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CHAPTER ONE:
IN MEMORIAM OF 'MORROW'S HORIZON
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Author's Notes: The compositions for this Chapter are, in order of scene: 'The Skycity of Bhujerba,' from the FINAL FANTASY XII Original Soundtrack, Disc Two; and after it 'Battle On the Bridge,' from the FINAL FANTASY TACTICS Original Soundtrack, Disc Two. Both pieces can be found on Zophar's Domain.
Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, Emperor of the Empire of Archadia for seven years new, walked with the ease of a well practiced mixture of a military and official parade gait down the bridge towards the remains of the top of the superstructure of what had once been Sky Fortress Bahamut's primary armament, clad in the robes of his office, with his official silver scepter of office clasped in his right hand, but no crown, or circlet, gracing his brow.
Directly behind him strode Speaker of the Senate Maltow Gregoroth, older brother of the late Vayne's scapegoat for Gramis' assassination, a cane moving in front of the Senator to catch him if he stumbled in his official Senator's hooded robe; but lacking any spryness for his age, and the weeks he'd been tortured in prison between Larsa's late father's assisted suicide, and Vayne's death.
Behind Larsa, and to his right, walked Queen Ashe, wearing a combination of her own robes of office and the garb she'd been clad in the day of the armistice they were now commemorating.
Behind Larsa, on his left, walked Marquis Halim Ondore of Bhujerba, his own cane held lower before his own garb of office due to years that had caught up with him sooner than Speaker Gregoroth's, but his stride as dignified and lacking any evidence of mental doddering as Maltow's.
Conspicuous in his absence was Al-Cid Margrace, who should have been directly to Larsa's left, as he had been every anniversary of the armistice until the seventh. Al-Cid had sent his regrets this time, though; a criminal syndicate known as Khamja, who Penelo and Vaan had participated in a major sting operation against four years ago, had begun moving many of its operations from Jylland across the border into Rozarria, and Al-Cid was currently occupied attempting to discover why, and if it was possible to kick them back out into Jylland without directly involving Rozarria's military in doing so, and risking making the Archadian Senate nervous.
A delegation of Rozarrian soldiers, armored in padded leathery dark blue, had accompanied the contingents of Archadian soldiers and non Magisterial Judges, Dalmascan forces, and Bhujerban forces, but Al-Cid himself had remained in Rozarria.
To Larsa's left walked Basch, with his helmet on, in his guise as Gabranth.
It was one Larsa hoped he would soon be in a stable enough political position to unmask to the overall population of Archades.
Six years had passed since the brief war with the Yarhi and aegyl.
Since then, the need to relocate so many aegyl refuges off of the fallen Lemuris, and provide for them, had put Larsa in a position to gradually sideline the more tradition bound members of the Imperial Senate by proposing bill after bill offering incentives to aegyl refugees and Senators alike. With the exception of a small number of virtual dynastic heirs of nepotism, such as Maltow, the Imperial Senate was now filled with more Senators who embraced a partially demilitarized Archadia than ones who loathed it, and Larsa was putting the last stages of his lengthy demilitarization initiatives into place in his Empire.
That, Larsa knew, was the real reason Al-Cid had been unable to attend the ceremony.
Rozarria was testing Archadia's mettle, to attempt to discern how far the greatly demilitarized regime, but one still very militarily capable of defending itself, was willing to dig in its heels if a still mostly militarized Rozarria now began posturing with snubs that were very obviously implied threats.
"What are the chances we can abduct Gregoroth during the ceremony, hold him for ransom, and then arrange for one of the most warmongering Margraces to pay it?" Vaan whispered from Larsa's far right, to Penelo on Larsa's near right.
Penelo partially grinned, and partially grimaced.
Then she elbowed Vaan in the side with joking reproof.
"Without resulting in that setting off another war, you mean?" she questioned back.
Basch turned his concealed face both their directions, and tilted his helmet, in such a way that it reminded them both he was a Judge Magister of Archadia, and if they made the attempt, he would see his duties to the Archadian government fulfilled through any methods short of lethal ones.
