Unexpected Aftershock

A Final Fantasy XII fiction.

Author's Notes

Thank you for the reviews, its nice to know that one's work is favored. I have to admit, the only real problems I have are coming up with original names. But regardless, I do try my hardest, and I hope all who read this enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it.

On a last note, I noticed I forgot the disclaimer, whoops. I'll include it on this chapter, so for the love of all that is holy, do not sue me, please.

Disclaimer

Final Fantasy XII is owned by Square Enix. All characters, names, places, events, along with the game itself and all related merchandise are also the property is Square. I am gaining, nor intending to gain any sort of profit from writing this; it is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 2

Solve the Riddle

The man sat upon the stone chair, uncomfortable as it was, he barely seemed to mind what it was crafted from. He was an elderly man, perhaps in his late fifties, sporting armor that was dented here and there, worn down no doubt due to previous battles. Much of his face was covered with a long flowing white beard, the top of his head covered with a jewel-adorned helmet. He looked upon a knelt figure before the throne with an obvious hatred, eventually speaking in a rasping voice, "Well than, Morgrin, what is the report?"

The knelt man rose to a full height of six-foot-three, his entire body hidden in a flowing lavender cloak, a symbol of a hatchet and sword crossed at the center of a triangle. His hood was pulled back to reveal mild-toned skin, short hair spiked backwards, and of an eerie orange color. "The attacks succeeded, Lord Gunther. We poisoned the supplies we found, and left behind a small party to be sure that the supplies were taken. However... one fool missed a step, and he was captured by a search party."

At that, the elder man bolted up from his chair, deep eyes widening in shock, "He was captured? You fool, Morgrin! Why did you not kill them?"

Morgrin smirked, "Do not misunderstand me, my lord. I would have, but the party was too vast for me to handle."

"Bite your forked tongue Morgrin, and get to the point!"

"As you wish, Lord Gunter." The assassin bent forward in a mocked bow, before continuing. "The caravans were more heavily armed than we anticipated, and they put up a decent fight. However, our small ships were able to intercept the couriers carrying the goods."

Gunther slowly ran a gnarled finger through his beard, drinking in the information at hand. "It would seem the Empire takes better precautions than we thought. And if one of our own is really captured... then it could all be over soon. You bring me only disaster, Morgrin."

The other man did not reply at first, instead only staring off at the walls, made of the finest marble. He was tired of running around underground, which was exactly where their lair was. After a moment, he turned back to his superior with that same sneer, "Trust me, my lord... my man will not be easily interrogated, even under threat of death."

"I only pray that you are right, Morgrin. Be that as it may, this is still a foiled plan... I have other plans for you, Morgrin. But first, I am expected another guest. Now wait outside, if you please."

Morgrin once again gave a slight bow, turning upon one boot and headed for the door. He turned it open, and at once was face to face with a green-skinned bangaa. The hume stepped aside, letting the lumbering creature in, before he stepped outside with the door behind him.

"You are late," Gunther replied in an irritated tone.

"I would have been here sooner, but your blasted messenger boy couldn't even find the entrance to Lowtown. And even then, his directions were less than adequate." The creature responded. "Now why have I dragged myself all the way out here, Gunther?"

"I need you and your... men to assist me with something. The Empire has captured one of my men, and are probably threatening him for our location as we speak. One of my spies tell me that 'Emperor' Larsa has dispatched a scouting party around where the caravans were attacked. Another of my men in Rabanastre says that friends of his, two orphans, are on their way there, and will be passing over the area shortly. What I want you to do, is to attack the group when they land due south of here. This will catch the attention of those two orphans... kidnap them."

The bangaa stood in silence, analyzing each detail, and already pondering how he was going to go about it. "And how do you expect me to do this when your own men failed? I'm not a brainless pawn."

"I'll be more than happy to bolster your forces with my own. It will not be much, mind you. But it should be more than enough to succeed in your task."

There was a pause, the air heavy with uncomfortable silence. Then...

"Aye, I'll do it."

