Fandom FFXII: History's Weavers [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

Hurry up and wait.

Basch fon Ronsenburg was used to it, but the ‘hurry’ part felt more pressing as he walked the streets of Rabanastre, a place he couldn’t feel welcomed in given the weight of King Raminas’s death on his shoulders. Not a death he caused, and yet, it weighed on him still as he walked alongside Ashe and Vaan, the two he had most harmed, however indirectly.

Balthier and Fran walked ahead, Balthier commenting, “…an interesting job on the boards, thought we could check in with Montblac about it.”

“Interesting?” Vaan moved ahead, “What is it?”

Balthier pulled a piece of parchment from his vest, and with a flourish, presented it to Vaan. Basch could see the design of an Archadian Ship on it, with a knife through it – or he assumed it was an Archadian ship, anyways. “It’s being offered by the Kajikia, a rather notorious pirate ship I’ve heard of. I’m sure you have, too, right?”

The light teasing of Vaan being a skypirate, at least, was nice. Vaan, however, shook his head, “I haven’t heard of them before. What are they offering?”

“That’s what I am uncertain about,” Balthier noted, “I am hoping Montblanc may know more.”

“That doesn’t look like a Clan Centurion mark.” Basch pointed out, reading a bit over Vaan’s shoulder to see a description of the one hiring for it, where they would be, but the only name didn’t seem like a person’s name. There was little information about what the job actually was.

“Astute,” Balthier said, “It isn’t,” and yet, they reached the Clan Centurio hall regardless, seeing several people milling about, drinking, and regaling each other with stories. A man with red hair was standing by Montblanc, gil passing from Montblanc to the man.

“Kupo! If you’re going to be around a bit, we have some marks in the area.”

The man shook his head, “I’m off to the Paramina Rift. Anything up there?”

“Actually!” Montblanc fluttered away, rifling through paperwork he had underneath the podium as Balthier stepped up closer, and peered around the taller red-head, so that when Montblanc turned around, he was briefly startled by the appearance of the skypirate. “Oh! Balthier! Kupo! What brings you all around here?”

“Questions on a job, but you can finish up,” he said.

Montblanc pulled out a picture of a white chocobo, “We’ve gotten reports of a white chocobo in the area – kupo! Might be just up your alley!”

“Hey – I’m taking that one,” one of the others in the area called up. “You can join, Max, but let’s talk.”

“Do we have to kill it?” Max asked, stepping down the stairs to join the hunter. Basch stepped aside to let him pass.

“What can I help with, Kupo?”

Vaan offered the sheet of paper he still had in hand, “Know anything about this?”

Montblanc scrutinized the paperwork, “This isn’t one of our marks, kupo.”

“We know, but we thought you’d see if you were familiar with it at all.”

Montblanc shook his head, “I’m afraid I’m not,” he said, “I would go to the Sandsea, kupo.”

Balthier sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Do we really have time for this?” Basch couldn’t help but ask, given all they were trying to do.

“We can decide when we hear more, no? We have little else to do at present but wait for more information, after all.”

“We need to be in a place to receive the information,” Basch reminded, but glanced to Ashe for her opinion.

“Let us hear this out.” Basch tried not to sigh. Her lust for revenge was likely tainting this decision, but he wouldn’t oppose it. “They should be at the Sandsea now, we can decide after we listen to them.”

“Smart thinking, princess,” Balthier applauded, “let’s go then.”

Basch allowed the pirates to lead once again towards the familiar Sandsea bar, milling with people, but it was somehow obvious who the one offering the job was. At least, it must have been to Balthier by the way he swaggered up to a table with a red-haired woman and settled the paper on it, the others following behind.

Balthier opened with a grin, “We hear you’re offering 5,000 gil a person for this job?” As he set the paper down, he pressed his knuckles down onto the table and leaned in, “We’re eager to hear more.”

~***~

Rabanastre, capital of Dalmasca, a city Liraz had visited a few times before to catch up with Clan Centurio. She was a rather low ranking member of it, rarely doing hunts herself, but often petitioning them. Today, however, as the light cruiser Quetzalcoatl landed in the airship dome of Rabanastre, she was not there to ask for help from Clan Centurio. She was there to meet Consul Vayne Solidor.

