A/N: I can not express my sincerest apologies for letting this sit so long untouched. I thank everyone who never gave up on me and for all the newcomers to this story. It has never ceased to amaze me how many people follow this story. Though I cannot promise you timely updates, I can reassure you that I will finish this tale. Thank you again, dear readers, for having faith in me. I hope to not let you down. (Fair warning, this has not been beta'd...for the moment.)

Chapter Twenty-eight

To her credit, the Strahl had to be one of the fastest airships in the sky that day, perhaps even that year. Her captain never faltered once in ensuring her passage through the air was smooth and graceful. Her navigator had set coordinates without fail, perfect and unerring. For hours, in perfect concert, ship, captain, and navigator outperformed them all. Yet, it wasn't enough.

The Naldoan was vast. All of them knew this going in, but when it came to Penelo, there was always a hope. However, as the sun slowly faded to nothing and the night gave way to the dawn once again, their hope started to falter. It wasn't until they found the mauled remnants of a body floating in the Outer parts that they dared to think the unthinkable. Hope had abandoned them.

"So now what?" Vaan choked out in a whisper.

Balthier took a long breath and sighed. "We head to Balfonheim."

Fran's face contorted in a semblance of pain as her fingers gracefully passed over the controls to set their course.


Larsa stood looking out over the city from a balcony in his private quarters. He had many such vantages to choose from, but this one was the only that faced to the south.

He felt helpless. The only protection he could have offered her, he gave. It failed. He failed. Somehow, he had completely overlooked that the crest could have put her in more danger. His hands balled to fists and he slammed them down on the marble. He had fought so hard to sue for peace and to save his empire from further war. Where was the triumph of this farce if it only managed to lose the one true reason he stayed true to his course.

Penelo was such a reason. She gave him hope that he wasn't mad to still cling to those dreams he started to fulfill as a young boy of twelve. She had clung to those same hopes.

Larsa closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. His face was stone and impassionate. He had already spent his tears for the moment. He drew his thoughts away from the girl whom he had cared so dearly for and focused exclusively on the matter that now required his full attention.

He knew Vasren was at the root of all this. He had no proof, but he would do everything within his power to make the man pay.

His blue eyes shot opened and narrowed. If his power as emperor weren't enough, he would find another way. Some crimes must never go unpunished, regardless of the cost.


"Vaan! Did you…" Tomaj's voice trailed off as he rushed up to the despondent party disembarking the Strahl.

"Vaan?" The hesitant voice of Kytes asked.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Filo rounded on him, fury etched on her face. "But you said she'd be fine! You said, you said…"

"I said I was sorry!" he roared.

The feisty brunette balled her fists and attempted to hold back her tears as she turned and ran from him.

"Filo wait!" Vaan called as he started to go after her.

Ashe put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

Kytes sniffled. "I'll go get her."

Vaan watched the sixteen-year-old boy go after his best friend. They were so much like how he and Penelo had been. One was always rushing into trouble and flying off the handle, the other calm and nurturing.

Vaan ran a hand down over his face. "Did Heil have a little girl with him, Tomaj?"

The barkeep shook his head. "No one. We did overhear some of the crew saying he threw a shipmate overboard."

"Him we found," Balthier muttered darkly.

The clang of steel to stone startled Tomaj and he took a step backwards as Basch came forward in full armor.

"Is Heil still in port?"

Tomaj gulped and shook his head as he stared wide-eyed at the helmed man.

"Do you know which port he means to dock next?"

"No," Tomaj squeaked and then coughed. He started again. "But we saw that he…"

A loud voice sounded from the ports overcom announcing the departure of bay seven.

"Dammit Filo!" Vaan cursed.

"Vaan," Ashe chastised.

"She's stealing my ship!" he rounded.

"And headed where precisely?" Balthier demanded of the barkeep.

"Rabanastre," Tomaj said, fidgeting with the bands at his wrist. "It's the direction we saw Heil's ship leave."

"Then we best make it there first," Balthier said and turned to once again board the Strahl.


The Strahl was more tomb than airship as they raced towards Rabanastre. Basch could see the gazes stray back to him from time to time, but no one spoke.

It was easy to hide his pain with his mask back in place. If only he could hide it from himself; that would make this easier to swallow.

Again, he had dared to claim something as his own and again it had been ripped away from him. Savagely. Yet, homelands and allegiances could always be started anew. There would be no more Penelo.

Basch focused on breathing, inhaling and exhaling. He listened to the sounds of muffled sniffling. All of them were trying their hardest to postpone their grief. Grief clouded judgment and all of their wits would need to be about them to track down Heil. And Basch would track down Heil. The man had just ripped out Basch's very heart and soul; he was inclined to repay the favor full circle.


Though the rest of Archades slept on, Larsa's residence was abuzz with emissaries, secretaries, judges, pages, and every other wake of life that could bring him information. Papers were strewn from one end of his personal office to the other. Crumpled documents littered the desktop and were overflowing from the waste bin.

The young emperor's hands were a flurry of activity as his tired eyes scanned each and every piece of paper around him. Hundreds upon thousands of documents and all he needed was one. One simple flaw; a paltry mistake, anything to tie Vasren to Penelo's…

"All of you leave, now." He commanded harshly.

Larsa fixed the door behind them. He was alone now as the first strands of pink touched the sky. He turned back to his office and strode with a furious purpose.

Fistfuls of parchment became confetti and charters were thrown to the walls in his frustration. Hours upon hours he had spent pouring over the man's entire life and nothing. He could find nothing.

A strangled sob escaped, followed closely by another. Exhaustion and grief swiftly brought Larsa to his knees. His body shook and he no longer tried to stop the flood of tears streaming down his face.

The pain of his heart was akin to loss, but it was so much more. Never had he felt more helpless, more unsure of himself, more alone. He remembered little of his mother's and two eldest brothers' deaths, his father affected him, but not nearly as much as his hand in destroying his own brother had. All of these deaths could be considered trivial compared to the loss of a girl who took blind trust and faith and used it as her shield. He had failed her, miserably.

Through his blurry haze, he saw the one piece of paper he had hoped to bury and forget about for the rest of his life.

Dalmascan girl lost at sea—presumed dead.

Larsa knew whom the paper was meant, but he did not know if it had been intercepted or if it was meant for him to read. He no longer cared. If it was war the senate wanted, he would give it to them. He would bring them to their knees; all of them who dared to plot, dreamed of conspiring against him to this end. Their scheming had cost him Penelo and none of their pathetic lives combined could repay such a debt.