Chapter Two
The Salikawood
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar
Dressed in a confiscated blue tunic and brown cloak, Balthier lowered himself into the hole in the earth that he assumed led into the Red Fang's base. He gripped the mossy turf in both hands, chest pressed into tunnel side, feeling for the ground with his feet. His cloak was stuck on a root sticking out of the soil; unwieldly apparel. The longer Balthier leaned against into the damp, earthen side of the tunnel, the more he doubted this could really be the entrance to a Red Fang installation.
"Is it that deep?" Vaan leaned over the edge, also dressed in Red Fang gear. Penelo's was altogether too large, but there was nothing they could do about that. Hopefully it'd be dark underground and no one would notice.
"Fairly deep," Balthier replied. "It can't be that far, though. I'm going to let go."
Not giving Vaan and Penelo much time to process this, Balthier released the edge. His hands slipped from the moss and gravity's pull won out. He fell a yard before his shoes struck hard-packed earth. Balthier winced at the jolt that rattled through legs. The thump of feet hitting earth echoed through the otherwise quiet and deserted tunnel. Balthier scanned ahead; The path sloped downward, curving roof and walls all made of earth like a giant ant tunnel. Dark, damp, dirty… Not the kind of place Balthier preferred, but when needs must… The worn ground indicated the path was well traveled, however. A good sign.
"Balthier?" Vaan's voice sounded down the shaft. "How's it look?"
"It's safe. Come down," Balthier called back. He moved away from the circle of green-stained sunlight, and Penelo dropped to the ground, followed less gracefully by her brother.
"Any more guards?" Vaan asked, brushing dirt from the front of his tunic.
"Not that I can see," Balthier said. "But let's tread lightly." He turned, looking Vaan in the eye. "And remember: we're three loyal Red Fangs operatives. Got that?"
Both Balthier's young companions nodded. Balthier turned to face the lightless tunnel.
"Then let's be off."
Water dripped from the roof, the echoing plop and the trio's footfalls the only break in the silence. Light from behind faded the farther they went; Balthier could feel they were going down. Some instinct protested at the crushing weight of earth between him and the sky.
"This is creepy. And cold." Vaan shuddered. Balthier could just make him out in the gloom; the dark Red Fang uniform broke his outline. "Do people actually live down here?"
"This seems like just the kind of place you'd find kidnapping lowlifes," Balthier replied.
"Wait, look!" Penelo called, pointing ahead. "I see light!"
Balthier stopped and squinted; a point of light like a distant star glimmered far down the tunnel. In the moment of silence as no one spoke, he could hear faint noises of footsteps and conversation. At last, something.
"Be quiet, be stealthy, be calm." Balthier motioned 'come' to his companions with one finger. "Come on."
The light turned out to be a single lamp suspended from the earthen ceiling, hanging just before a ninety-degree bend. Around the curve, wood paneling covered the walls, roof, and floor, making it look like the hallway of some elaborate, windowless mansion. Balthier led the way slowly around the corner; beyond, uniformed Red Fangs marched about here and there, from door to door, corridor to corridor.
Vaan reached for his sword, and Balthier held out a hand to stop him.
"We're Red Fangs, remember?" Balthier hissed. "This is perfectly ordinary. And if the need arises, I will do the talking."
Vaan nodded reluctantly. Balthier stepped ahead, keeping his back straight and shoulders relaxed. This is perfectly ordinary, after all.
A Bangaa hailed good day as they passed, to which Balthier responded with a polite nod. He kept his gaze straight ahead, fighting the temptation to gawk at the people around him. From every race, of every shape and size, each moving with purpose. And it seemed, none suspicious of the newest three in their ranks. Balthier had kept his rifle under the cloak, but it occurred to him now the weapon would be difficult to extract in a conflict. He also had no idea where down here Fran would be. That has to be rectified. Let's see…
"You there! A word." Balthier called out to a passing Red Fang, a human man moving with quick strides. He didn't look much older than Vaan, but appearances could be deceptive. He lifted his head at Balthier's call, halting abruptly.