‘Or is it Prince?’ Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands as she stepped off the ship just after Cidolfus Bunansa. Even in the hustle and bustle of the docking bay, Cid stood out in his red uniform and gait. He never looked down, but he did look around, look up, in a way that spoke not of a tourist but…well, Liraz couldn’t place it.

But it earned looks from others with the strange carefree carelessness with which he held himself.

It was that which caused her to hurry to his side, to make sure he stayed on path, as they left the Quetzalcoatl behind. A man walking about like that, who had a penchant of talking to his invisible friend, didn’t need to seem unescorted. Especially an Archadian man, after the attack here. “Have you been to Rabanastre before, Doctor?” Liraz asked, though she cast a glance back, green eyes skimming for another.

Maxence was behind, but not far, and he was hustling through the crowd to catch up. His mop of red hair made him stand out, the same way Cid’s coat did.

“Oh yes, plenty of times,” he said, “Do not worry, I know my way to the castle – not that it would be possible to miss.” As he said it, he turned his head. Maxence caught up with them, and touched Liraz’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m going to hit Clan Centurio first,” they had agreed on that before arriving, “that’s still all right, right?” he had his own reasons for being nervous. He wasn’t there to be a part of the expedition, but to make sure the chocobos were ready. Traversing the Paramina Rift would require it, the airship itself could only go so far, after all. Even so, with his dreams of being a judge, he still wanted to make an impression.

“Oh go on, go on,” Cid waved him off, “we will not leave you behind here, I assure you. Those beasts need your hand, not mine,” his lips broke into a wide grin, “give Montblanc my regards, it has been a long while that I’ve used his clan. What rank are you now?”

“Headhunter, but only just. I have to turn in the evidence of slaying the liderc.”

“Oh ho! A liderc? That’s a rare find, frustrating little birds, though. Well, a reward well-earned, I am certain. Go on then,” and with that, Maxence rushed off through the crowd, bobbing in and out of sight as he pushed his way through, rushing to finish so he could return in good time.

Liraz let out a breath in a sigh, hardly realizing she’d been holding it. “I wonder if you would rather he not become a judge some days.”

“Coming from you?” Liraz arched a brow, “You lost Ffamran to that job.” Cid’s expression shifted, some of the humor dying out of it. She didn’t let it dwell there, “The judges we took with us couldn’t withstand Famfrit. These…dangers are only going to increase. There’s several more of them…I do not think we will talk all of them down with your Venat.”

Cid laughed at that, humor restored easily, “Perhaps, perhaps not,” he agreed as they left the airship dome, and Cid led the way to one of the moogling posts, where moogles offered easy transportation around the city.

Something Archades could benefit from, really. “To the South Plaza,” Cid said without any fanfare or real greeting. Liraz nodded.

‘Prince or consul?’

She should ask Cid, but the moogle was ‘kupoing’ and the energy of teleportation enwrapped them both. Her breath was stolen, as it always was, and when she appeared on the other side she reached out instinctively for the moogling sign and steadied herself there.

Cidolfus waited, amusement continuing to crinkle his green eyes, “Do you not use teleport stones frequently?”

“I prefer chocobos,” she admitted, straightening up, “unless I’m running late to work.”

“You practically sleep in the lab.”

“Exactly.”

Cid scoffed, as they made their way through the streets of Rabanastre. They stood out, her green and black dress too long, and covering too much, compared to the cut-out attire of Rabanastre. This didn’t use to be a problem, in truth – Archadians didn’t get hate two years before, but now, Liraz felt it. Even so, she kept her head up, and kept her attention focused on the palace, and not on the rabble that gave her and Cid disdainful glares.

Thankfully, Cid was recognized at the gate with a surprised, “Doctor Bunansa?” before he was allowed in, and she, able to follow in his shadow. There was quite a bit of commotion in the palace, given the orders for Vayne to be recalled to Archades; Doctor Bunansa and a researcher weren’t exactly expected to arrive, when Vayne would be going back to Archades.

Even so, they were taken to the Consul’s office amidst the aides running about. One of the Judge Magisters was in front of the door, “Aah! Judge Bergan, pleasure,” Cid greeted, and Liraz kept her expression neutral. Some things were obvious to her, but not others; Cid’s displeasure of Bergan was known to her, and it shone through his tone, despite the cheer he maintained, “Would you mind letting us in to see Vayne?”

