Author's Note: Thank you Baschashe for your kind words and review! I hope to see more as well, and its inspired me to continue with the next chapter. The usual copyright items apply ; by the way, for those other Tactics fans out there I think you'll find this chapter a pleasant surprise.. and so we continue.


Not the warmth of the fire nearby nor the smell of savory food seemed to tug the attention of the young woman from the skies above, where her eyes peered here and there in a vain attempt to find something that simply might not be there. Nightfall had come slowly and given way to a magnificent view of the stars as could only be found in the mountains of Ivalice but the sight was of little comfort; a growing tension filled her mind. A gentle breeze blew her flaxen hair in all directions and threatened to mask her view but a quick swipe of her palm freed her gaze once again. The breeze gusted suddenly and urged her to pull the blanket she wore higher over her bare shoulders but she hardly felt the chill despite wearing nothing beneath. The fire too seemed to be disturbed by the wind, but any warning it tried to whisper to her was smothered as the sound of logs dropping broke the otherwise quiet night. The young woman frowned and let out a long breath, finally peering over her shoulder to find the flames roaring once again thanks to the help of her briefly forgotten company.

"There we are! A campfire befitting a lady," the man chirped proudly with a rub of his hands together. He blew into his joined palms with a glance upward and their eyes met fully. So cavalier was his grin back at her that for a moment she pushed her thoughts aside and turned to kneel before the fire and stare into it. Still the feeling bore at her – the more she pondered on it the more the furrow of her browline deepened.

"You're quiet tonight," the handsome man added quietly. "Maybe you're finally growing tired of me, my love."

His hands worked through his ash-blonde hair to smooth it ever backwards as he regarded her fully now. She was striking and unabashed, still wearing nothing but the thick blanket she had comondeered for herself. He loved how her hair fell in long waves over her shoulders and down between scintillating curves, but he found her face the focus of his study for he knew this form in its entirety all so very well. She found him to be captivating in return, as any lover would, and so despite her mood she lifted her gaze to his and offered a slow smile and shake of her head. They sat there in silence staring at each other for long moments until finally she spoke up with a cant of her head to the sky.

"There is something in the air I don't like," the beauty muttered coldly. "The winds smell strange. It has for two days now and I have never caught this sort of taint before."

The man considered her words briefly, puzzlement crossing his features before he drew a deep breath and coughed softly. "The boar meat is a bit overcooked. I could trap a fresh kill if you'd like."

The statement earned its intended effect, a soft laugh escaping her lips which instantly lit his features with a smile. To her comedian she offered a lean forward, the blankets shifting dangerously as she brought her face to his.

"We have stood the test of the ages," she whispered sultrily to him. "And proven ourselves worthy to the gods of having this bond we share, you and I. You know that so long as we share this love it will never decay and never be broken willingly."

"Not even," he retorted softly. "..if my cooking isn't nearly as incredible as yours?"

The young woman grinned and chewed lightly upon his lower lip before shrinking back on her side of the fire. "It could use some improvement, beloved. I would not lie to you."

"Well then I shall work to make it right," he chided in return as he laughed and stood, smoothing over his shirt and dusting off his trousers.

He turned and stepped atop some rocks to give himself a commanding view over their shared tent, one of many that dotted the area nearby. They were merely one pair in a large travelling caravan and the young woman had noticed that nearly two dozen bonfires like their own stretched far into the distance. They had been fortunate to be allowed to join the travellers as they journeyed into the mountains for the hunting had not been very generous as of late. The smell of dinners and the sounds of stories and music rang in the distance, as they had chosen to camp at the very edge of the caravan for the sake of privacy.. still there was one campfire within easy distance and it was the shadowed figures at this spot that the young man shouted to. He waved his arms in the air and they did in return.

"K-Kadmus…",she suddenly uttered despite his attention being elsewhere. Her eyes widened and then slammed shut as a wave of nausea hit her. The sound of a thousand windows shattering all at once filled her ears and the smell that only barely registered before felt as though it was scorching her lungs.

She did not listen to the question he shouted over at them but she could tell it was to her companion's liking since he dropped from his perch and beamed her a smile.

