XX.
The wonders of Golmore Jungle passed rather quickly—within a single day of travel—and the royal party soon began their climb to the top of Mount Bur-Omisace. The terrain lessened in detail as the trek furthered, leaving the fauna and wildlife of the jungle behind and replacing it with barren dirt and the occasional patch of feral grass. Another day's journey provided an abundance of distractions, however, for the higher up they rose, the rockier the ground became.
The weather grew increasingly chilled as they ascended the mountainside, and before long, minute dry snowflakes began to appear in the darkness of morning, dusting the path before them like sugar on cake, only to melt away beneath the sun by midday. Damp terrain and dim scenery accompanied this, as the clouds steadily thickened above them, but the mischief of the children kept things relatively light, even with the pressures of the conference to come weighing silently on the thoughts of them all.
Vaan felt at first unsure of how to react to a ten-year-old wooing his sister, but he eventually found it to be rather comforting. Monty had been raised to be a gentleman—chivalry, honor, etiquette, and all the other things that Vaan had no knowledge of sat high on his list of priorities, and he took better care of Penelo than Vaan himself often did. If the ground rose or lowered, if ice or rocks presented, if there was anything that might obstruct the girl's path, Monty took her hand in his to guide her—subtly, and often while he spoke so as to deny her any chance for objection. Vaan had to fight to restrain his smile, and the adults, who strode warily behind them, ever on guard, could be heard whispering and snickering from time to time, happy to have relief from the stress of their plight.
Penelo, however, felt embarrassed, overwhelmed, patronized—and unbelievably happy. For much of her life she had been trash, the rubbish shoved into the slums so as not to offend the rich, and now here stood a member of the world's most powerful family, laughing with her brother, walking at her side, hanging on her every word. She couldn't deny that she felt somewhat disgusted by her crush on the child, but as Balthier had said—give it a few years. She was six years older than Monty, which seemed an ocean at their current ages, but would become a mere pond when they both reached adulthood, though by then he would undoubtedly hold political power of some kind, which would complicate things considerably.
But soon enough, she realized how ridiculous she was acting—how absurd it was to imagine a future with a royal prince. For now she had the best friend she could ever ask for, and she would be content for him to remain such. When next he took her hand, she gripped it securely, not allowing him to release it, and he squeezed hers in return, warm and reassuring.
Balthier and Fran had both furtively taken charge of Monty's care, one always close at hand, though maintaining a fair enough distance that he didn't feel imprisoned. They seemed to have earned their knowledge of guarding royalty from observing Basch's experiences, though they clearly found the job significantly easier than he.
Ashe appeared to have accepted Basch as as good a babysitter as she could hope for, and clearly took comfort in Vaan's antics, though she went to great lengths to hide it. Mostly, however, she focused her attention on Monty, in whom she found a distant recognition that brought back memories of her childhood—some welcome and some not. He was without doubt a good deal more precocious than she had ever been, and it wounded her to think that he should concern himself with politics at his age, but he certainly had an ambitious zeal for it, and so she allowed herself to admire his devotion.
Basch tried not to keep too close to the princess for fear of aggravating her even more, but he soon realized that she had ceased her protest—if only temporarily—and would even take a surreptitious step closer to him at times. He pretended not to notice, as he felt sure she preferred, but secretly he reveled in relief. Her trust proved the most difficult to gain; if he could manage this, then surely his marred reputation had at last been left behind him. Still, though, he knew that he could not replace Azelas, and thus remained wary of Ashelia's ever-subdued affections. The last thing he wanted was to refresh healing pain.
Also of concern was his recently realized habit of studying Penelo with perhaps too much intensity, though he did not think she had yet noticed. He tried deliberately to avoid staring, but with every laugh she sent echoing through the crisp mountain air, his attention again drew to her. She was sixteen—the same age his wife had been upon their first meeting. She had the same vibrant yellow hair, the same jewel-like blue eyes, and the same warmth that radiated in her very being—a cheery, careless girl, ever distracted with some new wonder, or else concerned for another, even those she barely knew. Penelo was slowly killing him, and he found it painfully comforting.
On the third morning of their travels, they found Lamont curled up beside Penelo, a good five or six feet from where he had fallen asleep the night before. Upon receiving several glares, Penelo explained that he'd had a bad dream and suggested letting him sleep a while longer, as he had been up most of the night. But it was decided that it was in the best interests of the group as a whole to reach the summit before nightfall, and thus Balthier flopped the sleeping boy over his shoulder and they continued on.
Surprisingly, Lamont slept soundly in Balthier's arms for nearly two hours. He remained a few paces behind his companions, allowing them to speak openly without fear of waking the child, but he soon found himself paying little attention to their conversation. Monty was too old to be held—he knew that. He would certainly be embarrassed upon waking, but the situation allowed little leeway, and Balthier remembered well enough the instinctive regression caused by losing a parent. He had been eighteen when his mother died, and spent several months afterwards wandering about on his own, wallowing in self-pity and reminiscing about days past, and it wasn't until Fran dragged him out of the gutter and nursed him back to health that he again felt like an adult. Monty would soon be back to his fiercely independent little self, but for now he just needed someone to take care of him.