‘Why can’t you use a title? Why?’ Now she really did have to guess. Given he was recalled, was Consul even appropriate? Liraz didn’t hear it had been officially stripped….

Judge Bergan didn’t even hesitate, stepping aside and pushing open one of the two doors. Cid ducked in, under the arm as Bergan was still opening it. Liraz waited until Bergan moved his arm so she could step in without ducking.

“Vayne!” Cid greeted, opening his arms in a friendly gesture, though obviously not stepping in for a hug or anything such as that as he looked over the office.

Clean.

Of course, Liraz couldn’t see Venat. Nor hear Venat. But Venat was there, silent at the moment.

“I hope you do not mind a detour,” Cid said as Liraz turned to shut the door, only to see Bergan already doing that, “before we return home. I would have written you, but I thought it more…prudent to speak to you. This is Liraz Belrune, my assistant,” he gestured towards her, and her attention quickly snapped to Vayne.

She bowed, “Cah—rince Vayne,” the attempt to say both ended up in that mess of a sound, though she hoped it sounded more like ‘Prince’. “An honor to meet you.”

 

[khorvidae]

Wavering against the booze tainted air, J'wynevier nursed a beer with a mind simultaneously brimming and barren. ’So much to do, so little time.’ And so she busied herself with the rim of a pint. She'd positioned herself away from the bustling door for hope that her lingering eye would find interest in some other topic or being, and she shifted restlessly; straightening out her shoulders and shaking her head. Tales of old filled her ears, a mellifluous sound keeping company the fools too drunk to process the words; grating on her ears with every strummed chord. The warmth of the tavern grazed her skin as a cool breeze weaved through. Its scent left her uneasy and grimaced. Loittant sat to her left, blonde and beaming; a displaced face among the glowering, but welcome to the similarly glum pirate. Time and time again, biding their time, the same process ensued; sitting and waiting. Her impatience on the first day was incomparable to this one. When once she drank ‘til her heart's content and chatted up the locals, she now hardly stomached the taste and had been so kind as to isolate her unpleasantries to the corner she sat cross-legged in.

“Captain,” the boy led, dipping himself low to her ear. The movement had her expecting a soft deluge of whispers, however what followed was jarring and recentering. “I believe our bill has stirred in some company.” Loittant's joy was palpable. His hand jut forward, a slender finger focusing her vision on a rather large group pouring into the Sandsea. J'wynevier hummed dismissively and turned her head as to not get her hopes up. This song and dance had been performed a hundred times within the last week, she wasn't about to fall victim to its melody once more. She bobbed the tattered chair to the beat of the tavern song, and just as a hand gripped her shoulder and forced her upright, she was met by a charming smile and a closer view of the group she'd initially shrugged off. The world spun until that moment, what stood before her was unmistakable. The pirate straightened to better view the parchment placed upon the table. That was her listing alright.

“Ah, so your interest has been piqued, has it?” Mirrored across her lips, absent in her eye, a polite smile drew wide. She rose to her feet. Had her repulse truly conjured results? Immediately, her throat filled with a familiar jubilation that threatened to pour from her lips a tale she'd regaled to few other pirates. They had been warded off by such energy─or so J'wynevier assumed, and thus she swallowed her glee. Her blonde companion made quick work of his pack, rummaging for something, all while the redhead spoke.

“J'wynevier Elle Enrique,” she introduced, draping a dainty hand over her chest, “Sky pirate and current captain of the Kajikia. This─” gesturing to the noble at her side, “─is Loittant.” He finally fished out a piece of parchment and pen, brandishing them as sword and shield, proceeding to present the stationary to the group. The first to seize them being a short, blonde girl, quickly intercepted by the platinum boy, who snatched it away greedily.

“You all would be─?”

“I'm Vaan,” the greedy boy pointed to himself, quickly turning the attention to the girl and the rest of the group, “this is Penelo, and that's Balthier, that's Fran, Ashe, and─”

“Vaan.” Ashe sternly interrupted. J’wynevier's eyes pried something more from the girl; a distinct distaste─the displacement of such was unwelcome. Vaan shied away from the name and as his hand fell down to his side, the pirate couldn't help but follow its trajectory to the mysterious no-namer. Yet another blonde, though honeyed and warm, she paused on him for a second. Curiosity would have her rattling off questions, procuring answers and a name; it seemed hardly appropriate at present. She opened her mouth to speak to be cut off.

