Chapter Thirty-Two

Jahara, Land of the Garif
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar

"So, did you decided what to tell Larsa, Ashe?" Penelo asked as she fussed with her hair, tying it back in her signature twin braids. Sunlight sparkled through the half-open tent flap, painting the whole interior with warm, morning light. Ashe smiled at that question from where she sat on her bed; she did know, finally.
"Let's wait," Fran said, coming up beside Penelo. "She'll tell everyone soon enough." Fran had her quiver of arrows and her bow slung over one shoulder, ready to leave as soon as everyone else was. She'd been like this when Ashe woke, already tidied up, everything packed. She claimed she'd already eaten, too, and politely waited while Ashe and Penelo readied for the day.
"The others will be waiting at the village's entrance," Fran said. "We agreed to meet there, in case the princess needed to sleep in."
"It's not that late, is it?" Ashe asked, to which Fran's only response was a touch of a smile. Ashe had slept wonderfully the night before night, despite the confusion racing through her mind. She didn't know why she'd seen Rasler's ghost or why it vanished like it had. She didn't know why Balthier suddenly had to leave in the middle of their conversation. But she did know what she'd say to Larsa, and whether she'd choose peace or war, and that had been enough to put her mind at rest for a moment, at least. However, she didn't think she'd slept that late, or that she'd seemed so stressed out yesterday the others thought she needed it.
"Alright! I'm ready to go," Penelo said, dropping the two stubby braids she'd just finished. She bent over to grab a staff leaning against her bed. It wasn't her old one, Ashe noticed, the metal pool she'd picked up in the sandsea. This staff was carved of dark wood, longer, engraved with intricate symbols all down its length.
"Is that new?" Ashe asked.
"Oh, yeah," Penelo replied. "One of the Garif elders gave it to me last night. It's way better than my old one."
Fran cocked her head, looking closer at the staff. "These are runes," she said, tracing a finger over one of the markings. "They'll help with your magic. I'll show you how to use it later."
"Oh, really? Sure," Penelo said. "Thanks."
"Come on, then," Fran said, turning to the tent flap. "Let's go."
Ashe stood from her bed with a sigh, nodding. While the questions of Rasler's appearance and Balthier's odd behavior hadn't troubled her the night before, they returned to plague her now. She'd hoped to ask Fran about it; she figured her however-many years of experience might find an answer, or at least get closer than Ashe's measly nineteen. Ashe walked up to joined Fran and Penelo just as Penelo ducked out the tent flap.
"Wait, Fran," Ashe said. "Can I ask you something?"
Fran cocked her head. "If you'd like. Penelo." Fran raised the tent flap and spoke to Penelo. "Go on without us. We'll catch up."
"Oh. Alright," Penelo nodded, and Fran let the tent flap fall. She turned back to Ashe.
"What is it?"
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Ashe asked. She'd meant to be more tactful than that, but there was no taking it back now.
"I believe there are many things I have never seen," Fran replied. "But ghosts… I can't say."
Ashe let out a sigh. "Alright."
"Is it Rasler?" Fran asked. Ashe sighed and nodded.
"Yes. And I am sorry about that. Last night, I mean. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Don't worry about that," Fran said. "I wasn't getting anywhere, anyway."
"What were you two talking about, anyway?" Ashe asked, just out of curiosity.
"I shouldn't say," Fran replied. "I don't think he'd appreciate it."
Ashe sighed and nodded, thinking of her own conversation with the man in question. "I always thought he was just an average sky pirate- Balthier, I mean," she said. "He was… handy, charismatic, a little mysterious, traveling from place to place, doing whatever there is to be done. But there's more to him than that, isn't there?"
"Everyone has a story," Fran replied. "His I know in part, if not in whole."
Ashe let out a sigh. "And then there's… Oh, I'm so confused. I did see Rasler last night, Fran! I'm sure! But does that mean…? Should I…?"
"Did it say anything?" Fran asked.
"Well, no," Ashe replied. "But I wasn't just seeing things!" Ashe closed her eyes, letting the memories of last night rush over her. Rasler's ghostly form, rippling with blue light, somehow never meeting her eyes… "He was there! I know it!"
"Ghost or no," Fran said, "Rasler died two years ago, did he not?"
Ashe paused, mouth open mid-reply. For two long years, she'd fought on, trying to move past that fact. Whatever she saw now didn't change it. Rasler rode off to Nalbina two years ago, smoldering with anger towards Archadia, and he returned only in a casket, however painful that fact was. And, thinking back, Ashe couldn't deny there was something off in the vision she'd seen, something different in his eyes, something strange she couldn't put her finger on.
