Breathless, Vaan slumps against the rough brick of the tunnel wall, boots propped up against the lip of rusted, old railroad tracks. These likely haven't been used since airships were invented. Fran paces along the wooden planks lining the ground, Balthier watching her steps with a bored expression.
"The Mist seethes," Fran comments, brows furrowed.
"It reeks," Balthier shakes his head. "Something's close."
I lean against a pillar beside Basch as he kneels, pulling armor from the decaying body before him. Flies buzz around as he removes an iron bangle, dropping a grayed hand back to the ground gently. He pulls a cord free from the man's waist, eyeing it.
"Need help tying that mess back?" I offer with a yawn. He glances up at me before shaking his head.
"I can handle it," he replies softly, moving to sloppily wrap the cord around the long, matted mess of greasy blonde hair hanging down his broad back.
I shrug indifferently, shifting uncomfortably around the pole stabbing the length of my back. Basch then stands, now thoroughly armored in what he fits into from the man. He takes hold of the basic iron sword at the man's side, giving it a few experimental swings. A slash hardly three inches from my face leaves me raising an eyebrow, refusing to flinch.
"Nice moves there, Captain," Balthier muses, arms crossed. Vaan pushes off the wall, looking as irate as ever.
"You mean 'traitor'," the thief scoffs, his fair hair waving with every shake of his head.
"So they say," Balthier acknowledges with a shrug. "But I didn't see him kill anyone."
"My brother did," Vaan replies bitterly, glaring at Basch. The captain frowns, turning sharply to look back at the boy.
"Reks," he breathes, voice painfully raspy and rough. "He said he had a brother two years younger." He turns to look Vaan in the eye. "I see. He meant you. Your brother. What became—"
"He's dead," the boy snaps, averting his gaze.
"I'm sorry."
"It was you who killed him!" Vaan shouts, scowling at Basch.
"I give you my word: that was not the way of it." From the older man's tone, though this may make me naïve, I feel as though he's telling the truth. I may know nothing now and he may be evil and a sick, twisted liar, but I want to believe him.
He goes on to explain a somewhat unlikely tale of a twin brother, a man identical to him who murdered the king and Vaan's older brother, Reks. The crime was then pinned on Basch, the captain supposedly present. In all this, Basch is innocent, a knight fallen from grace and honor, as this twin roamed free, happy to imprison his brother for a crime he did not commit. However, perhaps it's not all that unlikely. In a world such as ours stuck in a time such as this, not many families avoid torn, ruined, and evil practices. Basch sinks to the floor, arm hooked over his hunched knees.
"A twin brother," Balthier murmurs, pinching his chin between his forefinger and his thumb. "Fancy that." He hums, tilting his head to the side. "But still, the pieces fit. I'll give you that much. And he did look like you." Why so much interest in a prisoner all of a sudden?
"I don't believe you," Vaan says firmly, keeping his back turned to the captain.
"Of course not," Basch sighs. "It was my fault Reks was there." He hangs his head, staring long and hard at the armor on his wrist. "I am sorry."
"My brother, he trusted you," Vaan grits, hands clenching into fists. "He trusted you, and he lost everything. How can I believe you?" I wish I could open my mouth to speak, to explain to him that trust means you have bet it all. You win everything or you lose everything. So far, I've been on my fair share of the losing team, but holding a grudge never helped anyone. Instead, I watch Basch push himself to his feet.
"Not me, then. Believe in your brother." The captain stares at the wall as he speaks, blue eyes narrowed. "He was a fine soldier. He fought to the last to protect his homeland. No. Surely he fought… to protect his brother."
"You don't know anything!" Vaan shouts, swiveling around to glare at Basch. Fed up, I shake my head.
"It doesn't matter now, Vaan. It's not the time nor place for a fight over who's done what in the past."
"Believe what you want to," Balthier interjects, stepping between Basch and Vaan. "Whatever it takes to make you happy." He turns to walk away, muttering under his breath, "Shae's right; what's done is done."
"Finally he admits it," I tease, grinning. Balthier sighs, shaking his head, but he keeps walking.
We follow the path through winding underground tunnels carved from stone, dirt, and brick, swarmed by the occasional cluster of mimics. Vaan learns his lesson and leaves the variety of glittering green urns alone after several unfold into metallic insects twice his size. Basch does more than his fair share of damage with a weapon, controlled and graceful even after so many years of inactivity.
We enter another empty passageway; I shudder, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Fran seems to sense it too, her tan-tipped ear twitching at the slightest of sounds. Despite my inhibitions, I continue with the others, heading into a circular room with my hand itching to grab my spear. There's an odd sound from above and Vaan has to scramble backward to avoid being coated in dark green slime. Several of those urns he chose to avoid now reside beneath the thick stream of liquid. The smell is nearly awful enough for me to gag.
I follow the trail up only to realize when it came from. A mimic practically the size of the room stands before us, nudging an urn until it unfolds, stomping around beneath her with toothpick-thin legs. The mimic shrieks, sending forth a blast of green light that leaves the room dimming and the walls sparking. I step out of a baby's way as it hurries to feed off the energy conduit.
"A queen in her hive," I huff, pulling my lance free. "Disgusting."
"You have something against royalty?" Balthier asks, raising his gun and firing at a smaller mimic that begins to charge toward us.
"Perhaps," I shrug, walking past him to join Basch. "Or I just despise bugs."