“A résumé?” Vaan's eyes finally dashed across the page and, though incredulous, he scribbled across the lines.

“For record keeping. A simple formality.” Not that it had been the first time the document was scrutinized. Pirates didn't like paperwork, so J’wyn's clever attempt to avoid it reigned victorious when he wrote his name.

“We're scarce on time.” Loittant reminded.

“Then let's keep this brief. You're familiar with Archadian ships, I presume?” She'd been promised results via the notice board, results in the form of mercenaries, pirates; unallied─unaligned, but experienced. Yet, the motives of every group were mulled over and her dancing around the subject demonstrated reticence; distracting and unsettling. Being forthright in Archadia almost got her killed, but the suspicious nature of her caution roused a series of dubious looks from the group. Could never be too careful, she reassured, though their scrutiny suggested the opposite. Even Loittant looked worried. “I seek to infiltrate one, pilfer its contents and leave; simple piracy.”

“What is on this ship?” Ashe chimed in, stepping forward and peering through naturally bowed brows. 'Nosy.'

“What specifically Archadia has found is beyond my breadth, but I know they're transporting it on the Cetacea back to Archades, and soon.” J'wyn countered. “The surrounding area has been suffocated by Mist, which wouldn't call for concern─it's the Paramina Rift─but if they're interested, then something is amiss.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Dalmasca was a bright country, beaming and glorious with life and energy. The residents inhabiting its interior were kind, considerate folk, the likes of which Archadia would scoff at. Not that Archadia was repulsed by kindness, not at all, but prattling with the penurious abutting with the capital city was as lowly as the low themselves. Social standing was made by virtue of luck and favors in the bustling imperial capital, and the reward was a place within Archades’ walls. For its own part, Rabanastre boasted a host of different walks of life conjoined by its merchant districts and history. The streets were lined with those miraculously earning an honest living despite the economic shifts in recent years. Despite its archives now scrawled with the name of its dearest late lord, and carved anew with Vayne Carudas Solidor's, they remained compassionate. Their hostilities were warranted. With the details of Archadia's invasion all but known, one thing was clear; Rabanastre’s scars.

Two years later, Vayne sought to mend these scars─or exploit them. There was still much to be done. Being beyond the emperor's grasp presented freedom and power he cherished. Vayne was no longer the puppet of the Archadian Empire, but ruler amongst their kin. Out of their hands, their perceptions and interjections. He heeded what served him. He sought to recondition Rabanastre’s people, whose newfound appreciation for the prince lent itself rather easily to. Their welcome, initially, was far from warm. Indignation filled the streets as his he cruised their piazza road to the bulbous palace he resided in, and though he claimed to endure their slings and arrows, they had been kind to keep their artillery stowed away. As their consul, he'd have remade Archades; a metropolis of innovation and learning, now with resources to spare. The simple life of merchants would be invigorated by technology, and the drab cityscape would be revised. It ended before it all began, however, and such plans for renewal and progress were tainted by rancor. With his title now revoked, Vayne was consul no more. The pomp and ceremony was mere excitement for excitement's sake. What he envisioned for his city was now scribbled out by bitterness. A day's time would have him back in Archades to be scolded by his father, and recoup his place as the scornful object of the Imperial Senate.

Peering through the lancet panes, the prince stood silently with his hands intertwined in the small of his back. What lay before him was the day lit city, blazing and bright. Its breaths of life whistled against the window. Beyond his chamber doors prevailed a ruckus he endeavored to ignore─yet another reminder of his failure as they readied the palace for the next ruler. He stood alone in his desolate room and reveled in the brief moments he had left. The voices before his door rang unmistakably within his mind, and with a final goodbye to the city he'd temporarily ruled, he steeled himself for company.

