Jaiger and his men had raced into the arena of conflict as Magan and those under her command were working with the remaining Archadian soldiers to bandage wounds, calm fears, and seek out the responsible.
The strange flames were then already extinguished, though an eerie fog had remained in the aftermath, and each of the soldiers, regardless of banner, wore the same dust, soot, sweat, and some of them blood.

Jaiger had surveyed the damage with a throbbing heart. Not again...not so soon.

And Magan when looked up from where she knelt near the now broken fountain, an Archadian warrior on his haunches beside her, to see Captain Jaiger Quinn, she had pushed her matted auburn hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and rose.
The look upon her face had matched the foreboding in his spirit.

Judge Oran had been watching as the small, sleek Archadian airship had landed near the border. He and his men had kept close watch, ready to provide aid, but they were unprepared when the flash of light pierced the sky. In the next instant the concussion had rocked the airship.

They had maintained control, but all hands felt the report.

At first believing they were fired upon, Oran's Lieutenant had been a heartbeat from returning fire upon an enemy unseen, but Oran had stayed the call. It was not they who were in distress, he instinctively knew, and they would not endanger their kindred, be they soldier or citizen, by an ill-considered assault.

There had been urgent, swift questioning as to what had been espied near the flash, and few enough answers. All had seemed quiet with little out of the ordinary.

Nothing to explain why now they were separated from their colleagues below by a thick, hazy sea.

"…dead?"

"…that armor off him. …crushed…like a vise… hurry with that next potion…"

Lonnan felt like he was dreaming. A jolt through his torso flooded his senses with pain. …Could dreaming hurt this much?

"…to keep this ship level, or I'll have…!"

Why was the air so thick and hard to breathe? Why were his lungs burning when his body was so cold? …Drowning… Was he drowning?
Panic gripped him..

"… of all that is good…must keep him restrained!"

He was running, but his feet wouldn't move. He was swimming, but his arms refused to pull him to the surface. He was fighting, but they were winning. …They were faster, stronger… Why could they move when he could not?
...Please…… have to get home. …Aneera… help me…love …

"…worry, Commander. …be home soon."

The armored figure who stepped inside a rundown warehouse, long past the need to be condemned, looked distastefully at the rodents that scurried about his feet. His lips turned to show his increased disgust as a pack of scraggly children raced after. One of the eldest, perhaps barely a teenager, threw a roughly honed shard like a spear, and the younger children darted around and over boxes and empty crates to investigate. When a youngster, probably less in years than the fingers of one hand, appeared holding a large rat by the tale and cheering about the dinner they'd now eat, the soldier shuddered in revulsion.

The leader of the group held out his hand to retrieve his knife from the child, and the warrior slapped the hand away, snatching the tool.

The blade of stone had clearly been sharpened without the aid of proper tools. It was uneven and pitted, and yet the edge was sharp enough and the point would suffice for the kind of duty it had just seen. A mostly smooth stick was made to be the grip, and held to the stone by fraying binding twine seated in several recessed chips of the stone.
The boy had toiled away many hours in the making of this instrument.

"Ha. What a pitiful thing." The weapon broke in the armored hand as if it was a toy, and the children gasped and cried out as one. A quiver shook the boy whose knife it had been as if it was he that had been broken instead. The warrior drew his own weapon, long and bright and straight. "Here boy, test the edge of a true blade."

The boy fearfully looked to a girl and boy about his own age. The panic in their eyes answered his own.

"I gave you an order!" The soldier grasped the boy's arm at the wrist and forced his open palm toward the gleaming edge.

"What did I tell you brats about hanging around this place? Roof's likely to fall in on your filthy heads! Would serve you right." Jules snatched the boy from the soldier's grasp and roughly threw him backward, toward the door. The boy fell hard, but was quickly to his feet. "Go on!" Jules' voice was harsh. "Get out of here! If I have to come after you-" They were gone. Not even their shadows lingered.