The fallen knight and I team up on the mimic queen while Vaan and Fran manage her swarm of spawns. Balthier… I'm not sure what he does. The sandaled sky pirate wanders from point to point, occasionally sending a shot from his horribly loud firearm. I roll out of the way of a pointed foot, jabbing my spear up into the underside of the queen. Rattling out a metallic shriek, her sharp legs stab rapidly across the room, nearly chopping off Vaan's toes. Basch slices at one of her legs, hacking through the clawed end and leaving her lopsided.
Sparks ripple along her multicolored body, zapping between the joints of her appendages and shooting toward the walls. Taking a deep breath, I conjure up a handful of flames, sending the burst of heat into her body. The sparks snap to a stop, flooding the air with static electricity. The flames lick at her flesh, burning at her appendix while she swivels left and right, trying to put the fire out.
Fran watches a moment before sending in her own, far more powerful version of the spell. Screaming, the mimic knocks into walls and skitters back and forth wildly. I dive into an alcove by the locked gates, careful not to touch the metal for fear of being shocked. Basch and Vaan join me, watching the mimic shriek its last before falling to the stony ground engulfed in magick induced fire.
The floor shudders, weakened stone and wood crumbling from the ceiling. I bolt to my feet, sprinting through the opening gate hot on Balthier's heels. Above, bricks collapse, dropping heavily around us as we run in an unorganized cluster.
The light of day is nearly blinding up ahead, burning my eyes as we break out into the open. I take a deep breath of fresh air and squint out into the bright desert sands. It's a scene I'm all too familiar with, these barren parts of Ivalice.
"To think Dalmascan air could taste so sweet," Basch muses, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to soak in the warmth of the sun.
"Where are we?" Vaan asks, turning to Balthier. I cross my arms, leaning my weight on one hip.
"Outside Nalbina, of course," I reply, the corner of my mouth etching itself into a slight smile. "And that means we're in the Estersand. Rabanastre is due west."
"Let's head back before we shrivel up," Balthier replies, eyeing the boy before turning to Basch. "By your leave, Captain."
"Yes, the hour of my return is already over late," the man nods, turning to face the rest of us. "The people may hate me, but that does not free me of my charge."
"Your charge?" I raise an eyebrow, watching him pace the sandy stone outside the Nalbina dungeons. "You've been dead for two years."
"Then they're in for a bit of a surprise," Balthier replies in a matter-of-fact voice, nodding toward Fran before heading down the slope of our ledge.
Sighing, I shake my head, reaching up to brush back the hair that's escaped my long, loose braid. I suppose a free sword arm or two wouldn't help in my return. I watch Vaan as he continues his walk away. That magicite… I need it, but I suppose I can do without… Squaring my bare shoulders, facing the sun, and raising my chin, I follow the others, determined to break away as soon as possible. The adventure was fun, but this resistance and the pirates scream trouble and Imperial attention, both of which I receive far too much of as it is. No, I'm better off on my own for now.
Right off the bat, a scrawny pack of auburn wolves rushes toward us, only to be quickly dispatched by both blade and bullet. The sunlight overhead burns against my skin, but it's a good burn that leaves me glowing with an energy I haven't had in ages. Pacing a rented room in a bar does little calm nerves before a thieving job. A job that went horribly wrong and left me in a dungeon with a ragtag team of pirates, a thief, and a rumored traitor. At this rate, I'm better off running again, just as I always do.
A fat bird or two waddles past, watching us with beady eyes and greedy beaks, but they make no move to attack. We carry on in silence, Basch swiping at the sweat on his brow and Balthier fussing over his cuffs. I look around at the towering vermillion rock formations surrounding us and my stomach floods with dread. Where did it happen? I can't even remember that much… I shake my head, watching Vaan ogle Fran not very subtly.
"How much longer?" the boy finally whines, folding his hands behind his head as he walks as if he's created some sort of pillow for his messy blonde hair. "It's hot out here."
"Suck it up," I reply dryly, staring at a cracked, heat-worn wooden cross in the distance, standing at an awkward angle. So many fell out here to the heat, to the monsters, to the bloodshed… "We're nearly there."
"Are we really?" he asks, raising an eyebrow after swiveling around to take his steps backward. "Or are you just saying that to get me to—" His words are cut off with a sharp cry as he falls to the ground, stumbling over a rough, short rock. I contain my laugh and walk past, careful to spray a little sand in his face as I do so. Just a little.
"Hey!" he shouts in protest, sputtering and scrambling to his feet.
He rushes toward me; I step to the side at the last moment, sneering as he falls face first into the sand. Balthier suppresses a smile, continuing his headstrong walk toward Rabanastre. Fran's ear twitches in what I read as amusement and Basch merely sighs. Vaan groans, catching hold of the bright orange sash across my thigh as I walk past, tugging hard. I nearly stumble onto the ground next to him, stifling a startled cry when he really does pull me down.
"You bloody prick!" I snap, diving on top of him and pressing my knee into his chest, hands pushing his shoulders into the ground. "You're lucky you…!"
"Come, come, children," Balthier calls, turning to smile smugly at the two of us. "Now's not the time nor the place. Perhaps you can meet up at the Sand Sea later, but first, we return to the city."
"Damn you," I hiss, standing and stepping on the thief's wrist on my way for good measure. I cannot wait to lose them.