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Chapter 59: Gathering Dusk
Three figures slinked in the shadows. It was the dead of night, and the moon glowed brightly behind the obscuring clouds. The moon made everything difficult. The wispy clouds did not serve as the moon's mask throughout the reaches of night; at times they parted so the moon's beams lit the cobblestone with an eerie pale blue and then came together again and concealed the celestial which loomed.
The three stole past an alleyway and hastily crouched in the shadows, evading the moon's light. Their mission had simple objectives and they had enough skill and confidence to be successful. However, a pall hung around the spectrum and made the three feel ill at ease, their minds screeching danger at every corner they made.
It wasn't the mystic glow or the dead of night which engendered forebode. The city streets in where they stalked had a silence which lingered and hung heavily, an unbreakable silence.
It would have been forgivable, given the late hour and the dark time in which the city was having, but not even a simple whisper could be heard. It was as if all in the city were dead.
"How much further?" One of the three asked as they stalked onwards. His voice was hushed, eyes sharpened.
"Two more crossings." The lead replied in a gruff but hushed voice. They crept quickly but silently, slightly crouched and holding their pistols intently .The third carried a staff but stalked in the same manner as those in front.
The lead signaled a halt, raising a clenched fist. The party knelt and slowly pressed against a wall. The lead slowly inched to the corner and strafed to take a look. He spotted two Hoplites doing rounds; their Heavy Lances glimmered when they were struck by the moon.
He looked back to his companions and gestured what he saw. The second, the one with the other pistol, nodded and slowly rose into his stalking crouch. He raised his pistol slightly and took position behind the lead. The lead leapt out of the corner, the second following him. He stood his full height, exposed, and quickly trained his pistol at one of the Hoplites, he fired. The second was quick to replace the lead in the corner, and from there he shot at the other hoplite. The two Imperials fell dead as silent bullets whizzed through the alley and into their helms.
The stalkers' pistols were unique. They were fairly small, easy enough to fit in a pocket. They were loaded with Silent shots and fitted with a special Rozzarian device which was fastened at the muzzle of the pistol. The device was a hollow cylinder which extended the barrel of the gun. The purpose of the device was to reduce the noise of muzzle cracks, hence it was called silencer.
The lead gestured the other two to follow him. He quickly stole into the alleys, turning left and right sure-footedly, not hesitating to check corners or evade the moonlight. Now that they were sure that all Hoplites in this section were dead, they had little fear of detection.
They came to a large building. A stone fence enveloped it, thirty feet high. Instead of casting grapples so as to scale the partition the party simply crouched. The lead felt along the wall's base, slowly probing a section of the base with his fingers. He found the pre-etched lines. He gave it a push. Slowly but noiselessly a block three by two feet came loose of wall. There was no dust, no scraping sound which would have given them away. The lead quickly crawled through the hole in wall's base, the second and the third following quietly.
Xoxox
Scipio stood behind the large window in his humble office. To him, the night was very beautiful. The moon was full and bright, a mysterious curtain of clouds adorned the starless sky. The breeze was still but the night was cold. He stood staring at the moon dreamily, wishing he could do away with the charades and the stratagems, wishing to dispose subterfuge and simply destroy all those who stood between him and his ultimate goal. He wanted, more than anything to see Ivalice burn, to see thousand of men locked in combat.
But Scipio loathed being sloppy. He was, in fact a murderer and a crook, but that was what others saw, and the last thing he wanted was to unintentionally and personally emphasize that he was nothing more than another upstart, a man who was drunk with power.
He was beyond all this. The thousands of Civilians he had murdered in old Archades, the thousands which hang in the gallows, the thousands he had deprived of life and home were all victims to his justice. He did not slay and detain on Ortal's behest, he did not slay and detain just because they were insurgents to the martial law. His reasons were quite different. He could have murdered those ages ago, why not? Only now would his actions be legalized, and for the moment, he dared not increase his problems.
Some saw justice as the hand of law, the upholding of rights and the protection of those who have been oppressed. Scipio had a very different idea of justice. Contrary to all previously perceived notions, he was after peace first and revenge second.
How to attain his peace? Not even he in his sane mind could have ever answered that.
"Why is it that you won't kill Ortal?" a curious soft voice spoke from behind him as Hilaneya sat comfortably on Scipio's chair.
Hilaneya's voice did not illicit the same annoyance as it once did. Scipio did not sigh in exasperation nor did he think to answer with his usual sarcasm.