Vaan met the faceplate with a challenging smirk, telling Basch to bring it on if he wanted to discover just what new moves Vaan had recently learned the hard way.
"That will be enough from all three of you," Ashe interjected with what, Larsa saw as he looked back, was a smile filled with a mixture of happiness and longing.
Larsa knew the feeling all too well.
He refused to see the inverted carved out emptiness he himself knew at how he was unable to spend more time with Penelo, Vaan, and, to a lesser extent, Basch, Al-Cid, and his other companions from their old journeys, as worse than the absence he knew Ashe lived with every day.
But she, at least, could attain a small form of happiness from time to time, due to her bonds with Balthier and Fran, because of Balthier's double identity as a sky pirate, and also Ffamran Bunansa, the de facto current head of one of the highest ranking families in Archadia.
Larsa didn't even have those reprieves from his burdens as Emperor.
However, depending on how Larsa needed to rely on cooperation, as opposed to unilateral Archadian grandstanding, to discourage a new wave of potential Rozarrian belligerence, Larsa knew Ashe may soon lose even that chance to truly be herself.
Larsa had never been sure if Ashe had developed any romantic feelings for anyone during their travels, and he'd known better than to pry. She'd been the closest to Vaan, but Vaan was also the person she had the least of a chance of marrying, both due to their different societal positions and Vaan's bond with Penelo.
It might not matter for much longer, though, as much as Larsa wished otherwise.
Larsa kept his gaze off of Penelo as unobtrusively as possible.
In more ways than one.
And Balthier, and his rampant pillaging of Archadian interests, was long overdue to be reined in.
For Balthier's sake as well.
Every single time Balthier had chosen to play his fellows like pawns, for no reasons other than to show off how clever he now saw himself in his new supporting role, and because he now believed it was supposedly his duty to be everyone's big brother and take all their burdens on his shoulders without asking for any assistance, he'd just made matters worse than they needed to be.
This had happened in Lemuris, and it had happened too many other times since for Larsa to have any patience with it any longer.
Depending on how matters progressed with Rozarria, Larsa might have the justification he needed to bring Ffamran Bunansa to heel.
By asserting he could no longer afford to overlook Ffamran's mounting transgressions against Archadia, present and past, and ordering him to finally settle down, take up his leadership of House Bunansa, and marry Queen Ashelia to cement an alliance between Archadia and Dalmasca.
Whether one, or both, were interested in the other romantically, or not.
And, although it caused Larsa's insides to contort to even think of it the most gossamer threadbare amount, regardless of how, before Ffamran had fled his judicer's plate, Cidolfus, now dead by Ffamran's own hand, had once intended to propose that very option as an alternative to invading Dalmasca, once Vayne had enough influence to threaten them both with invasion. In order that Draklor might attain direct access to Dalmascan royal affairs, and the royal treasury, without spilling any blood, and Nabradia would be caught in a pincer that would enable Archades to conquer it even more efficiently, and very possibly with Dalmascan assistance.
The alternative would be for Balthier to serve time in an Archadian jail cell, under the watchful eye of Judge Magister Basch Fon Ronsenburg, who knew Balthier's and Fran's tricks well enough to ensure escape would be incredibly difficult, if not unfeasible.
And if Ashe is interested in Vaan that way, that may spur her to at last fight for hi–
Larsa pushed it away.
Ashe could live without the person who had opened her heart, and eyes, to a warmer, kinder world of effervescent laughter and the singing breeze, and been there for her the most during many of the worst times of her life.
Larsa could do the same.
Just because she might see Vaan as a younger brother, and not a love, made no difference.
As much as all Larsa wanted as the single piece of Vayne remaining came into clear view ahead, the warped megalith of contorted metal Larsa had named the Rood Inverse, and the Senators were currently designing a shape for it to be recast into, was for Penelo to rub his shoulder, and pat it, the way she had the day what reality and life he'd had, and known, was left, had broken to shards in tsunamis of fire and Mist and cannon rounds and a resigned ruined determination and the abandoned broken fragmented cut away disjointed forsaken betrayal of the last strings of faith he'd had left in his elder brother that he'd then repaid to Vayne in kind.