"Hail! Is there something I can help you with? Wait." The young Red Fang paused, narrowing his eyes. "Are you new? I don't recognize your faces."
"Yes, we're new here," Balthier replied, keeping his face perfectly calm. Very new. "Actually, as much as it pains me to say so, I'm still a bit foggy on how to find my way around. We're to transfer that… Viera captive. Do you know where she's kept?"
"Transfer?" the Red Fang arched an eyebrow. "So, the rumors are true? Razner's trying another… solution?" His voice fell low at the end.
"I'm afraid I haven't heard the rumors," Balthier replied. He shifted his heel back into Vaan's toe; he could just see the kid dying to add his own flare. "But that Viera? Where's she kept?"
"Uh, down by Razner's labs." The Red Fang nodded farther down the tunnel. "Fourth on left. The holding cell should be obvious in there." He started moving by. "Good luck getting her under control. I can't believe Errol would stick a job like that on newbies-" The Red Fang stopped abruptly and scanned the trio with a new suspicion.
"Well, many thanks for the directions," Balthier said, nodding to the young Red Fang. He motioned to Vaan and Penelo. "Come on, you two, we've got work to do."
Balthier started walking, and Vaan and Penelo fell into step behind.
"Yeah," the Red Fang stared after them, then started walking the opposite way, slowly. "Good luck."
Fighting the urge to look back at their assisting friend, Balthier made his way straight for the door he'd indicated.
"Man, that was close," Vaan said, glancing back down the hall as Balthier took the door's handle.
"Vaan, shh!" Penelo said. Balthier just sighed and pushed on the door; it creaked open.
The smell of wood, sawdust, and something distinctly chemical hit Balthier as he stepped inside. The small room was featureless save a few crates stacked in one corner. Two doors stood on the wood-planked walls, one directly across, the other to the right. Balthier stepped in warily, and Vaan, coming in last, shut the door behind them.
Balthier took in his surroundings. Bold, black letters marked the door on the right, spelling Laboratory 1. The other was marked in a similar manner with the word Specimen. Metal showed around the edges of that door, and iron slide locks secured it above and below the doorknob.
"You two keep watch," Balthier said, pointing to Vaan and Penelo. "I'll look inside."
"Alright." Vaan drew his sword. Penelo sat down on a crate. Balthier undid the locks, took the doorknob, and pushed into the holding room.
A single glaring light shed white beams over a wood paneled room. A set of vacant chains lay hooked to the far wall. The door swung shut behind Balthier with a thud, cutting off most of the light. All was chilling silence. Balthier scanned the room, taking a few more wary steps forward.
"Fran?" His voice echoed dimly. Balthier turned to the right wall. "Are you in here-"
"Arh!"
A shape sprang from the shadows. Fingers latched around Balthier's throat as the force slammed his back into the wall, pinning him there and blocking off all access to air. Balthier clawed at the hands around his throat, teeth gritted, eyes closed on reflex, panic flying as every instinct screamed for oxygen. Trying and failing to choke in a breath, he forced his eyes open.
A familiar face stared back; tall white ears, patchy and ragged, cheeks sallow, sunken, with an unnatural shine, slanted brown eyes, cold, distant, blank save the instinct to survive.
Balthier fought to get enough breath to squeeze out a word. Didn't she recognize him? Perhaps the uniform didn't help, but still…
"Fran…!" Balthier wheezed the word out barely audible, drawing from depleted oxygen reserves. "It's… me…!"
Fran didn't seem to hear; a caged animal destitute of anything but desperation, determined on throttling Balthier. Then the snarl on her face fell slack, her cold eyes widening ever so slightly. A faint, broken whisper drifted from her lips.
"Balthier?"
Balthier nodded as best he could. Fran stumbled backward with a gasp. Balthier slid to the ground, coughing and heaving in precious gulps of air. Fran dropped to her knees, eyes fixed blankly on the ground.