"'It's not his time yet."
A raised eyebrow and a scoffing sound came from the woman behind the desk."You decide their time?" Hilaneya asked, she returned the favor of Scipio's patience by not challenging or mocking him, but still kept that curious tone. Scipio, still not looking at Hilaneya still calmly answered:
"I am the conductor."
This time there was no mistaking the sarcasm in Hilaneya's voice as she replied: "Right."
Scipio did not avert his gaze from the beautiful moon when he replied to Hilaneya. Hilaneya sensed that he was moving everything into place, she had known Scipio for over a century now, two maybe, and whenever he became silent and contemplative that meant that his plans were already in motion.
Hilaneya was about to speak, she opened her mouth to formulate a reply, but Scipio cut across her, with his own spiel.
"Come," he spoke still in that same detached voice as he averted his gaze from the moon to finally rest his eyes on Hilaneya. "We shall now go to Giruvegan. " Passive red eyes behind the mask stared at the scantily-clad woman draped around his chair. "You requested I take you there, and now I shall accede to that request."
Hilaneya smiled at him, her smile sweet and for the first time in many decades she herself felt it was sincere.
XOXOXXO
"Now that Zargabath is captured and Ortal has declared Martial law, it is inevitable that our hands shall be forced." Basch began, his tone was grave as he surveyed the rest assembled before this "council".
He, Larsa, Al-Cid, Olen and Captain Sephyr had met to decide on the matter at hand: the upheaval in Archadia.
Larsa was silent and hands were clasped tightly together on top of the large circular table. They had all met in Al-Cid's court.
Captain Sephyr began to extrapolate on the situation, "Ortal is bent on war. Already, the Archadian army has tripled in its rank the past months. Though, it is highly unlikely for it to grow any more. " his voice held no emotion, simply a dictation of the bare facts.
"How many men?" Al-Cid inquired, his heavy accent did not hide the anxiety in his voice. A glance was shared between all of them before Sephyr deigned to speak.
"A million and a half, all branches." Sephyr said, his voice emotionless.
There were no gasps. There was no outward expression of shock. Instead, Al Cid now commented with a dry voice to no one in particular: "I understand Archades only has around five million citizens?
This time, Basch replied to his question. "That is true to the census. Though, I am quite certain that if Ortal were to arm all of his troops he would be spending more the allotted finances for the Military." Basch thought for a moment and then continued. "Though, I would not think that Ortal is worried about that, already, he implies that he is throwing away everything for war."
"No." Larsa's voice was cold, everyone turned to look at him, surprised.
"I know Ortal." The young Emperor now spoke his voice calm and distant, though his eyes spoke of his burden. " He is paranoid and overly cautious." He added though with no touch of emotion. "He would not charge into war without a multitude of contingencies. For him to cripple himself by depleting finances to support his regime would strain credulity." Larsa said with a determined air.
Basch's eyes strained towards his liege lord and though he remained passive, the next words he spoke showed the respect he had for the young Emperor. "What would you suggest, my lord?"
Larsa breathed in, gathering his wits about him, weighing the credibility of his assumptions. Then at last he spoke, "He is not throwing everything away. He has more assets at his disposal than we know."
"His army can still grow, then, if what you say is true my lord." Captain Sephyr mused, his green eyes glinting.
"Doubtful." Basch disagreed shaking his head at Sephyr's sentiments. "He may have the funds, but he does not have the men."
"Indeed." Larsa nodded agreeing with Basch. "Unless…" he speculated.
"He is employing non-Archadians." Al-Cid finished Larsa's sentence.
Larsa merely nodded. The conjecture seemed probable.
"Mercenaries?" Olen suggested.
"Probably." Sephyr replied now with a nod of his head.
"But, if it were mercenaries, Ortal would have another financial crisis." Larsa was quick to put that theory down. There was more to this than met the eye, something Larsa knew they were missing.
"Or, Ortal promised them land." Al-cid interjected interrupting Larsa's thoughts and to which the young Emperor nodded again.
Basch gave a thoughtful noise. "I do not doubt the employ of mercenaries, but I doubt how Ortal has managed to persuade maybe five hundred thousand or more to die for him." Basch began with arms folded, staring at the large map of Ivalice before them. "I sense that he is using an alternative method of persuasion."
"I think Scipio is persuasion enough." Olen added helpfully with a pointed look at Sephyr.
