A/N~ Okay, now I'm having fun with the POV changes again. I think you'll all like it though. Thanks for all the reviews lately~

Doctor Ranshal struggled down a flight of narrow, steeps marble steps. He placed both feet on one step before attempting the next, first by jabbing his cane in place below him. Halfway down, he leaned heavily over his cane, straining to catch his breath. Even for a healthy man, these steps were no easy walk.

He let out a loud sigh as the stairs finally receded into a flat ground of matching marble, glancing unhappily behind himself at the gray stone towering behind him. He looked away, and tugged down the cuffs of his jacket. Not the white lab coat, but a tan jacket of soft wolf-hide. He was not working today. If not for his chosen course into the secluded garden, one could imagine he was rushing to meet a woman for breakfast.

In an abstract sense, he was.

He followed the marble pathway through a lush garden, hidden behind the shadows of the Archadian towers. The walkway was accompanied by natural rivulets carved into the mossy carpet, mostly hidden by the shade of the numerous thin, tall trees that rose throughout the garden. Ranshal's cane made a dull clicking sound each time it tapped the marble, until finally the path came to an end at a simple hedge stone. A stone cropped by a strange metal helm.

Ranshal sighed, and tipped his cane forward until it unbalanced and dropped onto the marble beside his feet. Without the third leg, he stepped forward until he was off the shining path and right in the grass beside the marble hedge stone.

His eyes fell heavily upon the helm that rested on the top of the stone. The metal glimmered in the dull light, its intricate patterns standing out even in the shade. Though it was obviously a helmet to be worn over the head, it was made even more unique by the two distinct ear holes at the top of the helm. For the tall ears of a viera.

He spoke quietly.

"Good morning, Lemos."


"Damn bloody."

"No, no. You say 'bloody hell'. Not 'bloody damn'. That makes no sense. You have to have a noun after you say 'bloody', otherwise it sounds odd."

"So…Bloody desert."

Ffamran laughed aloud, brushing the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his damp shirt.

"Now it sounds odd no matter how you say it. But yes, I'm not quite fond of this desert either."

Though technically speaking, this wasn't a desert. The Tchita Uplands were, well, Uplands. Similar to deserts, but less barren. In plants (which meant more shade), and the wildlife as well (which meant more trouble). At least Ffamran was getting better at using that gun. He hadn't 'warked' like a startled chocobo in half an hour.

And in the other half hour, he was determined to give me lessons in grammar. Grammar in swearing. Royal boys swore much differently than those who grew up in the slums. I never knew that swearing could be so…refined. And so complicated. I used to think that you could just…make it up as you went along, sayin' whatever seemed to fit at the moment. 'Bloody damn' seemed quite appropriate back in the Sochen Cave Palace when a one-eyed-nasty was chasing up your breeches like that.

We'd surfaced from the cave at sun-high, and now it was getting dark. No matter how eager Ffamran was to make it to the coast, I wouldn't guide him during the dark. He could either go on without me, or make camp now. After listing off the numerous nocturnal beasts in the area, he chose the ladder.

We made camp under some of the arching ruins that were scattered over the Uplands. I demonstrated how to use your pack as a pillow, and how to sleep with your arms crossed to stay warm.

The boy was out like a light in minutes. He kept shifting in his sleep though, waking up to roll over, kicking out. I guessed it was his first time camping out. Nothing but your pack as a pillow, and a fire at your feet. Even though the Tchita Uplands were warm this time of year, the boy kept clutching at his vest as if he were freezing to death. In pity, I tossed my jacket over his shoulders, and he seemed to relax a bit.

Moogle-hide indeed.

Once he was deep enough gone in sleep, I inched over to his pack. I didn't need to open it, or even pull it away from his head to know what was inside. I felt the bulge of a stack of pine chops, and a heavy pouch of gil. One revolver…

I pulled away, and rested back on my heels, confused. Had he really just run off like that? Nothing but a pouch of gil and a few shirts? That's what it seemed.

Did he even have a plan? What did he expect to happen when he reached the coast? He hadn't mentioned anything to me at least. Would he just continue on his way, or was he really determined to find that viera and reclaim the airship?