"You're right," Ashe said finally with a painful sigh. "You're right, Fran."
Fran smiled slightly and patted a hand on Ashe's shoulder. "Come on, then; you shouldn't keep Larsa waiting."
Ashe nodded. "Yes. And… thanks."

Balthier slept soundly that night. For the past several nights, there had been some revelation or earth-shattering event that kept him awake, tossing and turning while his mind reeled with questions. It was that lack of sleep more than peace mind of mind that drew Balthier into a deep sleep that night.
Balthier slept soundly, but not peacefully. His dreams were a chaotic jumble of memories, recounting his life in Archades in the most distorted manor. Every fragmented memory seemed to loop around and end with Reina's face, smiling that last time he'd seen her, her fading lips asking one unidentifiable question, vanishing before he could hear her voice again. In her place stood a letter, reading off the terrible news. Short and thoughtless, it relayed plainly the cold, hard facts: an accident at Draklor, a single casualty, one Reina Florss. Curiously, Balthier had never wondered exactly what happened; the terrible fact that Reina was gone was bad enough. Before he could ask or anyone could answer, Ffamran was outside under the stars, tears on his face, then suddenly back in Archades to start it all over again. His thoughts about Reina were always that way, he realized. Circular, full of pain and guilt, never simple happy remembrance. Balthier wanted to move on, but it was his fault Reina was gone in the first place; did he have that right? Or was that just another way of running from the truth that Reina was gone, and nothing he did would bring her back?
With the sun risen and the new day begun, bright sunlight washing over Jahara, Balthier banished his uncertainties to that troubled night. There was a lot to be done that day; they'd start down the long road to Mount Bur-Omisace, where they'd find the Sword of Kings the great-chief talked about. At least, he hoped so.
At Jahara's entrance, Balthier, Basch, Vaan, and Larsa all waited for the girls to arrive.
"I hope Lady Ashe has decided," Larsa said. He paced back and forth in front of the bridge that marked the village's beginning.
"I'd imagine she has," Balthier said. "Quite worrying." Of course, Balthier knew exactly what she'd say; however, he'd decided to hold his peace until the big reveal. It was Ashe's place to say, after all.
"Hey! Good morning!" Penelo pranced over the bridge, in quite high spirits. Balthier spotted Fran and Ashe following from a distance.
"Ah. Good morning, Penelo," Larsa said, stopping his pacing. "I saw your performance last night. It was amazing."
"Oh, really? You really think so?" Penelo asked, cheeks flushing.
"Sure thing!" Vaan said, joining the conversation. "You were awesome, sis!"
"Spectacular," Larsa added.
Fran and Ashe came plodding over the bridge, and all attention turned to them. Ashe seemed well-rested: tidy, with her sword tied at her belt, actually smiling for once.
"Lady Ashe." Larsa pulled his attention away from Penelo and bent at the waist, bowing neatly to Ashe. "Have you made your decision, princess?"
"Yes," Ashe replied. "Yes, I have." She let out a long breath, as if saying those words lifted a great weight from her shoulders. "We'll head to Mount Bur-Omisace to find the Sword of Kings. And then… Then we'll do our best to make peace between Dalmasca and the Empire."
Larsa let out a sigh of relief. "Lady Ashe, I am delighted to hear that. I'm very glad you've had a change of heart."
"I am, too," Ashe said, nodding. Balthier didn't miss the glance she threw his direction.
"Very well then. That decided, might I… accompany you, Lady Ashe?" Larsa asked.
"Hold on a moment," Balthier cut in. "Exactly why does an Archadian prince want to accompany us on a perilous quest into the wilderness?"
"Well, we seek the Sword of Kings, to destroy the nethicite and restore peace to Ivalice," Larsa replied. "Something I desire as much as you. I'd like to help, if I can. Besides," Larsa's air of unflappable confidence wavered for an instant. "I'm not greatly needed in Archades at the moment, nor does it seem I'm needed here. I can think of no greater place to lend my aid then to your party."
"What do you mean here?" Balthier asked. "Come to think of it, what were you doing on the Ozmone Plain before you heard we were here?"
"My brother sent me to oversee a mining operation nearby," Larsa replied. "But that's of no matter. I merely wish to offer what assistance I can, and witness your success with my own eyes."
Balthier sighed. "Fine, come along. Just know this won't be pretty. And you can dispense with the formalities; there's a time and a place for that, and it's not here and now."
"Oh. Well, I…" Larsa stammered.
"Well then, now that we all know where we're going and who's coming," Balthier said, ignoring the prince, "shouldn't we be off?"
