Forcystus stood over the reactor, watching it glow with power. He smiled, narrowing his eyes to keep his sight from blurring completely. It luminesced, pulsated, danced and growled with mana, seemingly nonsensically. But there was a definite method to its chaos—the trajectories of each burst of light had been predicted, calculated and assessed beforehand by his assistant engineer.

"Ha!" The pudgy, mustachioed chief engineer threw up his hands. Forcystus had to duck to avoid them. "Just like I predicted."

Forcystus had to keep himself from pushing the man into the reactor. Of course, he knew—everyone knew—that Lieutenant Sage had been the one to parse through the complexities of the machine's behavior. It bewildered Forcystus that the chief engineer thought they were all naïve enough to believe he'd done the work himself.

But he refused to relegate a woman of such versatile acuity to a role that was more managerial than scientific. He needed her, badly, seemingly in every place. He needed her in the field, he needed her at the helm of the reactor, he needed her at the control booth to the cannon, he needed her at every apparatus, guarding every door, at the end of every communication line. But he only had one of her to spare, so he had no choice but to assign her to the most appropriate task.

The instructions she had left the engineering team were concise, clear, and most relieving of all, useful. As the reactor roared and mana glowed below him, he heard two assistants at the controls, reveling in the moment all their hard work paid off.

"Is there nothing that woman can't do?" one man muttered.

"Yeah," said the other, sniggering. "Find a boyfriend."

Forcystus turned, eyeing both of them, and they froze. "I will not tolerate you disparaging a superior officer," he growled.

"S-Sorry, sir." The soldier lowered his head and fell into silence.

Forcystus made his way down the catwalk, giving looks here and there to discourage chatting. Gods, he thought. This behavior is fit for Renegades. He grimaced as he walked through the sliding door to the main control room of the Isealia Ranch.

"Sir." One guard greeted him with a salute. "All reports point to a complete success."

"Good." He glanced to the wide, pinkish window. Long ago, Angelus subject A012 had slept on the other side, for years. Since then, the room had been converted into a storage compartment for extra equipment relevant to the reactor. Now, if he chose to walk up to it and look through, he would see only piles of wires, centrifuges, outdated computers and one Desian uniform, lost a while back but never reclaimed.

He instead sat at his desk, bringing his monitor to life. He waited a few minutes, staring at the screen, until he was sure they had successfully shut down the reactor. "Well," he motioned to his assistant. "We've done it. Tell everyone to get into position and lock this whole place up."

The man nodded and disappeared. Forcystus stared at the screen, watching the tiny windows of video. He saw the mess hall, where the prisoners would normally soon be called for lunch. He saw the main entrance, where a few straggling guards ran to get to their places on time. He saw the yard, full of people, stopping work and questioning one another when the guards on duty suddenly disappeared back inside the building.

After a few minutes, the man returned to Forcystus' office and saluted. "Everything is in order, sir. We just need the word."

Forcystus nodded. "Shut it all down."

The entire ranch went eerily quiet. All along its length, doors slid shut and locked tightly, or else slid open and stayed that way. The officers, guards, medical staff and engineering unit were all locked tight behind metal doors, and the barriers that kept the prisoners partitioned slid away.

In the course of a second, the ranch seemed to completely reverse itself. Prisoners got up when they heard the doors to their cells swing open. The internees assisting with the cooking wandered out of the kitchen into the mess hall, wondering why the bell for midday meal had not rung. Some prisoners wandered to the edge of the yard, searching for any guards. Those in the infirmary slipped out of their beds, still bandaged, some still waiting to receive the exsphere implantation, and wandered out into the main hall.

All authority figures disappeared, and the prisoners seemed to have free reign of the ranch. They started trickling out of cells, out of the kitchens, the medical wing. Block C, where the children were kept, was abuzz with activity. One brave girl went up to the open door and simply walked out, and a few other timid children followed.

