Ah ha ha, whoopsies. Yesterday was the day after Christmas, you know, and my brother got the day off from work, so I kind of just forgot it was also a Tuesday. Every time I did think of it, I was in the middle of a board game or something, and then I'd forget again. I was pretty tired, too.

But better late than never! Here's the next chapter! And a belated merry Christmas to you all, too! Hope yours was filled with joy and light!

Chapter Twelve

The forest village, Sial
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar

"What could make a person look like that?" Penelo asked as they walked back down the path, the rundown house at their backs. Her eyes were still wide.

"You want to know?" Vaan replied.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Balthier put an end to their discussion. "Perhaps we'll know soon." Balthier wanted to think of an explanation himself, but at the same time, he didn't want to dwell over it.

"What do we do now?" Ashe asked. She glanced at the house. "She told us to come back…"

Balthier sighed, thought for a moment. "We'll go into town and gather supplies. We were going to have to do that anyway. It'll be good; we'll be ready to leave this backwater as soon as we've had our scheduled chat with little Miss Wraith." Wraith? Why did he use a word like that?

Ziafer slapped one of his sword sheaths. "Good. Good, come on." He strode ahead with a scowl, as if the presence behind was toxic or something. Balthier found no reason to dawdle, so he nodded to the others and followed.

…

"What do you mean you don't sell them? Isn't this the Archadian Empire?" Balthier snapped. He couldn't believe no shop in this town carried firearm ammo. Plus, he didn't like the prospect of traveling from Sial to wherever they'd go next with nothing but an empty rifle.

However, he could immediately see those hadn't been the choicest words.

"Watch your tongue, pal," the shopkeeper growled. "I don't care where the border is; let the Solidors rot in their palace! Now if you don't like what we have, there's not much I can do about it."

Wait, they were south of the ruins of Nabudis, weren't they? Balthier summoned a map in his mind, pinpointing their location. He couldn't believe he hadn't realized earlier; this would've been Nabradia before the war- before Nabudis.

"Fine," Balthier said with a sigh, not wanting to argue with the man anymore. He stepped away from the pay booth and glanced over his shoulder. This stand was outdoors; by the road, Vaan, Penelo, and Ashe squatted, dividing up their provisions between three packs. Three packs, so three of them could carry the supplies while three of them were at the ready for monsters. Fran stood over them, scanning the trees between the houses. Balthier wondered what she saw there.

Ziafer was browsing the merchandise, really not being very useful, giving various weapons test swings; he seemed to enjoy repeatedly decapitating his imaginary foe. Balthier folded his arms and pondered what to do next.

"Don't you use anything else?" Ziafer spoke up. He was examining a length of sharpened steel, wearing the same scowl he'd worn since they left the house; Balthier didn't think he'd been listening.

"Not currently," Balthier replied.

"Oh. Too bad. There's a good deal on these swords. They're not bad."

Ziafer hurled the sword as hard as he could; it spun through the air and sunk with a thunk into a nearby tree.

"Hey! If you break it, you buy it!" called the shopkeeper, who seemed fed up with these particular customers.

Balthier sighed. "Try and calm down, Ziafer? If you're so sure that wasn't your sister, you have no reason to be so violent."

Ziafer snarled. "Of course she isn't. Cara's dead. Besides, that guy said she was former Red Fangs member, right?"

"Well, they might have trouble telling the difference between a former member and an escaped test subject."

"That doesn't even make sense!" Ziafer said. "I told you, she's dead."

"I was only mentioning it," Balthier sighed. He walked over to tree and jerked the blade out of the wood. It wasn't a bad build, a long, thin length of steel; the leather grip reminded him of the Strahl's steering handles. Balthier gave his arm a few experimental moves while he walked back to the stand.

A familiar pang of longing gripped him as he set it back and walked to join the others, all standing in a group on the roadside. No, no, don't think like that, Balthier.

He hadn't practiced with a sword in years, Balthier reminded himself. Besides, with his arm, he wouldn't be nearly so useful as others. He had thought, once or twice, that with the right exercises, he could get it working, at least better than it did now. But he didn't want to use a sword that bad. Not after the Battle of Nalbina. No matter how much he missed the all-purpose grace of a melee weapon.

But he also didn't like the idea of walking through the Salikawood with nothing but an empty rifle.

Balthier slowed, and once he realized he was dragging his feet, stopped entirely.

"Hold on a moment," he called to the others, then turned back to the sword stand.

Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, Balthier somehow found himself passing a handful of gil to the shopkeeper, and working to tie the sheath to his back beside his rifle as he rejoined the others.

"Nice sword," Vaan said with a bit of a smirk, heaving on one of the packs they'd arranged.

"Thank you," Balthier replied, releasing the straps. The new weight pulled conspicuously at his shoulders.

Balthier glanced up at the sun: directly overhead, casting sharp shadows below the leaves. That girl had said after noon… They'd waited long enough. This would do.