Still breathless, Balthier climbed back to his feet, not sure what to say. He'd expected Fran to be in bad shape, but six months' imaginings hadn't prepared him for that sight. Her long silver hair hung loose and matted, milky flesh sticking to bone over her sickly frame, covered with patchy clothing that had evidently been worn continuously for a long time. Part of him was instinctively revolted at the sight, but despite that, guilt welled up at the stinging knowledge that she was only this way because he hadn't gotten there in time.
"Fran? Are you-" 'Are you alright'? Really? Of course she's not 'alright.' Balthier paused, taking one more deep breath and pulling the air of confidence back into his voice. "Are you ready to leave?"
Fran raised her head, her glassy eyes still not meeting his. "Leave? We may… leave?" she echoed.
"That's the idea," Balthier replied. "If you're ready."
"Yes. Yes, that's… good." Fran levered herself to her feet, then stumbled as she tried to take a step. Balthier leapt forward and caught her.
"Easy, Fran." Apparently without savage instinct driving her on, she was as weak as she looked.
"I'm fine," Fran said between breaths. Her eyes were closed, cheeks glittering, voice faint. "We must leave. Please."
"Of course you are." Balthier studied her gravely, then slung one of her arms over his shoulders and supported her to the door. He pulled it open with his free hand and dragged Fran through.
"Oh!" Penelo gasped and jumped to her feet. Vaan, by the door, spun around. Balthier lowered Fran to the ground, and Penelo knelt by her.
Balthier studied Fran as she knelt there, eyes closed, breathing hard. Let her rest a moment. Balthier looked up at Vaan; when Vaan tore his gaze from Fran, he nodded to the door, then, reluctant to break the solemn silence, gave Balthier a thumbs up to indicate all was well.
Well, at least that's not trouble, Balthier thought.
"Fran," Balthier said, looking back down at his partner. "Do you think you can walk on your own?"
Fran nodded, straightening her shoulders with some effort. "Yes."
"Good." Balthier scanned the storage/hallway room. "In that case-"
Balthier stopped at the sound of footsteps plinking from the door marked Laboratory. He turned and narrowed his eyes. Flashes of purplish-white light sparkled through the crack at the door's top. Balthier tensed; the backs of his hands tingled, the left side of his face twitched involuntarily. A momentary dizziness twinged in the back of his head. He gave his head a shake, and the odd feeling lessened. What…?
A quick glance proved whatever was happening in that room didn't affect Vaan or Penelo, or even Fran. Deeply disturbing, that.
Balthier shook his head and turned to Fran, keeping one eye on the door; the light had died away.
"Fran?" Balthier said. "What's behind that door?"
"That…?" Fran turned slowly the lab door, then snapped her gaze away, eye glittering. "It… That's where…" Fran curled tighter with a shudder, squeezing her eyes shut. Penelo leaned closer, whispering soothing words.
Balthier sighed, noting the way Vaan watched him. "Look, are there likely to be guards? Particularly savage scientists?"
"That's where… where they…" Fran fisted both hands in her hair. "Where they do… what they do."
Balthier's jaw tightened; the past six months hadn't been kind to his Vieran partner. "Let's just hurry." He knelt by one of the stacked crates and started unwinding the rope that held it closed. It was likely just… a nervous tic. Better not to worry about it. Not right now. I have to get Fran out of here. But a feeling of uneasiness remained coiled in his stomach.
Holding the rope and swallowing his disquiet, Balthier straightened and turned to Fran. "We have to make this look like prisoner and escort. That means…" He held out the length of rope. "Fran?"
Fran, upright again, met his eyes with icy coldness.
Balthier sighed. "I won't tie it tight. You'll be able to fight if it comes to that. But we're not getting out of here if we don't look official."
"…Alright." Fran held out her hands. Balthier tied them, loosely, then Fran stood, with much help. She managed to stay on her feet, and soon they positioned themselves like a proper prisoner transfer: Balthier at the head, Fran, bound, behind him, and Vaan and Penelo flanking her.
