It's hours later that the Marquis accepts us. His waiting room is comfortable, to be sure. Simply decorated and large, it is far from the worst place I've had to wait. However, nine hours of pacing and napping and scowling do a number on one's patience, and we're all at our wits' end when a soldier finally appears in the doorway and tells us the Marquis is finally free. Passing a window, I see that it's dark and shadowy outside, the perfect place for disappearing into thin air. Every wall has some sort of portrait, carving, or ornament.
The soldiers push open two large decorative doors that lead into a narrow office. At it's very front sits the Marquis in what might be considered one step from a throne. Before him extends a large wooden table and behind him is a curved semicircle of towering windows bathed in the glow of blue crystal. At his side stands a blue-gray rev in tan robes, clawed hands clasped together as his dark eyes scan over us. The Marquis straightens, hands clutching the ends of his seat.
"Sir Basch fon Ronsenburg," he acknowledges, his accent as thick as ever. "It was not so very long ago that I announced you had been executed."
"And that is the only reason I draw breath," Basch replies, standing tall at the other end of the triangular table. The Marquis keeps his face stern, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and lace his fingers together.
"So you are the sword he's strung above my head." He sighs. "Vayne has left not a thing to chance. And?"
"A leader of the Resistance has fallen into Imperial hands," Basch explains. My fingers pick at my shirt even when my arms are crossed, my stance swaying just a bit both nervously and impatiently. "A woman by the name of Amalia." Balthier rests his hands on his hips and Fran's nose quivers the slightest bit. "I would rescue her, but I need your help."
"This resistance leader—this Amalia," the Marquis starts, straightening. "She must be very important." At the conversation's pause, Basch places an armored hand over his heart and bows his head.
"You understand I've my position to consider." The Marquis stands, pacing to the left. Vaan springs into action, stepping forward.
"Would you let us see Larsa? He's got my friend with him." The Marquis pauses, raising an eyebrow. Turning to face the boy, he rests his hands a top an ornate cane.
"I'm afraid you're too late." No... No way in Ivalice are we too late. "Lord Larsa's cortege has already rejoined the Imperial detachment. I am told they will depart for Rabanastre upon the arrival of the fleet this eventide."
Vaan's eyes fall to the floor as he sighs, dejected. We're on a wild chocobo chase after his friend and the Resistance at the same time. At this rate, I may as well give up following this group and find somewhere else I'll truly fit. However, there is a detestable whisper in the back of my mind telling me how it would be my fault if Penelo were to be forever lost, all because I gave up far too soon. I take a deep breath, shaking my thoughts away as Vaan lunges toward the Marquis.
"You didn't stop them from...?!"
Balthier rushes forward, grabbing the boy and restraining him. Fran's ear twitches as the sounds of the Imperial fleet flood the early morning air outside. I grit my teeth, watching Vaan struggle against the sky pirate's grip.
"What are we waiting for?!" he demands, stomping on Balthier's foot.
"For you to calm down," the pirate retorts.
"I'm calm," Vaan hisses, jerking free and scowling at our "leading man."
"Captain Ronsenburg," the Marquis says sternly, turning to face Basch with a dark look in his eyes. "Surely the exigencies of position are not lost on you. Why indeed, you should find the enemy's chains... an easy burden to bear."
"You goddamn sleazy little..." I growl, stepping toward the Marquis. Balthier latches a hand onto my elbow, stopping me as he turns to face Basch.
"Wait!" he calls. The knight doesn't look back, drawing his sword.
"Sorry. Can't be helped."
"Summon the guard!" Ondore shouts, hitting the end of his cane to the floor with a dull thud. The doors at the back of the room open and a flood of soldiers bursts forth. We turn to see the armored men rushing toward us dutifully, ready to hold us under Imperial arrest. "They're to be taken to Judge Ghis," the Marquis commands over the chaos.
"What are you doing?" Vaan demands as a guard reaches toward him and takes hold of his arms. "Let go!"
"Gentle," I snap lowly as one of the men grips my wrist a bit too tightly. "Unless you'd like to explain to Vayne why you've been damaging his prisoner."