"Scipio may be in league with the mercenaries, or we are missing the point wholly. It is still probable, that Ortal is not using mercenaries."
Larsa suddenly spoke interrupting this conversation with a cool voice. "Let us ponder on how Ortal shall fight this war later. What do we do now that Zaragabath has been captured?"
"Forgive my bluntness my lord Larsa," Olen said respectfully, "but we must free him."
"Free him?" both Larsa and Basch exchanged surprised looks. "As merited as that may be, why should we and how with Archades in an uproar and Ortal and in Scipio on the watch.
"We need all the allies we could muster, Lord Larsa," Sephyr interjected now, his eyes shifting towards his second-in-command before speaking further. "And as such, Zargabath's location and situation does not help us any. In fact he is already a liability in the hands of the enemy. He is better used if we free him out. And given the present situation of Archades, it can be done." He looked over at Olen who seemed to have an idea already.
"A covert force, myself included, shall go to Archades and free him." Olen spoke unhesitatingly.
"Aurea has said that the Bureaucratic judges and soldiers loyal to you have been detained. We free them as well, commandeer a fleet and fight our way out of Archades. You'll have an army of maybe ten thousand. That's a good enough bodyguard.' Sephyr added with a firm tone.
Larsa stared at the two gold-clad soldiers with disbelieving eyes, not even trusting himself to speak as the two elaborated on their plan.
"Trust us, your liege, we will have the job done. Already I have formulated a plan." Sephyr spoke that would not have you doubt his sincerity.
Larsa sighed. He had no choice now, and it seemed that Sephyr and Olen knew what they were doing. Larsa exchanged small glances with Bash who was looking at both Sephyr and Olen with a passive face before nodding and looking back at his two personal guard. "Very well, let us hear it." Larsa said calmly.
XOXOXOX
Fingers brushed back a few stray locks from the sleeping face of a young maiden. The owner of such hand stood on her bedside, neither speaking nor looking up to see if anyone came through the door.
He was not supposed to be here. He had somewhere else to be, and yet he was strangely drawn to this young woman, still not rising from her stupor, still not opening her eyes, nor showing any signs of movement. The only thing that would have explained as to what he was doing here, was that he was pleading temporary insanity.
In fact, everything he did the minute he left the council room, he felt that his feet had led him to places that he had not realized until he was there.
He had been rather grateful however that there had been no others watching over Yvelle as she lay in her bed, still unconscious and still not stirring. Otherwise, he would have had to explain or make an explanation that he'd rather not do, especially since matters were on their gravest states.
However, finding himself here, in this room, with nothing but her steady breathing in the air, Captain Sephyr was rather calmed. There was something about the presence of this young woman, whether she was conscious or not, that soothed it.
Brushing away her dark azure locks, Sephyr allowed himself a small smile. Yes, things might be spiraling into chaos, but it was these little moments that allowed room to breathe. If Sephyr was a coward he would have stayed and waited for her to wake up. But the eyes whom Yvelle saw when she opened her own, were not Sephyr's shade of green.
XOXOXOXO
The stalkers made their way into the large building by crawling through a ventilation shaft. The shaft was endless and had many turns, eventually, they came to a grate in the shaft, and slowly but quickly, unfastened the bolts. They dropped from the shaft silently, one by one, landing on their feet with little sound.
The lead carefully un-holstered his pistol and scanned the dimly lit store room. It was as they had planned. The party had earlier absorbed maps and floor plans of the whole complex, memorizing every twist and turn. They proceeded out of the store-room into the dimly lit chambers beyond.
It was a prison.
However, something did not feel right. The air which hung around them was thick, and there was a strong metallic smell in it. A prison would usually smell a little foul from all the sweating bodies which were not groomed or bathed frequently, or would smell like any building at any rate, but there was something eerie about the halls.
The lead, cautious, fully dressed in black, his face and hands blackened with ash, crept forward. The Second followed, not far behind, pistol at the ready, the third, a female, behind the second, her staff clutched tightly.
The corrupted stench suddenly registered in the lead's thoughts, rendering a very disturbing mental image.
They would have to take a left before they reached the stairwell. They needed to reach the 2nd basement where their quarry was being detained.