Forcystus leaned over and pressed a button by the monitor, leaning in to speak.

"Prisoners of the Iselia Human Ranch," he said. "You are prisoners no more."

People looked up to the screens, to the sky, to the speakers for the communication system. Some grinned, others burst into tears. Some merely looked bewildered and remained silent.

Forcystus continued. "We thank you for your contributions. You are dismissed." He didn't know what else to say. He didn't think it needed saying. He would not apologize—he did what he did for the good of these people, and for the good of his own people.

He turned off the PA system, but kept the security feed up. He watched some people immediately make for the door, pushing it open and stumbling out into the yard. They followed their comrades out the front gates, now open, and disappeared into the forest, fleeing as quickly as they could. Those were no doubt the people who had spent the least amount of time at the ranch. They still had their energy—some of them had not even been examined and implanted with exspheres yet.

Some other prisoners were a little more cautious. They made deliberate circles around the perimeter of the ranch, looking for any sign of trickery. When they saw that no snipers waited to shoot them down from the towers, they grabbed all they could. They looted the kitchen, stole the bedsheets, took whatever medicine they could from the medical wing, and stocked up before heading off into the forest, after their more eager compatriots. Forcystus knew those prisoners would have the greatest chance of survival, at least in the short run. They obviously had been at the ranch for a while, but while they knew how to deal with the shock of the situation, their exspheres were advanced enough to pose a risk to them. Perhaps they knew to look for a key crest somewhere out there.

Some of the adults made sure to swing by Block C to make sure the children had heard the news. Many of them found the entire block empty, but a few of them managed to drag off a scared, lingering child hiding under a bed or behind a shower curtain.

Other prisoners sought revenge. Forcystus had made doubly sure that no employees of the ranch would come into contact with the freed prisoners, so many of the angrier ones simply slammed into doors, grabbed crowbars and brooms and buckets and beat at the barriers that separated them from their former captors. Many swore at them, leaning up to the cameras and making obscene gestures. They seemed to know they were being watched, but even the most enraged of them could not break down the doors that kept the Desians safely locked up. They gave up after a few hours, wandering off into the woods after their fellow prisoners. Perhaps they would return one day to slake their indignation.

Some other prisoners wandered almost aimlessly. They sauntered through the facility, as if in some sort of suspended dream. They did not understand if this was a trick or not. They couldn't understand the sudden change in schedule, couldn't understand where everyone had gone all of a sudden. Their bodies and minds had been drained—these were the prisoners who had been at the ranch for months, years, perhaps even decades. They had no chance; they would not last long.

Eventually, over the course of a few hours, the ranch emptied completely. Forcystus slogged through all the video feeds, making sure that every nook, every cranny, had been vacated. Only when he was absolutely sure that only he and his staff remained, he shut the front gate and locked it tight. All the doors slid open, and the ranch once more fell under his control.

He started up the communication system again. "Ladies and gentlemen. As of this moment, we are officially traitors." A few faces of the employees darkened, but Forcystus had thought of that possibility. He had thought of everything. "But do not fear. We are only betrayers of the tyranny of Cruxis. We are not betrayers of our cause. Loyal soldiers, medics, scientists, specialists, pilots, radio operators… whatever your station, know that you have my thanks. You will have the thanks of your children, and their children." The faces on the screen upturned toward the speakers, a few smiles breaking out. "Though the first stage of this operation has concluded, the battle is far from over. Brothers, sisters, now is only the beginning. The road will be long and filled with perils. But at the end, we will find our home. We will find Derris-Kharlan. We will find our Golden Age."

Forcystus smiled when, after a brief, pregnant pause, a cheer rose up from every corner of the facility.

The sunlight seemed to pierce right through his eyelids into his aching brain. He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing his sweating skin, and groaned. He rolled over, stomach churning, and slowly sat up. His heart thumped in his head, and he had to close his eyes tight against the waves of harsh sunlight.