"Are you friends with him as well?" Balthier asks half sarcastically, hands snapped into cuffs before him. I laugh with my head thrown back, loud and bitter. It's enough to both answer his question and scare the guard standing behind me.
They march us out of the room in a line, cuffed and each with a guard loosely gripping their arm. A look briefly crosses over Fran's face, as if she's considering striking the man to her left down and beating him to a pulp. As I said, it crossed briefly. Unfortunately. We're led down endless dimly light hallways and into the depths of the manor. The guards watching over us are omnipresent, eyes everywhere at all times. Properly trained dogs earning their respective treats.
The early morning sun peers over the horizon as we're led onto a carrier airship. I find myself wedged between Vaan and Balthier, conflicted amongst the scents of fresh air, dry desert winds, and something so vaguely familiar it drives me near insanity simply because I can't place it. Huffing, I feel the ship take off smoothly, heading toward the looming shadow of a warship in the distance.
"The Dreadnought Leviathan," Balthier mutters, watching the massive airship draw closer. I yawn, earning an annoyed look from my guard. Leaning forward, I stare at the approaching monster of a machine and give a low whistle.
"Now there's a work of art I wouldn't mind dissecting for weeks on end."
"Now, now. Keep your pants on," he admonishes, shooting me a sly glance. I laugh, cut off only by a sharp kick to my knee.
"Silence!"
"Silence indeed," Balthier mutters, turning back to the ship. Here we go again.
"The prisoners, my lord!"
The heavy glass door before me slides open and we're guided inside by our individual guards. Ahead, three Imperial soldiers stand around Amalia, the woman we met in the sewers, and a Judge. Amalia turns, gasping upon seeing Basch. Her eyes are clearly full of shock as she looks over who else was dragged into this situation. Suddenly, rage flashes over her face and she charges forward, striking her hand firmly across Basch's face. I cringe upon hearing the impact.
"After what you've done!" she cries. "How dare you!" Her eyes narrow. "You're supposed to be dead." Basch stares back at her silently, making no effort to reply.
"Come now, come now," the Judge interjects. "Have you forgotten your manners?" He steps forward, turning toward the young woman before us. "This is hardly the courtesy due... to the late Princess Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca."
"Princess?" Vaan demands, shocked as he steps forward. I feel the same stunning wave wash over me. These days it seems all the dead are rising. Mustn't become hopeful.
"To be sure, she bears no proof of her former station. No different than any mean member of the insurgence."
"The Resistance," the supposed princess corrects sharply.
"His Excellency the Consul asks the ministry of the disthroned royal family in restoring peace to Dalmasca." Somehow, I doubt his intentions are as pure as they seem. Vayne's never been one to respect the power of others. "Those who foster instability and unrest, who claim royal blood without proof, they shall meet their fate at the gallows. There are no exceptions."
"I will not play puppet to Vayne!" the woman replies indignantly, glowering at the Judge. There's a long moment of tension as she and Judge stare at each other stubbornly. It's broken only by Basch.
"King Raminas entrusted me with a task. Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: the Dusk Shard." He turns to the Judge. Balthier and Fran exchange an unreadable expression. I drag my eyes away and keep them firmly fixed on the scene playing out before me. "It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it." Proof of the quality of her blood.
"Wait!" the woman cries, cutting him off. "You took my father's life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!"
"If that is your duty: yes," Basch replies dryly. Ashelia scowls, looking the fallen knight before her up and down bitterly.
"Stop being so stubborn!" Vaan interjects, stepping forward. I roll my eyes, watching the boy as he tries to end the conflict. "Keep on like this and you're gonna get us all killed."
"Don't interrupt," she snaps, glaring at him. There's a soft ringing in the air and Vaan gasps, pulling the magicite from his vest. I come closer, watching the curious orange stone flash brightly.
"Vaan, that stone," Basch says, frowning at its glittering surface. "Where did you get it?"
"It was in the palace treasure," he stutters. Balthier stares at it with increasing interest.
"Well, well."
"Splendid!" the Judge laughs. "You've brought the Stone with you! This spares us a great deal of trouble. A guard and the Judge reach for it at the same time. The woman steps forward, blocking their greedy hands.