Ffamran…I'd heard the name before.

Wherever I'd heard it from, he wasn't anyone to be worried about. Maybe for their safety in the real world, but he could do no harm. Not to anyone but himself.

I let out a loud groan, and rolled to the side for the twentieth time that night. This time I found a somewhat comfortable ditch, and relaxed. A hot, rotten-smelling wind suddenly blew past my face. I cringed, and groaned.

"What on Ivalice…" The wind came again, smelling even worse closer. I pried my watering eyes open, and met a gaping mouth lines with rows of teeth. A river of drool dripped from its jaws, and the grass lit on fire where it splashed. "JULES!" I scrambled to my feet just as the monster clamped down, narrowly avoiding its putrid jaws. It squealed, and lashed its whip-like legs to the side. "Jules-I think it's very upset!"

"What did you do now?" Came a groggy, annoyed voice. Jules' head popped up from a bank of grass, his hands against his face. "By the gods, Ffamran- whoa!" The monster was slinking after me, on numerous vine-like legs. In fact, that's what its body was mostly made of. Then a giant pair of jaws for a head, topped by a natural crown. "A malboro- a king malboro! Why do you always enrage the nasty ones!"

"It's not my fault!" I yelled, dashing behind one of the ruin's pillars. "I-I just woke up!" Jules groaned loudly, then fished out his shotgun.

"Never had so much trouble in my life…" He mumbled, slowly fitting the gun with bullets.

"Jules, damn it! Shoot the bloody thing!" he clapped the gun shut and fired. The malboro screeched in pain, and a fountain of green blood expelled from its body where the bullet hit. Jules gave it one more shot, before it dragged itself in the opposite direction to find something less feisty to kill.

I slowly stepped out from behind my hiding place and back into camp, following the creature with my eyes as it left a putrid trail of flaming blood.

"I suppose we'll get an early start then, since you woke us up now." I pulled my pack from the ground onto my shoulder. It felt like the pine chops had been replaced with bricks.

"What was that exactly?"

"A King Malboro." Jules explained. "Not very strong physically, so they can't take a hit, but they've got one of the worst bites of all." He gestured to the dying flames. "Just imagine getting nipped by that." I shuddered. If I hadn't woken up when I did, I wouldn't need to imagine it.

Jules toted the gun over his shoulder, and started leading the way again.

It wasn't long before he started pointing out bird-like monsters flying over head. When I pointed my shotgun upwards, he first smacked it down and them smacked me.

"No, you stupid boy. Those are lucky birds." Still one hand on my gun, he gestured to the hills in front of us. "Ocean's near." I frowned, following his stare. The Uplands had been getting…flatter. And more green, with grass instead of slinking malboros.

After a while, I noticed that Jules had tucked his gun away, and was walking a bit faster, at a hearty stride. He didn't seem concerned about the monsters we kept passing, which made me feel better as well.

We passed through a narrow valley, where a pair of viera sat with their long legs hanging over the edge of the rocks. Jules smiled politely, inclining his head as we passed them.

"Morning, ladies." Their chestnut-red eyes followed us until we were out of sight. I found myself glaring.

When I found that Fran, I wouldn't be as polite to say 'morning' to her.

Jules stopped so suddenly that I bumped against his back.

"Weel, here we are." He said. I sidestepped around him. After going through Old Archades, and then the lethal Sochen Cave Palace, and finally through the malboro-infested Uplands, I was hoping for a nice village where I could regain my bearing while thinking over a cup of wine.

Instead, Jules presented me with a narrow strip of beach with a boat shack.

"The quaint and quiet Phon Coast."

"Quaint indeed." I muttered, dragging my feet as I once again followed Jules into a depressing place.


Ranshal froze halfway down the marble path, then broke into an awkward run.

"Get away from that!" He cried. The pair of Bangaa that had been clustered around the hedge stone dispersed into the trees, toting looting bags over their shoulders. Their cackling laugher was loud in the quiet garden.

"Haha- what's wrong? Come and chase us!" One taunted.