"Come on, then" he motioned to the others. "Let's drop this stuff at the inn, then we have an appointment to keep."

…

This time, Balthier only knocked once with no answer before walking in. The firepit still produced the only light inside, and that was burning low and red. Balthier left the door open to let some sunlight in.

"She's not here," Vaan said, being so very observant. Balthier let out a sigh, noting that the door by the fireplace was still firmly shut.

"If she doesn't show soon," Balthier sighed, "we'll be even more rude and look for her."

"Let's just make this quick," Ziafer mumbled. He slumped to squat against the wall, arms on his knees.

For a few awkward moments, the six travelers stood around, taking in the dismal room. Then the far door creaked open.

Out strode the same girl. She looked like she'd taken a bath, her charcoal hair brushed and put up in two long pigtails, wearing a navy, nearly black, Red Fang tunic, pasty grey leggings, and her dark cloak. The hood hung back and off her shoulders, making no attempt to hide the horrid burn scars. Ziafer stood, his face slack; his hand slid off its sword hilt.

The girl held her arms straight at her sides; a sword in a sheath clung to her belt. The girl's gaze settled on Balthier, apparently picking him out as the leader. Pale green eyes, like stained glass. She put an arm across her chest in an automatic military salute. "My name is Cara Joven Dalmasca, 6342, fifth jagd division, Red Fangs unit." Her voice was faint but level. She lowered her arm stiffly. "What do you want?"

Cara? Hadn't Ziafer said-

"Cara?" Ziafer spoke before Balthier could, single eye wide.

The girl's eyes darted to Ziafer, then back to Balthier, then to the floor without a word, holding the same blank gaze. "You said you wanted to know about the nethicite."

"Wait a moment!" Ziafer stepped forward. "Cara, it's me! How-?"

"I don't want to talk to you." Cara didn't look up as she spoke.

That didn't stop Ziafer. "How are you alive? Where did you get that uniform? What do mean you don't want to talk to me?"

"You came here for information," Cara said, her voice still cold and breathless, as if it weren't worth the effort to force emotion into it. "Do you want it or not?"

"Yes, we-" Balthier started, but Ziafer cut him off.

"No, wait up! Cara, talk to me! What on Ivalice is going on here?"

Cara was silent for several moments, then her pale eyes barely lifted. "Where were you? I thought you were dead. But… Why didn't you look for me?"

"You thought!" Ziafer scoffed, but his voice was shaky. "I looked, Cara. Tazer and his people helped me, but when they checked out the Red Fangs, they found- they said- They killed you!"

There were a few moments of silence, then Cara's eyes widened, like she'd just seen her own reflection for the first time. She lifted that gaze to Ziafer. Her thin hands drew tight.

"Tazer? You mean…" She spun, turning her back to Ziafer. "Go away!" Her voice strained as it tried to go louder. "I want you all- to go away- and leave me alone!"

Balthier didn't know what was going on, but stepped up before Ziafer could speak again and hissed at him. "Ziafer, I believe this is a situation requiring some tact. So let an expert handle it?"

Ziafer opened his mouth to object, but Balther ignored him, forcing his way fulling in front of him.

"Look, I'm sure you have your grievances, but we didn't come here for family squabbles," Balthier addressed the cloaked girl. Cara glanced back; her white-grey skin and pale, emotionless eyes set against her dark clothing and hair created an eerie contrast. Balthier reminded himself she was just a little girl, and he was not disturbed by any little girl.

"Why did you come here?" Cara asked. The burst of emotion had drained from her words.

"You'd said you'd tell us about the nethicite," Balthier replied. Cara's gaze flickered to Ziafer, then back to the floor.

"I did," she replied, barely audible. "Why -do you need to know that? You're with the… Peace Keepers?"

"No, no that's not it," Ashe said. She stepped out of the shadows. "It's… Cara, right? The Peace Keepers were coming after me. And so are the Red Fangs. I'm the princess of Dalmasca. Ziafer's helping me. But we don't enough about what's happening."

Cara's gaze swung abruptly at the phrase 'princess of Dalmasca,' and rested on Ashe. Her eyes drew narrower. Ashe cringed.

"I'm not working for the Peace Keepers right now," Ziafer said. "I'm helping her." He tried to meet Cara's eyes, but she looked away. "I don't know what's happened to you, Cara, but you haven't forgotten what Father said, have you?"

"Dalmasca abandoned us," Cara said evenly. "That is not my home."

Ziafer ground his teeth. After a few more silent moments, Cara half turned back to them, keeping her face away from Ziafer. Her eyes darted over the rest of the group, as if she suddenly cared who else was there.

"I… will answer your questions," Cara said, turning her gaze away again.

Finally. "Razner's goals with this project would be a good place to start," Balthier said.