He swore, and shakily swung his legs over the side of his bed. The soft rug beneath his feet came as a surprise, and he glanced around the room, suddenly aware of where he was. He'd half expected to wake up in his room in Palmacosta, to the strong smell of his mother cooking, or in Asgard, to the gentle tap of Kratos prodding him awake. He stretched, his headache receding a bit, and walked across the room.

"Raine?" he said.

"Out here," she called from the balcony.

He staggered onto the patio, where Raine sat with a book and a bowl of fresh fruit. He could barely see her under her huge sunhat, face concealed by black glasses.

He sat down and started to eat, pouring himself a generous glass of water. Slowly, the events of the previous night came back to him. "How are we gonna get to Lezerano now?" he asked. "With the train gone and all."

"Oh, they replaced the cars early this morning. We just have to pass off as people other than the hooligans that derailed it last night. So I bought some new clothes. Yours are hanging up by the door."

"How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"Since about sunrise."

He clutched his head and yawned. "What time is it now?"

"Almost noon. We still have a little more than an hour before we need to meet the president, so get dressed, wash yourself and let's get going."

He was feeling much better by the time he followed Raine down the elevator and onto the street. When they reached the train, he lowered his head, hiding behind his sunglasses, hoping that no one around would recognize him, but they safely boarded, rode and debarked with no interference.

The Lezerano building was almost as impressive as the hotel. Taller than any building in Sylvarant, Lloyd could not help feeling like an ant in a colony when he pushed through the crowds of workers, businesspeople and shoppers, making his way to the depths of the building. The whole place bustled like a hive—even the elevator was crowded enough that he and Raine had to squish themselves between two malodorous men in suits. They rode up in silence, until it stopped at the president's office.

The secretary waved them in without a word, and they found themselves standing before a man, halfway reclining in his leather chair, one foot up on his desk, reading what appeared to be a novel. He looked up at them as they entered, closed the book and slid his leg off his desk.

"So," he said, standing. Lloyd seemed to shrink in front of the man, as tall and broad as he was. "You're Rodyle's underlings. I don't know why he sent the pair of you instead of just sending me a message."

"It's because we're here to threaten you, actually," Raine said. Lloyd saw her hand hover by her thigh, ready to draw her pistol should the need arise.

"Tell Rodyle I'm doing all I can. Tell him you can't exactly make the earth produce more ore than it already does. It takes time."

"If it takes too much, rest assured we will be forced to take over the operation ourselves."

"What, you and him?" the president glanced over at Lloyd and laughed.

"Rodyle will."

The man shrugged. "I ship every last ounce of ore I get. The lack of supply is Varley's domain. Go speak to him about it. I've already got investors in Meltokio demanding I explain why my profits are declining. I can't exactly tell them it's because a faction of half-elves are consuming all my resources."

"No doubt they'd laugh you out of the boardroom," Raine said. Lloyd could see a tiny smile on her face. "You will speak to this Varley, see what you can do. In the meantime, I will make sure your schedule is cleared so we can come check up on you." She turned to go. "Oh, and one more thing, before we leave you alone."

The president raised his eyebrows.

"Are you familiar with the Chosen?" she asked. For a moment Lloyd was unsure whether she meant Colette, or some other Chosen.

"I've had to endure the fool's company on more than one occasion," he replied.

Lloyd's confusion evaporated. Of course there was a Chosen on this side. There was a Tower, so there was a Chosen.

"Then you'll probably be able to tell us what he's been up to lately."

"Can't say I can. There've been a few threats to his life lately. Or so I've read. He's not in Meltokio anymore. Gods know where he's hiding—probably in the depths of some brothel or another."

"Well, find out where he is, or there's no guaranteeing what will happen to your assets," Raine gave him her most charming smile before turning her back on him. Lloyd stumbled after her, down the elevator, back out into the lobby.

"What was that about?" he asked. "Why do we want the other Chosen?"