"Alright then." Balthier, hand on the doorknob, looked back over his party. Past them, the laboratory door was silent and motionless. Balthier forced his eyes away from it; time to escape. "Everyone in character?"
Vaan and Penelo nodded. Fran stared vacantly at the ground.
"Good. Then here we go." Balthier opened the door and strolled out.
…
Balthier drew out an inward sigh of relief as the end of the passage can into view, shafts of sunlight falling to the packed dirt from the hole above. This had been too close so far; Fran couldn't move very fast, and every Red Fang gawked as they passed.
"How are we gonna get back up there?" Vaan asked, craning his neck to see around the others in front of him.
"Right now, I'm assuming we climb," Balthier replied. He glanced back over his party. "And let's pick up the pace. They're bound to notice something's amiss soon. It'd be a shame if this was all for nothing."
"I bet we could take them, though," Vaan said. "If they tried to stop us."
Balthier sighed. "There were quite a few of them in there, and while we'll do what we must, I'd like not to push our luck."
"Wait," Fran's voice came barely detectible to Balthier's ears. He stopped and turned; Fran's ragged white ears perked to their fullest.
"What the problem, Fran?" Balthier asked.
"Voices. Up ahead." Fran flexed her bound hands as she spoke. "Someone's there."
Wonderful. Balthier raised a finger to his lips, then motioned to continue. He stopped under the hole and put out a hand, halting the others behind him. The silhouettes of at least three Red Fangs showed through the tunnel mouth nine feet above. Vaan drew his sword, and Balthier sent him a glare.
"Careful," he whispered. "We don't know-"
"Hey, you down there!" Balthier froze as one thin silhouette leaned over the hole, his voice echoing down the shaft. "What's your mission?"
Blast. Balthier cleared his throat, then cupped his mouth to shout back. "We're moving this Viera prisoner!"
The Red Fang made a motion to his fellows, then leaned back over the tunnel. "Something's up, up here," he called. "Our last guards were attacked. Watch yourselves!"
Two other Red Fangs let a rope ladder down the shaft; it bumped and banged against the earthen side as it unrolled and stopped, swinging, a few inches above the ground.
"Oh, don't worry," Balthier called back up, eyeing the ladder with relief. "We will."
Most pleased not to have to scale the damp earthen shaft, Balthier planted his foot on the first rung and set to climbing. As he neared the sunny surface, he could better make out the man he'd been addressing: a thin, lanky fellow.
"You need more rope? To pull her up?" the man asked, pointing down at Fran. He looked genuinely nervous. Repositioning his grip on the rough rope, Balthier glanced over his shoulder. Fran stood with her head hung, but her eyes, glimmering from her pale face, watched the men above with the viciousness of a cornered wildcat.
"No," he said, resuming his climb. "I think we can handle her."
Balthier reached the shaft's rim, breaking back into light and fresh air. He pulled over the edge, then got his feet on the mossy turf, taking in his circumstances, and possible foes, as he rose. Eight, nine… My, our little stunt really frightened them, didn't it?
At the bottom of the ladder, Fran mounted unsteadily, struggling to grip properly with her hands bound. Penelo held the ladder still, and Vaan had his sword out and held close to him, eyes darting between Fran and the Red Fangs above.
"Wow. What'd you do, sedate her?" the lanky Red Fang said, watching Fran climb with eyebrows raised. "I wish she was that calm when we were feeding her!" He ended with a barking laugh. Balthier kept his mouth firmly closed.
When Fran crested the top, Balthier stooped, grabbed the rope between her wrists, and helped pull her over the edge. Fran rested on her knees a moment, then stood with some difficulty, eyes darting over the gathered Red Fangs. Balthier kept his grip on her ropes tight, both for show and to keep Fran from doing anything rash.
Vaan came up next, then Penelo. Vaan had put his sword away, thank goodness, but still looked around warily at the sheer number of Red Fangs present. Penelo stuck to her brother like a shadow, looking downright terrified. Whatever happened to staying in character?
"Well, many thanks for your assistance," Balthier nodded to the thin Red Fang, then turned to leave. "We'll be off, then."