The warrior's face was smoldering with anger at Jules for his interruption, but Jules gave a short, raucous laugh. "Brats and rats; rats and brats. The streets are full of them, always underfoot. After dark one must keep his ears tucked in and check his boots and gloves if he dares wander into Old Archades. I've heard tell-"

"Enough, pauper-son!" The blade flashed threateningly, and Jules held his hands before him, eyes wide and guileless. The blade was sheathed, and the soldier nearly spat. "What do you have for me? For your sake, it had best be worth the trip to this forsaken place."

Jules propped himself up one of the sturdier crates in a place where the shadows concealed the slivers of disdain he allowed to slip through his mask. "Meret Denali, noble Dalmascan, is dead."

"Good riddance." The eyes were unfeeling, uncaring, and bored.

"Three bodies were taken from House Ranel . Two men, one woman. A prisoner also, his fate unknown. The men were in the employ of one Meret Denali; the woman, good lady Madame Ranel herself."

"Most of this I could tell you. And why should it interest me?"

"Meret Denali was until late in the custody of the Empire… His family cries foul, he is released by authority of the Magistrate, and now he is dead."

"So…Denali's death was orchestrated to rid the Empire of an enemy released under the guise of diplomacy." The soldier sniffed appreciatively. "Clever." He sobered and glared. "And unhelpful."

"But consider that soon after the border is shut down, Judge Magister Gabranth and the Emperor fly off to discuss our relations with Dalmasca, and now, only an hour past, there is witnessed an explosion on the border. …There are rumors of Imperial casualties. I wonder what the Senate will now say to the Emperor's claim of peace..."

Zargabaath drew a line from his steel hairline down the bridge of his nose with his forefinger, and muttered a few unintelligible lines.

The Emperor had not yet returned. The Senate was abuzz, and swarming like flies. The giddiness in their manner since Larsa's departure irked him. How could those charged with serving the people so delight in the ill that befell their country?
But then had it not always been thus?
Too often it seemed…and that was what worried him most… For he had himself seen the end result, and it was a bloody, pitiless thing.

"Judge Magister!" A knight hurried in. "There has been some trouble on the border."

"No…" Zargabaath breathed the word beneath his breath. The knight did not hear.

"An explosion of some kind. There are reports of numerous injuries and-"

Zargabaath released a guttural echo of disapproval. "Pryderi was given order-"

"Sir Pryderi, I beg your pardon, Your Honor, is one of the casualties. He is taken just now to the infirmary. I cannot tell you if he is yet alive…"

Dax Gracien had witnessed the knight's rushed movement through the Palace toward the Judge Magister's office, and had silently moved to stand behind the knight in order to hear the report.
At the news of his colleague's injuries he turned and hastened toward the infirmary.

Zargabaath also made his way at a reserved but urgent clip, all the while continuing his inquiry of the soldier in terse, methodical time.
Pryderi, if he was living, must be questioned as to the nature of this beast. The Emperor would be put yet again at disadvantage if the Senate were to hear of this thing.
And they would hear. Zargabaath silently scoffed. Oh yes…they would hear.

"Judge Magister Bergan would be pleased…" This thought more than any other drove Judge Velten Muldyr as he took the information he'd gleaned to his contact in the Senate.

It was not enough that that his Master, who had died so valiantly in service to the Empire, had not been memorialized in a manner worthy of his noble person. To add to this insult, he, Judge under Bergan's command, had not been elevated to the position of Judge Magister upon lord Bergan's untimely demise.
Meanwhile, those such as Oran, a man hailing from the rank and file and whom he wholeheartedly despised, had been promoted as equal to him!
These things were sin against the Empire and Judge Bergan's memory.

Well, he would mend these wrongs. He would see those lesser brought down to their betters' knees.

Wulf's outstretched hand went limp, and he watched in abstract bewilderment as the mighty weapon which had severed the cord of many lives shattered like glass. The hilt fell to the stone floor as the shards of the blade lifted and were suspended within a fine silvery web of shadow and light.

