The shock Basch felt at Zargabaath's revelation was betrayed by the lifting of his scarred brow to make way for widened eyes beneath. Seasoned instincts countered the jolt rippling through his veins by sinking his emotions beneath a layer of deceptive calm. In case Zargabaath only hazarded a guess wagered on suspicion, Basch kept his silence. Carelessness might only prove the suspected truth.

As the months had passed, Basch had come to a certain level of ease with the officer. He had come to rely upon Zargabaath's even judgments and finely honed skills. Though initially reluctant, he had, through increased familiarity with Zargabaath's steadfast nature, been put to rest even with leaving Larsa alone in his presence. He had trusted Zargabaath's council on matters of Archadian law and procedure he did not himself yet understand. Zargabaath's unruffled, efficient way of managing the transitions that had followed the war had made it easier for Basch to do as he must in protecting Larsa. The first fine threads of trust had woven into a bond of alliance, but that veil of fledgling comradeship was now rent. As in times past, now again, Basch saw the enemy standing before him, threatening what he must protect.

As if Zargabaath had been endowed with the ability to read minds, he addressed Basch's fears. "I serve my Emperor. If he wills that one be released from duty and another take his place, it is mine to accept and his to say." Zargabaath's eyes darkened under the shadow of a furrowed brow, but there was no defiance in his tone or manner to suggest his words untrue or his intent false. Behind his guarded eyes, Zargabaath questioned yet again how it was that his eye had bypassed the clues and discounted the changes that might have told him the truth before the child Emperor had found it necessary.

When Larsa had called for him upon return from Dalmasca, he had been prepared for many possibilities but not the truth to come.

"Emperor Larsa." Zargabaath brought a clenched fist to his chest and bowed to the young ruler.

The boy Emperor had turned from what appeared to be pacing and nearly ran to meet his Knight. "Thank you for coming, Judge Magister Zargabaath."

Almost but not quite Zargabaath had allowed amusement to show on his lips. It was not as if he had choice in the matter. Larsa Ferrinas Solidor might have been twelve years old, but he was Emperor. When the Emperor called, his Knights came.

Was it his imagination, Zargabaath wondered, or did the boy appear anxious and troubled?

"Would you care for some wine, Your Honor?"

It seemed an absurd question from Larsa's lips, made more ridiculous still when Larsa moved to serve him. Zargabaath was less able to conceal bewilderment than humor, and Larsa's smooth cheeks flushed. When Zargabaath saw the color rise in the boyish cheeks and noticed a slight trembling in the hand that held the bottle, he at once accepted the offering. "I thank you, Emperor Larsa."

"Please, Your Honor, won't you sit down?" Larsa directed him to a luxurious couch and watched eagerly as he took the offered place. He watched as the officer sipped his wine and nodded his gratitude. All the while, Zargabaath wondered and felt the strangeness of it all.

"It was a good year, yes?" Eagerly Larsa waited for his reply.

"An excellent choice, my Lord." Under Larsa's intent gaze, Zargabaath drained the crystal and watched with some distress as the young Emperor took it again from his hand.

"Would you care for more?"

"No. Thank you." Drinking with Larsa in the early hours of the day. What would Drace say?

The boy nodded, but too quickly, and Zargabaath scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "Emperor Larsa, if there is anything I might do for you, you have only ever to ask."

"Zargabaath!" Larsa came to the cushion next to him with such rapidity that by surprise was the Judge Magister nearly unseated.

"Yes, my lord?"

Larsa grasped his hand, and Zargabaath stared with dismay at the childish, soft hand holding his own.

"Zargabaath, there is so much I must tell you. I hope you will understand. I am certain you will understand." Tender belief emanated from Larsa's eyes, but worry creased his normally unlined brow as faith and doubt warred in the boy's heart.

Larsa tucked his feet nervously together and craned his neck to meet Zargabaath's gaze. It came to the man who had been Judge Magister even before the boy's birth how young, how small, and how vulnerable was Archadia's Emperor. The need for an increase to the strength of those guarding him was felt keenly. He would speak to Gabranth on the issue.

Zargabaath watched with growing concern as Larsa worked to form the words. He was unprepared when Larsa suddenly blurted out, "Zargabaath, there are two Gabranths!"

"Ha!" The panicked exclamation escaped from Zargabaath's lips before his teeth could clamp down with such ferocity that he tasted blood. His body jerked with the will to rise and settled under order to remain. Two Gabranth! His methodical mind went to work. So Larsa had learned about Noah Gabranth's twin, Dalmasca's fallen Captain, Basch fon Ronsenburg. Well, he told himself, blood calming in his veins, that was not such a terrible thing. It was good that Larsa came to understand the makings of the men closest to him. "Yes, my lord," he nodded. "It is true that the Gabranth we know was born Noah fon Ronsenburg of Landis, but his mother-"

"No, Zargabaath!" The boy was fairly jumping at his side as if about to explode under pressure of a volatile mix of nervous energy and excitement.