"Good news! They're willing to –"

The statement cut short as his face turned from elation to terrified concern and his hands dropped quickly onto her bare shoulders. In the few seconds that his back had been turned the beauty had slapped her hands over her ears and grit her teeth, the wave of sound and smell sending her knees buckling under her. Her grey eyes shone with tears as they opened to his frantic face and she realized then that whatever has happening was affecting only her.

" – to me, Reis!! What's wrong--?!"

"—make it stop!"

The young man grasped her shoulders tightly but found he could barely support her now. The woman toppled over to her side and he whirled around to do the only thing he could think of – find help. He nearly leapt over the campfire and fell over himself, fingers digging into the wall of provisions that seperated him from the next camp. He sucked in a breath to scream at the kindly neighbors but the words never came out. In an instant there was a flash of light and an explosion that tore the entire world in front fo him to pieces. The camp thirty feet away was evaporated in an instant and a torrent of smoke, dust and fire knocked him cleanly into the air.

He couldn't scream or see.. cinders and ash threatened to choke the life out of him and he felt his body fly for what seemed like an eternity. When the world stopped spinning it was because his form had slammed into the unforgiving earth with a horrible shudder that made him feeling as if he'd been bent in half. An attempt to gasp for air felt raspy and unnatural with the taste of spittle and blood in his mouth. His body could not take the trauma, and so his eyes opened only to see blurry darkness, ash and fire drifting through the air. He swore he made out the prone form of his beloved impossibly far away, head down and hair pooled frighteningly over her face; the very thought of her possible death made him turn over in desperation and try to call out her name.. but nothing came forward.

His bloodied hand stretched out toward her but dropped like stone as unconciousness swallowed him while the thunder continued in the distance..

Basch shuddered out of his sleep with a violent start, hands gripped tight into the armrests of the same chair he had remembered being in – only now sunlight poured into the room from the open windows on the wall facing the cityscape of Archades. The sounds of ferries and airships roaring by made him groan irritably and sit upright and shut his eyes in refusal of daytime. He rubbed his worn hands into his face and left them there as his body slowly but reliably began to wake on its own though he refused to budge willingly. Forever went by while he sat there but as with all good things this peace came to an abrupt end thanks to a heavy knock upon his door. Hoping it would go away he remained silent. After another minute the knocking came again, more pressing this time, and he grumbled and muttered through the parts of his fingers.

"Who is it," he rasped aloud sounding none too pleased.

"Zargabaath," came the stern reply from the other side, tinged heavily with the sound of voice behind metal. Basch ground his teeth together and pushed himself to a stand with a quick check to be sure he himself was decent enough to be seen. Marching slowly to the doorway he took hold of the latches and undid them, finally opening the doorway to come face to face with – and nearly running into – the façade of a horned helm. He blinked and struggled to find the eyes behind the darkness of the mask belonging to the elder Judge Magister. Basch intended to say something welcome but his mind would not have it.

"What time is it," the Dalmascan muttered.

"Nearly half-day," the other judge replied gruffly. "I heard you had returned only to be given some time of reprieve. I am here to relieve you of duties for the time being."

Basch huffed and narrowed his eyes slightly at the wrought iron mask with a shrug.

"You make it sound as though I am inept, Zargabaath. Can this wait a little longer? I will speak with Lord Larsa first and see -- "

"Larsa will do without you for once," the other clipped quickly. "He ordered you to take leave and sent me to be sure you had. Now I see why."

Basch's eyes narrowed dangerously at that, fists clenching tightly.

"I will stand at our emperor's side whenever he needs me, Zargabaath. I swore an oath—"

"Spare me," the other Judge Magister shifted slightly and brushed past Basch in even steps, directly into his room without a moment of hesitation. Basch – or rather Gabranth – began to protest sharply but stopped as the elder judge turned with a sweep of his cape and an accusatory point toward the other.

"Do you remember why I was chosen to command the Empire's finest vessel and see her sent to the corners of the world, Gabranth?"

"No," Basch admitted dryly, reworking the sleeves on his shirt and closing the door the other judge had left open. ".. but I'm sure you will remind me."

"Because," Zargabaath obliged. "—the emperor knew that each of us had our charge and our role. I was all too happy to leave our fellow judges – rest their souls – happy here in their cages if they so wished it, free to bark and quarrel with politics like dogs. My place was in battle, and when I was not in battle I was content to be a protector to this Empire I had helped build with my sweat and blood."

