I can't believe how quickly and smoothly writing has been going these past couple days, or how quickly. But credit where credit's due, and that's not to me. "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places... I will bless the Lord, who hath given me council..." (from Psalm 16)

But here you are, reading what I wrote a couple weeks in my past, and we're back to weekly releases. It's good to have a backlog again, just saying.

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

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

A pair of white, charcoal tipped, furry ears caught Balthier's eye, rising above the few other heads collected around various rough-cut, round tables. Ah, there. Crisp morning light, stained green by leaves above, shone through the windows, lighting the small dining area of the equally small inn. Balthier stepped off the stairway's last step and made for the Viera.

Balthier's short night's rest had been disturbed by a familiar but no less unnerving dream. Not wanting to try and sleep again, he'd risen early and taken his time tidying up, distracting himself by mentally outlining what he'd say to everyone that morning. That completed, he decided a conversation with his partner would help get his mind off things before he implemented that plan.

Balthier slowed as a sound reached his ears; Fran hummed faintly into her steaming tea. An eerie tune, somewhat familiar; Balthier couldn't place it from memory, but he could guess. No, not that. It had to be something else. With a sigh, he strode the last few steps.

"You look awfully lonesome, out here all by yourself." Balthier said, and Fran stopped her humming. "Mind if I join you?"

"Balthier." Fran lifted her eyes, then looked back down at her tea. "No."

How enthusiastic. A matching cup sat at the place across from her, so Balthier pulled out that chair.

"Quiet night?" he asked, sitting down.

"Mostly," Fran replied. "I saw figures hanging about, but they made no move. I believe we are being watched."

"Mm." Balthier put an arm over his chair's back, trying to look nonchalant. "Vaan and Ziafer are up. I imagine they'll be right behind me. I can't say for the girls, but-" he waved a hand "-we'll get down to business as soon as everyone's awake."

Fran just nodded, pointed features impassive.

It was almost like the old days, when no world saving heroics hung over his head. How long ago had that been? It'd been months since he'd simply sat at a table with Fran. Balthier guided his nose away from the offending steam of his cup and tried to relish the moment.

Then Fran started to hum again, then, seemingly remembering her company, stopped abruptly. If he'd had any doubt…

"Tired, Fran?" Balthier asked. He didn't want this awkward silence now.

"Not especially," Fran replied.

After a full night staying up on watch? Balthier scoffed inwardly; liar. "You haven't touched your tea," Balthier said, noting the full cup. "Isn't that supposed to help you wake up? I can't think of any other reason you'd drink it."

A faint smile twitched Fran's lips, but it looked forced. "You don't like it?"

"Now, I didn't say that," Balthier replied quickly. The thump-bang of footsteps on old wood prevented him from elaborating further. Ziafer and Vaan came down the stairs, followed by Penelo and Ashe.

"Good morning." Ziafer pulled out the remaining chair between Balthier and Fran and leaned back, crossing his ankles on the table. He wrinkled his nose. "That stuff smells horrible. How do you stand it?"

Balthier let out a sigh, tipping his head back; so much for a familiar morning. "For long lost royalty, your manners are unspeakable. You're worse than Vaan ever was."

Ziafer sat up, more out of anger than a desire to correct his posture. "Don't compare me to that pipsqueak!"

"Hey!" Scowling, Vaan plopped down at an adjacent table, where Ashe and Penelo were picking out seats. He mumbled something, but not loud enough to be heard.

"Alright, alright. Enough of that." Balthier sighed. He did a double take to make sure they were all there. "Down to business. We need our next move."

"But… what about the Peace Keepers?" Ashe said.

Balthier sighed. "Princess. Remind me again what happens if you die?"

Ashe's shoulders slumped; she seemed reluctant to answer the condescending question. "Dalmasca will be in crisis, and Rozarria will swoop in the moment their guard is down. Then Archadia will be forced to respond…" Ashe sighed. "I just fought so hard to Dalmasca free! So many people did! I just want it to stay that way."

"So if you die on some foolhardy errand-"

"I know." Ashe looked away. "All that would happen. I know that. I just don't want it to happen anyway because I was hiding away!"

"We're not hiding," Balthier replied quickly, because that was the last thing he wanted. "We're just taking a different approach." He sighed. "Look. This is about what we know now:" Balthier carefully recited his planned outline. "The Red Fangs are trying to capture the princess so they can make nethicite out of her. And the Peace Keepers are trying to do what they were formed to do: stop the Red Fangs. They are trying to kill the princess so the Red Fangs won't get what they want. Feel like adding anything?" Balthier arched an eyebrow at the unwelcome presence to his left.

"I've told you everything I know," Ziafer said, holding his palms up.

"Then that's what we have to make a plan out of," Balthier said.

The hum of two or three conversations in distant corners of the room accentuated the silence that followed.

