I'm so excited. Actually, I'm kinda disappointed with this chapter, but the next one came out splendidly, and the one after that, that I'm working now, is going to go wonderfully, I'm sure. Actually, it's all a result of prayer followed by scenes playing perfectly in my head. "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage. I will bless the Lord Who hath given me council..." (Psalm 16:6-7)

And check out my profile! I made some changes.

Chapter Four

The Royal City of Rabanastre
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar

Balthier leaned his back against the wall, arms folded, shoes sinking into thick carpet. Across the main hall, Vaan, Penelo, and Larsa chatted and teased like the teenagers they were. Penelo had returned, accompanied by her brother, to help Fran finish fixing Balthier up. They'd done so admirably, but he'd had enough of being prodded and poked for a lifetime. Lying in bed had been worse, though, with only thoughts and dreams for company.

Behind the kids, tall, thin windows lined the palace's cavernous central hall, providing a view of the lowering sun approaching the horizon; sunlight hours were long in the desert. Near Balthier stood Fran, and a little farther off, Basch watched Larsa from afar. Balthier didn't know where Ashe was; he'd hardly seen her since she left his room the morning before. Of course, the princess was busy; most monarchs are after assassination attempts, Balthier reasoned. Dalmasca and Ivalice didn't need the upcoming queen to leave that big a power vacuum. And of course, that was the most important reason to keep her safe.

The most important reason. Indisputably.

Unwilling to follow that line of reasoning any further, Balthier jerked free of his thoughts and took notice of what his eyes were telling him. Vaan was boasting of his recent exploits to Larsa. Penelo hung back a bit, shuffling her feet with subtle rhythm until Vaan yanked her into the conversation, only to scolded by Larsa. Balthier let out a scoff.

"It is good to see he can maintain some innocence, after all he's seen," Fran said, watching them with a gentleness in her eyes.

"Lord Larsa needs a chance to be a boy," Basch replied, folding his arms. "But don't worry; I shan't let him be one for long."

A moment's more silence, underlaid by the chatter of the three youngest.

"Are we leaving in the morning?" Fran's voice echoed part of Balthier's contemplation of the past five minutes. "You'd said you had much to attend to."

Balthier sighed. "Yes, I did say that, and it is still true, but…"

Fran cocked her head, a faint smile flickering over her lips. "You're worried about Ashe?"

Balthier stiffened, then sighed. He'd forgotten Fran's tendency for annoying comments. "I'm worried about this whole situation," Balthier said. "It all smells a hair too fishy for my tastes. Dalmasca without a leader would mean trouble for everyone. Andthat attempt on her life was far too organized to be a passing threat."

Fran waited silently for him to continue. Balthier glanced at Basch out of the corner of his eye; the captain watched Larsa, trying not to look like he was listening. Balthier rolled his eyes.

"No, we'll linger for a little, until things look like they're under control. Perhaps we can even get paid for assisting the investigation. That last job paid well enough, but a little more can never hurt. Then we'll attend that… other matter."

Fran nodded, a tinge of a smile forming. "Alright. But don't delay too long."

Balthier started to object, but Fran was already walking away, through the doorway leading deeper into the palace, feet striding in her steady, rhythmed march. Balthier watched a moment more, then sighed.

Silence. Balthier glanced at Basch; the moment he met his eyes, the captain looked away.

"Go ahead and ask," Balthier said. "I can tell you're dying to."

"It's none of my business," Basch replied, arms falling free of their folded position. "Besides, you wouldn't tell anything even if I did."

Balthier scoffed. "Fair enough."

"We will be leaving for Archades at first light," Basch spoke up, changing the subject. "I wish you best of luck."

"I see." Balthier glanced down the passage Fran had left through. He was tired enough, despite having spent most of the day in bed; being bombarded with healing magic really takes it out of you.

"I'm turning in," Balthier said. He nodded to Basch. "Much luck to you too, Captain. I have a bad feeling we'll need all the luck we can get."

"I didn't mean about the assassin," Basch said. Balthier halted mid step, turning back to Basch with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh?"

"I meant to you," Basch said. "It's a dangerous game you're playing. I've seen more than one man felled it."

Balthier's eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Her Highness-"

"Oh." Balthier cut him off with a sigh. In the day spent in bed, it had been hard enough to get off that subject. He didn't Basch bringing it up. Balthier shook his head. "No, I think you've got the wrong idea there, Captain."