Basch's Judge Magister's cloak seemed to billow in a gust of breeze as he reached to take Larsa beneath the protection of his mantle. The staff of his joined weapons he lifted, prepared to deflect any attack upon the young Emperor's being.

Jaiger swept his arms wide, sword in one hand, sheltering his Queen in the shade of his own body.

Drystan's arms were extended before him, his mouth agape in a soundless gasp.

Kasan Ranel stood unmoving, watching with pallid cheek and eyes of dismay.

It was as quick as a heartbeat and as slow as a dream...

The slivers of metal played in silent time, and seemed to circle the center of the hall. The spot where the Kingslayer had stood…

Inside the soft glow it was warm, comforting…
Noah, eyelashes caught downturned in mid-blink and now sleepily lingering over his tired eyes, took a deep breath and felt refreshed. Slowly his lashes raised and his eyes soft-focused upon the face before him.

The boy's eyes were open wide with horror, and from them wispy threads of light wound and wove their way to surround the pair. His feet hovered well above the floor, and his arms were outstretched toward Noah. Anguish showed upon a face so pale the color could no longer be named. His very outline seemed to be receding, fading, slipping away, even as the light that surrounded the two brightened and solidified to a wall.

A jolt of understanding brought Noah's mind to renewed alertness as he saw the boy's physical being waning.
"Faolyn!" When Noah took the hands that sought him they felt thin in his grip, and the shimmering cords continued to stream from the boy's body to wind protectively about them.

"Faolyn, hear me!" Noah released one of the boy's hands to move his own, but the thin, translucent palm snatched his wrist and would not be put away.
He remembered the first time he'd held the boy's limp and tormented body beneath the trees, praying for the boy's life and, feeling the sting of the strange power that coursed through and from the child piercing his own skin.
Noah did not try to fight the boy, but simply raised the arm, Faolyn's nails digging into his flesh, to stroke the smooth, vanishing cheek.
More softly, and with all seriousness he called again, "…Do you hear me, young one?"

Something changed in Faolyn's eyes. A bit of focus with an awakening glimmer came.
Noah felt relief of a deeper kind, and released a pent-up breath that seemed to itself evaporate like steam. "You saved my life not so long ago. And now you wish to protect me again. And I thank you…" It was a strange thing for his lips to say. The words felt clumsy and hurt to speak. It was his own task to protect others, to sacrifice for their sake…not to be protected by one in his care… "But my life is not this day yours to save."

A spark of rebellion flamed in the boy's eyes, and his grip hardened.

Noah met the glowing orbs directly. "…Faolyn, this is not your place. You must not abuse your gift this way."

A pang of hurt showed, and the light began to fade. As the boy's gaze faltered the threads became thinner.

More softly Noah spoke, "You must trust me."

Panicked question flared in the boy's eyes as the child searched for direction.

"Faolyn…" Noah's brow flinched as the boy recoiled at the words, "you must let me go."

Faolyn called for anger and found only shame and hurt. His eyes dropped.

Noah's own heart was pained. He reached to stroke the wild white-blonde hair that drifted upward on the current.

With a mournful cry, Faolyn folded and toppled like a ragdoll from his invisible perch. Noah caught him, holding the boy's drained, unconscious body in his arms.

Dax went as quickly as the manner expected of his position would allow, letting his eyes swiftly pass from face to face as he made his way through the Palace medical wing. "Lonnan?" He came to an abrupt halt as he saw the familiar form stretched out upon a cot, a team of healers about him.

"Dax…ugh…Dax…" Lonnan's breath was shallow and sporadic. His face was pale, eyes glassy. A trickle of blood darkened the corner of his mouth.

Dax felt ill. The signs were not good. "I am here."

"Dax…the soldier. The boy. It was him. It was him." Every word was a gasp. Every gasp took much needed strength from Lonnan's body.

Dax knew nothing of a boy or of which soldier Lonnan spoke, but he nodded to the affirmative and tried to put his friend's mind at ease. "I will see to it. Worry not."