Gunther seemed satisfied with the answer, and made a gesture with his wrinkled hand, "Then go, and bring me those two orphans... and do not fail me."

The large transport ship slowly veered off on one side, the pilot slowly steering the craft to land upon a flat plain. Their location was somewhere upon the southern coast, some five miles from the ocean. It was a sparkling blue dot not far from the landing site. With a ground-shaking thud, the ship landed upon the tuft of dirt, a large door sliding open on one side to let in a cool breeze.

"All right, men, let's move." Spoke a fully armored officer, his face hidden by a large horned helmet.

In single file, two lines of imperial soldiers filed off of the ship, lining up two perfectly straight lines, flanking the one at the head. The apparent commander turned around, looking over his men, before making a signal to the pilot. With a brief nod, the pilot took the transport into the air, and was soon gone as quickly as he had come.

"Captain Borgin! Look there!" Pointed out a soldier at the head of the flank, pointing out ahead of the group.

Borgin turned, removing his helm in order to get a better view. Laid before them was the smoldering remains of what was once an airship. Dead bodies of humes, bangaas, and seeqs were scattered here and there, poor souls who died by various means. The air was of strange oder, smoke from the ruins mixing with the dead bodies all around them. Certainly not a site for the faint hearted. And certainly not where any of them had wished to be, but it had to be done. They had to find out what was going on, before more innocents were killed.

"All right, everyone follow me. But keep your eyes open; there's no telling if those bastards are still here." Borgin commanded, then started forward, the soldiers right behind him.

As silently as they possibley could, the soldiers slowly moved forward behind their commander, jumping at the smallest thing that moved. The further and further the group got to the central wreckage, the stench of death quickly over-lapped all other smell. Once and again, a soldier would extend their weapon to jab a corpse, just to make sure it was in fact, a corpse. It certainly did not do the men justice when the body rolled over from the jab, giving the illusion that the warrior was still alive. The airship was mostly still intact, only having several splits in the sides, and on the wings. Half of it was concealed in the smoke which always belched from within the insides.

Borgin suddenly halted in his steps, turning to face his troops, "All right, listen up." He made hand gestures to the surrounding landscape, "I want you all to scout every inch within a half-mile radius. Anything that you think would help us identify the assailants. Gods forbid if you find an enemy that is still living, do not kill him. Also, I don't want any of you investigating alone. Go in at least teams of two or more. As for me, I'll stay around the ship, and look around it. Now move."

With that, the soldiers split off and into different parts of the plain, hoping to find a clue, any kind of clue.

"Won't it be exciting to be in Rabanastre again, Vaan?"

That's all Penelo seemed to talk about, ever since they took off from Archadia. Not that he could blame her; it was her childhood home after all. But it wasn't like they'd be able to do much, anyway. Already he could see the next line of people waiting transport. It was so boring, even frustrating. All he could reply with was,

"Yeah, I can't wait."

"What's wrong, Vaan? You're acting... not like you."

Vaan shook his head, "I don't see why we should get all excited. We won't be able to stay long, anyway."

At this, Penelo's expression seemed hurt, but she quickly wiped it away with a smile, "Well, we can at least drop by Migelo's shop, and see how he's doing. He has to be worried sick about us, don't you think?"

Migelo... he had almost forgotten about the old shopkeeper. Even as Rabanastre came into view, he began to remember. How he and Penelo did nothing but steal for a living, making a living by running errands for the bangaa. And while Migelo had always done his best as a father-figure, he just couldn't keep up with the two blonds. Not to mention the obvious different between races. Aside from that, Migelo was still considered as a friend to the two orphans, so maybe a quick visit wouldn't hurt.

"Sure, we could do that. If we're lucky, there won't be that many people waiting for transport." Came Vaan's reply, carefully guiding the airship down upon its waiting hatches.

After landing, they repeated the process of letting out the passengers, stepping out to see that none were waiting to board. Penelo had found a shipmaster, who told them that Rabanastre was now enforcing a time schedule to anywhere outside of Dalmasca. Penelo was of course, more than thrilled to hear this, and was just about to bound off for Migelo's shop, when...