What was it?

"There are two Gabranths here, and the Gabranth who has been with us since the great battle is Basch! …Zargabaath?"

Zargabaath would have made an excellent artist's model, for he could not move. He simply sat and stared at the boy. Finally he sputtered out, "What? What?" The idiocy of his stuttering annoyed him, but he could do nothing to correct his fumbling tongue.

"Basch escaped from Nalbina Dungeon, Zargabaath!"

Nalbina Dungeon? Zargabaath's eyes left Larsa's face as he skimmed his memory for pieces to the puzzle. And suddenly the fog cleared over at least this one image. Ah, Gabranth. Vayne Solidor had mocked the past cruelly. Had Gramis known? Surely so, for the joke would have been thin without an audience.

"When Basch and his friends-along with the Lady Ashe and Balthier, Zargabaath!-were fighting…" Excitement and admiration faded and fell into the remembrance of just whom Basch and his friends had been in battle against. Compassion flooded Zargabaath's spirit, but as he sat awkwardly wondering over an acceptable response to the child Emperor's grief, Larsa continued more sadly on. "My lord brother struck at Gabranth, and…he fell." Though Larsa had already allowed the presence of the two Gabranths in the Palace, still the reminder of his protector's pain brought grief. "My brother was not well, Zargabaath. Otherwise, he would not…" Loyal defense faded as the boy struggled against the truth known to his heart.

"Aye, my Lord." Without thinking, Zargabaath pressed the hand still holding his, and Larsa took courage.

"Our Gabranth asked Basch to take his place to protect me before he died." Sorrow remained for an instant and then vanished in a flash of white teeth. "But he did not die! The boy Faolyn saved him!"

Larsa let go of Zargabaath's hand and bounded to his feet, his own hands clasped tightly in front of his chest as if in attempt to restrain his exhilaration. There was no mistaking the animated dancing of his the stars in his eyes. "And now they are all here: Basch, Noah, Faolyn, and my lord Uncle, Sir Jolon!"

Jolon Alasdair, the late Empress Consort's brother, as well? The headache that screamed behind Zargabaath's eyes was accompanied by a knot of tension between them, and Larsa's happiness paled.

"Do not be angered at Basch for this deception, Zargabaath. …At the time, thinking our old Gabranth gone…"

Old Gabranth. Zargabaath felt amusement return. How Drace would have used that title.

"He is my dear friend. I do not know what I would have done if…" Were there tears shining in the blue eyes staring at the Judge Magister? The soft glimmer was a hammer of alarm against the wall of his resolve, but before he must think of how he should respond, Larsa interjected, "And without Noah also. And you, certainly, Zargabaath. And Judge Magister Drace." He swallowed looked on resolutely.

Zargabaath felt sympathy for the lad who could not even express affection for one without feelings of obligation and guilt toward the rest. "I am sure that the two Gabranth's would join me in saying we are proud to serve you, my Emperor. I know that Judge Magister Drace was." A soft smile graced Zargabaath's normally somber lips, and Larsa's eyes lightened happily.

"I have great faith that my friends will not find it difficult to work together for the good of our people." Larsa's blue eyes had locked earnestly on the Elite Knight's with gratitude for his loyalty. "I knew that I could count on you, Judge Magister Zargabaath."

Zargabaath had not demanded further reasoning for his exclusion from sharing the truth of Basch fon Ronsenburg's presence. He had not asked for relief for his wounded pride as he took up his place to protect the secret that had to now been forbidden him.

Gramis had relied upon his loyalty, and never had he failed to keep the faith. It was true, others might have had reason to despair and found just cause to condemn such devotion to his Lord Emperor's command, but his Emperor had never had reason to doubt him, whatever the price he was asked to pay.

Vayne Solidor's taunting eyes as they stood before the slain body of his father came to mind. How Vayne had played them: Gabranth, Drace, and himself. How he had hated them each separately. That hatred had linked their fates: Drace the loyal condemned, Noah the sorrowed executioner, and he, Zargabaath, always the faithful witness. Did Gabranth know?

He knew or sensed enough to suggest the name of Cassiel Solidor…

Zargabaath smoothed the crease in the folded piece of parchment upon his desk and addressed the man once called an enemy of Archadia and now before him as ally. "In all likelihood, Cassiel Phaedrus Solidor would have been Emperor today, if not for-" A brisk rap upon the heavy frame interrupted Zargabaath's speech and lifted his eyes from the paper. "Come."

"Pardon, Judge Magisters."

Zargabaath viewed the knight without change of expression. Inwardly he sighed. Was the plea a legal request? Get on with it, man.

Basch glanced at the soldier and back to his colleague. He found tells of tension in both men and felt the same in himself.

"Word of Lieutenant Pryderi from Master Gervys, Sir."