"I've seen it before, unfortunately," Basch continued. "It's never been pretty. I can't imagine it'd be any easier on a countryless wanderer like yourself."

Balthier stiffened. Oh, really? His social status? The captain was too kind.

"Now, look here, Basch," Balthier said, raising an accusing finger. "What you're saying is utterly preposterous. All other myriad reasons aside, do you really think I'd be so unwise as to court a princess who someone's trying to kill? Sounds like there's a high chance that'd be a failed investment there, don't you think?"

Basch snorted. "Yes, I do." Then he marched off, leaving Balthier there. Balthier watched him, then shook his head with a hard sigh. Enough of that. Captain Basch could think what he liked. Balthier just thought, at the moment, sleep sounded sweetest.

…

Balthier sat bolt upright, heart pounding, an inner chill clamming his skin. Shadows against darkness hugged the walls around him; the clean featurelessness of a long-unused palace guest room. Through the window, the city stood black against the faintly glowing blue just after sundown. Balthier had only just fallen asleep, but long enough to creep through the dark halls of Draklor in the form of cowering twelve-year-old boy, swing up his arms to block the fatal overhead blow, dark power flashing out in a surge of light-

And then he'd jarred awake, skipping the peaceful denouement of the ending. Balthier sighed, willing his heart to calm and reminding himself that had happened more than ten years ago.

But regardless, it had happened. Balthier's gaze drifted down to his hands, resting on the covers, barely visible in the dark. He lifted them an inch, then turned them over; he didn't need to dream it one more time to remember waking up the morning after the storm.

Balthier shook his head with a sigh. Enough of nightmares. What does one have to do to get a good night's sleep these days?

Balthier flung off the covers and stood, then walked to the window and pulled it open. He distracted himself with the scent of cold night air and the ache in his side. Despite the lingering pain, all that remained of the wound was a knotted scar, like the ones that ran up right arm.

Balthier glanced at those scars, now exposed to the night air; mind active and vivid from the nightmare, he could just see the arrows lodged between plates of glistening black armor. A permanent reminder that he'd once been an Archadian infantryman, once been a Judge, once been an aristocrat of that last members of a dying noble house…

So many things he'd once been. It struck Balthier as rather a… sad thing. For the last six months since Bahamut, being a man on a mission had been enough. Get back to civilization, save Fran, break through the clouds with Strahl one more time. Find some answers. But doubts about that goal lingered. Thoughts leaked through.

What am I now?

A royal bodyguard, I suppose, Balthier thought, rolling his eyes. But that thought only covered a darker answer that rattled 'scourge-bearer' in the Occuria's distorted tones. It sang 'ancient foes reborn' in the strains of Fran's song, it cackled 'last of the ancient's champions' from the madly smiling lips of his father.

And beneath that, it whispered "let me out" in a cold, voiceless, wordless trickle that tingled in Balthier's chest, shuddered up his arms, and fluttered over his palms, sending his relaxed hands seizing into fists.

Balthier clenched his teeth along with his hands, forcing his breathing to stay steady. More out of frustration than fear, he told himself.

Oh, be quiet. Not right now. Stay in your cage, you hear?

The faint flicker rippled a circuit on his palms, then faded back from where it came. Too easily… like it just wanted to tease him, rather than any true intent to awaken…

Balthier drew in a deep breath, letting his hand slip open again. He lifted them in front of him; no light, no chill. For about four months after Venat, the presence had been blissfully absent from his life; Balthier had almost convinced himself that the Occuria had drained him dry. But in the slow days spent creeping over the sandsea with that blasted spice caravan, it reared its ugly head once more, slinking back to life. He'd solaced himself with the knowledge that once the journey was over, he could go dig out the meaning behind Venat's words.

"You know nothing of the Occuria! You know nothing of the ancients, and nothing of the scourge!"

Let's rectify that then, shall we?

That had been his plan. But, whatever the reasons, Balthier knew couldn't abandon Ashe now.

A flicker of movement caught Balthier's eye.