The building was Octagon shaped. The outer halls were where the stairwells were. There were no other stairwells in the inner offices. In every floor, there were fifteen inclusive of the five basements; there was a hall which spanned the sides of the Octagon, two stairwells each, one going up, one going down. Only the upper five floors and the five basements had the cells. The middle five floors had records offices, armories and warden quarters. There were only ten rooms for each of the five middle floors. There were cells in all the remaining floors. The cells divided into four quarters of the Octagon a promenade between the quarters which were connected to the outer hall.
The party came to the stairwell. The dark abyss which lay before them told the lead that there was very little or no lights at this hour. It puzzled him.
The lead took a step down, then another, and another. The second followed apprehensively, then the third. They slowly descended the stairs, training their pistols at the darkness until they were a part of the darkness, the thick black folds engulfing them.
XOXXOXO
Scipio delighted himself with a walk. He decided to walk southward from Tchita, cross the river then he would proceed to Phon Coast, there to find a teleport crystal and then, to Giruvegan.
Hilaneya was walking beside him, her hand brushing his from time to time. He knew that she was trying to annoy him. However, Scipio was in absorbed in so many things that he hardly noticed.
Hilaneya grabbed his hand rather abruptly making Scipio stall in his tracks.
Scipio swiveled his gaze towards Hilaneya now, completely ignoring the scenery and focusing on her. She smiled as a reply It wasn't that sultry, seductive smile which she usually flashed to mock him. It was a sweet smile which sparkled with happiness. He closed his eyes, tried to read her thoughts, she was blocking him out.
'What?' He asked incredulous and suddenly suspicious.
'Oh, nothing.' Hilaneya's voice was sweet albeit a singsong one.
'Let go, then.' Scipio spoke and it was with just a hint of exasperation.
'No.' She said curtly, shaking her head, much to Scipio's hidden chagrin.
'Fine.' He responded just as stiffly a hint of his old irritation for her surfacing.
He walked onwards, Hilaneya refusing to let his hand go, then, as time passed, she began to swing their hands between them.
"Scipio." Hilaneya broke the silence with her soft murmur
'Yes?' For the life of him, Scipio did not realize he responded to her. A knee-jerk reaction it seemed.
"You know what your problem is?" Hilaneya continued in that soft voice of hers.
"I'm cruel?" He answered dryly.
Hilaneya gave an elegant snort and a shake of her head. "No, that's not a problem. You're problem is that you don't share your pain. I'm a friend, wait, I know I'm more than that, you can tell me what's wrong." She smiled at him again.
"You're the problem. You know that." Scipio spoke through clenched teeth and there was no mistaking the sound of derision on his silken voice now.
"You still believe that?" Hilaneya asked, pulling them both to a stop. She looked up at Scipio now, who as usual, had looked away, not bothering to look at her.
'Yes.' The answer was whispered through clenched teeth. A small sigh escaped Hilaneya and she tugged on his hand to make him look at her.
'Let me tell you something…'She began and she could see Scipio's eyebrows were already raised behind his mask.
'You will never convince me otherwise. ' Scipio cut off harshly looking away now, his locks moving effortlessly with every single move of his head.
'I don't intend to," Hilaneya assured him, and for once, Scipio finally detected that there was no malice and deceit wrought in her tones for once. Could she be sincere.
"Though, I don't believe it's my fault anymore." Hilaneya whispered, running her hand over his gloved one.
Of course. Of course she had to say it that way. Sighing roughly, Scipio brought up his free hand to massage his forehead from underneath his mask. Damn, insufferable woman. Scipio dared not distance himself, or wrench his arm loose. The slightest sign that he was irked would only pleasure Hilaneya. He did not want that.
'You don't share your suffering Scipio.' Hilaneya whispered now, and it was the softest Scipio had ever heard it. Even after all those years. Scipio made a dismissive sound and looked down upon her yet again.
'So?'
'Pain shared is pain halved. Remember that.' She murmured and then smiled.
Hilaneya was sure Scipio was rolling his eyes behind his mask. But his answer was serious enough, all be it tainted with his usual sarcasm. 'I have so much to share.'
'There we go.' Her grin widened, her orange yes shining with some emotion or other. Scipio sighed again, this time, more of sadness than anything else. That is, if he showed sadness.
'So much I think you'll have too much." He spoke in an even voice now, looking at Hilaneya through his mask. "I don't want to spoil you now." A small twitch of his lips.
She chuckled then held his entire arm, no longer his hand, and leaned her head on his shoulder, which was fortuitously not clad ion armor.