Cid's eccentricity made light of itself from the parting doors, a woman followed in his stead; a shadow. Vayne stepped away from the window, expressing a less-than-genuine but polite smile to the grandeur. The man could surely make an entrance. While he hadn't expected the scientist, let alone the assistant, of whom the prince only recognized vaguely in passing, he gravitated toward them much more naturally than he'd anticipated with his woes not yet in check; evident in his furrowed brows. He positioned himself at the edge of his desk and acknowledged the woman's─Liraz's─awkward introduction with a subtle nod. 'Ouch,' another blow to his ego. e wondered if he should already be used to this or not.

“A pleasure.” Vayne spoke plainly, insincerely, offering but a moment's regard. “‘Assistant’ is nought to scoff at. There is much he must see in you.” He pondered her intelligence, if for a moment. Doctor Cid did not invite company often. Being a mastermind, it was most perturbing to see another at his side. The path he carved─the fate he sought for mankind─he had charisma even Vayne yielded to. To see aid meant something larger was in store.

“What brings you to Rabanastre? It seems too plain for men of your ilk.” Vayne's attention abruptly turned back to the senior scientist, merely brushing off his junior as an eavesdrop on their conversation he assumed she was already in the know for. Though his reign was short, he'd seen little to interest Archadia apart from resources, but he doubted that would be enough to lure out the doctor. No, there was something greater at play here.

 

[Lucyfer]

Balthier pegged the right person in the tavern. Basch was almost impressed, but up close he could see some similarities. Not truly in any concrete way or a pattern, but there was just something in the confidence with which both Balthier and J’wynevier held themselves, and a certain flare in their attire. Balthier wore far more, but there was still a fanciful nature to both that wasn't noble in the least.

Basch heard the harshness of Ashe’s tone as her name was spoken, but there was no familiarity with the shortened name. Only as he felt the gaze of the new pirate did he realize what name wasn't spoken. ‘Ah.’ His. Basch wasn't a common name even in Landis. He didn't have a clever false name created, either, nor did he plan to use one. His lack of a name was overlooked, though.

They didn't have time to spare, so he'd remain mute on the subject of his identity for now. It could be addressed in privacy.

“Mm, we have a passing familiarity,” Balthier answered the question on Archadian ships, tone suggesting quite a bit more. Basch audibly scoffed, both at the tone, and memory of the Leviathan. Of course, that brought with it memory of the Mist and Fran losing her head, which followed all too well with what J’wynevier added on to the mission details.

Basch couldn't help but give Ashe an uneasy look. Nor stop himself from noting, “We were upon a ship that fell victim to a Mist producing weapon. I would have thought they'd learn their lesson.” No, no he didn’t, not after seeing what became of Nabudis, and Balthier didn’t even let that statement slide.

Balthier shook his head in rueful disdain, and utter exasperation. His experience with Archadia was something Basch had more than one question about – if only for the bitterness that tainted every word, “The only lesson to learn is how to tame it, which by all rights is a lesson I don't think they deserve to learn,” a smile that wasn’t friendly touched the pirate’s lips.

That wasn’t the true reason and Basch knew it. If this was the nethicite Ashe sought to prove her identity, they could claim it here from the ship or steal it right from J’wyn’s hands.

“The Paramina Rift is near sacred grounds,” Fran reminded, a warning and likely further proof it could be what they sought: one of Raithwall's treasures. Perhaps also one of the reasons the Empire knew to search there and get ahead of them.

“If it's the same kind of weapon….” Penelo mused and Basch hummed, confirming the latent agreement in her tone.

They had to go.

Balthier sighed, “Piracy was so much easier before I gathered a crew,” he complained. “But it sounds like everyone wants to play do-gooders here, so I believe I speak for all of us in confirming our cooperation on this endeavor of yours, assuming you don't need resumes for all of us? And – assuming you have a plan to board the Archadian ship, of course, that doesn’t involve my ship.” She had to, obviously; she wasn’t asking for a ship in her bill.

But as he asked, Basch noticed the way he leaned towards Vaan to try and see the paperwork. Basch wasn't all that concerned with it, only that Ashe was indeed on board; his eyes watched her expression as all the information was assumed without being stated outright.

He didn't know how long that could last, but he'd trust Balthier to obfuscate what was necessary, for as long as they could. If this was another piece of nethicite, the secret could only be kept for so long, after all.

~***~

Liraz knew she'd flubbed the introduction, but tact had never been her greatest skill. The bruises in school had proved as much. Cid, mad as he was, didn't really need tact, either.