Zargabaath held a hand out to receive the folder emblazoned with the official emblem of House Solidor and opened it to read the notations made by the head physician.

Basch watched as Zargabaath perused the contents and observed the tightening of his jaw.

"Mm." A wave of the hand, and the guard retreated from the room, leaving the Judge Magisters to their deliberations.

"Is the Lieutenant beyond hope?" Basch felt the tide of regret wash upon the shores of his conscience and then abate. Many were the men who had ridden out with him to battle never to return. He could not bring them back. He could only honor the cause of their sacrifice as he would ask of them if their places had been reversed. So it would be for Pryderi.

"He will live." Zargabaath continued to view the notice in his hands, and Basch leaned forward.

"What then?"

"It seems the power used in the attack is malicious in nature. The effect fades but not soon enough. Pryderi may never hold a sword again. Shame." Zargabaath dropped the folder onto his desk and turned away. "He was a good soldier."

Basch stood and approached the desk, helping himself to the file. Zargabaath made no objection. Instead he watched as Basch read the same words he had read and offered up a thought for consideration. "Madame Ranel has regained near full strength now that she was removed from the sinister influence but would not likely have survived long otherwise. Pryderi's recovery was delayed, the seriousness of his injuries exacerbated, by the same ill begotten force." He paused and frowned, uncharacteristically bothered.

"Say what you would say, Zargabaath." Along with secrecy and a measure of trust, patience and compliance had fled, and Basch prodded the Archadian officer without care to mind his place in the scheme.

"Even now our Emperor," Zargabaath's eyes hardened slightly as he spoke the words, and here came steeled challenge to his gaze, "is in the company of a lad either debilitated by this power or wielding the same."

Basch ran a hand over his mouth and chin. He had the same fear as implied in Zargabaath's unfinished thought-that with Faolyn, Larsa was not safe. The memory came in full detail of Faolyn in the Dalmascan court, shards of Wulf's great sword shattered upon the stone and the boy held in check only by the determination of Noah's devotion. No harm had come; as Noah had argued, it was true. Yet, what might have been cast a chill over Basch's heart. Ashelia and Larsa might have together found their end, and chaos and calamity would have found their people.

"Faolyn is Noah's…" Basch hesitated.

"Son?" Zargabaath's lips turned skeptically.

"Name him what you will. Noah owes the boy a debt and wishes to protect him. He…he swears the child is no threat." Basch could not but stumble over the strained defense he himself questioned at the core.

"He would." At Basch's questioning look, Zargabaath rephrased. "The Gabranth that I knew," a flicker of irony crossed his face, "for one he was indebted to protect, would so say."

"But not at the risk of Larsa." Basch's tone was absolute.

Zargabaath made no attempt to refute what experience had shown to be true, but as he tapped his fingers upon the polished desk top, he mused quietly. "Perhaps debt has blinded him at last. Always was he loyal beyond reason."

Loyal beyond reason. The pain of the betrayal he had endured at his brother's hands flared, but Basch scoffed and shifted his weight to one side. "A strange accusation coming from you."

"So you defend him," Zargabaath pondered aloud, examining the Judge Magister closely. "Your own loyalties are markedly divided, Basch. Do you know your own mind on the question?"

Basch glared across the room for a moment, and then gave up the fight to rub the throbbing bridge between his eyes. Did he? Things had been so much simpler when he was Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg and the name Gabranth was just the memory of a mother lost and the disappointment of a brother bound to the enemy.

"Larsa himself may resist removing the child from his company, but some wiser course must be taken with regard to the boy. Emperor Larsa's life cannot be left to chance and hope, even at the word of Gabranth."

"What wiser course do you suggest, Zargabaath?"

As the door secured behind him, Noah pushed back the hood of his cloak to stand unconcealed.

It was one thing for Zargabaath to reveal his understanding of Basch's presence and another to have Noah standing as proof of the deception beside him in the Judge Magister's chamber. Basch's first instinct was to rise prepared to defend the broken dam of silence and to quell the overflowing secrets, like streams of deadly whispers, filling the room and rushing toward the door. His hand was at the hilt of the Highway Star.

"There's no need for that." Zargabaath addressed Basch mildly. To Noah he murmured dryly, "Do join us, won't you, Gabranth."

"Your Honor."

As the former colleagues greeted one another calmly and with subtle gestures of respect, Basch's hand loosed from the grip, and he watched the exchange with both skepticism and wonder. What had he expected to see in Noah's manner; the same tempestuous, brash challenge that had been shown to him? Yes. But it was not so.

"When did you come to know?" Noah's manner was as reserved and his tone as even as the man he addressed.

Zargabaath spoke frankly. "When my Emperor wished it."

Under Zargabaath's steady, somber gaze, Noah seemed to find what assurance he needed; Basch looked away. Though he could not argue against Zargabaath's right to be counted amongst them, he could not help but wish that Larsa had prepared him for Zargabaath's addition to their circle. And then he resigned himself with the devotion of service and the patience of affection. Larsa was the Archadian Emperor; he would do what he willed. And Larsa was a boy; he would do what he felt.