"Wait." A black-haired Red Fang stepped in Balthier's path, studying him with dark, narrowed eyes.
"Yes?" Balthier returned the man's suspicious stare. "We're in a hurry, you know."
"You'll understand we have to take precautions," the man said. "Something's afoot. Do I know you?"
"I don't believe we've met," Balthier replied. He felt the faintest tug on Fran's rope as she shifted her hands. Vaan and Penelo had pulled close behind him. Good, in case this got bad.
"When did you join?" the man persisted.
"You want the exact date?" Balthier replied. No, wrong answer. This was going downhill fast.
The black-haired man took a threatening step closer, hand at his sword hilt. "Who ordered you to move the Viera?"
"We-"
The slightest hesitation at the beginning of Balthier's words was enough for the man to draw his sword. He gave a single nod to the thin Red Fang, who followed suit, along with the other seven.
Blast.
Balthier ripped the loosely tied ropes from Fran's hands, in one motion unclasped the cloak at his neck- the unwieldly garment dropped from his shoulders- and ripped his rifle from its uncovered holster, as the sound of Vaan's sword flying from its sheath sliced the air. Fran raised her hands for a spell, though from the way her hands shook, Balthier wasn't sure she could get one off. Penelo brought up her staff, stepping in close as the four formed a tight, defensive circle.
Balthier's eyes darted over the enemy, calculating for a single moment. Nine Red Fangs- more than twice their number- armed, prepared, and they could easily get down the hole and bring reinforcements… The glimmer of fire around the hands of a spell-casting mage in navy and brown caught Balthier's eye.
Mm… This could be bad.
"What do we do?" Vaan hissed to Balthier. Balthier's eyes darted over the forest ahead; no time for thought.
"Run!"
Balthier leaped forward. He stiff-armed the surprised black-haired Red Fang, shoving him back, and sprinted into the trees. The Red Fang regained his feet in time to swing at Vaan as he went by. The kid deflected his blow with a crash of steel-on-steel and raced after the others.
"Ah!"
Hearing Fran's cry, Balthier skidded to a halt and spun around. The Viera had stumbled and fell, and the Red Fangs advanced on her. One hooked his arm around Fran's neck and yanked her back to her feet, shouting orders to the others.
Blast.
"What do we-?" Vaan began.
"Get ready to run!" Balthier charged back towards into the group of Red Fangs. He shoulder-rolled under a sweeping blade and came up in front of the man who held Farn captive. The man spun and shoved towards another Red Fang.
"Here, take-"
He broke off as Balthier clocked him over the head with his rifle's handle from behind. He fell, unconscious. The other Red Fang leapt for Fran. She raised her hands, aiming directly for the man's face, a reddish mist collecting feverishly around them. Her arms shook, eyes closed, brow drawn tight with effort. The man grabbed her shoulders, heedless of the spell. The violent seizure broke Fran's focus, and weak as she was, the light flickered away. Fran struggled feebly in her captor's grip, snarling.
Balthier leveled his rifle and planted a bullet in the man's shoulder. The Red Fang gasped and dropped Fran, stumbling back. Fran fell to her knees. Balthier yanked her up by her arm, slung it over his shoulder, and ran. Only sending a few more shots at the Red Fangs, Balthier broke into the open woodland.
"Go!" Balthier shouted at Vaan and Penelo, who'd stood watching. They ran. Balthier pushed his legs as hard as they would go, cursing Fran's weight back dragging on him. At least she was lighter than she once was. Rows of trees rolled ahead, and roots and vines grasped at Balthier's feet as he slogged ahead.
Back towards town would be good, but we're going the wrong way for that. Nothing for it-
"Oh!" Balthier twisted his feet sideways, skidding to a halt just inches from where the mossy earth dropped away. Between the towering trees, a ravine stretched a good twenty feet across. The sides sloped down perhaps ten feet; a jagged wound scraped in the forest floor by some colossal claw. Bushes, ferns, and moss blanketed the soaked earth at the bottom.