They soon reached the Paramina Rift, a small plain of snow that surrounded the mountain top, and the sight of the meager dwelling beyond roused a new hope in all of them. Their supplies had run out and all had been soaked by the now steady snowfall, and the sparkling cathedral atop the mountain seemed to embody the very spirit of peace and compassion that it served to defend. While Vaan and Penelo leapt with joy at the sight, bounding past the others to play in the snow, Ashelia and Basch withheld their elation for fear of waking the prince Balthier carried behind them. Fran fell back to her partner's side, noting that Monty still slept, and commented in Vieran that only humans could rest so soundly. Indeed, he stirred only once, when Balthier slowed his pace to negotiate a patch of rocky terrain, but the pirate lulled him with a few absent-minded pats on the back and he quickly melted against him once more.
After a moment, the group caught up with Vaan and Penelo, who had run up ahead and bombarded each other with snowballs. Their excited chatter clamed in consideration of Monty, but they could no longer pass up the opportunity to tease Balthier for his grudging display of tenderness.
"Aw, you two are so cute!" Penelo goaded.
"Shut up," he whispered indignantly.
"Admit it, Balthier," said Vaan. "You want one."
"I most certainly do not! In case you haven't noticed, there are already far too many little parasites milling around me—any more, and Fran will have to start eating some."
"I don't mind this one so much," Fran added with a smirk.
Suddenly, Monty let out a startled yelp and accidentally jabbed his knee into Balthier's stomach. The pirate quickly dropped him to his feet and doubled over with a curse, while the others simply laughed at the pathetic sight.
"Sorry…" Monty said dizzily.
"What?" Balthier groaned in reply. "Afraid of heights?"
"Only when I'm not expecting them. H—how long was I…"
Balthier wearily continued on. "A few hours."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"You were out cold. Looked like you needed it."
"Next time just kick me or something."
"Gladly."
Monty trudged forward a bit through the snow, obviously relieved to see their destination so close. "Wow," he said. "I guess every mountain seems big until you climb it."
Penelo stepped up behind him. "And snow seems fun until you feel it."
"Let's just hurry," said Ashe. "I'm not made for this kind of weather."
"I don't think any Dalmascans are," Vaan replied.
With Monty awake, however, the last leg of the journey grew lively in a matter of moments, as the boy provided entertainment other than trying not to laugh at Fran's habit of shaking the snow off her feet with nearly every step.
"Hey, Basch?" he asked.
"Yes?" Basch answered.
"You speak Landisian, right?"
"Sort of. Not so well anymore."
"Do you know what 'darmuthe' means?"
He paused momentarily, the others listening in with eager ears. "…Uh…did Gabranth teach you that?"
"Not intentionally," said Monty.
"With good reason."
"I see."
"Isn't that what you used to call Azelas?" Ashe injected.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Basch replied.
"It's what Gabranth and Drace call Vayne when they think I'm not listening," added Monty.
Balthier snickered.
"…You and Gabranth don't really get along, do you?" Monty went on hesitantly.
"Not particularly," said Basch.
"I know it's none of my business, but if you don't mind, there's something I've always wanted to know…"
"What's that?"
"His real name." A minor paused filled the air as all present mentally noted the oddity of such a question before he explained his reasoning: "Judges are all given new names, right? I've tried everything to get it out of him, but he won't tell me."
"Then why should I?" asked Basch.
"Because you don't get along."
Basch hesitated. He didn't like to talk about Gabranth, neither in past nor present, but nevertheless he was occasionally overcome by memories of their younger years—barely five and beating each other up for fun. It appeared a common phase that most boys grew out of, but he could vividly remember being seventeen and punching his brother without any warning or reason—just because he felt like it. Noah had quickly fended him off with a sock to the stomach and laughed.
"Now that was just pathetic."
"I'll try harder next time."
And "next time" was five minutes later, and when they arrived home laughing and bleeding, their mother had scolded them and their father had asked who won, and they each insisted victory belonged to the other. Four years later, Landis was gone.
But still, he remembered the inexplicable fun of pissing his brother off and couldn't help but smirk at Monty's attempt to revive the tradition. "His name is Noah," he said plainly, trying not to let the mischievous light in Monty's eyes bring tears to his.
"Noah…" the boy repeated thoughtfully. "Hm. I'll have to spring it on him next time he gets too cocky."
Basch laughed. "Anything else?"
"Who started it?"
"I did, of course."
Then Penelo chimed in: "Have you ever met anyone who could tell you two apart?"
"Just one."
"Really?"
He nodded with a distant smile. "She never told me how, but she did once tell me it was easy."
"Did you ever switch?" Vaan asked.
"All the time," he answered. "And not always with each other's permission."
"I bet that made the army more trouble than it was worth," Balthier commented.
"You have no idea," Basch replied.
"I always thought girls were the ones eager for trouble…" said Ashe.