Cara studied a crack in the floor intently, then closed her eyes. "Two months ago. Nethicite development project re-instated, at Razner's personal request. Errol did not deny. Purpose…"

A few moments of silence drew on. Balthier felt like he was watching a filing machine struggle to load.

"I… cannot be sure," Cara lifted her head. "We were not told. Razner keeps quiet."

Balthier refused to believe they went through all that drama for nothing. "You didn't hear any rumors or anything?"

"Ceg said something about… a specimen. I cannot confirm," Cara said. "Before the… first experiment, Razner said he had a use for the- nethicite himself. I overheard him discussing it with his client, but I did not- hear much."

"Wait, hold up." Ziafer interjected himself again, but Balthier lifted a finger in his face.

"Ziafer. Not now." He wished he had time to lecture the man more. It wasn't that Balthier didn't have his own questions about the ghostly little girl- like how she was alive when Ziafer had been so sure of her death, not to mention why she seemed so defensive of the Red Fangs. But if the answers to those questions were coming, they'd have to come later.

"Well?" Balthier said, moving his eyes back to Cara. "Do you remember who this client was?"

Cara's eyes shifted away from Ziafer. "A… strange old man, who talked to himself. I hated him, like Razner."

A chill tingled Balthier's veins. It couldn't be. But then again, if it had to do with nethicite… Why should I be surprised? Of course it was him.

"I… do not remember his name," Cara said, lifting her eyes back to Balthier; her blank gaze looked like it was studying him.

"A Doctor Cidolfus Bunansa?" Balthier forced the words out. He didn't want to ask, but he had to know for sure.

"Yes… I think so," Cara said. She cocked her head, black pigtails slumping around her white-grey face. "How do you…?"

She trailed off. The ridges of muscle in her irises stood out sharply. Balthier suddenly felt the need to say something.

"That's it?" Balthier said.

Cara nodded slowly. Then she turned her head to the side, away from six strangers in her living room; Q&A was over.

After a waiting a few awkward moments to confirm this, Balthier turned away from Cara to discuss with his companions. Ziafer looked on the edge of saying something, or running up to Cara and shaking her until he got some answers. Too bad for him. Vaan looked like he was getting ready to grab Ziafer should he explode; Penelo clung to Vaan, Ashe stared at Cara's now turned back, and Fran clogged the doorframe, every now and then glancing outside.

"So… now what?" Many thanks to Vaan for breaking the ice.

"Well…" Ziafer said, eyes still on Cara. "We could track down this Cidolfus guy and grill him good."

"That might be harder than you think," Balthier said with a bitter chuckle. But the man always did keep detailed records on everything, Balthier thought, frowning.

"Oh, I can grill people pretty good," Ziafer growled.

"I've no doubt," Balthier said dryly. "But this man's dead, and that might be a bit much even for you. But he did keep records." Balthier added this last part reluctantly.

"You think they're still around?" Vaan asked.

"Unless Larsa's had them cleared," Balthier said.

"Hey hold up," Ziafer said. "You guys knew this guy?"

"Yes, try and keep up," Balthier gave Ziafer a sideways glare.

"You think we should head for Archades?" Fran asked from the doorway.

Ah, the big question. Balthier couldn't let himself think personally right now. "It seems like the best plan," he said.

"It would be nice," Ashe said, hesitantly. "I could try and see what's going on back in Rabanastre, too…"

"Then it's settled," Balthier said. Back to Archades again. Back to Draklor.

"I'd like to come."

Balthier turned at the faint voice behind him. Cara stood with her back to them.

"I want… to see Errol again," she said, not moving. "And I want… to stop Razner. If it weren't for him, the Red Fangs could be… want Errol always wanted them to be. So, I'll come."

"The thought's nice," Balthier said. "But we don't need any dead weight."

Cara turned her head just enough to see them over her shoulder. "Thing have been… different… since the experiment." She rested a hand gingerly on her sword hilt. "I can be useful."

She turned to face them fully, taciturn eyes seeking confirmation.

"No."

"I can help. I know the Red Fangs."

Balthier wasn't sure he wanted this shadow tailing him wherever he went. But she was just a little girl. A little girl. What could she possibly do? Perhaps he should ask for clarification on 'things being different.'

"You're sure we can trust you?" Balthier asked.

"I hate Razner," was Cara's reply. Then she tipped her head again, gaze fixed on Balthier. "You… look like him. That Doctor Bunansa…"

Fresh air suddenly sounded sweet and refreshing. "I don't know what you're talking about," Balthier said. But Cara's eyes had gone a little wider.

"He said he had a- you're-" she started.

"Do you want to come or not?" Balthier cut her off. Cara closed her mouth.

"Yes," she said. "I want to stop Razner. But that does not mean- I want to be friends- with any of you." She swung a stoney glare over everyone there, then pulled her hood up. Her pale face vanished in inky shadows. Then she walked to the door, past Fran and out into the sunshine.