Lonnan swallowed, coughed, and struggled for breath. Dax was pained by every tattered pull of air.

"That's enough talking." A young physician moved to Dax' side, and turned his back to the patient, speaking softly to Dax alone. "We must operate now. Say your goodbyes." He gave Dax a knowing look, and Dax tightened his hands into fists.

"Lonnan," Dax bent forward and spoke in a hushed but forceful voice, "Think of your children. Think of your wife. Do not leave Aneera with three little ones alone. Do not leave your children without a father." Lonnan's eyes had lost focus on his face. The physicians were moving in with their instruments and vials, tools of death and salvation.

Lonnan's eyes found clarity for only a moment more. "Dax…Aneera…I need…her…" He fought the pain.

"Pryderi!" Zargabaath's voice, sounding through the halls, interrupted the physicians and attendants that saw to the care of the returning soldiers.

The eyes of the wounded directed the Judge Magister, and his purposeful steps never paused until he found his way to the table where upon lie the battered body of the one he sought.

"Is he yet with us?" The Judge Magister queried of Dax.

"…Aneera…" Lonnan gasped once more, and his eyes closed, oblivious to the forms hovering over him.

Zargabaath frowned, and Dax stood unmoving and quiet.

"He is not to be disturbed…Your Honor." A young healer stumbled beneath the officer's gaze, and was at once displaced by Master Gervys.

"Keep away, I tell you! There is nothing more he can say, and is to go under the knife forthwith."

Zargabaath observed the preparations soberly. "Gracien."

"Sir?" Dax' voice was detached.

"Has he spoken?"

"A very little, Your Honor."

"And what is it that he said?"

Dax' eyes never left his colleague and friend as the team of healers began their bloody work. "He asked for his wife." The knight's words came slowly, as if he spoke from deadened lips.

Of course he did. Even seasoned veterans asked for their wives and mothers at the end. Zargabaath pressed, "Nothing else?"

"The boy." Dax frowned slightly as the surgeon's blade drew a line of crimson.

"The boy?" Zargabaath pondered the message.

"Lonnan's words were, 'the boy, it was him.'"

Dax might not have known what Lonnan intended by his tortured message, but Zargabaath's face grew grim with suspicion. He turned to the soldier who had first delivered the message. "Question all who returned from the field. Seek out any suspicious actions on either side of the border. Do not forget civilians. Ascertain of our men who is the boy and what he has to do with this deed."

"Yes, Sir." The soldier went at once.

Zargabaath looked to the knight at his side as Dax watched the healers do their part to try to mend what was crushed and torn, wondering if ever Lonnan would open his eyes again.

Zargabaath exhaled slowly, his brow drawn. He cared for the fate of the warrior. Let it not be said otherwise. And yet he thought too of the fates of the Emperor and the Empire. It was to them, as warriors of the realm, to sacrifice for their country and liege. The Empire's concerns must rest above all, even in such times…or especially.
He continued his watchful study, and when he spoke his voice might have seemed somewhat stern though he himself was grieved. "You are an officer of the Imperial guard, Sir Gracien. The Emperor should be able to expect clarity and sound judgment in trying times. Are you capable of such?"

Dax' eyes left his friend and went to his commander, his pale complexion paler still. "Yes, Sir."
Always he had done as asked.
Against Dalmasca and upon Bur-Omisace he had accepted his duty and not flinched.

"I will count on you to show example and maintain decorum." Zargabaath's low, even tone was for Sir Gracien's ears alone.

Dax stood rigidly. "Yes, Sir." His eyes held the weight of the rebuke.

Inwardly Zargabaath sighed. It would be a tragedy indeed for Lonnan Pryderi's wife and the children if he should pass. Perhaps it would be best if all knights of the Empire maintained a bachelor and childless state. "Sir Gracien."

"Your Honor?"

"Go you and fetch the wife straightway."

Only Dax' eyes reflected his relief. "Yes, Sir."