"You don't have any brothers?" Monty asked.
"No," she said. "I had a friend, though, who was like one to me."
"Was?"
"He died fighting in the war."
"Oh. Same for my older brothers." He turned his eyes toward the horizon, but quickly brightened the discussion once more. "Vayne says they caused more trouble than a herd of rabid chocobos."
"Oh, really?" asked Ashe.
"Once they stayed up all night putting extra coats of wax on the kitchen floor and used the chaos as an excuse to start a massive food fight over breakfast."
"Rasler and I once tied all of the doorknobs in the servants' quarters together at night so none of them could get out in the morning," Ashe mused.
"Reks and Vaan herded stray dogs into the Sandsea Tavern after hours," said Penelo. "When the owner tried to clear them out, they stampeded."
"Hey," said Vaan, "you're the one who dared us to do it!"
"What's so funny, Basch," Ashe asked, noting his dismal attempt to suppress his laughter.
"You're all amateurs," he replied. "Don't think I'm going to give you any ideas, though."
Ashe actually cracked a smile at this.
"Alright, man!" Vaan exclaimed. "You got a smile out of her!"
"All in a good day's work," Basch admitted.
"Hey," said Ashe, "don't change the subject."
Penelo giggled. "You should play with us, Ashe."
"Yeah," Vaan agreed. "Snow beats sand any day."
"Thanks, but no thanks," the princess replied. "I'd just like to dry off."
"But you've hardly gotten wet yet!" Penelo pressed.
"Maybe compared to you."
"Come on!" said Vaan. "You can dry off when we get there. It's fun!"
"I didn't walk all this way to have fun."
Vaan stopped, the others waiting with him, all eager to get Ashelia to smile again. "Aw, where's your Dalmascan spirit?" he asked with a smile. "You've gotta let yourself go once in a while."
"Maybe next time I get kidnapped," she obliged with somewhat stern sarcasm.
Suddenly, a large snowball thumped into the back of her head, splitting on impact and dripping chilling rivulets of ice down her spine. She spun on her heel to face the attacker, finding poor, wide-eyed, terrified Lamont staring back. She blinked in shock, and he wordlessly pointed to Balthier, who stood beside him with another snowball at the ready.
"Having fun yet?" the pirate asked.
Ashe scowled. "Basch, are you just going to let him—"
A second snowball splattered against her back, eliciting from her a quick yelp, and she turned to see that Basch, too, had another ready to fly.
"Aren't you the one always telling me you don't need a babysitter?" he asked with a smirk.
Ashe clearly had a scathing reply ready, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Balthier unleashed his second strike, hitting her square in the shoulder. She turned again with a "Hey!" only to be hit once more by Basch.
"Ooh," Penelo cooed. "It's war now."
"How about a duel?" Fran suggested.
"A duel?" Ashe asked in reply, trying hard to mask her bemusement with a sour expression.
"Yeah," said Vaan. "Winner gets the right to pelt you with snow for the rest of the trip."
"A truly noble prize," she groaned.
"I elect Monty as mediator!" Penelo squealed.
Monty just laughed.
"Come on, brat," Balthier said cockily. "Let's show the old man how it's done."
"Don't kid yourself, junior," Basch jeered in return.
"Alright, gentlemen," Monty began with a mischievous smirk. "Shake hands and take seven paces."
Balthier and Basch obliged, while Vaan and Penelo sat on either side of Ashe to watch. Standing between the two men, Monty scooped up a handful of snow.
"Ready your weapons," he instructed, and they followed his example. "On my mark…" He held the snowball high, in traditional Archadian fashion. Were this a typical Archadian duel, they would strike when he dropped it, but seeing as how they were all alone on a snowy mountain with a rather disgruntled princess, Monty instead launched the snow ahead, directly toward the princess in question. Having exchanged winks as they readied, Basch and Balthier, too, threw their "weapons" at Ashe, and Vaan and Penelo, wise to the ambush from the moment Monty was appointed mediator, pelted her from the sides. In the hail of white, the throwing seemed to continue steadily, for even as one snowball was flung, its maker would be in the process of scooping up another to be used on whoever stood closest.
The chaos halted, however, when an unfamiliar voice could be heard laughing with them. Indeed, their own laughter would normally have been enough to drown out such interruptions, but this voice sounded far from normal. It was a joyous, musical laugh—low and throaty, yet with a girlish squeal throughout that lent a youthful air to the sound as a whole. As the snow cleared, they soon recognized it as belonging to Ashe.
She sat in the snow where she had fallen in the attack, leaning back on one wrist, knees together and feet wide apart, giggling uncontrollably as she wiped the snow from her face and hair. All stood rapt in wonder, watching her with mystified half-smiles. With Basch and Balthier too dumbfounded to act on their success, Penelo stepped forward and offered her hand to the princess, pulling her from the snowdrift.
Even on her feet, Ashe released a few uncontrollable giggles, drawing a hand to her mouth to silence them and continuing on ahead without a word. Vaan turned to Basch and Balthier with a grin.
"Good work!"