Noah had another youth in mind.

"Concerning the boy, what is your intent, Zargabaath?" And there was the appearance of the Noah that Basch had come to expect. Noah's eyelids lowered across his irises, and what of the smoky blue was revealed seemed to flash like sparks of heated steel flying from a grinding wheel.

"I have no intent but to see to the interests of my Emperor and the Empire."

Noah frowned darkly, dissatisfied. "The boy is no threat."

Zargabaath answered the declaration coolly. "You would wager Larsa's life on this belief?"

Noah's anger hid itself away, slipping beneath a bond of duty he could not escape and would not shirk, but with acceptance, guilt revealed its face when he asked, "What would you have me do?"

"I am, for my part," Zargabaath straightened the paperwork on his desk, "open to suggestion."

Awkward stillness fell upon the chamber until Basch spoke. "He has been kept safe 'til now with you, Noah."

Zargabaath came forward to lean against the side of the desk and view the exchange. He analyzed Noah's reaction carefully, mind full of questions he thought better than to ask just now. As luck would have it, Noah himself opened the way.

"If he might stay here under the care of Sir Jolon, until I return…" Noah opposed the notion of uprooting the boy or relegating him to isolation, even for Larsa's sake. "I will do what I must to see to his keep."

"An acceptable remedy, so long as those who remain are steadfast in their observations of the boy's state and prepared to take steps to ensure the Emperor's safety." Zargabaath nodded briskly, made satisfied with the solution even as Noah recoiled at the understanding of what types of steps might be named necessary.

Basch ignored the negotiations and implications to cut to the quick of what remained. "When you return?" He had read enough in his brother's eyes to raise alarm, but now he was at full alert. Because his fingers needed something to do, he scratched at the scar over his brow and followed the line to the notch the blade had left in his ear. Not only was it Noah who gave him reason for concern. The look on Zargabaath's face put him on edge. What was this current passing between his brother and the Judge Magister?

"To Rozarria." Noah avoided his brother's eyes as he made the proclamation. Nonetheless, he felt his brother's reaction strongly and saw the movement of Basch's armored form from his peripheral view. Even Zargabaath pushed away from where he had heretofore dispassionately leaned.

"What?" The initial sharpness of Basch's tone made Noah flinch no more than the injured bewilderment in the following, "Why?"

Basch's confusion was drowned out by Zargabaath's interjection. "Gabranth," this time he addressed Basch, "I ask you to consider that every tool has its use and not all the same."

Basch looked from the speaker to his twin. Noah met and held his brother's gaze, but tension played in the undercurrents of his eyes and hardened the angles of his features. Without realizing, Basch spoke. "Noah, what have you done?"

"'Twas I directed Gabranth-Noah…" Zargabaath amended the address and then frowned, uncomfortable with the informality, for never did he address his colleagues so lightly.

"I have questioned the prisoner." Noah commandeered the explanation, pulling control and blame away from Zargabaath, knowing Basch's query and crossness were meant only for him.

"You questioned…" The information processed rapidly, and Basch's briefly gaping mouth snapped shut with an audible clash of teeth. Noah saw the slight tremble of anger in his lips. When Basch had regained enough self-rule to manage his words, he continued with such force and fury that Zargabaath averted his eyes to the paperwork on his desk, uncomfortable with the heated emotion burning in the atmosphere between the brothers. "You risked all we have fought for, all that those who have fallen died for, Larsa's very life and any hope for continued peace, to interrogate an inmate in my charge?" There was a cold end to the fiery accusation. "I had thought you had entrusted these things to my keep."

Noah winced at the insinuations of betrayal and duplicity from Basch's lips. "I am still myself, brother. The truth was not difficult for the guards to believe once given reason, and reason was not difficult to find." It was an honest answer for a treacherous act.

"Well said," Zargabaath inserted quietly, "for you are both Gabranth."

The invisible cinders and icicles swirling overhead stilled, and the room fell to silence as something indefinable changed in Basch's eyes and Noah raked his teeth over a dry, lower lip.

Zargabaath revised, refined, and clarified his statement. "Not both Judge Magister, certainly, but you are both Gabranth. For, are not you each your mother's son?"

The calm that settled had all the grief and gray of the tomb, and when neither man he knew as Gabranth seemed inclined to speak, Zargabaath cleared his throat, rattled some papers, and reengaged. "What then have you learned?"

Noah's chest was tight, and it was enough that he should concentrate on breathing. It took seeing Basch's eyes flit toward the third figure in the room for his mind to recognize the question that had come to his ears. Noah pulled in a deep, measured breath and released it slowly. "Ransom Mondregon, he is named, and is cousin, so many times removed, of the Rozarrian throne." Without waiting for the first to process, he added, "General Argider controls the reins." Shadows crossed within Noah's eyes and he waited for the ripple of shock he knew would be coming. He did not wait long.