"Before you go, I'd like to wish you all good luck." Everybody turned as Supinelu came over the bridge. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the rest, then turned to Fran. "Take care in Golmore, old friend," he said. "I'm sure the Viera won't take kindly to your return."
Fran nodded slowly. "I've considered it. I'm prepared to take the risk."
"For these humans?" Supinelu cast a glance over the others. "Well, that's your choice, Fran. Be careful, nonetheless."
Fran nodded.
"Shall we leave?" she said, turning to the others.
"Are you sure about this, Fran?" Balthier asked. "I'll admit I don't know a lot about Viera culture, but it sounds like a homecoming won't be particularly safe for you."
"My kind won't take kindly to outsiders passing through the wood, either," Fran replied. "You'll need my help. There will be danger for all of us, but we must go anyway. You honestly expect me to stay here?"
Balthier sighed. "No, not really."
"Then let's go," Fran said. "The land ripples as we near Jagd Difor, thus cliffs stand between us and Golmore Jungle. There is an entrance not far from here, to the southeast. We should leave quickly. It would be best to spend as little time as possible in the wood."
"Then let's go," Balthier said, turning to address the whole group. "Everybody ready?" He eyed the newest addition to their group. "Larsa?"
"Certainly," Larsa said, patting the rapier at his side. It struck Balthier what a comical contrast the kid made; there he stood with his air of confidence and royal pride, attired in the pompous outfit of an Archadian noble, yet with a sword tied to his belt, backed by the untamed expanse of the Ozmone plain, ready to embark on a perilous quest into the wilderness. The fact that he barely looked twelve years old argued against both those things.
"Are you sure you know how to use that thing?" Balthier asked, nodding to the prince's sword.
"Of course," Larsa replied, not fazed at all by Balthier's doubt. "I've been trained by the finest sword masters Archadia has to offer."
Balthier chuckled, withholding a comment about the difference between the dense jungles of Jagd Difor and an Archades training room. "Come on, everybody," Balthier said. "We've got a long road ahead, so we might as well get started."
The group murmured their agreement.
"Farewell, then," Supinelu said. He nodded to Fran. "Fates will, we meet again."
She nodded back, then turned to leave. Balthier took the lead as the group headed out of the sheltered slopes of Jahara towards the rolling Ozmone Plain.

The jagged cliffs of the Ozmone Plain created a barrier between the party and their path south, just as Fran predicted. She led them across the plain to a place where the cliff walls split open into a pathway of narrow ravines like the trail that led to Jahara. The ravine grew narrower and the cliffs shallower, until the stone walls ran right up into a tangled mass of trees. The great trees towered far overhead, their dark leave tangling together at the top, making it dark as night within. The narrow mouth of the ravine funneled into the forest, making it seem like the mouth of some great, ancient beast, long since buried and overgrown.
"This the place, I assume?" Balthier said.
Fran nodded. "Golmore Jungle. We can enter here." She walked closer to the entrance, looking up into the dark treetops, until the shadows of the great, towering trees fell over her face. Her face was unreadable, but Balthier thought he heard the faintest sigh. Not that he'd ever experienced such a homecoming himself, but Balthier imagined it was hard. What would it be like to step back into the sprawl of Archades after all those years?
"It's so big!" Vaan said, staring up at the massive trees.
"Jagd Difor starts here," Fran said, breaking from her solemn trance. "The myst is much thicker beyond."
"So the plants grow bigger and faster," Balthier finished. "I imagine the animals do, too."
Everyone followed Fran, walking in under the shadow of the ancient trees. Just within the forest's shadow, a pathway curved out of the earth, arching onward into the forest. All around the strange metal walkway, dense undergrowth blanketed the ground.
"Oh, wow," Penelo said. "Did the Viera build that?"
"The Viera do not build," Fran replied. "Not like this. These ruins have been here since before the wood. But they are useful paths, and the Viera use them." Fran walked out onto metal path. "Follow me," she said, not looking back. "These will take us to the other side. The open forest is not somewhere we want to be."

They traveled through the winding paths of Golmore Jungle for about two hours, Balthier estimated. The sun was probably directly overhead, yet it was distant and invisible behind the dense tree cover; their way was lit by ancient, flickering magicite lamps, part of the ruins beneath the jungle. The wood was hardly silent; the distant noises of insects buzzing and creatures moving through the undergrowth mixed with the sound of footfalls on the ancient metal path.
"So, Fran, you actually lived here?" Vaan asked. "It's kinda dreary, isn't it?"