"Now here's two kids I haven't seen in ages!"

The two blonds whirled around in time to see the bangaa shopkeeper step around their landed ship, wearing a rather happy look upon his old face. "Come here, you two."

Almost at once, Vaan and Penelo had a double-grip upon Migelo's neck, most refusing to let go, even when he started to run out of air.

"It's good to see you, Migelo. We were just about to come see you before we had to leave." Said Penelo.

"How did you even know we were coming?" Vaan asked.

Migelo laughed, "One of the things you were bringing from Archades was a package for me, m'boy. Surely you don't expect a merchant to be able to keep track of his own shipment, do you? And when I heard you two were running transports, I had hoped that you two would be the delivery persons. And here you are!"

To Vaan, it was... odd, standing in the place where he once stole just to survive, speaking with an old friend. It truly felt as though the three hadn't spoken in years, even though it was closer to months. Looking around, he saw the people and races he once lived amongst, children far younger than he who once looked up to him as a hero, but by now have probably all but forgotten him. Heartbroken though it was, there was nothing he could do. He vowed one day to return here with money and other precious things, and give it to those in the slums... those who still live the life he and Penelo once had.

"Well," Migelo suddenly said, "since the air-way's back to Archadia are closed—and you're already here-- why don't you two stay for a while? There's more than enough room in my shop, and I'm sure Kytes would be glad to hear it."

This is where Penelo's voice changed from happy, to somewhat down, "Sorry Migelo, but we can't. We're supposed to report back to Archades with a filled out report of everything and everyone we shipped. If we don't, then we'll be dropped from service, without pay."

"Ah, of course, of course. In that case, you shouldn't stay here much longer, then." The bangaa's voice carried an obvious hint of disappointed, though he understood that work beckoned.

"How's Kytes doing, anyway?" Vaan quickly tried to change the subject, in hopes that it would steer the less-than-happy mood away. And just as he hoped, Migelo instantly perked up.

"Ah, the boy's doing fine. Still disappears on his own accord now and then, and sometimes I even need to send a customer after him. But despite that, he always gets his chores done. Becoming more and more like you every day, Vaan. He really looks up to you."

"And the shop?" Penelo added.

"The same as you would expect. Might just be my imagination, but it seems that more and more people are crowding into the stores. What with the Imperials back where they belong, people are more at ease than they were before. Things are slowly returning to normal, it seems."

Now that he actually stopped and looked around, Vaan did notice something different in the air. All he could remember was the time during Vayne's reign, when Imperials stalked every street. People always walked slower than usual, thinking that if they even breathed wrong, they would have soldiers barking at their heels. It was pathetic, the very reason why Vaan desired to become a sky pirate... to help those who could not help themselves. Because of this, he almost looked up to Balthier, since that is what the man and his partner claimed to do. Even now, he could hear the words in his mind:

"We only steal from those who deserve it."

But then, who was to say who "deserved" to be stolen from?

"Yes, but this old one has rambled on quite long enough. The two of you should get going. Don't want you two getting into trouble." Migelo said.

"You're right..." Penelo spoke with a sense of hesitance, not wanting to leave her former home again. "But we'll be back when we're not working. It'll be good to sit down and... talk again. We've really missed you, Migelo."

"We'll try and be back tomorrow. Hopefully the base will find some extra pilots, and we can call in sick, or something." Vaan threw in, still hoping to lighten the mood before they left.

Migelo nodded, pulling the orphans into one last hug, "I'll hold you both to it, then. Now go." He ushered them toward the ship.

Ever reluctant, they boarded the small ship, turning around in time to see Migelo wave them off, before the doors sealed shut with a hiss of air. Vaan hit a small switch, the entire area in front of the two pilots lighting up in an array of different lights. Then they took off, putting a good distance between them and Rabanastre.