Hm? He turned away from the window. A shadow, slowly, stealthily passed by the crack under his door, echoed by soft, catlike footsteps, with certainly no clink of armor. Balthier narrowed his eyes. The tension in the air pricked his spine. A guard? Maybe… But he didn't believe that. Well… I suppose my night's sleep was gone already…

Balthier hurried to dress, strapped his rifle on, then slowly pushed his door open, checking both ways. The hallway beyond was darker than the room, no windows and lamps all put out. Leaving the door open, Balthier moved slowly down the passage. It was difficult to make out shapes in the black corridor, dark as a starless night. If someone wanted to hide in there, they probably could. Some intruder, sneaking through the shadowy halls when he thought no one would be awake… The eerie parallel was anything but lost to Balthier's mind. He shook his head and sighed.

"A little old to be afraid of the dark, aren't you?" He muttered the words aloud out of spite for the dark, and for his own unreasonable uneasiness. There wasn't any intruder. It probably was just a guard. Balthier drew in a deep breath, preparing to call out 'anyone there?' to prove it was only a knight and make his humiliation complete.

But he didn't. Another voice, coming from around the corner ahead, cut him off.

"All clear. Hurry," came the harsh whisper. The faintest glimmer of motion was the only reply. Balther's heart rate accelerated. Using quick but quiet steps, he advanced up the passage, and, with his back against the wall, inched up the last few steps to the turn. He could hear the tense breathing of beings just around the corner, inches away. Hopefully they couldn't hear him.

The faint shuffle of footsteps…

"Wait." The same harsh whisper. "What about my payment?"

"After." A second voice, lower, softer than the first.

"What if I don't trust you to pay me after?" the first voice growled.

"Quiet. After." The second repeated. "Don't worry. Now go. We'll inform the others."

A few moments' silence, then the first again, a suppressed sigh. "Fine."

A Dalmascan knight appeared around the bend, only to curse and whip out his sword at the sight of Balthier.

Of course. Did he ever expect this would end well?

Balthier spun away from the knight's strike, whipping out his rifle in the same motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a black clad form – no, two human figures? – dashing down the hall. Their dark suits melted into the shadows of night. The outlines of a tall, leafy plant, three indented doorways, and one empty suit of armor standing sentinel disrupted the dark, obscuring the well-camouflaged intruders. The knight ran in the opposite direction; Balther could only go after one group. In a split second on instinct, he dashed after the two black figures. Down the hallway, to another corner; no sign of them. Balthier backtracked, checking the hiding places behind, but still no sign. They'd disappeared most expertly.

Blast. What now?

Logic based off recent events pointed to one thing. A fresh surge of adrenaline tightened his middle, bringing his still tired mind to full alert. Balthier's hands tightened around his rifle.

Those two are still out there, that's for certain. They mentioned 'others,' too. And they're obviously in cahoots with at least some of the guard, so they're untrustworthy. 'All clear… Hurry…' Mm, not good… So soon?

It must be me, Balthier thought with a sigh. I attract trouble.

It was obvious the princess was in danger and had to be warned. Only, Balthier had no idea where Ashe's room was, and as he'd already deduced, the guard couldn't be trusted. Perhaps Basch or Larsa knew. It was shortly before ten at night, and, if he remembered being freshly eighteen well enough, it was likely Vaan and Penelo were still there.

So he'd find the Archadians with them, down in the entry hall.

No time to waste. Balthier jogged off through the dark.

Sure enough, the lamps still burned in the domed hall when Balthier stepped out. He stopped short to avoid crashing into Basch and Larsa, who were just about to depart through the very same doorway.

"Oh!" Larsa about jumped, eyebrows shooting up.

"What's wrong?" Basch wore a grave look, evidently reading Balthier's face.

"I've spotted some very suspicious characters creeping around," Balthier replied, "and they were less than responsive to my attempt to identify them. All conspiratorial whispers and running off. Call me crazy, but I think the good Lady Ashe may be in danger."

Basch let out a sigh, teeth clenching to a growl. "We should contact the guard."

"Oh, we saw many of them leaving earlier," Larsa said. "They said there was some emergency that needed attendance elsewhere in the city, though they didn't say what. But those that are still here-"

"That has as much chance to hurt as help." Balthier explained what he'd seen. "No, I think we'd better get Ashe out of here, at least check on her. Unfortunately, I don't carry maps of every palace I've ever visited."