"You must know that only the Chosen and senior officials of Cruxis have access to the higher portions of the Tower of Salvation."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And we don't want any senior officials of Cruxis breathing down our necks, do we?"

"So… you're gonna use him to get into the Tower and up to Derris-Kharlan."

"Correct. You get an A."

He elbowed her and she smiled, leading him through the crowd and back onto the train. The sun had started to set, lighting up the still sea, and Lloyd couldn't help admiring it as the train crawled across the surface of the water.

"Yuan wanted to kill the Chosen on the other side," he whispered, looking around to make sure no one eavesdropped. "Would he want to kill the one over here, too?"

"Yes. I suspect the threats to his life that Mr. Bryant spoke of were Renegade activity. You never know, however. He has a reputation, and many enemies. I wouldn't be surprised if the Church itself decided to get rid of him and replace him with another, milder Chosen."

"He's that bad, huh?" Lloyd asked, cupping his chin.

"There is also a possibility that he will refuse to cooperate with us. If that's the case, we'll have to improvise a solution."

"Why would he refuse?"

"He's in Cruxis' pocket, like the rest of them. Besides, why would a Tethe'allan noble like him cooperate with a cabal of lowly half-elves?"

Lloyd thought about the powerful man at the top of the drawer. "Why would the Lezerano president?"

Raine sighed. "I don't know. I assume Rodyle has some form of leverage over him. He doesn't seem to be enthusiastic about our partnership."

"So they're manipulating him."

Raine shrugged. "It's how business functions around here."

When the train screeched to a halt, she led him out onto solid ground. He followed her back down the street, toward the hotel. "We should go to the beach," Lloyd said.

"No. The last time I let you convince me to do anything, I ended up facedown in the water. I'm not going to do that again."

"Yeah, but that was fun. Admit it."

Raine stepped into the lobby and ignored his feeble goading. "I'm going to the room and I'm going to have a glass of champagne. You're welcome to join."

Lloyd sighed and followed her up to their room, where they sat on the deck and watched the city light up below them. They emptied one of the complementary bottles of champagne they found in the room, then another. Darkness fell, the dancing lights of the theme park lit up and died down, and Lloyd's stomach started to grumble. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and breathing in the salty air. "I wonder what they have to eat downstairs," he said.

"I don't know. We could—gods damn it." Raine stood up when the communicator screeched on the wall. She walked back into the room and stood at its side, holding the receiver to her ear.

"Yes. This is—oh. Well, that was unexpectedly fast. Yes. I can make it. See you then." She hung up and her face contorted into a semi-amused scowl. "Well. Quite punctually, it seems President Bryant is taking us out to dinner."

"Is he? What for?"

"He wants to meet with us to discuss things in a more casual setting, he said."

"Weird guy."

"Indeed he is. Well, get dressed. Put something nice on."

"I don't have anything nice."

"Yes you do. Look in your bag."

He searched the half-strewn contents of his pack and pulled out what he could only assume was some sort of dress shirt. "This? This is hideous."

"Just put it on."

He grumbled and changed, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to Raine, who slipped into something that seemed to be some sort of elven ceremonial robe. He figured she did it to keep up her disguise, and said nothing about it. When they left their room, they looked like a mismatched pair of exotic birds.

"Gods, we look terrible," Lloyd said.

"Yes, I suppose we do. But that's not important." She looked over at him. "When we meet with this man, I want you to keep quiet. I want you to listen carefully, though. He might have a few interesting things to say."

Their destination was a small but ludicrously expensive restaurant, in front of which a man in a tuxedo stood, seemingly tasked with doing nothing but greeting guests and making sure they did not pop up uninvited. He bowed to them as they passed.

It was strange to Lloyd, to have someone treat him with such deference. It may have been manufactured, but he was still unused to people bowing to him, unused to big rooms with big beds and down pillows, unused to champagne in the afternoon and fancy meals. He scratched his forehead uncomfortably.