Balthier withheld a sigh at Vaan's tactlessness; the kid would never learn. Fran didn't seem particularly fazed by it, though.
"I did," she replied simply. Fran had hardly talked at all through their journey so far. Not that she was usually chatty, but there was something cold in her silence now, as she kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, a hard but pained determination showing through her usually stony eyes. Balthier couldn't help but feel guilty that his mission had brought her back here; he knew very well the pain of something left irretrievably behind.
"Must've been tough," Vaan continued. "I mean, all these weird monsters everywhere- And you can't even see the sky! Is it always this dark?"
"Our villages are guarded," Fran replied. "The monsters are not much trouble." She let her gaze drift upward with the faintest sigh but made no reply to the second part of Vaan's question. Vaan opened his mouth to ask more, but Balthier caught his eye and shook his head. Vaan seemed to get the point and fell silent.
"Wait." Ashe's voice caught everyone's attention. The princess had stopped walking, staring into the brush beyond the pathway. "Look over there." She pointed. "Did anyone just see that?"
"See what?" Balthier asked. Basch drew his sword; probably a little overkill, but many surprise attacks from creatures in the undergrowth had made them all wary. Vaan and Larsa whipped out their blades, too, and even Balthier, though determined not to overreact, reached back and rested one hand on his rifle's handle.
"There was something there," Ashe said, stepping back into the main group, hand on her sword hilt. "Something bigger. I'm not sure what."
Balthier slid out his rifle. There had been far more encounters with foul beasts over this trip than he'd prefer, but there wasn't much to do about it. Curling one figure around the trigger, Balthier readied to aim at whatever monstrous creature emerged from the woodland this time.
Then Balthier spotted a shape dashing between two tree trunks, too quickly to be identified but undeniably real. Balthier whipped up his rifle, ready to fire at whatever it was the moment it stepped into the light. Then something small sped through the air, and he felt a sharp pain in his neck. The last thing Balthier remembered was the world growing blurry as forest around him spun and disappeared.

Something shot out of the shadows, so fast and sudden Ashe nearly jumped. The shape whizzed by her face, so close she felt its feathers tickle her cheek. For a split second, Ashe wondered if she'd really made all that fuss over some tiny bird. Then she heard Balthier gasp, and the clatter as his rifle hit the ground. Ashe spun around to see him sprawled on the ground completely still, hands at his throat where a small feather dart protruded. Some instinct brought Ashe to her knees by his side.
"Balthier!" she cried. Ashe shook him by the shoulder, but there was no response. He was still breathing, but clearly unconscious. Her panic barely had time to take form when a voice called from the woods, thick with a foreign accent like Fran's.
"Do not move, hume-creatures."
Everyone froze at that command. Ashe tore her gaze from Balthier's unconscious form as about a dozen men and women with bows and spears slipped from the shadows. Every one of the hunters sported tall Viera ears, eyes narrowed in distain at the unwelcome visitors in their wood. Kneeling on the ground, Ashe watched as the Viera surrounded their group in an instant. She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep fear off her face. She would have risen, but, aiming their bows and spears at the group of travelers, the Viera seemed ready to enforce their command of 'don't move.' Basch, Vaan, and Larsa held their swords out but remained still; no one wanted a fight if it could be avoided.
From the Viera's ranks, one man stepped out to face the group; he moved with authority and seemed to be their leader. Spear clenched firmly in one hand, he came face to face with Fran.
"Fran," he said, scowling fiercely. "You think to come back here? And to bring humans with you?" The way he spat the word 'humans' and cast a searing glance over their group sent a chill down Ashe's spine. That utter hatred was far more than she'd expected. Fran stared back into the Viera man's face; pain showed through her stony front, but she pushed it aside.
"We need only to pass through," she replied calmly. "We will be as quick as we can."
"The wood will not tolerate their feet to walk these paths," the Viera replied, glaring again over the group of humans, then resting his burning gaze on Fran. "Nor yours, traitor."
Fran did not reply, but her gaze fell, unable to meet his eyes.
Another Viera man, younger, pushed through the group of humans and stood over Balthier's fallen form. He stared down at him a few moments, then looked back up to the Viera leader.
"I think you were right, Zhiel," he said. Zhiel kept his gaze fixed on Fran.
"You have much explaining to do, Fran," he said, then turned to walk away. "We bring them back to the village," Zhiel said to his hunting party. "If they resist, use force."
The Viera hunters began to strip the party of their weapons. One barked at Ashe to stand, and she did, reluctantly. Two of them hoisted up Balthier's unconscious form, and they led the group of humans away down the forest paths.