Yet another reminder: changed Larsa's name because of an immature joke my friend and I have regarding drag queens and the full monty. Please stop trying to kill me for it. Just a personal touch.
XXIV.
"Ouch."
Vaan's weary groan seemed to voice the thoughts of the group as a whole. A thick veil of dust shrouded the atmosphere, but as it slowly thinned, the soft glow of magicite shone through with a mild air of optimism, revealing that they had not fallen more than a few feet off the end of the platform. No exit could be seen in the low-ceilinged chamber, and their entrance had promptly sealed itself behind them, but the walls around them proved rife with murals that seemed to offer highly confident promises of escape.
"Well, that was awfully rude," Balthier declared, standing stiffly and dusting himself off.
"Everyone alright?" Basch asked.
"Seems so," Ashe replied, looking over the group. "But perhaps we should be more careful of where we step from now on."
Penelo rubbed her back end with a grimace. "Sounds like a good idea to me."
No further danger presented itself, though they explored with brimming caution, and Ashe approached the nearest wall to inspect the inscribed drawings, noting the sophistication of their detail, both in paint and in carving. Monty's eyes trailed over the heavenly veins of magicite that smoldered in the walls, pointing out that they did not match the stones bearing the murals. The others speculated that the light-bearing stones had been brought from some unknown distance for the construction of the shrine, though there existed no magicite mines in Bur-Omisace.
"Raithwall practically owned the planet," Ashe explained, tracing a deeply engraved image with her slender fingers.
"And all of the people on it?" Balthier asked, earning a brief glare.
"The whole of Ivalice came together to build this," she said. "There must be more to it than paintings and trapdoors."
"You think everyone helped with the tomb, too?" Vaan asked. "King Raithwall's, I mean. He had a lot of respect back then, didn't he?"
The princess took a few sideways steps along the wall, her eyes bright blue in the light of the glimmering stone, her face so childishly hopeful in the presence of her ancestors. "He brought world peace after centuries of bloodshed," she explained softly. "They revered him."
"How?"
All eyes left the great paintings now and fell on Monty, who seemed to recoil upon receiving such attention, though he did not retract his question.
"…What?" Ashe asked.
"How did he do it?" the boy expounded. "After so much war… wouldn't the distrust be enough to destroy any attempt at peace?"
"He offered them an alliance," she said, returning her gaze to the stones before her. "They didn't keep records back then—all we know is what's been passed down from the generations before us. He united all of the countries under one government, and once they realized how good it was, they stopped protesting and accepted it."
"But in the beginning…" Lamont pressed. "How did he make them listen?"
"Umm…" Penelo stepped in, her cheeks somewhat flushed. "…I—I don't mean to interrupt, but…your, um…"
And at last Balthier took up her message, addressing the princess: "Your Highness is glowing."
She cocked her head slightly, then followed their gazes downward, seeing precisely to which Highness he referred. The front of her hip emitted a faint light, slightly off center but close enough to appear awkward, and she quickly ended the joke (which the others thoroughly enjoyed) by removing the Midlight Shard from her pocket. Unfortunately, the stone promptly ceased its reaction, leaving them with no hint as to what had caused it in the first place.
"Aww," Vaan groaned. "Why'd it stop?"
"Perhaps it senses something we do not," Fran speculated.
"Something you can't sense?" asked Balthier. "Not so sure I like this…"
Basch seemed somewhat distracted by the mural engraved in the wall behind the princess, which she had been studying when the stone reacted, and he gestured to it hesitantly, uncertain of what exactly it was that he saw.
"…There's something different about this one," he said quietly.
All turned their eyes to it in close inspection, though there seemed nothing particularly special about it. The carving depicted Raithwall alone, having given both of his daughters—each with a chunk of nethicite—away in marriage in the previous mural. In truth, it appeared one of the plainer paintings in the room, though for some reason there seemed to be a good deal of detail in it.
"…What's that?" Ashe asked momentarily, pointing behind the painted figure to the grey stone that bore it.
Though the surface did not hold the same color as the other murals, it had nevertheless been carved very faintly, a myriad of delicate lines swirling behind the drawing of Raithwall, blending into the wall.
"Oh, weird…" Penelo mused.
"Looks like clouds," added Vaan.
"Mist?" Basch asked.