That memory just caused Larsa to adjust his expression as surreptitiously as possible, to be more sure there was no evidence on his visage of one of the key reasons, if not the largest, that Vayne had died that day.
Larsa registered that they were now walking onto the dais.
He suppressed the urge to sigh heavily, as the all too familiar weight of the despair and self hate dragged much of the strength from his limbs, and replaced it with aches.
If Maltow had the smallest reason to believe what many of the militaristic traditionalist Senators suspected to this day; that Larsa had betrayed his Empire for insurgents from a conquered territory and aided them in the defeat and death of the Solidor who was on the verge of being declared the new Emperor, and who already was in all but name; Rozarria would become the second most dangerous threat to Archadia.
An older brother, slain by the younger.
Truly a common tale of late.
And that didn't even get into how much Larsa knew his late father hadn't wanted to see history repeat, and his sons to turn on each other, and one another, a second time.
Or how Vayne might have won the day if Larsa hadn't wielded power against power and utilized manufacted nethicite to disable his Sephira.
Vaan and Ashe would still have very likely been able to defeat Vayne Novus without the assistance of the manufacted nethicite.
But if even a single one of Vayne's Sephira had been intact when Venat had transfigured Vayne, the confrontation with Vayne as an Occuria made flesh might very well have ended in defeat.
It had been a near enough thing, as it was, from what Larsa had heard.
What would Noah, and father, think, if they knew Larsa had dirtied his hands in the end, anyway, after all their efforts to be his shield so he wouldn't need to strike?
And to accomplish the very sin father had hated most, and he'd gone so far as to assent to poison himself and give his life to seek to avert, deceived by Vayne into the suicide, or not?
The closer Larsa came to creating the Archadia he dreamed of, the more he wondered how Penelo and Vaan, and Basch and Ashe, and his people, could have any faith in him to guide them to it, and through it, at all.
It had all been a lie, hidden by a tapestry that enmeshed asphyxiated Penelo and Vaan and Basch and Ashe and Archadia and Dalmasca and all of Ivalice from the beginning.
Larsa had taken the throne through assassination and power just as much as Vayne had.
Even more than Vayne's had been, because Vayne hadn't yet been declared Emperor by the time he died, although it had been inevitable he would in the very near future, very possibly as soon as the Resistance had been swept away so they could concentrate on defeating Rozarria.
Nor had Vayne assassinated their father with nethicite.
Larsa's hands were far more caked with blood, and filth, than Vayne's.
And where Vayne ran away from adversity by seeking easy solutions through power, Vayne had at least faced reality for what it was.
Larsa had been so afraid of its remorselessness, within Father, within Vayne, within Gabranth, within himself past measurement most of all, he'd just curled up and hidden in a corner under his bed to hide from the horrible mysteries of the dark and the indelible light of the day into which all dreams faded, stood by, and let Vayne act with little to no restriction, when he and Father could have worked together, themselves, and by rallying the Senate, to contain him.
Until it was too late, and there was no other solution but the very death and war and power and despair Larsa had refused to believe was present as what it genuinely was.
Nevertheless, Larsa once more adjusted his expression as unobtrusively as he'd learned how to over the years.
If anyone could but confirm he'd wielded manufacted nethicite a single time, even if no one could prove why, many of Larsa's efforts to demilitarize Archadia would have their rug swept out from under them.
Larsa was the first to stop walking as they reached the megalith of metal.
He turned his gaze to Ashe, and dipped his chin, signaling for her to be the first to walk forwards, as she always did.
Ashe inclined her own head in acknowledgement.
With practiced synchronicity with Basch, the train of military contingents stiffened to military parade rest, and saluted them all.
Vaan showed unusual formality as he stiffened to precise military attention himself.
The sight of Vaan so moved, in such heartfelt ways, by what Ashe was about to say, and do, and this ceremony, caused Larsa's lips to curl up, and lightness to flood him.