"Margrace!" Basch exclaimed, staggered. The news was dire. If the Senate learned that a member of the ruling family of the Rozarrian Empire, no matter how distant the tie…

Zargabaath gasped as if he'd been struck, and it was his face Noah was watching. "General Argider!" The name had been spoken in the clandestine councils of House Solidor in the days before Cassiel and Aleron had met their end. The Rozarrian General had condemned for treason and executed (records would only show he had died nobly in battle) a Lieutenant under his command, and he had stepped from his position soon after in favor of his handpicked replacement, one Dimas Apolinar.

Though the Lieutenant's family might see it otherwise, Rozarria had sacrificed little. There had been small reason with Emperor Gramis entrapped by his own connivers in the Senate. House Solidor had dearly paid.

If only the true manipulators could have been uncovered and exposed… If only some poisonous dart of information had been brought to light, some rumor or hearsay been given legs, some whispered lie conjured up as truth, then perhaps the schemers would have been held in check before irreparable damage had been done.

If only Gabranth had walked the shadows of the Palace in those days…

"I thought you might recall the good General, Zargabaath," Noah remarked quietly.

"Aye." With a sigh, Zargabaath resigned himself to the topic and set about to bring order to chaos. "There has been a question posed as to the circumstances surrounding the death of Cassiel Solidor and whether any threat from that day survived past his demise. I can tell you this: It was said that Cassiel Solidor, and his brother Aleron on his behalf, were conspiring with Argider's Lieutenant to overthrow the rule of both lands and claim some consolidated power. This power was, so their accusers claimed, to be secured by the alliance and with the help of the Rozarrian military. It was said most loudly and fervently by the late Chairman Gregoroth."

"Heh. Gregoroth." Noah held Zargabaath's gaze. "And so revenge overdue gave reason for naming the Chairman guilty of assassinating Lord Gramis."

"Lord Vayne's methods and madness were long past made one." Zargabaath returned to the exploration of a history he'd just as soon forget. "Gregoroth was a mere Senator at the time of the deaths of the elder sons. As is true of many others, his status rose with the fall of Cassiel." Zargabaath looked at once weary and drained and more grieved than but once (at the sentence of death set upon Judge Magister Drace) Noah had ever seen.

"Drace never believed their guilt."

"No." That same faraway look of sadness once present came again to Zargabaath's face and lingered. "And with just cause, for as Larsa, Cassiel had no capacity for deceit. Perhaps if he had been more adept with a lie, he might have lived. As it was, he was just careful enough to allow for the impression of guilt and not careful enough to fortify himself from those who would seize upon the opportunity."

"What of the other one?" Basch ran a hand impatiently through his trim blond mane.

"Aleron?" Zargabaath's eyes slipped to Noah with a curious glint. "Beyond the hand of young Lady Drace," Noah's eyes widened in genuine surprise, and Zargabaath's lowered in satisfaction, "Aleron had no ambition for himself. His loyalty was saved for Cassiel, and for this he died."

A decade and more since these sons of Gramis had been taken by whatever dark madness had been stirred in the pot of ambition and pride ever churning betwixt the great empires. It would be near twelve years time, as Basch calculated; Larsa himself was noted a yearling babe when the history books of Archadia claimed the glorious deaths of the elder sons came in battle against the enemy. Twelve years ago… What had he been doing then?

In the moment he questioned, Basch could feel the warm Dalmascan wind stirring in hair still long enough to catch the sand and be plastered to his neck with a paste of grime and dried sweat. He could hear the cries of fear and bravery, smell the residue from explosive blasts, sense a shift in the wind as arrows and bullets left it outpaced, see the unnatural flashes of light blocking out the stars, and feel the gathering of the armored Chocobo that bounded powerfully along beneath him, carrying him down the line as he held forth his sword and shouted commands.

If the news of the deaths of the oldest sons of House Solidor had been more than unimportant, it had only been pleasant news to those fighting the Empire's advance, as had he been. Two less Solidors to lead the Imperial armies against the free Kingdoms had not seemed such an undesirable thing, if it had seemed anything at all.

How could it be that as he now stood in this place, neatly shorn and growing accustomed to the chill lately kissing his cheek when he walked along the wall in the early morning breeze, that he was grieved for the vacancies at young Larsa's lonely table?

"Why the fear of scandal, the execution, and the need for a cover of deceit if there was no treason?" Echoes of a decade gone faded and fell into a dusky labyrinth reserved for silhouettes, specters, and shades as Basch kept the discussion moving.

The grimness lifted in part from Zargabaath's face. "There was no conspiracy to commit treason, of this I would stake my plate. But that is not to say that Cassiel did not have ties to Rozarria. It is not to say, indeed, that he did not engage in talks with members of the Rozarrian authority."