Even so, the flowery compliment was obvious enough as simple politics. She’d witnessed enough of it when she started to fall into Cid’s good graces to recognize that much, but she didn’t take it as insult, either. Just a formality, like her own greeting had been. Vayne was done with her as soon as she was acknowledged, and she was content to let Cid take over from there, lifting her head to, indeed, eavesdrop.

“You bring me here,” Cid said with a coyness one could almost call flirtatious, though he didn't leave that hanging, “Liraz discovered another likely Esper location,” Liraz wondered if Cid had truly given her the credit in any writings to Vayne before, or if he’d left that vague, “It's in the Paramina Rift, that old temple to Miriam’s partner, ah,” he waved it off but Liraz added.

“Kalyma,” the name was hard to find, all but obliterated, but she had found it.

“Yes, goddess of ice,” he pushed on, clearly taking the name to be unimportant, “Mateus,” he said the far more important name, “Trapped there ages ago, it seems. But we can remove him,” Cid’s voice turned conspiratorial. “I thought you would want to be along this time. Perhaps Mateus will even deign you appropriate to bond with as Famfrit has me, or another in our company, but if not, I've created a couple of devices that should let us drag him out.”

As he spoke of it, Liraz pulled the first of the devices from a hidden pocket and held it out to Cid, who took it and held it out to Vayne in turn. It was a shard of manufactured nethicite, a deep purple hue, but within was a pulsing glyph, waiting to be activated. A testament to the genius that still remained to Cid – nethicite usually prevented all magic from being cast. “It's a temporary nethicite. We can unlock it with a word, and mana; the glyph will activate and the mist will be absorbed. The glyph will be the true seal to the mist, and it will seal the Esper in this way – but it will also break, and release Esper and mist in a rather violent explosion,” something that ought to be concerning.


Liraz knew why Cid didn’t sound concerned, and he didn’t waste time waiting to be asked. “I have a more secure containment created on the Cetacea; Famfrit doesn't think Mateus will come along easily. Greedy sort.”

Liraz wasn’t sure why Cid had to sound giddy about that, as if he understood some great secret about Mateus from that.

Cid continued on, “Liraz is prepared to activate it, but we'll want to weaken the esper to give good odds for it staying contained until we reach the Cetacea.” Liraz was well studied in magic, the best option of all from what Cid had to work with.

The strain of keeping it active was the questionable part. She had run tests with it, but not to this degree. It would eat her mana as furiously as it ate the mist and bound Mateus in that false connection.

 

[khorvidae]

Staggering between moving lips exhausted her eye, she blinked hard to reset her vision. Loittant seemed to hold up well enough, though J'wynevier was certain his previous occupation made it a cake-walk comparatively, politicians always had so-much-nothing to say. Each contributed, excited by a turn to speak, like hatchlings. It was fascinating to witness─so fascinating that she almost lost her place in their conversation. Slowly, she sought to learn each of their quirks, but as far as she was presently concerned, their hostility towards Archadia differed little from her own; a sign for good things to come. These were Dalmascans, of course! In spite of its imperialist despots, this bunch spit in the face of it all. A falsehood was it to assume she truly wanted unaligned crew members when she desired those much like herself. The farther from Archadia's sovereign grasp, the better. She tried not to get her hopes up.

Vaan had conveniently finished their resumé and held the items out to Loittant, mumbling a brief, “Here,” when Balthier mentioned as much. The noble reviewed them and, as he did, he tilted the pages to J'wyn. She spared a moment to read their contents. Very integral pieces of information were missing from the top; everyone else's names. Only Vaan's adorned the line. Entertaining enough, he'd been generous in detailing an extensive list of all their skills─ones that could be attributed to him were she foolish enough. J'wyn was no fool. The woman couldn't prevent a knavish smirk from emerging from the corners of her polite smile. Good thing they gave it to the youngest. That didn't ascribe a name to their unnamed warrior, though; information that would sate her curiosity, nothing vital, nothing more. She would learn it eventually. Loittant stashed the paperwork in his pack and J'wyn's attention pivoted to their leader before suspicion arose from their mutual silence.

