~1 year before~
"I simply cannot understand why she's acting up."
My brows are strained, pinched together as tight as an Archadian's purse. The oil smeared on my fingertips made its way onto my face an eternity ago when I gave up on cleanliness and dove elbows deep into the inner workings of my baby. Her engine rattles terribly and I motion for the power to be cut. Irritation presses into my chest and it's all I can do not to pull my hair out and scream bloody murder. What could it be? Sweat rolls down Dern's face as he jumps from the side of the Castean, muscles rippling under the beating sunlight and brown hair waving in the gentle, dry wind of the desert.
"Nothing?"
"Not yet," I sigh, throwing my wrench to the ground and kicking the gritty desert sand into the air. The golden grains catch on the hot wind and blast my face. Dern chuckles while I sputter, crossing his arms.
"Patience, Shae. Let me see what I can do."
"Have at it," I reply grimly, falling back onto a scalding, rough rock the color of the old orange peels I forgot outside my camp for a day. Perhaps the skystones are glitching. "I knew something was wrong when we left Rabanastre. Should have gotten the Moogle's—"
"I do believe I found the issue." I sit up with a start, wincing into the blinding sunlight and watching as Dern turns to face me with a broad grin. Between two tanned fingers dangles a mangled ring of gold, dented and crumpled into an odd formation from being crushed between pistons and cogs.
"Are you…?!" My right wrist is nearly bare, save for the silver bangles twisted around each other. Pure agonizing irritation threatens to choke me and I throw myself back down onto the hot rock.
"Forget the accessories next time," Dern laughs, tossing the chunk of soiled gold at my feet. "It may just fetch a pretty price in Rabanastre, you know."
"Much less than it might have before," I reply, resigned. Shaking his head, he walks toward me steadily and pulls me to my feet. Hiding a smile, he runs the pad of his thumb across his tongue and swipes at a black smudge on my forehead.
"Have some hope, Shae. It's something you gravely lack."
I crinkle my nose, recoiling from his touch. The well-muscled man crosses his arms and turns to the horizon, a light, mischievous smile crossing his lips. Sighing, I rest my hands on my hips and fight the urge to grin at his deep, genuine laugh.
"I suppose we'll have to get you a new one, Sweetheart."
Balthier leans around the corner, watching the Judge and his guards walk down the dim passageway. Vaan catches his breath to my left, Fran watching our backs to my right. I frown, listening to the odd chanting echoing from the hallway Balthier watches, but he still appears indifferent. A blue light casts a glow across the rough stone walls momentarily before flashing brightly and fading.
"What's going on?" I whisper.
"They've casted a spell to open a door," Balthier mutters back. "And now they're heading inside, wherever that leads." He straightens, leading the way out into the open. I wince upon hearing him crack his neck, Vaan fighting a smile.
"Time to go," I sigh, watching the soldiers' backs. Finally, I put my feet into motion, being sure to stay ahead of Balthier. I want to see what the puppets of House Solidor are up to. A steep staircase leads down into the dim light of next room. We line up on the stairs and I cautiously peer around the edge of the wall. Chains and cages dangle from the ceiling; one of the cages begins to rise once a soldier touches a golden control panel. The Judge steps forward, staring up at the dangling man before him.
Pale wrists locked in rusted shackles, the man's blue eyes hardly peel open. A shaggy blonde beard hangs from his jaw, brushing a body so thin every bone is clearly visible. Somehow, for however long he's been locked here in what I can only assume is Solitary, he retains a heavily muscled build.
The Judge removes his helmet. From the back of his head, all I can see is short blonde hair eerily the same exact color as the other man's.
"You have grown thin, Basch," he comments. Vaan gasps, clutching the wall tighter, eyes narrowed. "Less than a shadow. Less than a man. Sentenced to death and yet you live. Why?"
"To silence Ondore," comes Basch's raspy, underused voice. "How many times must I say it?" He looks up to reveal a dark scar drawn across his left eye.
"Is that all?"
"Why not ask Vayne yourself? Is he not one of your masters?" I feel my jaw tighten at that cursed name, watching the exchange and grasping onto every word. The Judge sighs, annoyed.
"We've caught a leader of the Insurgence. She is being brought from Rabanastre. The woman Amalia." Well, there's why we were in such deep trouble with the Empire. "Who could that be?" Basch frowns, letting his head hang. "Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen kingdom."
"Better than throwing it away," the man snaps. The Judge shakes his head and puts his horned helmet.
"Throwing it away? As you threw away our homeland?" he counters.
With that, he turns on his heels and paces away toward the opposite end of the room, disappearing down a different hallway with his men in tow. Breathing a sigh of relief, I step out into the open, watching the prisoner cautiously as Balthier brushes by, always the one to take the lead. Basch starts, looking up at us as we walk past.
I tear my eyes away from his. Basch the Kingslayer. The man who singlehandedly ruined the war for Dalmasca. Not that it affected me at all. I prefer to stay outside these sorts of political conflicts. Brings me too much trouble in dealings with others.
"Who's there?" he demands. Balthier ignores him, peering down into the pit below the cages.
"This the place?"
Fran throws a hip out to the side, placing her clawed fingers on top. "The Mist is flowing through this room. It must be going somewhere." Balthier hums, bending down.
"You!" Basch cries. "You're no Imperials. Please, you must get me out—"
"It's against my policy to speak with the dead. Especially when they happen to be kingslayers, Balthier counters, raising an eyebrow.
"I did not kill him."