Basch glanced over to his brother. "As when Larsa travelled to Mt. Bur-Omisace and spoke to Al-Cid in hopes of averting war with Rozarria?"

"Yes." Zargabaath's smile held a touch of relief that clouded to regret. "Just so. In both cases, hope was answered in tragedy. As did Larsa engage in talks outside of Lord Vayne's consent, so Cassiel made his attempt without the approval of Lord Gramis and, perhaps most importantly, without the sanction of the Senate. A few of the inner circle of the Senate, with Gregoroth leading the crusade, threatened to use the charges against the sons as means to formally challenge the right of leadership of House Solidor." Zargabaath studied the floor and spoke contemplatively. "Whether Cassiel and Aleron were traitors or no became irrelevant, and in the greater purpose of preserving the power of the Solidor name, their deaths became acceptable loss to their father who saw them made a liability and embarrassment weakening his claim. Vayne's bloody part both proved his loyalty to Gramis and the ruthlessness of House Solidor to all enemies. With the deaths of the elder sons, talk of conspiracies and treason faded away like plumes of smoke. …But those fires never completely die. They only smolder, waiting for new opportunity to flare."

"And here they will find opportunity." Noah called attention to an ill-omened truth. "Larsa's enemies will say that House Margrace has engaged in an act of war by sending one of their own as a spy to assassinate a prisoner in our keep. They will demand retribution. Archadia will again be at war…and this time, it will be with Larsa forced to stand at the bloody helm."

"Perhaps," Basch interrupted quietly, "this is as Argider and his ilk wish. Perhaps the spy's discovery was anticipated. If Argider and his allies were in the past wishful of using scandal as a means of weakening the foundations of the Houses of Margrace and Solidor with the intent to see them fall, the end goal Ranel's contact stated is very much the same…"

Noah watched him thoughtfully. "Yes, this could be, though, if so, Ransom Mondregon was sent without such knowledge. Still, it might have been a calculated risk. Whether he succeeded or failed, was discovered or no, their plan would have advanced... Yes, I can see this possibility." A note of accord wakened in Noah's eyes.

Zargabaath took a turn around the border of the spacious room, putting the past aside for a moment to deliberate on the state of the Archadian military machine. The mist powered light shining from within large crystal votives upon the wall made the officer's armor spark and glow as he passed. "Much as I am loath to speak it, we all know well that the Archadian forces were badly served under Vayne Solidor's hand. The Empire lost many warriors and many officers. Our agents on the ground were scattered. Who can say how many are left?" He studied Noah from across the room and continued on. "The spirit of our cadets was bent. We see fewer recruits. Though we, you and I," he motioned toward Basch, "and those who serve under us have worked to reform and replenish the Empire's military might, we are not yet to strength great enough to sustain a full out assault-or to defend against one without terrible loss, the likes of which Archadia herself might never recover."

Zargabaath turned one of the sconces to the side, and suddenly the light in the room dimmed as upon the wall materialized an active map of Ivalice with the military units of the Empire, her allies, and here enemies clearly marked.

The three men stood somberly, imagining the grim scenario that could so quickly and easily be played out in this deadly game of war and peace.

"And so, we must avoid war," Basch stated flatly and firmly. He exhaled slowly, putting aside his frustration with his twin in favor of shoring up Larsa's defense. "What is your aim, Noah?"

Noah spoke softly. "Al-Cid will have information about this prisoner and the state of House Margrace. He cannot be called to meet with Larsa without alerting our enemies. I will go to him."

"Good." Zargabaath nodded thoughtfully.

Noah felt Basch's eyes on him, and when his brother spoke, it was with a cool shade of distance in his tone. "Our allies must be prepared and strengthened. Queen Ashelia must be informed of what we have learned, and Ondore must be made aware of the threat. I will see to it."

In harmony, the brothers turned their smoky blue eyes to Zargabaath.

"I…" All these years of carefully sealing the tomb of the past, and now here he must break open the crypt and call forth the dead. His shoulders raised and fell in a silent sigh. "While our men in the field continue to gather information on the Meret Denali connection, I will seek further clarity on the circumstances leading to the deaths of Cassiel and Aleron Solidor. If there is a tie to the present, it will be found." Grimly, he met Noah's eyes and then Basch's. "If the past has come back to haunt House Solidor…"

There was a collective intake of breath, and then as one the three men spoke. "We must protect Lord Larsa."


When Noah had excused himself from the gathering with "I will see to the boy" and a nod of deference to Zargabaath (Basch noted the same was returned), Basch strode toward the door.

"Judge Magister Gabranth, might I impose upon you to linger but a moment?" Zargabaath halted Basch's exit with the titled address.

"Your Honor." Basch turned back, still somewhat sullen in his irritation that Zargabaath had interfered in what should have been his call, a matter Zargabaath brought to the forefront.