Once they were in the air and on a straight course back to Archadia, Penelo looked up from filing their shipment report for the day, "Vaan... don't you feel bad?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, suddenly dropping in, only to tell Migelo that we had to leave?"

"Of course I feel bad. He took care of both of us, didn't he?"

Penelo looked back down at the report, resuming her writing, "Yes, he did. Your voice just... didn't seem like you cared. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine... really, there's nothing to worry about." There was a pause, he heavily exhaling. "It must be all this work. I wanted to be a sky pirate in order to go where I wanted. To get away from Archadia for good. Now here we are, flying one of their ships as though we're once again their slaves! Like two ants under their royal, gold-plated boot! Don't you hate it too, Penelo?

The female shook her head, "Vaan, I..."

Her voice was suddenly cut off as the intercom crackled to life, a small red light signaling that someone was attempting to contact them. A quick view of the radar showed that there was a... rather large ship settled just above them. This time, Vaan took the small device to speak into, but before he could even click it on, a voice came from the speaker,

"Tonberry One, disengage your engines, and disable your weapons system." It sounded like a female voice, but the static overlapped the voice, making it hard to decipher other information.

Vaan spoke into the device, "Under what clearance do you think you have? We're official transport pilots of Archadia, and we've a job to do."

The voice returned, "Just do as we say. Pull up into the docking bay of our ship. Do not try to escape; you're already target by every weapon we have."

Not willing to endanger himself or Penelo, he threw down the device, and flipped a line of switches just to his left. A soft whirring noise indicated that the vessel's weapons were disabled. Taking a slow right turn, the ship came out in front of the smaller one, both pilots abruptly gasping.

"Vaan... that's..." She was clearly breathless.

"Isn't that the..."

"Majesty, do you really think this is such a good idea?"

"I've already told you, Basch. I will find out the answers for myself."

No surprise there. It was more difficult to get through Larsa's head than he first anticipated. Already, they were descending a dark cobblestone stairway that lead into the deepest parts of the dungeon. This area being reserved for only the most severe of criminals, was well-known for people being sentenced to die down there, which in turn even keeps the wardens away. Larsa, however, didn't seem to care, as he was always several steps in front of Basch, marching deeper and deeper into the darkness. It was both a strange and an inspiring thing to see: a child willingly venturing where grown men dared not. With that knowledge, Basch would stay at the boy's side, no matter what happened.

When they finally hit the bottom step, the air was thick due to being so deep underground, making it almost unbearable to stay in. Basch almost pitied the souls who were forced to stay here. "Now, where is the prisoner being held?" Larsa asked to a lightly armored warden. The man lead them to the farthest cell away from the stairs, where inside, bound around his ankles, sat a man. The man reminded Basch of what he used to look like as his brother's prisoner. Messy, tangled blonde hair, with a matching uncombed bears that covered the entire line of his chin up to his head. He was shirtless; Basch assumed the tunic in Borgin's arms was what he used to wear.

"So you're the one they're after... I see." Said the prisoner, eyes fixed directly upon Larsa.

Never faltering, Larsa demanded, "Open the cell, warden."

"But, Emperor--"

"I said open the gate!"

Without another word, the warden fumbled with his keys, unlocking the cell door and stepping aside. Larsa went in, Basch right behind him. Once they were in, the warden re-locked the cell. He obviously thought that if the prisoner killed the two, he'd still be unable to get away.

"I'll get right to the point then, scum. Who do you work for, and why are they after me?"

The prisoner smirked, never moving, even though he could easily attack the two; only his ankles were shackled to the wall, and the chains were rather long. "It does not matter... they are close. So close to you now. It won't be long before they strike."

Basch was the first to step closer, a hand already reaching for a sword at his side, "Answer the question, or die."

But Larsa also stepped in, waving a hand for Basch to back down. But even at the threat of death, the prisoner only laughed, in a rather mad fashion. "My death will mean little in the long run. I'm but a hired hand, nothing more."

"So you're a mercenary? A sell-sword? Who hired you? Speak up!" Demanded Larsa, once again.