“We steal a cruiser,” stated as though it'd be ignorant to consider anything else in part due to her abrupt attention shift, made worse by her smile. Ashe looked put off by it. “Believe it or not, Archadia isn't diligent about keeping track of their smaller air crafts. We nab one, we get into the Cetacea.”

“It'll be a tight squeeze.” Penelo added. With all the people, they'd be lucky if they got it off the ground.

“Then we best get well acquainted before then, lest you'd prefer it be as awkward as possible,” J'wynevier countered playfully. Penelo mirrored a smile, her sweet fun loving nature almost speaking for itself. Still, she seemed uncomfortable.

“What use do you have for this weapon?” Ashe redirected, interrogative in tone. “If Archadia has no right to it, what makes you believe you do?” She frowned. It almost sounded accusative, the manner she believed J'wyn had a right to anything. The redhead choked back a laugh, a mere hum from her curved lips. Deviance rested there.

“If a slaughter may be prevented by depriving them of their toys, would you not have it that way?” J'wyn countered. She leaned over the table, her palms bearing the brunt of the weight. Ashe's stern gaze softened, apparently grasping the larger picture; a relief to the woman before her. They had their motives, J'wyn was not unbeknownst to the way they looked to each other conclusively; eagerly. Yet, she hadn't a clue what for. As Ashe yielded to reason, J’wyn propelled herself off the table. She pushed out her chest, knotting her hands behind her back and gathered breath. Good.

“When I have whatever it is they're after, it will be dismantled and studied. Then, with that knowledge, it will be added to my arsenal so that it may not be used,” she reassured. “Rest assured, it will be safer in my hands than in Archades’.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Unexpectedly, Vayne regretted his initial dismissal of the junior scientist. He offered an apologetic, yet superficial, glance her way. He should have taken Cid’s underlying pride more seriously, but his tone made discerning the intent of his words difficult. If it was to call attention to Liraz’s achievement, they could consider it acknowledged. Perhaps that had been the reason she'd accompanied the doctor to the palace; to collect his royal highness along with his applause. Unfortunately, Vayne wasn't feeling verbally charitable that day, for obvious reasons, and he'd sung praise enough in their initial greeting. In due time, the words would find him again; hopefully in time for the Esper.

Cid had been deliberately vague in his letters, when fruits were mere blossoms. More thrilled that yet another Esper could soon be in their grasp than attributing its discovery to any of his underlings. The man had never been one to eulogize without certainty, not in the time that Vayne had known him, anyway. Now, they were going to witness the fruits of their labor, should the harvest have any to bear that is. The doctor's excitement was palpable, contagious even, and Vayne was invigorated by the wonderment that the man manifested. He briefly wondered if Liraz could feel it too, working so closely to him. Passion kept their scientific epicenter active, as integral to their home as the vitality surging through them. If only Dalmasca felt the same.

“Observing an Esper,” Vayne paraphrased, mulling over the idea like he had much choice in the matter, “a gripping proposition.” He had yet to see one in person. If luck would have him bond with it as Cid surmised─like he had Famfrit─it would do him well to tag along.

Presented with the glyphic nethicite, he eagerly took it, thumbing over the arcs and edges that made up its composition. Cid spoke highly of its abilities. Its stark purple hue set it apart from the likes of deifacted nethicite, whose tones were muddled by its rigid outer core as if mined from the earth, but not the manufactured batch. Twisting his wrist, the golden rays pouring in through the windows caught the ridges of the stone, outlining and refracting the glyph embedded deep within its confines against the wall. Vayne's grip tightened. His leather glove resisted the edges digging into his fingers and palm until he'd tested its durability to his own liking. Contrary to its petite appearance, it wasn't fragile, it was stone. Despite that, the Esper─Mateus─would be too strong for their lithic prison eventually; that was no surprise. Knowing that getting lost or caught in the rift's blizzard could result in them ultimately losing control over it─well, Vayne wasn't worried; a demeanor led by Cid's blithe charm. Elaborate problems called for elaborate solutions, and a specific compartment on a ship sounded elaborate enough, but getting that far would be the hard part.