"Mm." Basch gave a single, firm nod. "This is serious." He turned his head to the emperor. "Lord Larsa, hurry, join Vaan outside; they can't have gotten more than a few steps." Basch reached for his sword, turning to hall. "I'll-" Basch broke off suddenly, then shook his head with frustration quite obvious for the stalwart captain. He let out a sigh, then straightened, releasing his sword. "I have to- stay by your side, Lord Larsa. We'll-"

"What? No!" Larsa shook her head. "Judge Basch, go help Lady Ashe! I'll be fine!"

"If there are people after Dalmasca's ruler, your life may be in danger as well," Basch replied firmly. "Your Excellency, my duty is to you now, first and foremost. I cannot abandon that. Balthier." Silencing another of Larsa's protests with an outstretched hand, Basch turned reluctantly to Balthier. "If memory serves me well, Her Highness's room is on the floor above this one, in the first corridor-" Basch hesitated a moment. "-forth on the right. There should be guards outside. Hurry. Meet us outside the main doors, and we can assess the situation from there."

"I usually charge for jobs like this. You're sending me alone into mortal peril?" Balthier raised an eyebrow.

"There's no one else." Basch replied.

"Well, glad to see I'm at the top of your list." Basch held a hard stare. Balthier sighed. "Don't worry, I'll be quick."

"But we could-" Larsa broke off as Basch marched towards the gates, unhearing. The young emperor cast Balthier a pleading look. Balthier sighed and shook his head.

"Good luck, your Excellency," he said, motioning a half-salute.

"To you as well," Larsa sighed. His eyes held a solemnity far above the boy he was. "Bring Princess Ashe out safe. It's imperative for us all."

"I intend to," Balthier replied, turning back to the hall he'd charged out of. "I kidnapped her once, didn't I?"

…

The first second-floor hallway was void of guards, not a living soul in sight, as through the rest of the palace. Balthier took this as a bad sigh. 'All clear, hurry… Where's my payment?' At least there weren't any figures in black. Not that he could see.

What did Basch say? Fourth on the… right? Balthier mentally repeated the instructions as he moved down the blackened corridor, eyes alert for figures in the shadows. He halted at the fourth door. This the one, then? Balthier took the handle, turned it, then stopped.

Wait. What am I doing?

Balthier hesitated, then pulled his hand from the doorknob.

Barging into a lady's bedroom in the middle of the night? Hardly gentlemanly. He needed to wake Ashe stealthily, though, and quickly. But… ehh…

Balthier rapped softly on the door.

"Ashe!" he hissed through the wood. "Wake up!"

No response. Sighing, Balthier tipped back his head, studying the flawless ceiling with eyes adjusted to the deep darkness. One more try.

Balthier pounded a little harder, watching from the corner of his eyes for shadowy figures.

"Ashe! Can you hear me? Now's not the time to sleep through my attempts to save your life!"

Still nothing. Balthier shook his head with a sigh. Ashe was in danger. For all he knew, she wasn't even in there, or she was dead already. The rules of etiquette would just have to make way.

Balthier pushed the door open.

A wardrobe lay against the left wall, a closet door on the right, and in the center a bed not as elaborate as some monarchs might choose, layers of silvery blankets shielding the sleeping figure from the chill of desert night.

The first rays of moonlight fell through the panes of glass set in the wall above the bed. Ashe lay on her front, pillow hugged to her head, covers wrapped around her arms, glittering hair splayed around her face, a fragile smile on her lips.

She looked so… peaceful. Balthier had forgotten how beautiful she was asleep. Like Reina, head in her arms, dosing over piles of scientific equipment after an all-nighter at Draklor…

Mm. Balthier winced at that thought. Why did it keep springing up on him now?

Balthier shook his head; there was time for that later. The princess was in danger now. Leaving the door ajar behind him, he called out.

"Ashe! Up and at it!"

Ashe stirred, smile falling away, brow furrowing. She shifted, then settled back into the pillow, eyelids never moving.

Balthier sighed; Ashe would probably sleep through an attempt to kill her.

"You're making this more difficult than it has to be, Ashe."

Balthier moved around to the front of the bed. He leaned over, grabbed her by the shoulder, and gave her a good shake.

"Ashe! Come on, wake up!"

"Huh…?" Ashe's eyes fluttered open, then she jerked away with a gasp, eyes ballooning. "What-? Bal-"

Balthier pressed a finger to his lips. Ashe broke off, eyes still wide. She pushed herself up on one arm, instinctively gathering the covers closer with the other.