'Why do you try me so?' Scipio asked exasperatedly to which Hilaneya just smiled back.
"Why indeed."
XOXOXOXO
Ortal glanced at the map which lay before him. Several tokens littered the map, the tokens represented his armies. He shifted them from country to country, trying his hand at conquest. He had little knowledge of how to effectively conquer a battlefield, but he reasoned that common sense was the principle.
Ortal shifted an air force token towards Dalmasca, telling himself that the Dlamascan's had a runt of an air force and would easily be overpowered, even now when they had improved their air force. He played on a country's weakness. He placed infantry tokens on Bhujerba, Infantry and Air on Rozzaria and the Mt. Bur-Omiscase. The only susceptible resistances were these three; among others which were less culpable were the Viera, The Garrif, The Hunters and the Pirates in Balfonheim. For safe measure he placed an infantry on each. When he had finished, he began to brood on what had transpired lately.
The attack on the mountain, he did not order it. He wondered who. It was probably Scipio, but it did not bother him, surprisingly. He would have ordered Scipio to do so anyway. But the attack had forced him to declare war, and ultimately, Martial law. Had he not declared Martial law, had he still allowed the Archadians their freedom a moment longer he would have civil war which would cause an abeyance to his schemes.
So that was that, the attack on the mountain was inevitable, but it wouldn't be what he would have chosen. He had thought of attacking Nalbina first, and then he would strike Rabanstre. Somehow, he favored that someone attacked Bur-Omiscase. No one, not even the Rozzarians, would have thought that Archadia would strike hard there.
Then there was Scipio. Ortal had noticed that he no longer exhibited rudeness and was somewhat obedient now. Ortal reasoned that, now that he was by his declaration, lord of the Archadian Empire, Scipio was obliged to obey him. Larsa had encountered Scipio a few times before; he had seen how courteous Scipio was to the Solidor. He even bowed, on both knees every time. However, Ortal knew that Xoles Ortal, the Emperor before the Solidor's , he could not remember how they were related, had something to do with the Majistrate selection systems. He concurred that Scipio bore a grudge for Ortal and his ilk, and that was that. But wait, Xoles lived more than two centuries ago, if he had known Scipio or Scipio had known him, and then wouldn't Scipio be dead? No, that's not right, Ortal dismissed the thought.
Scipio could now be controlled, he, it would seem, abided to laws, and that was important.
Now, he pondered on the armies. How would he distribute 1,450,000 men across Ivalice? He had to significantly expand the military complex in the Uplands to house the additional troops and surplus. He would commit 900,000 to storm Rozzaria. Rozzaria had strength of 750,000 soldiers, all of which come from the colonies. 150,000 of the 750,000 are the pure-blooded Rozzarians. Dissension would be easy to spread among their ranks.
Then again, it already has. The viper, Scipio, sowed seeds of poison in a few hearts which headed some of the colonies. The only reason why Ortal was able to finance, why Scipio was able to finance, the expansion of the military was because of these colony heads. How Scipio poisoned them to lend revenue and manpower against Emperor Margrace he did not know, and it did not matter, he had them with him, for him.
What a pity, he thought, that the Nabradians were no more. He never heard of a kingdom which devoted wholly to war aside from Nabradia. They were not violent and did not seek to war against all their neighbors. They were quite peaceful, but their armies were fiercer than any which existed. With only 75,000 to defend their little country, they were able to repel Judge Zecht and his Bureau with little fuss. What a pity that Nethicite spelled their doom.
Nethicite…
Ortal remembered that Balthier and his wretched Viera failed to bring him his stone. Then, lo and behold Scipio had the stone all along. It was all a ploy.
Now he had both stones. He needed only to read Cid's manuscripts further as to how he will gain the hidden power of the Shadow Nethicite.
Since Scipio was too much of a viper, he decided that he should be dealt with, and then he would appoint a new judge.
Ortal stood from and began to pace about the room. The moon was beautiful tonight. Even a man like him knew how to appreciate beauty; a curvaceous body, a pretty face, an elegant swan or in this case, a full moon.
He proceeded to his balcony, which overlooked Draklor, and beyond. He spotted the prison, far in the horizon. He did not like visiting the place. It was a very eerie building, where Scipio was, secretly, chief ward. The building was in the outskirts, where the smell could not reach the City.
He knew what Scipio did in that Octagon-shaped edifice. He wondered if Balthier had suffered greatly at Scipio's hands,
XOXOXXOXOXO
The lead could not believe his eyes. The first basement was poorly lit, but it could not hide the dead and the dying. A few detainees still stirred, alive, so it would seem. But there were others with them, motionless. The third covered her mouth, suppressing a scream. The lead did not want to behold the spectacle anymore, he went on. He stalked silently, his footsteps muted against the steel floor. He was conspicuous enough, but no one noticed him. The detainees held on to life, but whether they held on to sanity was questionable.
Again, they came to the descending stairwell. It was darker than before. Slowly, again, the lead descended the steps. They piled on the landing, tense and sweating.
This was no prison, it was a morgue.
Stifling all ill-thoughts and sickening feelings, the lead proceeded onwards. Their quarry was on the far side of the Octagon, on the 1st quadrant of an imagined Cartesian plane, they would be on the 3rd. They crept past the cells, the extremely poor lighting made the lead think that this was not a maximum security prison. The wardens broke spirits here.
The lights suddenly blinked on.
The lead suddenly sprinted; the whole floor had no walls, only a few thick posts for structural support. His head darted left and right, scanning for an Imperial, none. He quickly fell to the floor, the second and third following him. He crawled past the cells. There were sleeping, or dead, people in it. Surprisingly, the whole floor was colored white, save for the iron bars.
The lead tensed, listening.
Footsteps, behind them, someone was descending the stairwell.
Second whipped about, crouching now, and not crawling. His pistol was aimed at the stairwell.
Lead got up as well, on his stalking crouch, and pulled second's gun down. They were hiding on behind the multitude of bras near the second quadrant.
'This way, hurry.' Lead said in a hushed but tensed tone. The three began to crawl past the crossings quickly. The sound of the footsteps intensified.
Another crossing, the y-axis, nearing the third quadrant.
The footsteps stopped.
A cold, listless voice spoke, 'Take a few of these sorry cod-pieces', he spoke to two Imperials who escorted him.
The Imperials unlocked a cell in the first Quadrant, and took three dying bodies out of the cell.
Lead took a look, raising his head from his crawl.
'Frethelion.' He said in a hushed angry tone.
Second and third tried to take a look, but lead gestured them not to.
Frethelion, carrying a corpse, led the two Imperials out of the 2nd basement. The lights flickered shut, his footsteps faded into nothingness.
Slowly, senses sharpened; lead eased into a stalking crouch. Lead scanned the surroundings. There was no sign of Frethelion or his lackeys.
'Come on.' Lead urged the two forward.
They came to the cell they were looking for. Third handed her staff to lead, then fumbled with the lock, the lock came loose and she slowly swung the bars inward.
Lead entered the cell slowly, his eyes adjusted to the poor light. He was sure footed and did not stumble on anything.
This was the cell. The plans had been read and reread many times; he knew where he was going.
He came to a silhouette slumped on a corner, resting on the bars.
'Your honor…'
The lights flickered to life.
A man looked up at him, half alarmed.
'You?!' Lead said.
Then there was an alert. A siren wailed, signaling intrusion in the facility.
XOXOXOXO
Frethelion fumbled with a little tetrahedral which served as a paper weight in the chief warden's office in the prison.
He was deep in his thoughts. He was seldom puzzled but whenever he was puzzled he thought and after which everything fell into place; his conjectures were always accurate.
He was drawing conclusions regarding Scipio.
Earlier that day, Scipio briefed him and told him to listen very carefully as everything must be executed with the most precise of timing.
Scipio had told him that he must go to the prison tonight. He was very direct and concise; he was not absurd at first, as Frethelion had anticipated.
'Tonight, you must post a watch on the wall, but use the Le pummel assassins and make them hide in the shadows, order them not to kill,' he remembered Scipio say.
'Our enemies, the Lord Larsa and Lord Al-Cid will send people to attempt to infiltrate the prison, let them. They are after Zargabath. I do not know for sure how many but it is safe to expect less than five. Let them pass through, they have associates here in the city, do not hinder them.' at this point Scipio produced five dossiers. The folder which contained them was labeled 'Tournesol', 'They will penetrate the wall some time past midnight. Move Zargabath to the third basement and move Balthier to his cell in the second. Balthier must not know that Zargabath was moved.'
Frethelion nodded at this, he was beginning to see a plan of grandiose masquerade.
'Make sure that the facility is dimly lit. Let the whole warden staff know about this. Once they have reached the second basement you must make an appearance, make them think that you are present but you are unaware of them.'
Frethelion was certain; it was a masquerade, but for what? He thought again, listening raptly to Scipio.
'Once they have opened Balthier's cell and only when they are actually within the cell, sound an alarm and send three security groups to engage them. I imagine they will survive, let them. However, this is very important as well, at the very moment that you sound the alarm; send the Viera to the fifteenth floor. Balthier will know what to do. I also imagine that Balthier will escape with the Viera and the intruders.'
Scipio did not emphasize, he did not lean forward to add importance to his sentences. He gave Frethelion a plan to execute and execute he must.
But why? Why should he? Or, why would Scipio want that?
So, Frethelion thought, in Scipio's warden office, patiently waiting for the strike of midnight. The guard was already posted; Frethelion weighed the possibilities and surmised that posting them ahead of time would increase the chances of success. Everyone was ready for the masquerade of Scipio's making.
Now, why the masquerade Scipio? Frethelion thought.
His loyalty was turned that fateful day when Scipio was reading Kilitan manuscripts in the holy Library of Bur-Omiscase. Frethelion was usually there, reading book after book but never running out of anything to read. Scipio was expecting him as his head lifted from the book he was reading and his face lit up when he saw Frethelion. Frethelion was not alarmed, ever. He was a very calm man who was able to take in any situation quickly. Then, an old friend of his walks into view from behind a book case and flashes him a smile.
Then, Scipio bribed Frethelion to betray his faith in Kiltia and his faith in the holy light.
Frethelion was a very loyal man, but his avarice always had the final say on his loyalties.
Scipio offered him a very handsome reward, he said yes immediately.
And now, here he was, in the chief warden's office. He had come to one surmise about the masquerade. Scipio had asked him to oversee things as he was preparing for a romp with Hilaneya. To whatever place? He did not ask.
He had grown to respect Scipio, and he was now becoming very loyal to him.
He had surmised many things about Scipio: he was merciless, unreasonably bi-polar, sarcastic, sadistic, deceptive and physically inhuman.
But there was one thing about Scipio which made him loyal to him.
Scipio knew what he was doing, he was surefooted in his actions and his decisions, however obscure to Frethelion, were concise and final. He used his head and Frethelion had assumptions as to what he used his head for: dominance over Ivalice.
It was in Frethelion's blood to be overly greedy, and it was also in his blood to be extremely intelligent.
His clock told him that it was midnight.
XOXOXOX
It had been a night unlike this. For once, the Rozarrian clear skies had been overshadowed with heavy clouds. A sign of the rainy season it seemed. The night was still young but several of the citizens had already taken to their homes, preparing for the storm that would hit it seemed at midnight.
"Vaan, I don't like the looks of this," Penelo's whispered voice jarred the young sky pirate out of his reverie. He had been staring at several Archades maps, his usually open face, withdrawn into serious lines. He looked older than his actual age of 20.
"It's going to be okay Penelo," Vaan assured absentmindedly, quill dashing across the parchment, marking yet another place that his partner could not understand.
"But, Vaan," Penelo asked. "It's much too dangerous. Imperials would be everywhere. How could Larsa and Al-Cid decide something like this?" Her voice was high with panic now. "What if those chosen can't do this "mission"? What if one of them gets hurt? What if it's a trap for us---?"
"Penelo," Vaan looked up, there was a hint of exasperation in his voice as he placed his palms on the table, on top of the masts to look at his partner. "I know it's going to be dangerous. Everybody does. But if we don't do anything about this…" Vaan sighed and looked down before looking up once more.
"I don't want to get caught in another war where we're going to lose Penelo." He spoke in a clear voice now. "And it's better it be done like this. A small covert operation. That way, not too many of the party gets hurt unlike last time…"
"Vaan.." Penelo opened her mouth to protest, but the creaking sounds of the doors opening announced the arrival of several other people and the interruption of the conversation between the partners.
Ashe entered the room in slow steady steps, a loose dress wrapped around her form and made to be free in order not to strain the bandages around her torso. She smiled softly at Vaan, and Penelo, who had turned around to see who entered, saw how Vaan's eyes softened when he saw Ashe.
Ashe leaned heavily against Larsa's arm, who nodded to Vaan and Penelo as the two of them approached, showing that despite his rather lanky appearance, he was quite strong. Ashe's grip wasn't exactly what you call feather-light.
