The chocobo panted as Basch urged it onward. He knew that there were some who would be suspicious that he had left before the funeral, but he could not wait another minute. Or rather, Rasler couldn't.

Every member of the royal family of Nabradia had a double, a person who would stand in for them if they wanted to be seen at political meeting but not actually attend them, a look-a-like who would distract an assassin from the true nobles. The practice of having a double was as old as the royal family itself, but none had been asked to do what the Basch had asked the boy to do.

"The Archadians would kill him. He is of no use to them."

The boy nodded. Basch knew he could tell what was about to be asked of him.

"You could take his place…" Basch said slowly.

The boy's gray eyes searched Basch's. He, like many soldiers had seen Rasler's fall, they knew the prince was injured; if he were to take Lord Rasler's place then he would have to be as well.

The boy had known that Rasler might not survive his injuries, but he had allowed Basch to wound him just to give his lord the chance to live. The boy had died for his prince, and Basch did not even know his name. If he dwelled on the matter, Basch knew he would be consumed with guilt; but the battle still raged on and he would have do his duty for his kingdom before he could mourn.

Rasler's platinum head jerked up and down as the chocobo sped through the streets. Basch yanked the animal to a halt when they arrived at the house. He quickly dismounted and pulled the prince into his arms. Rasler groaned in pain as his limp body was jostled. Basch quickly shoved the door in and was greeted with a puzzled look from the resident. The bewilderment quickly changed to recognition.

In a few strides the man stood in front of Basch and relieved him of his burden. He knew at a glance that the unconscious young man now lying in his arms needed attention immediately. Basch had brought him another patient; so many years had passed, but some things remained the same.

"Will you return?"

"I don't know." Basch departed as quickly as he had arrived and rode his mount into the night.

The man laid injured body on a cot then carefully washed his hands before he examined his visitor. An arrow shaft protruded from his chest. He carefully removed all of the clothing and retrieved his medical supplies. With one precise pull, he extracted the arrow. As he leaned over the young man's chest he heard a soft sucking noise from within his chest cavity: the arrow had punctured the left lung and had probably collapsed a portion of it. He reached for a syringe and filled it with a mild sedative. This would ensure that the young man remained unconscious while he treated the lung, and hopefully keep him asleep during the night.

After administering the medicine, he gently cleansed the skin around the wound, washing away most of the blood. Then he inserted a small, plastic suction tub into the punctured organ and sucked the air out so that the lung could heal. The patient's chest rose and fell unevenly in short ragged breaths as he 

examined him for other injuries. There were several scrapes and a few bruises that might take some time to heal, but there was nothing else life-threatening. The man applied a soothing ointment to each one of them, and heard a soft moan from the young patient when a particularly tender bruise was rubbed.

His face had an unreadable expression on it as he looked at the unconscious body once more before covering it with a sheet.

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Thanks for reading! It's only my second fic ever so please review. Also let me know if you want me to continue or just leave it as is. You can also suggest something you'd like to see in this story; maybe you've always had an idea of what would happen if Rasler had lived.