"Balthier? What are you-?"

"Assassins, outside." Balthier nodded back towards the door. Ashe took a moment to comprehend this, then glanced back towards the door, mouth hanging open.

"A… ssassins?" Ashe blinked, brow furrowing as she came fully cognitive. She pushed herself to a half-sitting up position. "But… the knights…"

"Unfortunately, I saw them being quite buddy-buddy with one of your knights," Balthier sighed. "And most of them are caught up in some diversion at any rate. But that hardly matters; you have to get out."

"What?" Another shock to the half-awake princess. "Oh…" Ashe dropped the covers, rubbed her face in her hands, and breathed deep. "Okay. Wait, you said… assassins? You're sure?"

Ashe had just been rudely awakened. Balthier reminded himself of that and to be patient with her. "Well, I never heard them explicitly say 'let's kill the crown princess,' but I think men in black slinking through the halls is not a good sign, especially after that disaster at your coronation. You need to get somewhere safe, now."

Ashe dropped her hands into her lap, sucked in a long, deep breath of air, held it, then nodded. "A-alright. I guess that's… a good idea." She started to pull off the covers, then stopped, color rising in her cheeks. "Let me just… um, get changed first?"

Balthier stepped back. "Right." He felt heat coming to his own face, but he fought it in the name of dignity and won, as he turned and headed for the exit. "Do hurry, though?" he called over his shoulder.

Balthier closed the door gently behind him, then faced the dark hallway; still empty, as far as he could see. With Ashe awake and on her way, all that was left was to get to entrance and get out, without letting those assassins succeed in their mission. Easy, no? Balthier heaved a sigh. I should be far away right now, scouring Ivalice for answers.

Finally, the door at his back creaked open, and Balthier turned. Ashe strode through, brushing hair out of her face.

She wore a short, white dress hemmed with red, sleeves detached and fastened below the shoulder. Under that, leggings laced with metal in case of a fight.

"Oh, wait." Ashe ducked back into the doorway and grabbed something leaning against the frame: a sword, sheathed, with a leather strap. Ashe strode back out, tying it to her waste.

Now there was the Princess Ashe Balthier remembered. He hoped she couldn't see him smiling in the dark.

"Splendid. Now let's move before you have to put that sword to use," Balthier said, turning.

"Wait." Ashe stopped him. "What about the others? Are they safe?"

Balthier stopped. "Let's see – from inference, I think Vaan and Penelo are outside. Basch had a crisis of conscience and decided he had to keep Lord Larsa supremely safe, so he brought the emperor out and sent the resident gun for hire after you. And to my knowledge, Fran's still in bed. We'll have to pick her up on the way out." Balthier started down the passage. "Now come on, princess. I can't imagine its safe here."

Ashe jogged a few paces to get into step beside him.

"But… where are we going?"

"We're 'meeting the others outside to assess the situation from there,'" Balthier replied with a sigh. "That was about as far as planning got. Remind me again why I'm sticking my neck on the line for you?"

"We're just… running away?" Ashe said, ignoring the question. "That's it?"

"You could stay and talk with them if you'd like. You're the monarch around here," Balthier replied. "But, if you'll heed my advice, your highness, that sounds like a very bad idea."

"But we can't get the one we captured to talk," Ashe said. "It might be the only way to find out."

"To find out who's trying to kill you?" Balthier said as they started down the stairway, footsteps bumping as they took the steps quickly. "Well, they might tell you, just before they fulfil their mission. But as I said," Balthier waved a hand for emphasis, "very bad idea."

Ashe sighed. "I suppose. I just… who would do this?"

"Well, have you made any enemies since we last met?" Balthier asked.

"I didn't think so," Ashe replied as the floor beneath them leveled out into passageway.

Balthier scoffed. "Not one? I thought that was a requirement for navigating the political winds."

"I…" Ashe started to protest, then looked away. "I… didn't think so, but… Maybe I didn't see anything. Moorv was always warning me. He usually did most of the talking anyway. Oh…" Ashe's gaze fell. "I… I've never been good at that sort of thing. I just… wasn't made for this."

Balthier watched her forlorn face, his own settling in grim lines. Then he let out a sigh, turning back to face the dark hallways ahead. "On the contrary, I think that's just your problem, princess. You were born for this."