"Don't give it to him!" she demands. Vaan looks back at us, looking for an answer from me or Balthier. I shrug and Balthier grunts, nodding toward the Judge indifferently, most likely in hopes our lives will be made easier. Behind me, Fran nods, affirming our collective choice. Vaan turns back to the Judge, naïve as ever.
"You have to promise: no executions." I can't stop myself from scoffing at his words, even as the Judge takes the stone from the boy's hands.
"A Judge's duty is to the Law," he replies firmly, looking over the gleaming stone. Ashelia struggles against the grip of a soldier as the Judge turns and walks toward the front of the room. "Take them away. Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately."
As we turn to go, Vaan watches the Judge with clear innocent aggravation in his eyes. The guard holding him grips a handful of his blonde hair, jerking his head around and shoving him after us. I scowl at the guard, leaning down to mutter in the boy's ear.
"Don't take it too personally; these dogs haven't been pet nearly enough as of late."
"Move!" my guard snaps, gripping the back of my neck and pushing me forward roughly.
"Oh, so now you're in a rush," I counter, ignoring Basch's irritated glance and purposefully moving in slow motion. "You know, I do believe I've pulled a muscle in my—" The guard shoves again, harder this time. Without my hands, I soon find myself stumbling to the ground, hitting the floor with my shoulder first. The guard leans down to growl in my ear.
"Don't think the Consul won't be happy to see a bruise or two on that pretty skin of yours once you arrive."
Gritting my teeth, I shrug him off once he's dragged to my feet. All rebelled-out, I follow along with the group like a good girl. We're left with four guards at the rear as the rest head to their new posts. The next set of doors opens and, finally, Basch speaks up as we enter a broader room.
"So you were carrying it all along," he mutters to Vaan, keeping his eyes dead ahead. "The Fates jest." Balthier's face darkens with the first show of anger I've seen as of yet. Something about this Imperial ship has him just a second off beat.
"Tell these Fates of yours to leave me out," he replies sharply.
"Keep quiet!" the guards behind us shout.
"I'd also prefer that you keep your Fates to yourself," I tease, though I can't help the edge in my voice. What was meant to be a simple "save the girl" mission has turned into a messy reunion with the Empire that I most certainly do not appreciate.
"There was nothing else that I could do. You know that," the knight replies. Balthier clearly isn't buying it, eyebrows pinched together and eyes shooting irritated glowers at man.
"Oh , I understand," he murmurs sarcastically. "Honor, duty, and all that." We come to a stop. "I still can't believe that was the Princess."
"She's got quite an interesting set of manners," I scoff, eyeing the bright red mark across Basch's cheek.
"I said keep quite!" the guard shouts, moving to jab Balthier with his spear.
The sky pirate steps to the side, grabbing the guard's armor and jerking him forward onto the floor. I'm quick to rush forward and bash his head twice with the bottom of my boot. The other guard is felled abruptly by Fran's sharp heel. Balthier takes the first guard's spear into his cuffed hands, swiveling around to deal with the last soldier. Much to our surprise, he falls to floor limply, a guard in black armor standing behind him with his hand still in place from when it delivered its blow. Slowly, the man pulls off his helmet. Balthier steps forward defensively only to be stopped by Basch.
"The Marquis has been busy," the knight says, stepping toward the man boldly.
"Not lightly did I beg his aid," the man replies, smiling at Basch. Old friends, then. I suppose any friend of Basch is a... an ally of mine. "Listen, it has been a full two years. I alone have kept Her Majesty safely hidden." He steps forward, unlocking Basch's bindings as he speaks. "I doubted friend and foe alike. I could trust nobody."
"You did your duty," Basch replies. "And mine for me."
"I'm getting her out. I need your help."
"Of course."
"We'd be happy to help," I offer, stepping forward with a wry smile and raising my bound wrists. "But I doubt I can do much as I am."
"You took out that man just fine," the man chuckles, walking forward to unlock my handcuffs. "I am Vossler."
"Shae," I reply, freeing my hands and feeling my aching wrists with a grateful smile. I nod toward the others. "Vaan, Balthier, and Fran."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replies, scratching at the dark patch of hair on his chin as he looks over the crowd before turning back to me. "Shall we get a move on, then?"