"Well, if we stop the Red Fangs, then the Peace Keepers won't be after Ashe anymore, either, right?" Vaan spoke up. "So, we just need to stop them."

"And how would you suppose we go about 'stopping' them?" Balthier said, arching an eyebrow.

"Well…" Vaan trailed off.

"You're right they're a good place to start," Balthier said. "Unfortunately, we don't know what they're after, exactly. What are their goals? What are they aiming for with this nethicite they want so badly? What would make them stop besides Ashe dead?"

"We need more information," Fran summarized.

"Well, not even Tazer knows more than that," Ziafer said, folding his arms behind his head. "We've been trying to get info for months, but the Red Fangs keep tight security on stuff like that. The people we interrogated wouldn't talk, and our spies never make it back."

"So another dead end." Balthier sighed.

"Um, pardon me." A plainly dressed innkeeper cleaning an adjacent table spoke up. He hesitated as all six pairs of eyes turned to him. "Sorry, I, um, couldn't help overhearing a little. You're all here looking for information on the… Red Fangs?"

"What's it to you?" Balthier narrowed his eyes.

"Well, I was thinking…" The man hesitated. "If you want 'a know something about them-" he hissed the word "-there's a former member who lives here on the outskirts of town. Just moved in a few months back. Maybe he knows something that'd help you?"

"Really? Isn't that interesting." Balthier twisted his cup while studying the man's face. He looked honest enough. "Where exactly does this person live?"

"Near the end of the road, the one with the gateway. It's one of the houses that hasn't been repaired since the army came through. The guy just showed up; never comes into town, so no one really knows. But they say it's a deserter from the Red Fangs."

"I see…" Balthier nodded slowly, processing this new information. He studied the sloshing brown liquid in his cup. "Thank you. You've been of service."

The innkeeper shrugged. "Just leave a nice tip." He folded up his towel. "Don't know who you are, but good luck in whatever you're up to. Go get 'em. But be careful. Not really sure what goes on back there." With that, the innkeeper hurried off towards another table.

"Former Red Fang, huh?" Ziafer said, eye narrowing.

"Please don't kill anyone who might help us," Balthier said.

Ziafer pursed his lips. "No promises."

"It's not out of our way…" Ashe said. "It couldn't hurt to check before we leave town."

"No," Balthier replied. "We need to gather supplies anyway. We'll stop by there first."

"Wait, what was he saying?" Penelo spoke up for the first time that morning, glancing after the innkeeper, then to the others with nervous eyes. "'Not really sure what goes on back there?'"

"He only means no one knows," Fran said. She stared back down into her tea, which barely steamed. "A lack of knowledge does not necessarily mean danger."

Hm. Balthier needed to make note of that one. He stood, catching his mug of lukewarm tea as he did and took a big swig. As bitter and grassy as he'd ever imagined. Like the herbs they used to make neurotoxins back at Draklor. He set the cup back down, ignoring how Fran stared.

"We'll check out this mysterious man in town," he said. "But first, let's get us a decent breakfast."

…

Balthier tested the rickety gate with one hand; the metal mesh archway creaked in the wind, held up only the jungle vines tangled about it. He ducked through quickly, followed by the others, each in turn. The pathway off the road led to an abandoned-looking cottage, nearly absorbed by the Salikawood. They'd passed several such; shattered window, caved roofs, half-burned structures. This house was in better condition than those ones.

The innkeeper had said these buildings 'hadn't been repaired since the army came through.' Did he mean the army marching through during the war? To rendezvous at the border camp? Balthier couldn't imagine disciplined soldiers doing this on home turf. Maybe not disciplined ones… Balthier's gut burned to know that there were still far reaching scars from the war that he didn't even know of.

"Is that the place?" Vaan asked, cocking his head at the building ahead. "Doesn't look like anyone lives there to me."

"Are you going in there?"

Balthier turned his head at the squeak. Two boys, no more than eight, stood in the bushes, one cowering behind the other. Ashe was the one who stepped out to answer.

"Um, yes."

"Oh, don't!" the second boy said. "You shouldn't do that, miss!"

"What are you doing here?" Ashe asked, kneeling in the grass.

"W-We were gonna peek around, try 'ta get inside," the boy in front said.

"But Mama told us not to, so we're going back home," the second said.

"That's not it! You chickened out!" the first boy shouted at him. The second cowered.

"But there's a ghost in there!" He turned wide, terrified eyes to Ashe. "Really, miss! A ghost!"

The first boy's eyes had found Fran and gone just as wide as his brother's. Balthier sighed.

"Ashe, we don't have time to waste with children," he said. "Come on."

Ashe stood reluctantly, giving the two boys a nervous smile. "You'll… go home, right?"

"We're going," the second boy said. Then he dashed for the gate. His brother gave the travelers another wide-eyed look and followed on his heels.

Balthier shook his head with a sigh. "Come on. Let's go." He started down the pathway, letting the others fall into step behind him.