As he had each year since he'd grown old enough, Larsa suppressed the urge to search Penelo's eyes for any evidence of how she felt about how deferential Vaan was being to Ashe.
"This honor belongs to you, most of all," Larsa repeated the familiar words that would begin the ceremony.
"Seeing as no one here has brought anything but shame upon their nations and themselves, might I be the one to speak first, as but a humble former Riskbreaker, by name of Jan Rosencrantz, if you would?" an unfamiliar, sarcastically mocking male voice interjected.
The next second, a somersaulting boulder of light crimson padded armor and brown hair, wielding a lengthy and wide broadsword that tapered to a point at a ninety degree angle from the blade along its front, cannoned out from behind the front of the megalith, directly at Larsa.
Vaan was leaping in front of Larsa to intercept their assailant before Larsa had time to register anything else, the Sequence in an intercept position in both of his hands, while Penelo was sliding in front of Larsa from one side, Chirijiraden lifted into a defensive position, Basch from the other with the Tournesol in a defensive stance.
Before his sword could come into contact with Jan's strike, though, he uncurled from his somersault.
Even more inexplicably than his ability to conceal himself behind a chunk of metal much less than an adult hume's height, an unconscious blonde haired girl with a ponytail was revealed to be held against his chest with his free hand.
She now went flying at Vaan.
Right afterwards, the former self proclaimed Riskbreaker landed in front of Basch and Penelo, and his sword arced up in a cut under Basch's Tournesol while he aimed his free palm at Penelo.
An expanding wave of rippling and shimmering air, coursing with thick violet bolts of lightning, erupted from his palm and surged at Penelo, ramming into the Chirijiraden and crashing it back into her before picking them both up and hurling them backwards as though they were detritus swept by a storm.
Almost simultaneously, Jan's broadsword curved up under Basch's to hook around it with the point at its front, after which the mysterious assailant made a deft pull and yanked it out of Basch's hands to send it flying to the side.
Where Larsa, having rehearsed working as a team with Basch to prepare for situations like this for years, was ready.
With practiced ease of his own, Larsa strode forward to grab the hilt of the Tournesol as it sailed by.
Jan, now revealed to be an assassin attempting to murder Larsa, was seguing smoothly into a strike at his neck, with his broadsword overextended too high to block Larsa's as Larsa slid the Tournesol's point up directly before the attacker's heart, close enough Larsa could reach it with a thrust before Jan's cut would penetrate far enough into Larsa to ensure Larsa died along with him if he pressed the strike.
Jan stopped moving.
"Lay down your sword, if you would," Larsa spoke in a voice that was a mixture of wary politeness and command.
Jan brought his broadsword down, but he didn't drop it.
Then he snorted.
"Not likely," he sneered derisively.
"Not after what happened the last time Pussyfoot left my grip.
"I still haven't been allowed the telling of how I lived through that, but any benefactor who wields the Dark as adroitly as my new bondsperson does is as good as any other benefactor to become my own beneficiary of."
A small amount of lightness drained a little worry out of Larsa at the sight of Penelo walking warily back to them, not looking that much the worse for wear.
"Mayhap you will do us the courtesy of identifying this benefactor for us?" Basch queried in a composed, but warning, tone, the Sequence in his own grip now, and in a neutral position where he could defend, or attack, as was needed.
Jan snorted in even more derision.
"Or what?
"You'll torture it out of me?"
Larsa could hear Maltow partially smother a snort of derision of his own.
"Your principles precede you, joke of a Solidor."
"A common tale of late."
With the Rood Inverse this close to him, Larsa barely remembered not to wince.
"Nevertheless, Riskbreakers, former or not, don't earn their titles if they're clumsy.
"For you see, my recently discarded living shield," Larsa's stomach twisted at hearing Jan call the girl he'd thrown at Vaan by that term, without any reservation, or misgiving, at all, "Is the fourth child of a noble family, by name Alma Beoulve. Her first oldest brother failed to learn the lessons Vayne did in any way that comes to mind, but her two oldest brothers were much like your late eldest, and she herself took after your example."