"You must indulge my meddling, Gabranth, for I find your brother's particular talents are a resource we need. Though Judge Magister no longer, he is a valuable agent of the Empire. Few are as accustomed to the shadows as he."

Basch bristled. "Under Larsa's guidance, the Empire will emerge from the shadows."

Zargabaath's expression was one of melancholy admiration. "Your faith in our Emperor commends you." The words were granted with sincerity and without the challenge previously levied in the use of our Emperor. And then the officer continued with quiet grimness. "There will always be shadows, Gabranth, and need for men with the skill to walk therein."

"Necessity is the excuse of all who work dark deeds under the cover of anonymity. I don't like it." Basch shook his head and physically turned as if to do so put the idea away.

Zargabaath leaned back in his chair. "Did ever you win a battle alone, Basch fon Ronsenburg?" Zargabaath's mournful smile was of a man older than the Judge Magister's years. "Once our number was greater than two. Once these halls were ripe with the Elite Knights of House Solidor. Between some there were friendships. Between others, no love lost. Rivalries and affections sprung up. Yet each had a unique place and served a particular purpose." He smiled lightly. "Now, it is true, I care little to claim your affection, but I do not need your affection to see that you bring your own gifts to the Magistry and to the service of our young Emperor. You inspire our young Lord, and those who serve under your command hearken to your call. One should not overlook the importance of an ally no matter the circumstance that brings him to you."

The regard and offering of trust in Zargabaath's words soothed Basch's pride and quieted his dissention. He watched as Zargabaath pondered in silence and waited as the gray eyes lifted again to his face.

"He is your brother-your blood. What would you have him do? Return home, if home can be found? And do what there? Tend the fields? Become a hunter of beasts in place of men?" Zargabaath paused before sharing his practical conclusion. "Such a man has need of being useful. T'would be folly to discount the usefulness of such a one to us."


When Noah entered the quarters housing Sir Jolon and Faolyn and found the boy's bed empty, panic shot through his veins, and he turned so quickly that the cloak caught hold and upset a cart of empty crystal vials. Their presence, scattering with a melodic chime across the floor at his feet, brought him to a conclusion he dreaded but could not repel. With the quickness of his heart driving his feet, Noah rushed to make a quick review of the suite. Being at one satisfied that the rooms were vacant and terrified to find them so, back toward the door he went, and came face to face with Basch.

"Noah?"

A look between them brought the alarm Noah felt to Basch.

"Larsa?"

Noah's wordless shake of the head made Basch's jaw tighten and his lips press into a hard line. Both sets of eyes were darkened under lowered brows.

"Medical ward."

"Larsa's quarters."

Noah pulled the hood of his cloak back up and exited to go one way. Basch replaced the Judge Magister's helm and made for the other. It was then that Basch recalled the web of secrecy he must mend. "Noah," he hissed in a muted but commanding tone, "this way." Noah balked and scowled, jerking his head to direct their path toward the elevator that would take them to the medical ward. Basch sternly countered, shaking his head purposefully this way and that before growling through the echo of the helm, "Now!" Noah snarled and hesitated, but knowing hesitation and conflict would cost them too-precious time, he surrendered to Basch's will only for the sake of expediency and with an angry sneer. Nonetheless, they were in perfect step as they broke into a controlled near-run, hurrying as fast as they dared along their route to Larsa's private chambers.

"Ho, Gabranth!"

The two skidded to a halt and whirled in unison. Though hidden by hood and helm, they were so evenly matched in build, gait, and mannerism, down to the very angle upon which they stopped and swiveled their necks to view the speaker, that no two creatures handpicked for uniformity and trained by the masters of synchronization could have been so evenly set and finely harmonized. The observer noted this with a humorless sniff.

"Tarachande!"

"Sir Jolon!"

The elderly noble had a hand raised, his hand loosely waving them toward him with a minimal circling motion. Seeing that the look upon his lined face was mild for him, Noah's heart rate began to regulate. Sensing his twin's reaction, Basch took some small comfort, but still, as he removed the helm and tucked it beneath his arm, he looked eagerly for sight of the child Emperor.

"I presume you seek your misplaced charges. Well, come along, lads. Don't dawdle mindlessly in the hallway like a pair of royal fools." The elder turned and walked away with the air of authority and the expectation of being obeyed.

Basch shot Noah a look of incredulous dismay that was answered with a roll of the eyes, tilt of the lips, and a sigh.

Their hurried pace slowed to an excruciating crawl in keeping with the leisurely amble of the old man, and only the disciplined respect of the younger men kept them from impatiently passing by. Instead, they counted the beats of the elder's cane tapping a rhythm against the gleaming granite and watched the reflection of his brocade robe sweeping like a pendulum before them.

"Behold the lost lambs." The old man turned a corner and waved his cane like a pointer before him.

"Zecht's quarters?" Noah's confusion met Basch's ears, and his brother tilted his head slightly to speak privately to his twin.

"It has been put to other use."

"A trophy room! Ha! Wouldn't Zecht like to see this!" Noah whispered his surprised exclamation as they followed the old man's direction into the chamber.

Basch saw the amusement on Noah's face and smiled.

Noah quirked an eyebrow at his twin. "Do you and Zargabaath come here often to polish old battle loot and compare scars?"

Basch rolled his eyes at the teasing. "Hush. It was Larsa's idea, and his to enjoy."

As Noah viewed the gallery of portraits, suits of armor, and weaponry on display, he noticed that the portraits of Ghis and Bergan had been relegated to a far corner where they did not have to be noticed if it was not wished while Zecht, Drace, and Zargabaath had prominent placement. And there in their midst was his own portrait…or was it?

Noah lowered his already hushed tone and subtly pointed toward the portrait. "Which of us-?"

"You, of course."

"Why-?"

"No scar."

"Oh. Right. You know, I'm sure they could-"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, I was just-"

"Forget it, Noah."

"Hhhh… Fine."

"Heh. Fine."

It had been part of the pomp and circumstance when he had been given the position to be fitted with a new suit of specially designed armor and to have his painting made. (The paintings then had hung along the Hall of the Magistry.) It had all been disconcerting and awkward. Zecht had not helped, coming by to stare and offer his brand of encouragement to the Imperial artist. "Think of the symbolic tie to his armor, and add a set of horns here," he'd said; "and there is needed more fullness to the chin," he'd claimed; and "the nose isn't quite long enough. An inch or two more, I'd think." It was a testament to the talent and unflappable calm of the artist that the portrait had been completed with a decent resemblance.

"There" Basch, relaxed now that he had his charge in sight, gestured toward the lads. "You can see that Larsa takes great pleasure in these grand...er…" He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Toys?"

Larsa's fine suit of richly tailored clothes was rumpled just slightly from his nap upon the lounge at Faolyn's bedside, but he walked proudly and pulled himself to full height. Faolyn, taller than Larsa by several inches without trying, was wrapped loosely in a coverlet, white-blond hair wildly disheveled, and bare toes poking out as he padded along after the boy Emperor. Noah smiled to see the two lads together. It did his heart good to think that the unlikely duo might find friendship.

The boys had stopped by a glass display case that ran the length of the room, and Noah could see that Larsa was in deep discussion, explaining some matter of intense importance to his new friend. As Larsa's speech ended, Faolyn turned toward the approaching party, and Noah's heart sank as he saw in the boy's eyes that he was aghast with repulsion and fear. And then he saw why.

"You kept it."

"It was important to Larsa…and to me."

Noah felt the sentiment in his twin's words and shifted slightly toward his brother even as Faolyn came to his side and pulled into the shelter of his arm. Staring past Larsa's bewildered eyes to the shattered helm he'd once proudly worn, Noah could feel again the cinders of molten steel and smell once more the scent of his own flesh burning as his wounds were cauterized by the flame. He had held no thought but to gather the remnants of his broken honor and make his end count for Larsa, for Basch, and for himself that day. He'd never have guessed he'd live to look back.

"Noah, I want to go home." Faolyn's frightened, youthful voice carried in the silence of the chamber, and both Noah and Basch saw Larsa's happiness fall like a stone to the ocean floor.

Basch closed the distance between himself and the young Emperor with his long strides, and sought to ease the sting of the other boy's words with a light smile. "I wonder if Faolyn would agree with Zargabaath's opinion as to the influence creatures and strange beings have had on the designs of the Imperial Elite armor. Maybe tomorrow you can show him the Official Imperial Bestiary with its depictions of the Espers and see." Basch set his own helm down beside Noah's broken one.

Noah's eyes softened at the move though he was lost in thought. Basch's suggestion to Larsa reminded him of the goods he and Faolyn had bought at the Faire: the bestiary, art supplies, and carved figures. Had the old man carried them away with him? He glanced back and saw that the elder had taken to a high-back leather chair and was now soundly nodding in sleep. He'd have to ask when it was more convenient. "Come, Faolyn." He coaxed the boy with a gentle nudge and a smile, and they took their place behind Larsa and Basch.

Basch glanced over his shoulder and saw his brother pause before a suit of armor worn once by Judge Magister Drace. The sadness and regret upon Noah's face could not be missed, but he met Basch's eyes and smiled tiredly.

"Just a little while longer, Lord Larsa," Basch cautioned. "Night is already upon us, and the dawn brings new challenges we must all face." He held his brother's gaze.

"Yes, Basch. Just a little while longer." Larsa glanced fleetingly at Noah, whose strong arm was drawn around Faolyn's thin shoulders, and hesitantly rested a hand upon Basch's left arm as they walked. Basch reached across and covered the small hand with his large right.

And Sir Jolon snored on, at home at last in the luxury and ease of the Palace, as the muffled voices and muted steps of the guardians and their charges filled the air around him with a gentle yet halting tune.