"Glad you could make it." The president stood beside a table, lifting his arms to greet them. He shook each of their hands and motioned for them to sit across from him. He seemed like an entirely different man than the one Lloyd had met earlier that day, sitting morosely behind his desk in the dark, dusty office. When they sat down, the president leaned in, smile disappearing. Lloyd saw a hint of that other man in him, in his frown.

"Now, we're going to talk quietly, so no one can hear us. I swear to all the gods my subordinates hang outside my office just to gather dirt on me. As far as I know we can talk here."

"Glad to know," Raine said, but Lloyd noticed her eyes dart around the restaurant, as if instinctively watching out for eavesdroppers.

"Well, regarding your first request, I have spoken with Varley. He will increase mining operations—no qualms about it, slave driver that he is. You will have your ore."

"Good to hear."

"As per your second request, I pulled a few strings here and there, made a few calls. Turns out the Chosen is in Mizuho, with his bodyguard. Seems like the capital was not to his liking anymore."

"Mizuho? That makes my job a bit difficult."

The president opened his mouth to speak, but held it in as the waiter arrived with drinks. He waited until the man was well out of earshot before continuing. "Not to worry. I have more than one friend in shinobi circles. I will take you there myself."

Raine raised an eyebrow. "Will you? I appreciate the cooperation, but I suspect that's a bad idea."

"It won't be suspicious in the least. After all, I have a reputation for disappearing for days at a time." He gave them a smile that sent a shiver down Lloyd's spine. He wondered what this man did in his spare time, and decided that if it wasn't explicitly violent, it was likely perverted in some way.

"I have heard that, yes," Raine said, lifting her glass to her lips.

The president lay his elbows on the table and looked at her. Lloyd bit his lip, trying to stop himself from grabbing the man's head and turning it some other direction. But the president broke his intense stare when the main course arrived.

"You know the way to Mizuho?" Raine asked, after the waiter had left.

"Yes. It doesn't take a week. You'll have to walk a few miles from the sea, but it's much faster than going back to Sybak and then through Gaoracchia."

"Why're you gonna help us?" Lloyd asked. He couldn't help it. He didn't like the way this man looked, the way he smiled, his mannerisms. Everything was too refined, too planned, like each flick of his eyebrow or twist of his wrist was simply an ersatz impression of human movement.

Raine shot him a damning look, but the president just took a sip of champagne, unfazed. "Anything to get out of that office. They're watching me—Rodyle's goons, my own goons, everyone. My whole board, all my investors, hell, even all of my employees are soulless sycophants, shameless vultures, spies, backstabbers."

"Sounds par for the course," Raine said.

"It is, unfortunately. So here I am. Wishing I'd gotten out of it all sooner. But now it's too late."

"Now it's too late," Raine agreed. She tapped her champagne glass against his. "For all of us, isn't it?"

"Indeed." He raised his glass and drank, and Lloyd figured he might as well join in, even if he hadn't explicitly been invited to this macabre toast.

Too late. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he was in too deep, just like the president. Just like Raine. He looked into his glass, at the bubbling golden liquid, and sighed. He hoped it wasn't too late to go back home, to take his mother back to the desert and patch up their old life. He desperately hoped she was still alive, that she was still waiting for him, that she would survive the ranch just for a little longer. Then he would find her, he would take her home, and they could start again.

Deep in his gut, where his worst fears lay, he discovered the possibility that Raine was right. Maybe it was too late. Maybe his mother was already dead. Maybe things had changed too much for them to go back. Maybe they would never see each other again.

His heart twisted as he thought of the eventualities that separated his mother from him, but he decided he would discard them. He would find her, he would save her, he would bring her home. All this, all these boat rides and long walks and fights and meetings and dinners and drinks… these were all for her.

Raine and the president might drink to inevitability, but when Lloyd raised the glass to his lips, he drank to his mother.