"We're flying into that?" I scoff, leaning over the edge of Vaan's seat and staring in horror at the whirling gray ash of the tornado engulfing Vayne's enormous mothership.
"I expect the turbulence to slow by the time we reach it," Fran explains, glancing up at Balthier, who looms over her shoulder at my side.
She crinkles her nose the slightest bit, turning back to the control panel. Just as she does so, the fleet of airships headed for Vayne slows. A bullet of fire flits from Vayne's ship to one of the crafts flying toward him. There's a long pause... The ship begins to collapse in on itself, as though it's being sucked into a vacuum, and all that's left is a fiery burst of debris.
"He's not taking any surrenders," Ashe breathes, scowling.
"The winds did go down, though," I sigh, shaking my head.
"What's that?!" Penelo cries, pointing to a new fleet of ships that rushes toward Vayne's like a swarm of locusts. Thousands of missiles spray through the air as a battle among all the miniature ships commences. Another red laser fires through the air and a burst of flames begins to suck more ships into the vacuum created by manufacted nethicite.
"The Resistance," Ashe huffs, standing sharply. "Get me a connection!"
"Aye, aye, Captain," I grumble, turning to help her with the intercom system.
"It's our chance is what it is," Balthier mutters, leaning forward and pushing a lever all the way up. "Hang on!" The Strahl takes off in a burst of speed, rushing toward Vayne.
"Uncle, it is I," Ashe says loudly into the speaker clasped in her hand. I fall into a seat next to Basch, careful not to topple over as the ship twists in all directions to avoid the rushing artillery. "I'm crossing to the Bahamut to stop Vayne!"
"What are you saying?" a familiar voice demands. "You are too rash! Your duties come after the battle is over!"
"If we allow them to destroy us here, there will be no after. You must assist our charge."
Well, she's got a good point there.
"Stop. You must pull back!" Ondore cries. "Stop the Strahl!"
"Give it to me!" Vaan hisses, leaping up from his seat in the co-pilot's chair and snatching the speaker away. Balthier mutters curses under his breath as he dives into the empty seat to assist Fran.
"Hold it!" he cries, but his voice is odd... My jaw drops and I struggle to hold back a laugh. His impression of Larsa's voice is nearly perfect, accent and all. "I mean, w-wait! This is Larsa Solidor! I'm going in with her! So... we're fine!" My stomach begins to ache from holding back so much; Penelo claps a hand over my mouth. "I got the Princess covered!" Vaan winks at me. There's silence on the other line for a moment.
"... Larsa Solidor? So you hold him as a hostage?"
"No, Uncle," Ashe pries the speaker away. "He will fight with us against Vayne!"
"Leave it to us!" Vaan cries in his Larsa-voice, snickering into his palm.
"... Alright."
Ashe hangs up and I nearly explode, falling back onto Basch's shoulder and howling until my stomach hurts.
"I got the Princess covered?" Penelo retorts, raising an eyebrow at Vaan.
"Larsa'd say that," he snaps back, sounding more like he's reassuring himself than anything else.
"No, he wouldn't!" I practically cackle, clutching my sides. Basch smiles, shaking his head with a sigh when Ashe shoots him a sympathetic look.
"We're relying on you for fire support," Balthier says firmly, redirecting our attention. "Give them something to think about. We'll pick our moment and make our move." With that, he pulls another lever and sends us speeding off again. We soar through the air, twisting around bullets and missiles and dipping under flying debris. "Quite the welcome!" he calls over the sounds of battle.
"Careful!" I squeak, ducking my head as we barely miss an aircraft that's spun out of control.
"She's got it," he snaps impatiently.
"One follows!" Fran cries.
"Ah, you want to dance," Balthier mutters, eyeing his monitor. "Then let's dance, darling!" We twist around a spray of fiery beams of light, heading straight toward our new target.
"A new partner," Fran scoffs, eyes narrowed.
"It's not easy being this popular, you know," Balthier calls over his shoulder.
"Oh, cry me a bloody river, Leading Man," I retort, rolling my eyes. At the last second, Fran pulls the ship straight up into the air and the aircraft following us slams into the ship we soared towards moments before. Immediately, we pick up speed and head make a beeline for the Bahamut, spinning to gain momentum between ships.
"There it is," Balthier points out, nodding toward the looming aircraft.
Twisting the ship around, Fran lands us on an extended airstrip and opens the door. We're instantly on our feet, sprinting toward the exit. I hang back, watching Balthier settle a few things before standing abruptly and running with the rest of the party. I wave for Vaan to go on ahead and he nods, rushing after Basch. I grab hold of Balthier's wrist, giving a sharp tug to pull him to a stop.
"I'd hate to turn you down, but now is most definitely not the time," he says, facing me with an expectant look on his face. I make no way of indicating that I heard him, placing a hand on either side of his face and pulling him down for one last kiss. Time seems to pause, if only for a moment. I pull away slowly, a hint of a smile spreading across my lips.
"In case we don't survive," I explain simply. He huffs a short, breathy laugh and shakes his head, pulling out of my grasp with the cockiest of smiles on his face. "Your sideburns are crooked by the way!" I call, chasing after him.
"Brothers, not twins," he replies smoothly, giving no answer when Vaan demands to know why we took so long.
We don't stop running until we've reached the inside of the ship, which looks remarkably like a blend between the Leviathan and the Archades laboratory tower. Here we slow to a stop to catch our breath—rather, for Penelo to catch her breath. Balthier immediately turns around to face us all, sure of himself once again.
"Vayne will be in the fortress's command tower." Adjusting the cuffs on his shirt absently, he glances over at Fran. "I saw something of the like on our way in here. Right above our heads."
"Of course he is," I sigh, crossing my arms. "Where else would he put himself except above everyone else?"
"We need not fight all the Empire to win," Ashe reminds us. "If we can get to Vayne, we can put an end to this war."
"Let's get going then," Vaan nods, scratching the back of his head. "Find Vayne, wherever he's perched, and knock him off.
Gathered together as one unit, we head down the dim corridor, weapons barred and attention directed to any details our sense pick up. Everything smells faintly of smoke, gunpowder, and oil. The whirring of thousands of cogs and pistons floods my ears and rumbles through the soles of my shoes. My spear feels heavy and sure in my grip as though Dern's strength runs through the crevices along its smooth wooden shaft. The first soldiers we see are beyond the door leading to the third bulkhead of the ship.
Fran unleashes a burst of flames that leaves the men screaming and collapsing to their knees as their suits of armor cook them alive. Basch and Ashe finish them off just in case. Suddenly, the adrenaline rush hits us all at once and we're running before we even realize. Balthier raises his gun and shoots down a charging trooper. I rush ahead and jam my spear up through the bottom of a man's helmet, ripping my weapon free as I hurry to keep up. It's hit us all at once: this is it. This is what matters. This is what, after all the pains, aches, and tears of the last few weeks, we've been fighting for. The end of Vayne Solidor is our reward. Rewards are treasure.
Treasure is my middle name.
We hurry down staircases, corridors, and endless trickles of soldiers. Miraculously, I never seem to run out of energy, charging to challenging opponents head-on. The moment I get out of my head, I leave behind my magnetic tendency toward trouble far behind me. I'm the damsel in distress no longer. We slow only once we've entered a new, entirely awe-inspiring room. In the very center, a core of golden lights and energy storage units stands over a hundred feet tall, from ceiling to floor.
"Whoa," Vaan breathes, skidding to a stop as his eyes go wide with wonder.
The entire ship trembles. I catch the railing to keep myself from tumbling down the staircase; Basch grasps Ashe's arm just as she begins to stumble. Balthier's nearly thrown to his knees, looking about the enormous space quickly in an effort to understand what's happening. Penelo cries out, clinging to Vaan as the shaking gradually becomes more violent.
"It must be the Resistance!" Ashe calls out over the deafening rumbles of the Bahamut.
Suddenly, all is as still as it was before.
"The Resistance fights their battle well," Fran says. Balthier stands beside her, brushing off his sleeves with a distasteful frown. "We dare not fail them. We dare not falter."
"Stop worrying," Vaan protests. "We just have to clean up here, and then Ashe'll be the queen."
"It's never quite that simple," I mutter, catching Ashe's eye.
"It's kind of hard to believe," Penelo adds, blissfully unaware of my doubts. "I can't even imagine trying to rule a whole kingdom."
"A queen might always 'run away' with the help of a sky pirate looking to raise is bounty a peg," Basch replies slyly, glancing over at Balthier and Fran.
"Hm," Balthier hums, the slightest crack of a smile crossing his face. "I doubt our queen would need the help of any sky pirates."
"Do you really think me as strong as all that?" Ashe asks light-heartedly.
"Who said anything about strong?" Vaan scoffs, grinning. "You'll make it. You got good friends."
"Well, if that's all it takes, I suppose I'll be taking over Archadia after this," I tease, crossing my arms.
"And why don't you?" Vaan counters, cocking his head to the side. "You've got Larsa at your back; why not give it a go?"
"We've been over this," I roll my eyes, wrestling a smile, and step past him. "I've never been one for politics."
"That, and you can hardly be an empress if you're running off to shirk your duties without a moment's notice," Balthier adds wryly, following the rest of us down the stairs and onto the path that surrounds the core.
"Empress," Penelo repeats, beaming as she skips up to my side. "Wouldn't that be an impressive title? Empress Shera Castean Solidor of Archadia."
"It's more a mouthful than a title," Basch chuckles.
"Thank you," I grin at the knight. "Finally, someone on my side."
"Pardon me," Balthier mutters, shaking his head.