"The flame haired one... is close... he will strike soon, yes? But strike from here? Here? There? Where will you be? Perhaps eating your morning breakfast, or lost deep in your dreams. HAHAHAHAHA."

This man was clearly mad, as it was obvious to both Basch, and to Larsa. Already, Basch had drawn his sword, holding the tip down towards the floor, ready to strike.

The man continued his mad rant, "They will find you... they will kill you... and your head will be flied as our banner! They come, yes... the Shadowed Claw... they come..."

"Shadowed Claw? Is that your group's name?" Questioned Basch.

"Maybe... maybe not... but it is known... is your inevitable death!" Now, he burst up from his knelt position, intending to harm Larsa in whatever way that he could. But he never saw it coming, burning silver met with flesh, rending into bone and striking through his heart, fresh crimson ooze leaking from either end of the hole. Basch removed his sword as the man fell to the ground, and he was no more.

"Thank you, Basch. You truly are a good guardian, though I regret he had to die." Larsa said, as he stepped around the man, who had placed himself between the Emperor, and the prisoner.

Basch used a tattered piece of cloth in the cell to clean his weapon, then returned it to his belt, "We learned little from him."

"Not so, Basch. He mentioned something about a fiery haired being... Do you think he meant an assassin with hair bright like fire?"

"I do not know, Your Majesty. He was mad, and could have meant any number of things."

"And he also mentioned another name... Shadowed Claw... do you think it is a name?"

"It could also be a title," replied Basch, "the name of their organization, no doubt."

Larsa frowned, "All the more reason I did not want the man to die. Still, it is as good a start as we can ask for." The warden let them out of the cell, and the pair once again started for the stairs.

"So what should we do now, Highness?" Basch asked as they ascended.

"When Vaan and Penelo come back... I want them found. I'll arrange another small party to ask around... find out what the people know of the Shadowed Claw, or if they heard of any flame haired person, or being... so find out where those two are at once, while I think of what else we can do."

"Yes, Lord Larsa."

"Report."

"Captain Borgin, so far we haven't found much else than dead bodies and whatever they possessed, sir."

Laid before Borgin there were several piles. Upon one, there was many of the same purple colored tunics with the same golden design upon them. In another, there were weapons of many types, swords, shields, spears, axes... each of which were beautifully adorned with fancy designs, along with the same symbol upon the hilts of the sword and on the shields as on the tunics. Borgin assumed they made their own equipment and clothing.

"It's not much to go by, but I suppose Lord Larsa will want to know that they make their own weapons and armor. Explains why there haven't been many raids... they'd have to have a massive fund if they were to purchase this sort of equipment."

"Your orders, sir?"

"Keep looking. There must be something else here... something more."

The officer then darted off, joining another party in scouring over the area. The wind had picked up, carrying the strong sea salt air of the ocean over them, managing to raise their spirits, if only a little bit. The peaceful environment however, would not last. Not five minutes later, explosions started to go off all around them, sending fire and smoke into the air, causing confusion amongst the Imperials. Everywhere, the men scrambled to locate their weapons and helmets. Before too much longer, there was thick smog surrounding the group, and it didn't help that the smoke from the wreckage was still spiraling upwards.

"What's going on here!" Borgin exclaimed, removing a long spear from his back.

"A merry little school of fish we have here!" Came a voice from the smoke.

All eyes turned toward the area, just south of where Borgin was facing, to see a group of armored bangaa and humes emerge from the mist. Not just from the south, but all around, there came more and more soldiers, enclosing the Imperials, and backing them up against the wreckage. But what truly shocked the group, was the green skinned bangaa that stepped in behind a pair of heavily armored humes, a buzz-saw lance clutched in his fists.

"So you're the ones Lord Gunther wanted! Perfect, you fell right into my net! I hope you had a good life, because its about to end!"

Borgin seemed utterly shocked, lowering his weapon for just a moment. "It can't be... Ba'Gamnan!"