"Down! Hurry!" Balthier shouted to Vaan and Penelo. "Get in the bushes and hide!"
Vaan nodded, then started down; his sister had already gotten a head start.
Balthier readjusted his grip on Fran; her head hung on his shoulder, hot breath tickling his neck. She was practically dead weight at this point.
"Hang in there, Fran," Balthier muttered under his breath as he started down the slope. "Just hang in there."
Balthier half-walked, half-slide down the ravine edge, then dragged Fran to a large clump of bushes he'd seen Vaan and Penelo dive behind. He dropped to his knees behind the cover; Fran fell limply with his motion. Balthier's lungs and legs burned from the sprint carrying her weight, but he knew if they stopped there, they'd be found for sure. No rest for the weary.
"Start moving," Balthier whispered to Vaan. "Slowly, quietly, steadily. Don't break cover."
Vaan nodded, turned to pass the information to Penelo but stopped as call rang from beyond.
"Wait! Stop!"
The voice came from above. Balthier shifted, taking the risk of peeking through the bush's branches. Three Red Fangs stood at the ravine's lip; they turned as another raced into view, waving his hands.
"Wait! Orders from up top!" he called, turning to address someone who seemed in charge. "We're not to give chase. That Viera's no use to us anymore."
"What? She'd sell high, at least," the other Red Fang said. "We've-"
"And it's not worth the manpower," the first Red Fang said. He held his hands out, palms up. "Those are our orders, straight from Captain Errol: no pursuit. Go argue with him."
The other Red Fang muttered something Balthier couldn't hear, then signaled to the others with one hand. They pulled back from the edge and out of view.
"They're not… following us?" Vaan said.
"No. It doesn't seem that way," Balthier said, watching the cliff edge with narrowed eyes. "But that's no excuse to hang around." He shifted his grip on Fran's arm, lowering her so she could sit. "Fran, can you move?" Balthier asked.
"I… I… can," Fran said, forcing her eyes open. She sucked a deep, shaky breath, her words faint whispers. "I can. Please. We must leave."
Balthier let out a sigh. Perhaps the best thing for her was just to get away. Then she could rest.
"Fine. Let's get a move on then, shall we?"
…
A few hours later, Balthier stood with his back to a low-burning campfire, arms folded, eyes roving over the shadowy woods. They'd climbed out of the ravine after a while, then continued toward Sial until it grew dark. It took some work to convince Fran camping in the woods would be safe with a continual watch. Balthier didn't trust that the Red Fangs wouldn't come after them, either, but he also knew he, Vaan and Penelo wouldn't recognize the way they'd come so well at night, and continuing the search in the morning was the wisest option.
So Balthier stood on first watch. He looked over his shoulder; Vaan and Penelo were both lying on the ground, unconscious. Fran sat, hugging her arms like she was cold, staring off into the forest. Dying embers lit red her white ears and silver hair, which she'd sat dimly while Penelo straightened out. It wasn't like Fran to accept help without protest. And while it was like her to stare off into the woods, Balthier had expected her to be at least resting by now.
"Can't sleep?" Balthier asked.
Fran's gaze fell from the dark woodland to the forest floor. "No," she began. "It's… cool." She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. "It has been… long since I was out here."
Balthier studied her, arms folded. "You should get some rest, you know. It'd do you good."
Fran lifted her head, turning those taciturn brown eyes to him. Fran had never been easy to read, but now more than ever, Balthier wished he could tell what was going on in her head.
"How long… has it been?" Fran asked, her voice a feathery whisper.
"How long? About half a year," Balthier replied. "I went as fast as I could, but…" He shook his head with a sigh. Still not fast enough.
"Only… half a year?" Fran echoed. She cocked her head, seeming to study him closer. "It's been only… half a year?"
"That's right," Balthier replied. "Something wrong?"
"No." Fran shook her head, eyes focused on something far away. "I only thought… it seemed much longer. Days, weeks at a time, I spent in their machine… So I thought. It was difficult to tell… how much time passed…"
Fran pulled her knees closer, hugging her arms tighter. The firelight lit her shiny, ashen skin an eerie color; Balthier could make count every bone in her hands. The lines of her jaw and cheekbones glimmered. She needed a solid night's sleep and a healthy meal, repeatedly. Don't those lowlifes know you're at least supposed to feed lab rats well? Yet something in Fran's malaise looked like more than lack of sustenance.
"What did they do to you in there?" Balthier asked, a morbid curiosity as well as concern for Fran's health overriding his need for tact.
Fran didn't move, didn't look like she heard, glazed eyes fixed on something in the woodland's shadows. Then she closed her eyes, face as still as a sickly portrait. "I… focused the myst through their machine," she said. "They have no… respect. They twisted the lifeblood of our world and… forced me to channel it. It… burned…" She paused, pain flickering over her face at the memory. "They kept me in it… as long as I could last. I am… sorry." Fran's eyes opened, though she didn't look at Balthier. "That I attacked you. I didn't… want to go back. I tried not to hurt them at first. But… as…"
Fran's words trailed away, as if she didn't have the breath left to speak. Her words provided more questions than answers, but Balthier couldn't press her anymore.
Balthier sighed through his nose. "Look, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You should get some sleep; it'd do you good. I believe I said that already."
"Mm." Fran made only a faint noise in reply, not moving from her sculpture-like pose.
"If they were coming after us, they'd've done it by now," Balthier said. "If they do show up, I'll wake you quickly. Now lie down, relax, and get some sleep."
Fran turned her gaze to Balthier, eyes that hinted at some unsearchable depth, yet provided no view into it. "Where are we going?" she asked. "Tomorrow? You'd said… you wanted to find answers."
Wasn't that a long time ago? "I did say that, didn't I?" Balthier heaved a sigh. "Well, I've spent the last half year in a cell with three criminals, then crossing the sandsea with a caravan of three imbeciles. The information I gathered on ancient legends was minimal." Fran waited patiently for Balthier to continue. He'd forgotten how much he hated her stare. "We need to find somewhere to start, but in the meantime…" He dallied a moment, balancing his personal feelings over Fran's obvious unwellness. "We have been invited to attend our Princess Ashe's coronation tomorrow. If you're up to it," he added. "If you'd rather rest, I've no objection."
Fran nodded slowly, her impassive eyes never leaving him. "You'd like to go?"
"Well, we have to drop Vaan and Penelo back in Rabanastre regardless. I doubt it will take up much time. We'll get you a good night's sleep, a good morning meal, and us both something decent to wear, and I think things will turn out well."
Fran nodded again, the faintest trace of a smile flickering around her lips. "Very well."
…
Ashe stared out the window, oblivious to Larsa's words. A throng of people gathered in the morning sunlight, some crowding under the palm trees by the roadside to keep the sun off them, others pressing as close as they could to the raised walkway workers had rushed to erect that dawn. A group of children sat splashing and laughing as they waited on the edge of the fountain, whose jubilant waters sparkled like diamond as they splashed in the morning sunlight. Above all that loomed Bahamut, watching over the city like a faithful sentry, dark against the morning sun. Ashe loved to walk by it and its lake, on those few nights when she could dismiss her guards and walk alone through the streets. Terribly dangerous, Councilman Moorv had said. "Why, if anyone wanted you dead, you'd be dead, your ladyship. You'd better stop this before that changes."
But Ashe loved the few nights she could sit by the lakeshore, alone and far from politics, and gaze up at the tower awash in starlight, the air thick and still with a kind of melancholy and wonder she had trained herself not to pin words to. Would she go there tonight? If she got the smallest chance to slip away from all the pomp and ceremony that would doubtless follow her coronation, absolutely.
"Lady Ashe? Are you still with us?"
"She's not listening."
"Huh?"
Ashe jerked out of her daydream. Larsa stood expectantly. On his one side stood Basch, arrayed in full Judge armor, and on the other a thickly set man with equally dense, dark hair swept back, dressed in a council robe that looked stifling in the desert heat.