…

Balthier and Ashe picked up Fran, then made their way towards the cathedral-ceilinged entry hall, where Larsa and Basch had left the lights still burning. The princess walked sheltered between Balthier and his Vieran partner, all three striding quickly, weapons still sheathed but hands tense and ready to draw.

"Fran, anyone following us?" Balthier asked, glancing at his partner. He saw nothing but shadows, but he knew Fran's senses were keener than his mere human ones.

Fran's ears twitched, one, then the other. Then she nodded, slowly. "There are footsteps behind us. Far, but they're gaining."

Ashe glanced instinctively back with a faint gasp. Balthier sighed.

"Then let's pick up the pace. Come on!"

Quick stride became sprint as the three burst into the entry hall. After so long in the dark, the lanterns' light stung Balthier's eyes. Suits of armor lined the wall, a soulless army for the royal family's protection. At the far end, the doors stood ajar, letting a refreshing whisper of nighttime breeze drift in.

"There we are! Step lively!" Balthier said, gesturing with one hand.

They were nearly to the exit when Balthier heard the scramble of footsteps behind them. Four men wrapped in black stealth gear charged from the passage they'd emerged from, scrambling to a stop in the entry hall.

"Quick!" one said, a man wielding a long, alarming dagger. "Use that gun-"

"Huh?" another replied. "But my partner had it-"

"What? Don't tell me you left it with him?" the first shouted, to which the second only cringed. "You imbecile! Why didn't they send Ziafer on this-?" The first shook his head with a sigh. "Go get the others! Secure escape routes!" Still holding the dagger, he pointed back down the passage. "I'll stay on her!"

At that, the second streaked down the corridor, and the others gave chase. Balthier pushed his legs harder.

"Don't fall behind, Ashe!" Balthier called back to the princess, who dragged a few paces behind. The scuff of shoes on floor and click of sheath against metal-weave echoed her every haggard step.

"I'm – fine!" Ashe gasped between breaths.

"Hurry, Highness!"

Over the lever for the door's pulley, freshly repaired from the coronation disaster, stood a Judge in full armor, helm donned, permanent disparaging frown fixed in its iron.

Our friendly captain. Not General Gabranth, Balthier reminded himself.

"Basch!" Ashe squeaked through her strained breathing.

"Later, princess!" Balthier shouted. He glanced back. Ashe ran a few feet behind him now; if he got out the door first and Ashe got caught, then all the danger and chaos he'd been through would be for nothing.

Balthier leaned back and jerked Ashe by the wrist up into stride with him. She gasped. Basch jerked the door lever; mechanisms clicked, and the heavy stone doors ground over the floor. Balthier charged through the closing doors.

A wall of cold air hit Balthier's face as he crossed the threshold. Carpeted flooring under his feet cut suddenly away, replaced by stone steps. Balthier stumbled, getting his feet under him just as he made it off the stairs onto street level and stone doors boomed shut behind.

Quite satisfied with not falling and faceplanting in the pavement, Balthier straightened, taking count of his companions. Ashe leaned on her knees, panting for air. Fran stood straight and unfazed next to her. Basch clopped down from the top of the stairs, where the doors stood firmly closed.

"Lady Ashe! Thank goodness you're unharmed!" Larsa's voice came.

"Ashe! Hey, you alright?" Vaan peeked out from behind the stairway. Larsa and Penelo crowded behind him.

Ashe, still doubled over, opened her mouth to speak, but Basch cut him off.

"They'll have that open in moments. We have to go."

Balthier heaved a sigh. "No rest for the weary. Princess, can you still move?"

"I haven't… run like that in a while." Ashe straightened, gulping in a lungful of air. "I'm fine. But…" She heaved in another breath. "Are we just going to run?"

Balthier sighed. "Ashe, if we stay, one of three things will happen. You could, by some miracle of rhetorical genius, convince those assassins not to kill you and instead tell you who they're working for. But, since I think that's unlikely, if we stay and fight, either they will kill you, or we will kill them. Do you want either of those?"

Ashe looked back at the ground. "No."

"Then run."

Within moments, Balthier, the princess, and her friends were stealing down an alleyway, out of sight from the palace door. No one had picked up on their trail as far as Balthier, or Fran, when he asked, could detect.

"Where are we going?" Penelo asked.

"Good question," Balthier replied. "Somewhere the princess will be safe, at least for the night."