"Is that so?" Balthier replies, turning to face him finally. "Glad to hear it."
"The classic 'I didn't do it'," I huff, crossing my arms. "A bit too generic for my tastes." Balthier scoffs, fiddling with a piece of the iron barrier around the pit.
"Please, get me out," Basch pleads, turning to Vaan. "For the sake of Dalmasca." A curious fury burns behind Vaan's gray eyes. Before I can react, he jumps onto the man's cage, screaming in his face.
"Dalmasca!? What do you care about Dalmasca!? Everything that's happened is because of you!" The ceiling begins to rattle and I exchange a glance with Fran nervously. This boy… "Everyone that's died, every single one!" His voice grows weak, his head resting against the iron bars he grips. "Even my brother… You killed my brother!"
"Quiet," I hiss, tugging on the back of his vest. "The guards with hear." There's a rattle behind us. Fran storms toward a lever.
"I'm dropping it!" she announces, striking it with her heel.
Instantly, the cage falls a few inches. I take the opportunity to climb on, grabbing hold of Balthier's extended hand and pulling him up. Fran leaps onto the top just as we begin to fall. My heart jumps into my throat and I cling to the bars, watching the approaching ground for just the right moment. Just before the cage crashes to the pile of rubble below, I dive off, rolling to my feet. It's not a comfortable landing, but it's better than the crash Vaan and Basch suffer. Fran and Balthier jumped off at some point, now dusting themselves off.
Basch kneels, clutching his reddened wrists. I feel sick upon seeing the angry, bloody red marks across his broad back, a sight all too familiar. I'm forced to turn away jaw tight. At least until, with a cry, Vaan dives toward him, pinning him to the ground and raising a fist. Balthier catches his arm, throwing him back onto the ground at my feet.
"Spare us your quiddities," the sky pirate glowers, resting his hands on his hips.
"Yeah but…!" Vaan stutters, glaring. "But he's a…!"
"A traitor, I know. Stay here and fight, if you want."
"If you can walk, let's go," I huff, glancing back at the freed prisoner.
"You're taking him with us?" Vaan demands, scrambling to his feet. "Balthier?"
"We could use another sword arm."
"And you have it," Basch reassures us, standing. His hair is much longer than I thought originally, but I suppose two years of Solitary in Nalbina will do that to you. Especially with the Empire. Vaan scowls at the man, turning on his heels and walking out of the narrow passageway. Sighing, Fran shakes her head, following and keeping her eyes on Basch. I catch another glimpse of his scars and gashes and turn away. I suppose some things never change.
"You're on edge," Balthier comments under his breath. "Anything to worry about down here?"
"Just a bit… disturbed by the Empire's handiwork is all," I shrug. "I've never escaped this way; we'll have to see."
With a curt nod, he follows his viera partner, leaving me to trail behind. From across the room, I spot a rusted round switch on the wall beside a gate. Vaan reaches to touch it.
"Hold on," I call, interrupting him. "There's no power." Leaping across a small gap to the gated pillar in the center of the room, I flip a few switches across a board and insert a hidden treasure from the dirty floor. A light flickers on above the button at Vaan's side and the lights lining the walls illuminate as well.
"How'd you know to do that?" he frowns. I shrug.
"It caught my eye and I put two and two together." I flash him a grin. "Labels are a spectacular help."
"Labels?"
"It was power center with a blown fuse," I reply, rolling my eyes. "There happened to be another here, so inserted it hoping it wouldn't blow and here we are. Satisfied, thief?"
"I guess," he huffs, hitting the switch.
The gate blocking our path raises and we head further into the tunnels. The next open room contains some sort of large, bright green insect that feeds off a sparking set of wires in the corner. Chewing away at our power, no doubt. The lights flash dimmer.
"Hey!" Vaan protests. "Who turned out the lights? One of those?!"
"I've heard of these," Balthier muses. "Mimics. They disguise themselves as all manner of things, then strike when you're least wary."
"Some have a fondness for energy, I'm told," I nod, eyeing the mimic across the room from us. "They gorge themselves on the stuff until there's none left and they move on to the next source."
"So… What happens then?" Vaan frowns.
"Lights out," Balthier shrugs. "And it's worse in the dark. Much worse. So, let them get too close to the conduits and they'll suck it dry." Vaan opens his mouth to speak but Balthier raises a ringed finger. "Don't worry. It'll give the energy back, if you ask nicely. Sticking it with a sword helps too. Clock's ticking."
"Then I suppose we beat it," I retort, pulling my lance free. "Unless you all prefer the dark."
"Not today, thank you," the sky pirate breathes, drawing his gun.
Another mimic joins the first and the lights flicker again. Vaan shudders, rushing in to attack the oversized bug. It hisses, batting at him with sharpened claws. Finding no space to move with my own weapon, I conjure up a fire spell and blast the second with a bright wave of heat that illuminates the room in an orange glow. Fran's arrow meets its mark moments later, whizzing past my ear. The crack of Balthier's gun is almost instantaneous, making me jump when a spray of yellow blood bursts forth just behind my right arm. I scowl at him, earning another nonchalant expression. The mimic falls to the ground with a weak hiss, collapsing before the power conduit. The lights flicker on, bringing back clear vision as energy flows from the insects to the sparking wires.
"Let's carry on then, shall we?" Balthier says, stepping past me to lead the way. Basch spares me a glance before following the others, leaving me to glower at the arrogant man's back alone. The sooner we leave these tunnels the better.
Otherwise, I may just wind up killing another sky pirate.