"Oh! Moorv! What are you doing here?" Ashe blinked. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Larsa, this is Councilman Ornum Moorv. I rely on him for much of my advice."
"A pleasure to make your reacquaintance, your Excellency," Moorv said dryly to Larsa, who nodded back with a note of amusement. Ashe felt her cheeks grow warm as she wondered how long they talked while she stared off into space.
"Moorv, what's wrong?" Ashe asked.
"Nothing's wrong," Moorv replied. "But the ceremony is to begin within the hour. I'm simply preparing to be by your side."
"That soon? It's already gotten that late?" Ashe glanced out the window; the sun had climbed high, its rays peeking around Bahamut's top. "But… Vaan and Penelo should be here by now, shouldn't they?" Ashe had looked forward to seeing her friends again; she didn't often have a chance to. And Al-Cid already couldn't come…
Moorv sighed. "Your ladyship, your coronation is more important than those… street urchins. I wouldn't be surprised if the guards didn't let them in."
"They have specific instructions to," Ashe said. "And those street urchins are my friends, and a large reason why Dalmasca is free today. I-"
"Pardon me, your Highness. A letter here for you?"
Ashe stopped and turned around, to the attendant who'd appeared behind her.
"A… letter?" Ashe blinked.
"Her Highness Lady Ashe is occupied," Moorv said, waiving one gloved hand, the other folded neatly behind his back. "All 'letters' can wait until after the coronation. Don't you know this is essential for Dalmasca's well-being? Securing the power of our government in the hands of one capable individual?"
Capable? Ashe wasn't sure if she'd describe herself that way. "No, that's fine," Ashe cut off more of Moorv's rant. "I have enough time to read a letter. What is it? Who is from?"
"A… Penelo?" the attendant said, glancing down at a folded piece of paper in his hand that looked like it had seen better days.
"Penelo? Yes, hand it here." Ashe held out a hand, and the attendant placed it in her open palm. Ashe thanked him and opened the letter, ignoring some blustered complaint from Moorv. A familiar hand penciled in haste lay scrawled over the paper.
Ashe,
I don't have much time to explain, but Vaan and I have something important to do. You'll never believe it, but Balthier showed up and told us he needed his airship back! I didn't believe it at first either, but it's true. He said he built a warp out of Bahamut's nethicite core to get him and Fran off at the last moment, and now something's happened to Fran, and we need to go rescue her. He didn't want us tagging along, but Vaan and I are going to help. The boys are getting impatient now, so I can't explain more. But it's true! They're alive! We'll try and be quick, and if we can make it, all four of us will be there for your coronation.
Your friend,
Penelo
Ashe stared in blank astonishment for several moments. Then she read it again, eyes darting over lines, her hands taking on a quake in spite of her attempt to stay calm.
"Lady Ashe?" Larsa said, noting her distressed face. "What's wrong? What does it say?"
"It… It says that… that…" Ashe just held out the letter to Larsa, and he took it with a frown. His eyebrows shot up, face turning from confused to astonished as he read.
"That's… amazing," Larsa said, passing on the note to Basch. "Who could've thought?"
"Hm. I don't know how warps work, and I don't know how nethicite works," Basch said. He met Ashe's eyes, then looked away. "But… it could be possible."
"We'll find out soon enough, I'd think," Larsa said, face lit eagerly. "Penelo said she expected they'd be here before the coronation. They've got to get here soon."
"What's going on here?" Moorv interjected, frowning.
"I don't… I'm not sure," Ashe said. "I think…" Could she bring herself to say the words? 'My friends I thought I'd lost, they're alive.' She couldn't, couldn't bear to set herself on that hope, not while it was still possible it wasn't true.
Ashe looked out the window. Beyond the expectant crowd, Bahamut loomed over the city like a sentry. A peace, a victory, a safety bought at the highest cost. But it could be…
It's been so long… If they are alive, where have they been? How…? Could it be?