"It has eyes," Ashe replied with a shudder.
"Where?" asked Balthier.
"There," she said, pointing to a pair of deftly hewn circles amid the curling lines. "And there."
"And down here," Monty noted, pointing out another pair.
"My God," said Basch, "they're everywhere."
"Creepy," Vaan muttered.
"…It's kind of warm," Monty said slowly, laying a hand on the stone.
Like a frightened flock of sheep, they all mirrored his movement, feeling that the wall did indeed emit a gentle, throbbing heat. A sudden shudder then resounded throughout the chamber as the weight of their touch seemed to loosen the stone panel that bore the carving. All paused for a moment, exchanging glances, and then they laid their hands on it once more, pushing in unison until the great stone dropped into a groove of about three or four inches beyond. Unseen forces drew the panel to the side, revealing a hidden alcove beyond and releasing a humid cloud of Mist that gleaned a choke out of Fran. The attention of the group momentarily shifted to the Viera, who stumbled backward and shook her head.
"…It's alright," she assured them, rubbing her eyes and flicking her ears. "…It's…it's dissipated."
Balthier questioned her once in Vieran, and she answered him in the affirmative, so the others turned their eyes once more to the small room, Ashelia nearing the entrance cautiously. But Basch grabbed her arm before she could step beyond the threshold, pointing to a suspicious slot carved in the sides of the stones on either side of the "door."
"That doesn't look so good."
She stepped back, eyeing the slot with somewhat fearful curiosity, and then Balthier tossed a stone through the door, triggering a massive steel blade to zip across the threshold and crash into the opposite side with a reverberating clank. After a moment, the blade surrendered its balance, now loose from whatever mechanism had held it, and fell flat against the stone floor with still another clank. They all looked at each other knowingly—the kids huddled together protectively, Ashe clinging to Basch's arm, the pirates standing with proud smirks—and slowly they relaxed, throwing a few more stones through the door and then entering after them.
After a painstakingly slow walk down a short corridor (preceded by many tossed stones), they arrived at a pedestal surrounded by three magicite-ripe walls that seemed to signal a dead end. Out of the pedestal stood the hilt of a sword, though the blade appeared firmly embedded in the stone. Yet just as they began to question how they would retrieve the sword, the Midlight Shard in Ashelia's hand glowed once more, emitting a sharp ring that caused the blade to vibrate violently, cracking the stone of the pedestal until it simply shook apart, falling in chunks at their feet. The sword could not stand on its own, however, and came to a thundering crash once it support had collapsed, once again rattling the nerves of all present. Finally, the wall directly across them shifted slightly, knocking a good deal of dust loose, and then slowly began to raise, revealing a clear path back out into the snowy woods beyond.
"Well, that was easy," Balthier remarked.
Ashe suppressed a groan, placing the Midlight Shard back in her pocket and bending to pick up the sword. She found it heavier than it appeared, and could not identify the metal that composed it, but she felt childish questioning such a thing, and simply held it up for her companions to see.
"Wow," said Penelo. "…Sure is big."
"And shiny," Vaan added.
"But how do we know it works?" asked Basch.
"You should try it on the Midlight Shard," Vaan suggested giddily.
"What?" Ashe replied flatly.
He shrugged. "You know…See if it can really destroy nethicite or not."
"It's no use to us, after all," Balthier added. Then, giving the princess a glare: "Right?"
She examined the blade of the great sword with mournful hesitance, and then said, quietly, "It seems reckless."
At this, Monty's eyes lit up, and he turned to Penelo with a hopeful smile. "Penelo—do you still have the nethicite I gave you?"
She averted her gaze, shyly reaching across her body and gripping her forearm. "…Well, yes, but…it's special…"
"Come on," he coaxed. "This is important."
Balthier smirked. "Soon enough he'll get you a diamond to replace it, anyway."
Glowering rather adorably at him, Penelo slowly offered up the small stone to Ashe. "…Alright."
"…Are you sure?" the princess asked, taking the nethicite delicately.
"Go ahead," Penelo assured her with a nod.
Ashe still appeared somewhat apprehensive, knowing the value of the rock, but both Penelo and Monty looked on eagerly as she set the nethicite at her feet, so she quickly allayed her sensitivities and made ready to strike. The sword proved far heavier than most she had wielded in her time with the Resistance, making its fall all the more effective, but the chopping of the stone did nothing more than divide it in two. Sparse fragments of light sparked out of the wound, but they soon fizzled against the temple floor, leaving the nethicite bare and glum before her.
Ashe leaned in, inspecting the shards, mumbling a weakened, dumbfounded, "…What?"
"Wonderful," Balthier groaned, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "All you've done is make more."
Ashe shook her head. "But…"
"Maybe it only works on the real stuff," Monty suggested, approaching the stone and looking it over. "This is artificial."
Penelo, too, knelt beside the broken halves, taking them carefully in her hands and piecing them together hopelessly. She seemed undaunted, however, and held a chunk out to Monty, who took it with a smile.
"Why not try the Midlight Shard?" asked Basch. "It's done us no good so far—no point in keeping it."
"We don't know yet that it's completely useless," Ashe insisted.
"Is it's use really something we're ready for?" he asked back.
She took in a breath, removing the Midlight Shard from her pocket and turning it slightly in her palm, gazing into it as though some excuse would produce itself from within the hazy shadows of the stone.
"Come on," Vaan whined eagerly. "The Garif said there's nothing left in it…"
Seeing she stood no chance, Ashe gritted her teeth and gripped her sword. Hesitantly—tepidly—she set the Midlight Shard on the stone slab before her, taking a moment to steady it as though it might roll away once the chance came upon it. She then stepped back and readied the sword, holding it rather loosely in her hands for all at once her limbs felt lighter, almost like the blood within them had been replaced with water. After a moment, she recognized the feeling as drunkenness, though she knew this could not be the case. Feeling the eyes of her companions resting expectantly on her, she began to lift the sword, only to halt when the stone emitted a faint glow at her feet. The blade lowered once more, and she took yet another step back.
"…What's it doing?" she asked, a small pang of urgency in her voice.
Monty tilted his head, but could fathom no answer, and Balthier advanced slowly on the nethicite, eliciting an even greater glow from it, as well as a subtle rumble of sound that seemed akin to the ringing of metal against metal. He knelt beside it, watching the halo of light that surrounded it pulse brighter and softer, a twisted, unholy heartbeat, then looked up to Fran, who had silently approached from the opposite side.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.
"It fears the sword," she confirmed.
Ashelia allowed the tip of Raithwall's blade to rest on the floor, inquiring with eager hope, "Then there is some power left in it after all?"
"So it would have us think," said Basch.
"We can't just walk into Archades and chop up the Dusk Shard if we aren't sure the sword will work," Balthier went on. "We have to test it. No point in using something we can't trust to work."
"…Fine," Ashe said at length, planting her feet once more and raising the blade.
The others backed away again, eyes wary but expectant, and she took in a breath, tensing her muscles and readying herself for the impact of the steel against the stone.
"Wh—what if it explodes?" Penelo chirped feebly.
Yet again, Ashe lowered the sword.
"It can't if there's nothing in it," Monty assured them.
"The Garif seemed certain it was empty," added Basch.
The princess looked them all over, her eyes demanding whether they were doing this or not, and they gave her no further resistance in return. She lifted the sword, digging her toes futilely into the gritty floor to balance out the weight of it, then rested her eyes on the small rock before her, its faintly glowing surface pleading with her to yield. Slowly, the light of the Midlight Shard seemed to expand, rising high and billowing slightly before calming and swirling itself into a vaguely familiar form. Ashe's eyes followed the Mist upwards, widening as they recognized the figure they beheld, sending a coat of cold sweat to her palms that nearly caused her to drop the great weapon that she held above her shoulder.
Rasler stared back at her, a cold, ghoulish image that somehow seemed at once friendly and suspicious. She studied him carefully, knowing his presence to be false, but wondering as to the purpose of it. From the stance of the others, she could tell that they did not see him, and before long, she didn't either, as he quickly faded from view, the Mist that created him fading at the edges, dissipating into the clear, dark air around him. The blade fell, a resounding clank flying from it and bouncing off the stone walls of the shrine, but the Midlight Shard was spared, rumbling slightly a few inches from the strike point beside it. Ashe straightened, looking to all of her comrades with a sharp intensity that for a moment seemed to beckon antagonism—to dare them to disagree.
"We don't need to test it," she stated rather harshly, now wielding an expression that warned clearly against any opposition. "It'll work."
Balthier glowered at her, turning his back and walking away. "If it ever finds its mark," he muttered over his shoulder.
The others slowly followed after him, cowed by the solidity of her resolve, though Vaan and Penelo both seemed apprehensive to leave her side. Ashelia loosened her rigid grip on the hilt, letting the tip of the blade tap the stone floor delicately. It slid slightly, scraping against the rock, drawing her focus from the thin veil of Mist before her. And yet even with her attention stolen from the foggy distance, she felt for a moment that another presence accompanied her, and she scanned the Mist for any source of sound within it. She could swear she heard an echo bouncing in the distance. She could swear it was her name.
Though her eyes searched with all due strain, nowhere among the clouds of Mist could she detect an image, living or not. It briefly sounded like Rasler's voice that called to her, but the sound soon faded, melting into sync with the footsteps of her companions, prompting her to follow them. Still, her thoughts raced, and not even the beauty of the great temple could distract her from the lingering horror that had so briefly overcome her, and yet so deeply shaken her.
Little discussion of the day's events continued outside of the shrine, and, seeing that the sun would quickly fall and a sprinkling of snow with it, they decided to stay the night in the empty sheltered area at the base of the holy ground, so that they could take their journey back up in the morning. Under Basch's instruction, Vaan managed to successfully build a fire in the pit at the center of the camp, and all had fallen in to a heavy sleep as the darkness descended, exhausted from their travels and the seemingly endless assortment of trials that they had met along the way.
Balthier, however, had stayed up a bit longer, feeding the fire and surveying the horizon, and then disappeared down the wooded path upon seeing that no others would notice. Francesca, of course, heard his departure, but thought nothing of it and trusted him enough to believe with all assurance that he would return shortly. That he did, though only for a moment. He at first gently shook Monty's shoulder in a civilized attempt to rouse him, but when the boy rolled over and curled up, completely oblivious, the pirate decided that he'd been polite enough and gave him a firm kick, quelling the ensuing protest with a reminder that Monty had just a few days ago instructed him to do so.
"What's wrong?" Monty asked, once they had exited the tent and walked clear of the others' earshot.
"Wrong?" Balthier replied. "Since when are you so cynical?"
"It's the middle of the night. Just tell me."
Balthier rolled his eyes and continued walking down the winding mountainside path, the boy tiredly trying to match his pace. "God, you sound like a scientist. Just be grateful I woke you up this time. You're a heavy little bastard."
"And you think I'm cynical?"
"Well, I suppose it will do you some good, with the road you're headed down."
"I'm not going to get mixed up in politics," he insisted. "Everyone who tries ends up miserable—and I'm no good at it, anyway."
"Sure you're not," Balthier shot back with a frank air of boredom.
"I'm not," Lamont growled. "I can't even stop this war."
"No one can stop a war, but that hasn't stopped you from trying. Admit it, Monty: you were born for this."
"Vayne was born for this."
He glanced down at him, slightly amused, but did not let his pace falter. "Does it really scare you that much?"
"This isn't false modesty," Monty answered. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"You've already begun," the pirate replied. "You got a Dalmascan to work with you—and not just any Dalmascan. Ashe doesn't just go around trusting everyone she meets. Hell, you even got a Rozarrian on board. By all rights, he should have killed you the moment you suggested it." He paused for a moment, noting not only Monty's silence, but his sullen stare and grim expression. His royal confidence had faded beyond recognition, and he walked morosely at his side, gazing gloomily at the ground with premature sorrow. "So that's it," Balthier said after a moment, and the boy glanced up at him curiously.
"What?"
"Monty," he said with a sigh, "I was a soldier at fourteen, a Judge at sixteen, a fugitive at eighteen, a pirate by twenty, and now a half-assed, under-paid royal chauffer at twenty-two—I know how it feels to grow up too fast."
"Then why aren't you trying to save the world?"
"You think I'm not?"
Monty's attention strayed then as they rounded a corner, coming into view of an Atomos that had left the fleet and landed clandestinely among the fir trees that cluttered the mountain path. As soon as the boy laid eyes on the armored figure that awaited him, he left Balthier's side with a gallop. "Gabranth!"
Before the Judge could even respond, Monty crashed into him, embracing him with all his strength. "Easy there," he said with a small laugh, mussing the boy's hair. "I thought you were getting too old for this."
"I was," Monty answered, still clinging to him as though his life depended on it. "I think I'm younger now."
"That would explain a lot."
This got his attention, and he drew back a bit and looked up to Gabranth with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."
"Worry me?" Gabranth replied. "You scared the living hell out of me."
Monty turned his eyes to the ground and shook his head shamefully. "I don't know what I was thinking. I won't do it again."
Gabranth didn't seem to believe him, but wasn't about to drag his embarrassment out any further, and instead turned to Balthier. "Sorry about all this."
"No need," the pirate replied. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."
"You're sending me back?" Monty asked, more shocked than angry.
"The longer you stay here," Gabranth explained, "the more you endanger the princess."
Balthier shrugged. "Nothing personal."
"Can't I even say goodbye to the others?" the boy pleaded.
"Bergan is with the fleet," said Gabranth. "It's only a matter of time before he realizes I'm down here, and then he'll have no reason not to search the summit."
Monty hung his head briefly, realizing the danger such an occurrence would pose to the princess and her cortege, as well as the futility in his struggle to stay any longer. "Right…"
"Always eager to stir up trouble, that one," Balthier groaned.
"Especially now that he knows you're here," Gabranth replied. "You should keep the princess hidden a while longer."
"Somehow I don't think she'll be too happy about that," said Balthier.
"He means to kill you both," Gabranth insisted.
"I thought I had a live bounty."
"Vayne's command overrules Cid's."
Now Monty stepped in: "Vayne ordered Balthier dead? Why would he do that?"
The pirate smiled with a quaint air of pride. "Probably to keep me from having a bad influence on you."
"Well, I'll talk to him—"
"Your brother must look at the world with more caution now," Gabranth said firmly. "There are reasons behind his decisions, whether we want to understand them or not."
"But what harm is Balthier to Archadia?" Monty questioned earnestly, getting a haughty laugh out of the pirate.
"And here I thought you were so bright for your age!" he mused. Monty scowled, and he continued with more friendly a tone: "Come on, kid! Don't worry about me. I've handled worse problems than Vayne."
"Don't hurt yourself," Gabranth groaned.
Balthier rolled his eyes. "I'm not an army brat anymore, Gabranth. I'll be fine."
"Don't flatter yourself, either."
And now he smirked, shifting with brief discomfort. "You've got your brother's sense of humor."
At this, Monty's eyes widened, and he looked up to Gabranth with sudden eagerness that belied his age. "Won't you at least go talk to Basch?"
The Judge shook his head. "I doubt I have anything to say that he wants to hear."
"You're not working for my father anymore," the boy went on resolutely. "I can give you orders now."
"That's the other thing," Gabranth replied. "I'm not working for you anymore, either. Vayne has given me command of the Alexander. When we get back, you can order Zargabaath around all you want."
Lamont gazed at him with a deep, confounding sorrow, his eyes appearing all the more wide and brown when filled with such betrayal. Even Balthier felt a pang of sadness, though pure astonishment quickly followed it: this was nothing short of stupid on Vayne's part.
"What about Drace?" Monty asked, his voice noticeably weakened.
The sentiment seemed to be returned in Gabranth's tone, though he knew better than to express too much frailty in front of others. "…I'm afraid she's been convicted of treason."
"What!?" Monty exclaimed.
"Her sentence has already been carried out," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
"Why is he doing this?"
"He only wants what's best for you."
"He has no idea what's best for me!"
"Lamont…"
Monty never stayed angry for long, but he was not about to relent on such an issue. He had always known that Drace distrusted his brother, but he would not readily accept that she betrayed her country because of him—and he would certainly not have both of his bodyguards taken from him. "I'm not going back unless you stay with me," he growled.
Gabranth shook his head. "You know that's not my decision."
"Then make him understand!" the boy begged. "What else is there for me to go back to?"
"You can't control the world, Monty," Gabranth explained with a subtle, sympathetic sigh. "Disappointment is a fact of life."
Monty's eyes began to water faintly. "I'm not disappointed, Gabranth! I'm scared…"
This nearly did the trick, and Gabranth briefly felt as though he had returned to the throne room, kneeling on the red carpet, Drace's sword in his hand, but he had suffered enough at the hands of the past and refused to let it influence Monty. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you…" he said.
"It's not me I'm worried about," Lamont replied.
"You have to let others make their own decisions. It's unfortunate, I know, but there are some things that just can't be controlled."
Monty stared at him despairingly, clearly unconvinced, but seemingly out of excuses.
"Don't worry about the rest of the flock," Balthier assured him. "I'll watch over them."
"The longer you're gone," Gabranth added, "the more Vayne worries about you, and that doesn't sit well for anyone. We're hoping if I bring you back to Vayne, he'll return things to normal."
"How can things ever be normal without Drace?" Monty whined.
Gabranth at last gave up on pleading and removed the warmth from his voice with fatherly precision. "Lamont, your brother means to find you at all costs—I'd prefer to do this quietly."
Taking the cue, Balthier joined in: "You're better off with Gabranth than you are with me, brat. Besides, we need someone to keep an eye on Archadia for us."
Suddenly, a fourth voice spoke up from a few yards up the mountain path: "You're leaving!?"
All eyes fell on Penelo, who stood with clear shock on her face at a distance that she obviously only kept for fear of the unfamiliar Judge at Monty's side.
"…I guess I am," the boy answered her grievously. "Sorry."
"Don't look so put out," Balthier added. "You must have seen it coming."
Her first instinct told her to swoop upon Monty like a hawk taking her chick beneath her wing, but she did not know whether he in fact needed her protection. She feared that he didn't, and knew he would leave of his own accord, though she hated to admit it, but—Judge or no Judge—she would not have him leave without a proper farewell.
"But he's safe with us," she whined, taking a few hesitant steps forward. "You look after him just fine…"
"Not by choice," Balthier countered, rolling his eyes and turning to Gabranth, who let Monty approach the girl without objection, but seemed slightly mesmerized by her.
Upon first glance, he thought for sure that he saw a hallucination of some kind—or at least that he was dreaming—but he quickly realized that the childlike blonde before him indeed existed in the present reality, and he nearly laughed out of bitterness. The resemblance did prove striking at first, but it took only a passing inspection to see the difference—though one thought persisted in the back of his mind: Basch must be terrified of her. He knew better than to stare, however, and spoke as politely as he could:
"Penelo, I take it?"
She nodded. "…Gabranth?"
He nodded as well. "Forgive me for saying so, but I've heard quite a bit about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Always. I'm afraid I must relieve you of your escort."
Her eyes turned downward briefly, breaking their forced contact under the pressure of such sorrow and intimidation. "I understand."
Noticing her discomfort, Monty took her hand with an unsteady smile. "You can come if you'd like."
This got a small laugh out of her, but she refused to be so easily convinced. "I'd love to, but that might cause more problems than the world is ready for."
"Ivalice has never turned down a challenge," he replied with forced optimism.
"Monty…" Unsure of how to properly bid farewell to royalty, she at last decided to use the same method she used on all others, and drew him in close, squeezing his shoulders and smiling slightly upon feeling him squeeze her ribs in return. "You just take care of yourself, alright?" she whispered.
"Alright," he replied. Yet, as she released him and turned to leave, a sudden surge of panic swept over him and he lurched forward a step. "P—Penelo!"
She turned back to him with curious blue eyes. "Hm?"
"Uh…"
Seeing his embarrassment, she stepped closer and knelt before him, allowing them a bit of privacy. "…What is it?" she asked in as soothing a tone as she could manage.
He hesitated a second more, but then seemed to abandon his thoughts and act on his resolve. It was a shocking moment for all present—himself included—but none were able to react to it, and in truth, it all happened so fast, none of them had the time, anyway. Monty simply closed his eyes and briefly pressed his lips against Penelo's, then stepped back, said goodbye with a staunch, uncomfortable nod, and walked away. Gabranth looked back and forth once or twice from the frozen and dumbfounded girl to the terrified and retreating boy, but ultimately found nothing to protest and turned to leave. Balthier adopted his usual cocky expression and stood for a moment, arms folded, staring after the prince with admiration, and Penelo, utterly speechless, simply fell back onto her rear and laughed.