Gabranth snorted a bit and continued to dress, eyes fixated on the cityscape outside as he did so. "I am not sure I see your point in all this, Zargabaath. Are you trying to tell me you think me a politician now?"

The elder Judge Magister scoffed, the sound echoing dully in his helm.

"You think me so naïve? Like me the smell and scent of war is etched into your very soul. Though I command the Alexander I am not without my prowess or my better judgement. House Solidor burned itself to the ground until only the very last shred of goodness remained. The fire was a purging one – and perhaps even necessary one at that. No, Gabranth.. I know you were delivered to us for a reason. You were meant to protect Lord Larsa and see to it the blood of his family or other forces did not destroy him. I was meant to be his hand outside these palace walls and deliver judgement and protection both."

Basch puffed out his chest and frowned, turning now to the other man with a face of stone.

"And with this reminder you intend to do what? It seems to me you wish to hear the words simply to justify yourself – is there a reason for this speech Zargabaath, or did the morning find you full of self loathing for the crimes we have committed in the name of the future?"

Several moments of silence thickened the air between the two men until at last zargabaath shook his armored head. His voice dropped nearly too quiet to hear, arms crossing at his chest as his gaze took the the skyline that Gabranth had been watching a moment ago.

"There are only two of us now. When my time has come to an end I would see it with no regrets. As soldiers were are not given the opportunities to question our better judgements; we merely serve. We carry the command and we follow it. However I am not blind to second chances. We will pass into the next world someday Grabranth, wether it be by time or by another's hand. You will not be able to watch over our young emperor for the rest of his days, just as I will someday hand over the reins to my beautiful Alexander. You and I must be prepared to let go one day, my fellow judge.. rather than cling to the impossible."

Gabranth – Basch – seemed stricken to silence, smoldering but slowly realizing that Zargabaath's words were not merely for quarrel's sake. There was a wisdom there that he never seemed to show to others, and so without a retort the elder Judge Magister began to waver back toward the door.

"Larsa will not be a boy forever and no amount of protection will change the fact that someday he will face the world without you. If you cling to him hoping to find a surrogate son or brother of some kind that you never had the chance to have, tell me now – I would rather pry you from him by force than see you mold him into what you believe he should be. You see how well his brother Vayne benefitted from such treatment. You would serve noone but yourself in doing so."

The harsh message Zargabaath delivered rang true to Basch and pushed a pang of regret to the surface. Still quiet, the younger man drew a breath and released it slowly before lifting his hard eyes onto the other judge.

"Your.. words .. will not be wasted on deaf ears," he responded quietly. "..I do see the logic and meaning in what you have told me. What would you have me do, then?"

The great horned helm turned to place its sightless eyes on him, tipped as if considering something inwardly. It turned then towards his desk and finally back to him before Zargabaath grasped the door handle and opened it to leave.

"I was the one who delivered this missive from Dalmasca to your quarters," explained the Judge Magister. "..but I care little for the frivolities of diplomacy just for the sake of diplomacy. I have heard that tonight emissaries from Rozzarria will arrive in Dalmasca for some sort of fete, probably to ramble drunkenly about the wonders of peace on our borders."

"Hardly reason to send an entire envoy, is it?"

"Quite so. However, his majesty had suggested I take the Alexander and make a good showing by attending with the pride of our fleet. Why not save us both some trouble and respond to your letter in person and spare me the watery wines of Dalmasca at the same time."

At that Gabranth suddenly found himself staring at Zargabaath with a risen brow.

"You want me to perform in your place, is that it?"

Zargabaath surprisingly chuckled within the metal facade he wore, gathering his cape and opening the door wide for an exit as eyes bore into his back.

"When you do return," he added grimly. "..do try to be sure you've wiped your boots first. I don't want any sand on the Captain's chair."

With that final prod Zargabaath dissapeared from the doorway, leaving Basch to – once again – start feeling the strange heaviness from before pressing back into his mind and against his lungs. Gathering a few last items and slipping into his boots he walked to the windows and peered long and hard into the high sun, sparing only a fleeting look back at the desk where the letter sat still unread.

Later, he thought to himself. There will be time later.

Eyes were cast back to the city and remained there while his mind busied itself imagining what it would be like to step off the imperial flagship to breath the warm desert air of a place he knew he had grown to miss but could never admit:

Home.