"Or have ye' lost yer spunk in old age!" Another cried.

Instead of running after them, Ranshal pulled an old revolver from an inner coat pocket and fired. One of the bangaa cried out in shock, tripping over their legs. Without so much as blinking from the recoil, Ranshal took aim and fired again. Another bangaa screamed, a throaty cry, but Ranshal was not satisfied. The largest of the four thieves, a mottled green bangaa, continued running. He'd been aiming for that one all along, but his siblings had gotten in the way again.

Ranshal stuffed his now empty gun back into his jacket with unnecessary force. He came to a stop at the hedge stone that had been holding the vieran helm. The stone was now empty, besides a few leaves that had fallen across the top. Ranshal dug his cane into the moss, beside their heavy footprints that were sunken into the grass. He glared through the trees at the fleeing, limping silhouettes.

"Bloody thieves…"


A green bangaa twirled a vieran helm on the desk like a top, holding it in place with a single claw. Across from the desk sat an old man, his fingers interlaced before himself. He watched the helm spin, then turned his annoyed gaze to the scarred bangaa.

"Do you know what this is?" The bangaa rasped. "Sir, Judge Ghis?" Ghis refrained from commenting on how the bangaa spoke his name like a taunt.

"Brown silver." Ghis said. "A vieran specialty."

"Very good."

"I assume you...acquired it without knowing how much it would sell for though." The bangaa stilled the helm, tapping it with one of his claws.

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, though such a helm would be prized for its material, this one is aged. Rusted from weather or battle-"

"Battle." The bangaa interrupted. Ghis paused, then nodded slowly.

"Yes, well, even if you sold it to collectors, it would not go for much. Not in that condition."

"What makes you think I want to sell this?" He asked. Ghis rolled his eyes.

"Isn't that what you headhunters do? Steal, then sell for a profit?" The bangaa let out a series of cackling laughs.

"Not at all, Judge. Well, maybe some of the nicer ones do that. But i…" He lifted the helm up to head level, gripping it with only his claws. "I wanted this just for me. The viera who wore this was…quite unfriendly to me." He brought the helm down hard onto the table, denting it in. "So tell me, Judge, the reason why you called me up all the way into your own office. This better be good because, as you can see, I don't take lightly to…unfriendliness." Either out of stupidity, or years of facing headhunters like the ragged bangaa, Ghis was not intimidated, or impressed.

"Ba'Gamnan. You have quite some experience in the field of tracking, and capturing. And there is someone I would like you to find, and bring back to me." Ghis stood, and handed a picture off to the headhunter. "He ran off with a model airship, and did severe damages to the hanger. He could have also escape with vital information concerning the ongoing wars with-"

"Do you take me for a fool!" Ba'Gamnan slapped the picture facedown onto the desk. "This is a boy- a boy in trouble for stealing a little airship! I think you are confused as to me trade." Before the bangaa could turn away, Ghis dropped a heavy pouch onto the desk.

"I recognize that sound, at least."

"And there is more where that came from." The bangaa pocketed the gil, allowing Ghis to finish his directions. "Though we cannot spare time to look for a…rebellious teenager, he should be easy enough to locate. He has no skills of the outside world, and the airship does stand out." Ghis narrowed his eyes. "His father wants him back alive. Do I make that clear?"

"Bah, quit tampering with my rules. I'll bring the boy back before you miss him too much." He snatched the bag of gil from the desk.

Ba'Gamnan lumbered out into the hallway, leaving the Judge's doors wide open behind him.

"Gijuk, Bwahi, Rinok!" He yelled, continuing down the halls. Three more bangaa joined him, following their older brother. "We've got a nice little bounty to get."

"I heard it was just a boy, brother." The female bangaa inquired.

"Boy or hume babe, it doesn't matter! There's a nice prize on his head for dragging him back here."

"Alive?" Gijuk asked. At this, Ba'Gamnan paused. His sibling surrounded him, eagerly awaiting his response.

"Alive…yes." Ba'Gamanan said, ignoring the moans of protests. "But not in one piece. They didn't say anything about tearing off a leg or two if that's what it takes."