Vaan clenched his teeth tightly at the knowledge there was solely one reason Jan could be informing them of this.
Larsa pushed everything he could feel as far distant as he could, to keep the blackmail he knew he was about to hear from affecting it as much as possible.
"And I'm not sure what becomes of her first oldest brother," Larsa blinked at how that choice of words sounded intentional, "But the other two are as dead as yours, and her father at the hands of the eldest of those two."
But she did have a youngest brother who hadn't betrayed her trust in him.
Larsa forced himself to keep that in mind, and draw what comfort from it he could, to reinforce the walls keeping his sentiments away.
"See, the thing is," Jan's voice became smug with biting triumph, "Seizing the girl turned out to be more of a trudge through a swamp than I believed it would be. I waited until the doting older brother of hers who is still alive was elsewhere, but some addled clown appeared to have taken perhaps even more of a shine to her, and he had a couple of sword arts named Omnislash and Cherry Blossom that were able to impress even a former Riskbreaker as experienced as I am.
"All good swamps come with their cesspools, however, and the unction I stuck down her throat after I gave her jester of a knight better than I got has coated her lungs with enough poison to still the breath of an adult Shield Wyrm once it's run its course."
Most of reality fled.
Larsa couldn't even tell if he was breathing.
"Or you can let me kill you, and the antidote is yours.
"I'd make your choice right now, though, because I doubt she has much time left, and all I need to do is bite down to–"
Vaan's two fingers stabbed right up into Jan's nostrils, and Larsa felt himself sag as Jan shifted his mouth, years of combat training reflexively preventing him from gagging.
Thus occupying Jan's mouth for the scant seconds Vaan needed to reach in and smoothly pull a pouch out.
As soon as it was in the open air, it detonated, and something viscous and brown fountained all over Larsa's face.
Larsa held his breath, but he knew it was too late as reality began to swim, and dizziness stole all perception but lightness from him.
"This goes to show why the soft touches are the easiest sellswords to use out of any kinds of puppets."
Jan's voice was even more smug with biting triumph
that was true it made no difference they all ended up playing their part whether they wanted to be free or not no matter whether they sought freedom with power or cooperation there was no escape
Vaan was yelling something Larsa couldn't decipher and the hilt of Ashe's ceremonial sword struck the back of Jan's head then Penelo's face was in front of him and her arms were around him pulling him close and tears were in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks and falling on his face and she was screaming something Larsa couldn't understand
Larsa realized he could faintly feel the reassuring, revitalizing, sustaining, secure warmth of her arms and body and hold.
He didn't know why, or how he could justify doing so, but he was smiling with tired exhaustion, and tears of his own were now in his eyes, and falling down his face.
Vaan's face was then next to Penelo's, terrified worry for him in his eyes, and on his visage, while one of his hands was clasp Larsa's shoulder tightly with sound and steadying assurance.
Larsa couldn't remember when he'd chosen to gasp out a protest.
"I don't… deserve… to die… surrounded by… effervescent warmth and vibrant laughter…
"My life… is the… most unraveled… frayed thread… of all…"
Then even Penelo's vibrant warmth and embrace, and Vaan's reassuring grip were gone, and there was nothing but soothing darkness.
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"You're doing things you don't want to do, just to escape your own feelings of guilt. 'Hypocrite'… the word doesn't even begin to describe you. Be more true to yourself!"-Lieutenant Luis Virgil/Blue Testament
"What makes you think you understand me?!"-Shion Uzuki
"Oh, I understand you. Because you and I are the same kind of person. What is it that drives you?"-Lieutenant Luis Virgil/Blue Testament
"Ha!"-Shion Uzuki
"That's right. Revenge. Only revenge drives you and me and that's the truth. Ideals crumble easily. Hope is like a mist before the morning Sunrise of reality. That's exactly how I was. But then I learned. Nothing will change. There is a limit to will, the limit of this world in which everything is closed. Yes, that is what all of us came to understand."-Lieutenant Luis Virgil/Blue Testament
XENOSAGA: Episode 3:
ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA
