Finally got around to writing this out, thank you for waiting! This has turned out to be a bit more then I ever thought it was, and it has only grown bigger... I've got at least three more short story ideas to add onto this collection! And one of them just might spark a spin-off novel...
Anyways. Please enjoy, and again I love to hear what you thought of it -- but no pressure. ;)

Ultimate Technick

Chapter 4
Deadly Fashion

"Why don't we use this route?" Larsa Solidor asked, pointing with a finger and tracing a line on the map. "It doesn't look like it should be difficult for the caravans to travel on, and it goes by Nalbina Fortress as well."

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca leaned closer to the map, frowning. "Possible, but I'm not sure it actually goes all the way through."

"Do we have a more detailed map of the region than this map?" Larsa inquired, gesturing to the extremely large leather map in front of them. It encompassed the four nations, important trade routes and general terrain, but little else.

Ashe stood up. "I will go check the map cabinet. We should have one."

She took a step away and staggered, prompting Larsa to jump to his feet, hand reaching for her elbow to steady her. But she regained her balance and waved him off, muttering darkly under her breath as she made her way around the table to the cabinets. He didn't catch all her words, but gathered that it had something to do about fashion designers being related to Cockatrices.

Not that he could blame her, he mused. The six-inch high-heel boots that laced up to her knees looked incredibly uncomfortable in and of themselves, not to mention the rest of her outfit -- a long white dress that dragged on the floor. It made Larsa grateful that the top Dalmascan fashions had not made it to the Imperial Courts. Once they did, though… well, he could always claim he preferred to dress retro.

Of course, he had his own complaints about his current outfit. The clothes that he wore traveling were much more comfortable, he remembered, tugging at the restrictive cuffs of his embroidered coat. Or maybe it was that he was hitting a growth spurt… he would have to speak with his tailors back at the Imperial Palace.

"Now I know my father commissioned some mapmakers to update our maps, but that was just four years before the war… and I'm not sure if they were able to get very far."

Lady Ashe's voice drew his attention back to the present and he looked over to see her flipping through the scrolls of rolled-up maps, pausing to glance at the names imprinted on the wide leather strap that tied them up.

"It should at least give us a starting point for possible official routes to use for trading between Dalmasca and Archadia," Larsa commented, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make his coat more comfortable. It wasn't much help.

"Yes, and it be wonderful if we could get the joint counsel to agree on it within a day." Ashe made a sound of triumph, picking up a scroll and waving above her head. "Haha! Found it!"

She shoved the door closed with her hip, studying the scroll as she back around the table to her previous seat. "I believe encouraging the trade between our two nations should help spee—eeep!"

With a small yelp, Ashe disappeared behind the table.

"Lady Ashelia!" Larsa exclaimed. Without a second thought, he vaulted onto the meticulously waxed tabletop and sprinted across to the other edge where the young queen had dropped out of view.

He dropped to his knees and slid the last few inches, slapping his palms on the table so as not to fall off the edge. He gazed with concern at the white-clothed figure on the floor. "Lady Ashe?"

"Ifrit's fire!" Ashe spat as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, letting out a string of choice curses that caused Larsa to flinch. They sounded a lot like the ones he heard from the soldiers as he walked past the barracks. Certainly none of them could be learned inside the palace courts.

She had yet to acknowledge Larsa, but he decided that if she had enough breath to cuss like a soldier, she couldn't be hurt too badly. He shifted on the hard table and crossed his legs for a more comfortable sitting position before trying to get through one more time.

"Ashe?"

She pulled at her foot and twisted it around to look at the sole. "Blasted dress! Blasted boots!"

The heel of her right boot had gone right through the dress, tearing off a hand-sized piece that was currently impaled on the heel. A glance at the dress edge showed where it used to belong as well; a rip that nearly went all the way to the waist.

"How did you manage that?" Larsa asked with amusement, then caught his breath as he realized how offensive the words could be.

But Ashe was beyond caring. She yanked the torn piece from the heel and threw it over her shoulder before pulling at the strings that laced up her boot. As she worked at the knots she raved on, while Larsa leaned back on his hands and decided it was best to watch the thunderstorm from a distance.

"Shiva blasted fashion designers! Sons of Odin, the whole lot of them! You would think that with the two year war going on they wouldn't have time to think of new, elaborate ways to torture royalty."

She finished unlacing the one boot and pulled it off. Thumping it down on the floor beside her, she started on the other boot. "You would think I could come back to the same comfortable styles I had left. But nooooo!"

As she started tugging the left boot off, the door to the room flew open and Basch rushed in, outfitted in Archadian Magistrate armor -- minus his helmet.

"Is everything all right here? I thought I heard…"

He stopped, his voice trailing off as he finally took in the scene before him. What he saw was Queen Ashelia sprawled on the floor, dress flared out behind her in a disheveled manner. One foot was bare, and she was in the process of tugging off the other, her face twisted with extreme annoyance. Basch glanced up to see that in contrast to Ashe, Lord Larsa was sitting on the table with a look of amusement on his face, comfortable as a kitten on wool skeins.

He turned his attention back to Ashe and raised an eyebrow at her. "Dare I ask what happened here?"

"No," she snapped back. "Not unless you want to hear my latest plans for my tailors."

Larsa coughed into his hand. "Yes, I believe it involved summoning down every Esper known to mankind."

"Oh, shush, Larsa. " Ashe chucked a boot at him. "I was just thinking thirty days with the Garifs."

Larsa laughed, catching the boot easily before it could hit him in the chest.

Basch placed a hand on his hip. "Ashe, shame on you. Striking my charge."

She picked up the other boot from the floor, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile. "What, you want a boot thrown at you too?"

Before he could reply, there was a patter of leather-clad feet. Larsa was not surprised when Vaan appeared beside Basch.

"Hey Larsa, Bash, hey… Umm, Ashe? Why are you on the floor?"

"Why wouldn't I be on the floor?" she demanded with icy dignity, even as her face grew faintly red.

"Well," Vaan leaned against the doorframe. "Usually you don't hold your consul sessions on the floor unless you're having a tea party."

"Vaan…" Basch warned.

Or tried to, anyway. Vaan was on a roll and didn't want to stop.

"Besides, why are you wearing that silly dress? It makes you look like a Sleipnir, spiked mane and all, with all that fancy stuff on the back."

"What are you calling me?" Ashe demanded, slapping a hand on the floor in anger.

"You know, Sleipnirs are known for the short tempers too… are you sure you're not related?"

"That's it!"

Ashe lunged to her feet and Vaan squeaked in alarm at the dangerous look in her eyes. He hadn't meant to push her that far!

"Hey, c'mon, can't the princess take a joke?" he begged before spinning on his heel and disappearing in a flash.

"Get back here!" Ashe snarled. She hiked up the long trails of her dress and held them up with one hand as she tore off after the young man, her boot held like a weapon in the other.

Basch made a move as if to follow them, then shook his head and stayed where he was, watching as the two ash blonde humans raced down the hallway. Larsa hopped off the table and joined him.

Vaan was running quite fast but Ashe wasn't too far behind him, despite her dress. Vaan reached the intersection of the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Ashe skidded to a halt at the intersection and Basch saw her hand snap out, hurling the boot after Vaan. A moment later there was a loud yelp of pain, demonstrating that Ashe had lost none of her deadly aim.

"Ha! Take that, Vaan!" Ashe crowed in a very unqueenly manner, stabbing a finger out at Vaan. "That's what you get for poking fun at me and my dress!"

"Perhaps it would be wise for us to stop them?" Larsa suggested. "Before they really get going…"

Down the hall Ashe stamped her foot, much like she use to do in her early teen years, shouting down the hallway in reply to something Vaan had said. "Oh really? You want to come say that to my face, pumpkin head?!"

"…Yes, definitely," Basch agreed. "Before Vaan's insults start another war."