As the strange light lifted, Jaiger struggled to catch his breath. The air was thick and rich and choked his lungs…or maybe that was residue from the swirling smoke and ash he'd inhaled at the border that tightened his chest. Strangely, one reminded him of the other.

The splinters of metal suddenly fell to the stone, clattering loudly.

Larsa, held by one strong arm against Basch's side, jumped. The young leader then came to himself, and separated from the protection of his guardian to walk closer to the scene.

Basch watched Larsa closely, and for reason beyond concern for his safety.
With the call of horror from Faolyn's lips, a curtain of light had swept the room. But two young voices had been in that moment lifted. Larsa's attention had gone to Ashe.

Ashe, pressed up against Jaiger's broad back and kept by his hand on her arm, started. The young Captain flexed instinctively at her touch, reminding the Queen of their close proximately. Her face grew hot and pushed him forward sternly, his hand falling away.

Basch turned from his careful watch of Larsa to witness the exchange, but his expression was unreadable and he let his eyes pass.

As Kasan stared blankly at the man and child now seen within the fading swirl, Wulf bent to take up a piece of the broken sword, holding it in his hands with grieved eyes, and Drystan staggered forward, shaken and scared.
For Drystan's part, he had feared for his Queen and his fellow soldiers. Now he feared the boy who had shyly introduced him to the Chocobo was dead.

Noah stood staring at the boy collapsed in his hold as the group that stood gathered at the steps of the dais began to assess what had come upon them.

"What…" The Queen's lips were parted in shock. "What is he?"

"He is a child." Noah returned sharply, holding the body in the shield of his arms. And then his tone lost aggression as he began to entreat for the boy. "He meant no harm. He doesn't understand…" Resolve set his features like stone. "If he has offended, his sin is my crime. If there is to be any penalty add it to my sentence. I will pay."

"The boy is in the custody of my lord uncle, Sir Jolon Alasdair of Archadia, and shall remain. I will settle any question on his behalf." Larsa's voice rang out, a hint of challenge in his tone. There was a touch of personal indignation in his eyes as he looked to the Queen.

Ashe frowned at the boy Emperor as Noah looked to the young leader with bittersweet gratitude. "The question, dear Emperor Larsa, is not of what he has done… It is of what he might have done… Of what he might do still."

"Do you wish the boy secured?" Jaiger asked the question softly, the distaste of the words on his tongue written upon his face.

Noah tensed, and no one doubted that armed or no the Kingslayer would make the task of removing the boy from his protection a difficult and painful one for he who tried.

"What is the boy's state?" Ashe looked to the now fragile body that slumped against the Kingslayer's chest, gangly legs dangling loosely over his arm.

"He will recover." Noah watched Faolyn's chest feebly rise and fall, remembering how it had been before and how the boy had healed in his own time. He turned grim and guarded eyes to the Queen.

"Could we secure him if we wished it?" Ashe questioned frankly. And her question was again for her enemy.

"Lady Ashe… He is only a boy." Noah had wholly forgotten his own precarious ground in the defense of the child.

"Not only a boy…" It was Kasan Ranel who spoke, so softly that his words were almost lost to them.

Noah whipped his attention to the Archadian with alarm and warning. Kasan met his eyes, held them for a moment, looked to the unmoving child, and then studied the floor, distractedly rubbing his fingers.

"He is right. We are none of us blind." Jaiger's brow was drawn, creating a downward peak between his eyes.

"He tore the sword from Wulf's hand! And shattered it!" Drystan was most amazed. He spoke in awe, his eyes full of wonder. It was difficult to say if he was fearful or admiring.

Wulf wandered the large floor, stooping now and then to gather a shard of what had been his prized weapon. He'd not spoken. His face was pale and his lips were tight.

Kasan took up the hilt of the weapon, and studied solemnly his destroyed work.
The blade had been well made and forged of strong stuff. This should not have happened…
If the child could do such a thing in a fit of panic…what could Dwen do with intent to destroy?