Vaan, who had been looking at Ashe with still that rather wistful look about his face turned to his partner, and was rather surprised to see her with her head lowered, and not meeting Larsa's eyes. Vaan looked over to Larsa next and noticed that the young Emperor looked strained.
Not that he wasn't looking so already; Larsa had gathered his ebony black locks at the back of his neck once again, indicating that he was the Emperor of Archades. His face had the look of drained on them, he had faint circles under his blue eyes, and those eyes, that were once as deep and as sparkling as sapphires looked light and faint as if they had been diluted several times. Vaan's gaze travelled between Penelo and Larsa, who did not say anything about Penelo's actions, but Vaan remained silent.
Instead, Vaan looked over Ashe and Larsa's shoulders towards the door, as if waiting for somebody else to enter through the door.
Sure enough, Basch entered through the door and was followed by a paler than usual Yvelle. Even so, Yvelle smiled softly at those gathered, albeit still a little weakly. Her azure locks were not gathered at the back of her head for once and was flowing freely down her back and down her waist. On her hands she carried her cloud staff, but she too had bandages wrapped around her torso. She was not however, holding unto Basch's arm, though that was not clearly because Basch had refused.
With small steps, Yvelle proceeded forward, with Basch on her heels. A look passed between Vaan and Basch. The time had come.
"Here we are," Vaan muttered under his breath, looking down on the maps before back towards his groupmates. His friends. A faint nod from Basch and Vaan cleared his throat.
"I guess, uhm…" Vaan cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not really good at speeches things. Uhm Basch?" he turned to look at the older man. Basch shook his head in mock exasperation, but cleared his throat to speak now.
"The plan has been set." Basch spoke in a gravelly voice. His eyes scanned each and every person there. "The circumstances demand of us to part, at least for a time. It is no longer wise for all us to convene and travel together in a prolonged time, at least for now. " Another long look for each of the members.
"Lord Larsa shall stay here. The peace and treaty with Rozzarria is still treading at fragile ground, and it is imperative we secure this alliance. If Scipio and Ortal are doing what we have deduced they are doing, it is necessary for us to gather as much of our alliances, old and new together." Basch spoke now, meeting Larsa's eyes who nodded mutely.
"Given that, the Lady Ashe shall depart from Rozzarria. Despite her condition it seemed, it is dire however that she turn back to Dalmasca, and perhaps Bhujerba, to seek assistance, once again, with the Marquis Ondore."
"And of course, it's time perhaps, I take back Rabanastrre from Zirenne. I hate to think what Nuube, Yellie and Cypher have done to her." Ashe added in a rather soft voice though her eyes had a hint of mirth in them that Vaan automatically turned to her, a look of incredulity in his mien. Ashe merely gave a mysterious small smile before looking back at Basch.
"Meanwhile, while this is happening, Vaan, and myself as well as…" Basch paused as if suddenly reluctant to speak. Only Yvelle's faint clearing of her throat made Basch open his mouth again. "as well as Yvelle, shall fly towards Archades to rescue Zargabath. The Resistance Zaragabath has established during Lord Larsa's absence shall assist."
A silence followed Basch's words now. Penelo actually had looked up and there was no denying the fear in her eyes. All the mirth had left Ashe's face and there was nothing but a grim look in her eyes. Yvelle's face was as calm as any though the grip on her staff proved the tension she was feeling.
"I guess…" Penelo started, biting her lip now, tugging on one of her braids, "This will be the last time we will be gathered together as a group then?" Her eyes were sad and Vaan moved to place a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry Penelo." Vaan reassured squeezing her shoulder. "We'll see each other again." He smiled that old Vaan smile again that Penelo couldn't help smiling back.
"Sure enough," Basch replied and he too had a faint smile moving about his beard. "When all this is over, and everything has been said and done, we shall meet at Balfonheim."
A small smile from Vaan now. "That place has always been free from any outside rule, it shall be safe to meet there."
"I don't think a war can stop us that much," Ashe spoke and everybody turned to give her incredulous looks of which Ashe pretended to look indignant, and which triggered the laughter.
Yes, it was good to laugh once in a while. Before the storm hits; before the day ends, before the night claims all.
Authors' Note: Here we go...the end has come..LOL..heehee...We shall include an extensive Author's Note at the last chapter. Click that button....! XD