"You mean, like somewhere they'd never think to look for her?" Vaan piped up.

"Like where?" Ashe asked.

"Wait, Vaan-" Penelo started, rather distressed, but Vaan continued, ignoring her.

"You could come to the Runoff!"

"The 'Runoff?'" Balthier arched an eyebrow. "Where is that?"

"In Lowtown. It's where we live," Vaan said. "Nothing fancy. It's where everything nobody wants pools – that's why we call it the Runoff. No one'd look for the princess there!"

"That… is probably true," Balthier said. "Any rough characters we have to worry about?"

"Just half a dozen war orphans," Vaan replied. "Ashe, what about it? There's a doorway to Lowtown near here, I think."

Ashe's mouth froze half open as she floundered a moment in indecision. "Alright," she said at last. "Just for the night. But we have to make sure everyone knows I'm safe, or they'll think I was killed or captured. Someone has to… uh, Captain Basch?" Ashe turned to the captain. "Could you… Could you go to Councilman Moorv's quarters? And… tell him I'm alright, and safe, and that I'm…" she hesitated, as if she hated to word. "staying somewhere for the night?"

Basch looked to Larsa. "Your Excellency?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Larsa gave a single nod. "Show… diplomatic courtesy to Lady Ashe. And I'll be fine, don't worry," he added. "I'll accompany the princess and her friends to safety. We'll still leave for Archades in the morning, assuming everything comes together."

Basch sighed, then hesitantly turned to Ashe. "Your councilman may not believe the words of a foreigner, despite how long I served you and your father," Basch said. "Is there some proof, something I can tell him that will prove you sent me?"

"Something only he and I would know?" Ashe faltered, thinking, then her eyes lit up. "Oh! Tell him, when I get back, I'll heed his advice, and I won't… walk through the city unattended at night anymore. Alright?"

Basch nodded. Balthier lifted his eyebrows, then sighed. "Really, princess?"

Ashe's face flushed and she shrunk back defensively. "I… I liked to be alone! After all day in the palace."

Balthier rolled his eyes. "Good thing no one was trying to kill you then."

Ashe gave Basch directions, and the captain left with a promise to join them as soon as he could. Vaan led the way through the door or iron bars into Lowtown. Beneath the city, the magicite lamps that provided the only light still burned as bright as they ever did, which wasn't very. The tunnel-streets were quiet; a merchant, or vagabond, a sack slung over his shoulder, walked down the street, and a trio of Moogle children slouched against the wall, chattering. An oppressive place, this was; smelled terrible, too.

"Lady Ashe, you have realized who it might be, haven't you?" Larsa said, as they processioned over a bridge spanning a stream of channeled water gushing from openings in either wall. That comment drew Balthier's interests from the dilapidated surroundings.

"What do you mean? No," Ashe said. "Who do you think?"

"Oh. Well, I thought…" Larsa hesitated, clearly aware of these less than high-ranking civilians accompanying them.

"Who?" Balthier spoke up, lest the emperor think better of this. "Any guesses would be helpful, however far-flung."

"I thought the most likely suspect seemed…" Larsa started. "Rozarria."

"Oh." Ashe looked at the ground. "I had… thought about that. But… I know Emperor Lebavis doesn't like me, but I don't think he'd try and kill me!"

"But things have been tense over the border," Larsa said. "They didn't even send an envoy to your coronation. That must seem suspicious to you, doesn't it?"

"He said he was busy, and he… didn't want to clear his schedule for Dalmasca," Ashe replied. Then she quickly continued. "But you know who'd be in charge of something like this! And he… well… well…" Ashe trailed off.

"I suppose," Larsa said. "But that doesn't prove anything."

"We heard them talking," Ashe glanced at Balthier. "They didn't sound Rozarrian!"

"Not remotely," Balthier said, "But any assassin worth his salt would learn to cover his accent."

"We don't have any proof," Ashe replied firmly. "I can't just… accuse people randomly!"

"I know. Please accept my apologies." Larsa reverted to his usually polished courtly grace. "Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions a little early. But, Lady Ashe, not as your political rival, but rather as your friend, I suggest you don't ignore the possibility."

Ashe hesitated, then nodded. "I… won't."

"Hey, wait!" Vaan dashed up the sidewalk, his voice ending the debate. He motioned down an alley. "Here it is!"