"But you have not answered. Could we restrain him? Is he a danger, here and now? I advise you to answer true." Ashe focused her cool gaze upon her enemy.

Noah felt helpless and vulnerable. He had no weapon, and his arms were full of the manchild that was now made to seem a threat. He had no means to protect or defend.
A deep instinct, born in the womb and nurtured through childhood, directed his eyes to Basch.
There his brother stood, cloaked in strength, bedecked in the familiar armor, and clenching the joined Chaos Blade and Highway Star. He found his brother's eyes already intently upon him.

Basch felt his brother's fear even before he saw the petition in his eyes.
Perhaps only for a child would Noah stoop to ask for his aid…but the plea was there.
He took a step toward Noah, and his words were for the young Dalmascan ruler.
"Ashe, let us not forget the urgency of the hour. Even now our people suffer upon the border between our nations. Our attention must not be stolen."

The tension eased somewhat as all turned their thoughts back to the task.

Jaiger nodded intently, soot smeared face a reminder to them all of the message he had come to bring.

"Then he should answer quickly, and not delay us further." The words of the Lady were a demand, but under Basch's steady gaze her manner had softened.

Noah looked to the boy as he spoke. His words were muted. "He has been much weakened by the effort, and will remain so for a time. How long, I cannot say." And then he hastened to add, "But I tell you, he is no threat to your person or your throne whether weak or strong."

"Such power, unrestrained…it's a dangerous thing." Ashe spoke softly, no anger or condemnation in her tone but only concern for her people now.

"He will know restraint." Noah wished to add, I will teach him, but bit his tongue. He would not have the chance.
"Many learn the skills of magicite." Noah offered this argument for consideration, knowing all the while it was weak and would be quickly torn apart.

"Learn, yes. In training, and with the use of aids. And countless adornments or weapons are forged with inclusions to cater toward one ability or another. I am certain Master Ranel can attest to this. " Ashe motioned toward the Archadian.

Master Ranel said not a word, eyes intently upon the floor. Basch watched as the artisan lost himself in troubled consideration.

"One might learn, with time and study, to focus these into a usable skill. …This is not what we see here." Jaiger accepted the burden of stating what until now had been left unsaid. "The boy is himself a vessel. He is himself a weapon." The young Captain was eager to be off, wishful of seeking out an answer to the violence, but he could not leave her if to do so would be to put Queen Ashelia in danger.

Wulf was crouched down, gathering another broken remainder from the stone. His hand froze and he lifted his eyes to his friend. All other eyes were also upon the Dalmascan Captain. It was as still and silent as in those moments of winding light…

Jaiger felt their gaze, and with it the sickness in his stomach that began like a clenched fist and spread as he went on. But it had to be said. "If he can do such as this now, in a moment of childish fear…" He trailed off, and then picked up again. "What might he do if he purposed to harm-"

Kasan felt his chest tighten. It was the very dread that gnawed at his mind.

"No harm came to anyone. Wulf lost only his sword, not limb or life. Your Queen is safe. The Castle stands. Only the boy is in danger. Only he suffers." Concern for the boy drove Noah to anger and made his words sharp, smoldering anger in his eyes and the aggression of the warrior in his stance.
Faolyn did not stir through all. Only the shallow rise and fall of his chest betrayed life.

Ashe's eyes were upon the Kingslayer, for so he seemed once more, fierce and threatening all she loved.

Basch saw the change on the young woman's face and stepped toward his brother slowly. "Noah, the questions must be asked. You have served the Empire. You understand."

You know from experience that they will ask these difficult questions until they are assured of the safety of the throne and their people. You understand that you must let this thing run its course, and not bring cause for any further alarm… Do so, brother, and it will be over soon enough.

This was the meaning behind Basch's abbreviated words. Noah heard something else altogether.

You cannot be trusted, brother. And why should they trust you? You have served their enemy, the Empire. You have betrayed my trust and slain their king. You must accept this as justice due.

What might have been pity in Basch's eyes was taken for mockery, felt like condemnation, and burned like an iron.