"You're not fond of children?" Fran's voice was as teasing as Fran's voice got.

Balthier glanced back at her and sighed. "Is there a reason I should be?"

"Well, everyone was a kid once," Vaan piped up.

"Once, Vaan?" Balthier arched an eyebrow at him. Vaan scowled.

"Yeah! Once."

"Anyways, that's debatable," Balthier said.

"What, you were never a kid?" Ziafer said.

Balthier tried to remember a time when he was considered 'too young' to be employed in developing deadly weaponry. He couldn't. "That depends on your definition of 'kid.'"

They all stopped as the path trailed off. Vaan frowned up at the dilapidated house. The windows were boarded, the garden overrun with jungle foliage, air silent save the lonesome ting of a wind chime in the stiff breeze.

"We sure this is the right place?" Vaan asked.

"It's not abandoned; there's smoke." Balthier gestured to the pale clouds puffing from the chimney.

Penelo craned her neck, forehead scrunched as she tried to get a glimpse through the window. "Light… I… think there's light in there!"

Vaan tramped up to the door and tried it- Didn't he think to knock first?

"Hey, it's unlocked!" Vaan called. Luckily he left it closed.

"Well, come on." Balthier gestured for everyone to follow and joined Vaan at the door. He knocked; the wood sounded hollow and empty under his knuckles.

No reply. Of course not. Did he really expect one? Balthier took the doorknob and pushed it open.

The smell of mildew met his nose. The door creaked as it swung back; inside was dark save a low, red fire crackling in hearth. A chair sat in front of the fire, in it a small figure. Balthier couldn't make out anything of the person but the brown cloak draping them and their skeletal hands stretched over the fire, red in its glow. Balthier frowned. He hadn't expected something so… gloomy. But it wasn't for him to be put off by something like that.

"Hello?" Balthier called; voice sounded unnatural in here. He was aware of everyone else crowding the doorway behind him. "Sorry for barging in, but there was no answer at the door."

The figure shifted, the first sign of life.

"Go away," a faint little girl's voice replied.

"We won't be long-" Balthier started.

"Go away," the quiet voice repeated. "I want you- to go away."

"That voice…" Ziafer stepped forward to stand at Balthier's left. "Look, my name's… Ziafer? We just wanted to talk to you for a bit. We needed some information…" He trailed off.

Silence. Then the girl straightened, drawing her hands away from the fire and into her cloak.

"…Ziafer?" She turned her head; the cloak's hood obscured her face, except for the faint outline of her nose and mouth. Matted locks of black hair hung out of the folds. Balthier thought she might've been studying the visitors, but with her eyes hidden, it was impossible to tell.

She turned back to the fire. "What do you want know?" She spoke slowly, like she hadn't done it in years.

"We wanted information on the nethicite experiment the Red Fangs were conducting a few years ago," Balthier said.

"The… nethicite experiment?"

So she did know what that was. That confirmed this girl really was the person they'd come to find.

The girl stood, then turned to walk towards the six people crowding in her doorway. She wore a tattered brown dress, arms, hands, and head covered with her cloak. Balthier didn't like not being able to see her face. But this was just a little girl; couldn't be more than fifteen, her head about to Penelo's shoulder. What could she possibly do?

"You want to know about the nethicite experiment?" she said.

"That's right," Balthier replied. "Do you know something?"

"I… know." The girl hesitated. Her cloak shifted as she moved her arms underneath. The windchime outside tinkled, then a stiff gust of wind blew through the open doorframe. The girl's cloak flew back.

Ashen, grey skin, like a corpse after sitting for a few days. Ridged burn scars over her shoulders, neck, and jawbone. The girl's eyes widened, and she instantly spun around, yanking back up her hood and hugging the cloak to her like she stood in a gale force wind.

Balthier wasn't sure if he succeeded in holding back a gasp. No one else but Fran did. Ziafer jumped forward a full step, but his surprise seemed directed at something more than the horror of her appearance.

"That's-! C… Cara?" His mouth hung open, single eye wide.

"G-Go away. Go away!" The girl's voice sounded strained shouting like that. There was silence; the girl breathed hard, and Ziafer floundered for words.

"It can't…"

The girl spoke again. "You… want to know about the nethicite experiment." It was a statement not a question. "Leave me alone. Leave… Come back… after noon. We'll talk."

With that, she strode towards a door near the fireplace, pulled it open, and disappeared inside, slamming it behind her.

The world was still.

"Man." Vaan broke the silence, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess that was good?"

Balthier wasn't sure; but that was a very sloppy thing to say. "It looks like she's going to help us," he settled on. Then he eyed Ziafer, who stood ridged. "You alright?"

"That… It can't be." Ziafer shook his head. "She looks… just like… my little sister. But she's…" He half-smiled, as if he was going to laugh at himself, but it faltered. "Nah. Sorry." He turned away, hesitantly. "Let's get outa here."