogs added to the clamor of the screeching alarm, and Balthier felt he had never run so fast in all his life.