Noah's eyes went hollow and turned to steel. "Don't pet me, Basch." He coldly threw the words like daggers of ice beneath his breath.

Basch's face hardened, and he looked away, deterred once more by the divide between interpretation and intent.

"He's right… The boy didn't harm anyone." Kasan now spoke softly. "Though he could have, he didn't. He only wanted to protect his friend." Emotion suddenly found its way into his voice. "Any of us might have done the same, using whatever means was at our disposal, if someone were to threaten our loved ones. Is this not so?"

Basch bowed his head. Kasan Ranel would soon know the truth…

"Master Ranel speaks with wisdom." Larsa had been quiet for some time, but now his voice rang out with strength and conviction. "Think on this. A sword is not evil of itself, neither is an arrow, nor a stone. But each can be used for evil if the heart of the wielder intends. And yet still we neither banish the weapon for what might be nor prejudge a man for making such a purchase. Is this not true? To do so would be folly in my mind. Think any that if the heart of a man means evil that he would not find some innocent thing to work that evil in his hand? And yet a man of good heart might gather any number of these tools we call a danger and never use them to bring harm."

Kasan nodded, encouraged by Larsa's support. "The heart's intent of the child is surely shown by that we stand unharmed with those shards lying upon the floor and not in our breasts…" He thought of Dwen…her lips pressing upon his…her warning that she could not save him…her panic and pleading…and that she had let him go to come here…
Was she safe? Was her grace for him spent?
Would next they meet she be the weapon that would slay him?
He was sick inside… These people, Dalmascan and Archadian, needed to know… They must know…
But to reveal the truth at this moment…it would make the child an enemy… He could not.

"You aren't going to hurt him, are you?" Drystan stepped forward, his face contorted with desperate worry. "He's just a kid."

Jaiger's eyes were on the young knight. The Dalmascan Captain was breathing very slowly, very steadily… He was working hard to maintain his control so that he might face whatever duty Ashe put upon him.
Drystan lowered his eyes under the steady gaze.

Ashe reached a hand out toward Jaiger. "Jaiger, let it be known that our stance at the border is this; we work with our allies to protect the citizens of Ivalice. To this end, we work side by side with our Archadian allies."

Jaiger nodded, "Understood."

Ashe continued, "Send a fresh detail to the border, and set additional patrols to observe any threats. Oh yes, and see what you can discover on the doings of the Denali family, past and present… I wish to know all that you find. We will have much to discuss."

Basch recognized the change in her tone. She had moved on. A touch of a smile flitted across his lips. His mind still raced.
He would pass on what he knew of the Denali family to Jaiger… They would solve this puzzle if they must do so piece by piece.

To Drystan, and so indirectly to the Kingslayer, Ashe added as if it were nothing. "The boy is free to go."

The relief in the great room could be heard and felt.

Jaiger's hairline was suddenly sprinkled with beads of sweat that only now sprang to the surface. Though he himself had become a warrior not many years past the boy's tender age, Jaiger acknowledged his terror at the thought of being made to deal with what must still be called a child. He exhaled in a gust, and gave Wulf's shoulder a forgiving, brotherly pat as he passed.

Wulf nodded wordlessly to his friend's gesture and turned away to finish stacking the shards one upon another.

Drystan grinned at the boy happily, and then sobered as he saw there was no response. "He will be okay, won't he?" Though the goings on of the past hours and the current talk of the Kingslayer had made at least one thing unmistakably clear, Drystan showed no hatred as he addressed his nation's enemy. Only concern for the boy wrapped in the Kingslayer's arms could be seen upon his face.

Noah nodded, and allowed a slight smile for the compassion of the young knight.

Kasan closed his weary eyes for a moment, and still he could not escape Dwen's face.

Ashe noted the fatigued, worn droop of his shoulders, and the heavy sigh.
"Drystan, see this man receives whatever accommodations he needs." Ashe waved her hand toward Kasan, and her expression was softer than the Archadian had seen it since his arrival.