Before I can retort, a flood of soldiers enters the doorway we just left, and rather than staying to fight, we collectively agree to run with short nods of our heads. It takes hardly a minute for us to reach the door, which we rush through without second thought. I sincerely hope someone's keeping track of our direction; I lost my way a long time ago. I've no idea whether we've headed up, down, or sideways through this monstrosity Vayne calls an airship.
Right turn, left turn, left turn, right, left again. Up a set of stairs, right, down a short hallway, left, keep straight, up another staircase. It never seems to end. Dodging bullets, firing our own attacks, healing up, running again. It's an eternal cycle. Heavy iron magick nodes and spiraling defensive rooks begin to throw our fire spells back into our faces, effectively scorching the end of my braid and scattering blistering burns across Basch's skin. Their outer shells are too hard for the sharp edges of our weapons; we run again, this time with much more dread sinking our stomachs. Can we really defeat Vayne if we can't handle his simple troops?
When we finally pass through another door, we take a moment to catch our breath. The energy we've spent is starting to weigh on us. Vaan wipes the sweat from his brow, hunched over with his palms pressed to his knees. I take a deep breath, heading toward a panel of levers and switches that rests on the edge of a nearby platform.
"Looks like this is a lift," I muse, eyeing the controls in search of a label or two. There's nothing.
"Let's use it to go up," Ashe says firmly, nodding in response to my questioning gaze. My fingers twitch toward a lever when the air suddenly grows unbearably tense. Fran's ear twitches and everything in Basch demeanor changes. From behind, a tall figure dressed in a Judge's armor approaches.
"So you have lived," Basch says stiffly. Gabranth pauses, weapon in hand.
"I am Judge Magister," he replies, his voice muffled by his heavy horned helmet. He's obviously wounded, limping toward us slowly. "Even in disgrace. My just reward for aiding the Empire that destroyed my homeland."
"Gabranth," Basch shakes his head. "Do not blame yourself anymore."
"You confound me, Brother!" the Judge cries, pointing at Basch sharply. "You failed Landis, you failed Dalmasca... all you were to protect. Yet you still hold on to your honor! How?"
"I had someone more important than me to defend, and defend her I have. How is it that you have survived? Is it not because you defend Lord Larsa?"
"Silence! All was stripped from me!" Gabranth shouts, waving his sword about like a lunatic. "Only hatred for the brother who fled our homeland remains mine." He raises his blade, pulling it apart to create two sharp weapons. "Tell me: why do you forsake that which you must hold most precious?"
"I do as I must, Brother," Basch replies coldly, watching the Judge's every move. "Or is that not answer enough?"
With a half scream, half roar, Gabranth lunges toward Basch. The knight is quick to draw his sword, blocking the weak blows his injured brother throws at him easily. Quickly, he sidesteps to evade the next swing, sending Gabranth stumbling onto the ground. Grunting, the wounded soldier rolls to his feet, readying his weapons yet again.
"Futile, Basch!" he exclaims. "Long have I walked in hatred's company. As long as I can curse your name I shall not be defeated!" Whoa, that sounds familiar.
"Then come!" Basch shouts back. "Wield your hatred and crush me. I welcome it!"
Growling, Gabranth rushes forward again. His movements are sloppy and quick, easily countered by Basch. I exchange a glance with Balthier, wondering if one of us should help him. But this is only something that can be settled one-on-one, I supposed.
I hold my breath as a gash is sliced open in Basch's arm, wondering how the identical twins managed to turn out so starkly different. It's horrifying how close Gabranth's motives match up to mine. Hatred drives us, carries us to the end goal of ending brothers that so obviously turned their backs to us in our time of need. I suppose what matters is how we go about it. Vayne must look at me the same way Basch looks at his Gabranth.
Basch gets in a particularly bone-shattering blow, nearly sending the Judge Magister flying. Gasping for breath, Gabranth steps back, letting one sword clatter to the ground. He slowly raises the other, pointing it at Basch's throat.
"Have you your fill of this?" he asks, voice shuddering.
"I would ask you the same," Basch counters, his composure as cool as ever. "Let this end, Noah."
The Judge collapses onto one knee, his blade striking the floor with a sharp clang.
"I've no right to be called that name," he replies lowly, head hung.
"Then live and reclaim it."
With that, Basch turns and heads back to Ashe's side. Gabranth, rather, Noah, doesn't make an effort to move, panting as he focuses on the floor. Ashamed, guilty, or purely exhausted... I have no clue. I do, however, have the slightest bit of knowledge on working machinery, so I put that to use and send the lift upward once we're all on board. I turn my face upward, watching the uppermost level of the Bahamut approach. This is it. What we've been waiting for. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. This is the end I've been praying for six years. It can't all be for nothing. In the silence, I hear the low rumble of Balthier's mutters to Fran across the elevator and crack half a sad smile. I can't let this end them, too.