"Faolyn-" Noah began to make the request to see to the boy, but Basch interrupted.

"My lady," Basch interrupted in his own familiar tone, and the gentle address warmed Ashe's heart. He made his way to stand before her. "I withdraw to see to the matter at hand. Kasan Ranel will come with us. The Emperor will see to his needs."

Drystan stopped midstride and looked questioningly to the Queen.
Kasan yawned. For a bath and a bed what would he give…

Larsa made no move to leave. His eyes were serious, set upon the Queen.

Noah looked to Wulf, but the Nabradian's eyes were staring at some undefined spot on the floor.
The knight's attempt to force Ashe into a decision for the Kingdom's sake had gone awry, and it had cost him. It had been an unlikely and unwise plan from the start. Noah had seen little to lose, though Faolyn's arrival had made the price soar to unreachable heights. Had Wulf truly counted the cost from the start?
Likely now they would make their home together in the dank cells, awaiting similar fates.
…Pleasant thought.
And who would see the child to Tarachande and away? Faolyn must not awaken in this place…

"Yes… Of course." Ashe gazed up at her friend and former guardian with a tenderness that had not been these past days. She offered her hand, and Basch touched it to his lips. She pressed his gloved fingers affectionately with her own. There were no other words between them, but as he dipped his head and backed away she took in the angles and panes of his face, the color of his eyes… It was like viewing a favored painting. Like having a fond memory replayed and renewed. Seeing him was like home in the early days of her childhood.

For a moment there was silence, and then she flicked her arm toward the other… "Take him with you. I tire of these games. My hospitality, like my patience, is growing thin." She turned, unwilling to look upon that one's face again.

Noah started, and glanced at Basch for some sign that would tell him if the next move was his end, but Basch's face wore only surprise and then question.

Larsa showed no reaction at all. "Queen Ashelia." He turned and led their number from the great hall without any further word for the Dalmascan ruler or she for him.
Basch heard the tension between them like a shout. Not all conflict had seen its end here. He was troubled for them both, but it was time that Larsa went home.

Wulf shifted from one foot to the next. "Ashe?" His voice revealed pain.

She let her eyes move across the familiar face. "Drystan, resume your duties. Wulf, walk with me."

Drystan looked to Wulf with trepidation and sympathy, and then followed his Queen's command.

They were silent as they left the confines for the dry heat of the courtyard. There they watched as a renewed band left with a supply wagon and a physician for the border, and as Jaiger and a freshened company departed to investigate.

Wulf groaned softly as he watched them go, despairing that he was not among them at Jaiger's side to protect his friend. Instinctively he put his hand to the empty sheath that once housed his mighty blade, and dropped his eyes.

Ashe heard the lament, and turned to seek Wulf's eyes. "You have made your choice…and with it yourself responsible for what may come. I hope you do not find regret. Watch him closely. …And also the boy."

"I understand." Wulf's voice was gruff.

So did she understand his reasons… The anniversary to the fall of Nabudis was soon upon them…

"Go now." Ashe commanded softly, and, before he could argue against leaving her alone, lifted a hand and motioned toward another knight nearby. "Shyre will see me back."

Wulf bowed, and quickly left, but not before she saw the tears glistening upon his russet lashes.

Ashe forced thoughts of Wulf's suffering away, and turned to another weighing on her mind.
Wulf's foolhardy act did not undo her arrangement with Larsa...
Let the boy Emperor be displeased. She would not be swayed.

This she continued to think on as she walked the gardens with Shyre silent at her side.

She watched the Imperial airship rise, picked a red-orange bloom and breathed deeply.
Once more her walls were free of the shadow that haunted her nightmares.
…But with him went the one who brought light and safety to her dreams…

Well, the Empire could have its black knight home again. She had kept her word.
But her mercy would last only if Larsa did as he promised her…
Only if once this conflict had passed Basch fon Ronsenburg was returned to Dalmasca and to her side…where he belonged.