He held out the glyphic nethicite, content to part with it for the time being. The Esper would need to be vanquished before it may be apprehended. ’If only it would make things simple,’ there were benefits to the contrary. Learning its weaknesses would make later attempts to detain it easier, in theory. In practice, a bunch of researchers taking arms against a riled up Esper would cause more harm than good to themselves and the deity. Watching Cid attempt to explain that series of incidents would be entertaining, however.

“The nethicite will not compromise its power─not permanently?” A defected Esper would do them little good.

 

[Lucyfer]

Balthier openly scowled at not being able to see the paper, an expression Basch was only too familiar with. It seemed to get Balthier far in the group, but not always with other people. Vaan, of course, was desperate for the pirate’s approval – and Penelo tended to support him.

Basch could only tell that Balthier knew something was up with the paperwork, something likely not to their favor.

It seemed to find approval with J’wyn and Loittant, though. The smirk was as telling as Balthier’s disapproving gaze, but they were in too much of a pickle to argue much. Ashe’s words were a firm reminder of that. ‘They have no right to it.’

Balthier shifted his weight, “Oh, let’s save the discussion of rights and research until we actually have whatever it is, shall we? I admit I prefer we just destroy it outright, but I’m also morbidly curious what else you’ve stolen from Archadia and added to your arsenal that they haven’t simply recreated and made better,” Balthier’s immense doubt that she’d succeeded in such a thing was obvious.

Again, Basch wondered at such bitterness, but he wouldn’t interject to question it now. Basch knew much of what Balthier was doing, was lying, so all of that could be as well – but he doubted it. Balthier was lying about the destruction, because it was necessary where the others were, well, messing those things up with as much ease as a behemoth in a pottery store, raising suspicion all around about their own intentions and their own knowledge. “At least the stealing part shouldn’t be difficult. She’s not wrong, I’ve stolen my fair share of cruisers and turned them for profit.”

Basch arched an eyebrow, “People take the risk of buying them?”

“Oh, not in one piece,” Balthier clarified, but waved it off, “I saw a cruiser when we arrived, the Quetzalcoatl. Unless there was another you had in mind?”

“Wait – you recognized it?” Penelo frowned, lips pursed at this bit of information.

“Of course,” Balthier laughed, “I’d be a poor pirate if I didn’t know the hunting forces of Archadia, wouldn’t I?”

Basch wasn’t sure he bought it. There was much Balthier didn’t tell them, and this was another he added to the list. “If it is so famous, it may be guarded better,” Basch noted, “but if there are no other options,” he shook his head, “we follow your lead where this is concerned, J’wynevier.”

He missed a smirk from Fran, but Balthier saw it. Missed the silent dialogue between them that screamed they could hear the ‘lady’ in his tone, despite the woman very much not being a lady.

~***~

No one was immune to Cid’s strange charm. Even in his madness, he retained it, and Liraz could see it in the way that Vayne examined the nethicite in rather unnecessary ways, casting it into the light and seeming to try and break it in his grip. He hadn’t the strength for it; that was no surprise. Perhaps the only surprise was the undercurrent of excitement when he spoke of witnessing the esper.

At least Vayne wasn’t dead inside as some hypothesized back home.

How else could a man slaughter his own brothers, traitors or not?

He returned the nethicite to Cid with a question.

“In theory, no. In practice,” Cid gave a casual shrug as he walked the short distance back to where Liraz was and dropped it into her hand, “who’s to say? Only the future will tell us where we erred should we harm it permanently, but,” Cid cast a smile towards Vayne as Liraz returned the nethicite to her pocket, “better a weakened esper on our side, than not at all, no?”

The goal wasn’t to weaken it. Liraz wasn’t even sure they could.

Well, they could. They hadn’t found a way, and she wasn’t expecting to stumble upon it with this. Unless the nethicite stole something vital and broke it, when the nethicite broke.

“Theorizing?”

Liraz hadn’t realized her brows had knit together, her attention drifted. She looked up at Cid, and allowed a touch of a smile, as she matched his earlier shrug; some habits were only too easy to pick up, “When am I not? But I agree with your earlier sentiment, I was only thinking of ways you could be wrong.”

“Ha! Wrong,” he scoffed as if the mere idea were impossible, ludicrous – but he was smiling, approving, all the same, “Well, do let me know before we try this out if you notice something horrendously wrong that you didn’t catch before,” a simple nod came from Liraz, and Cid stepped away, “You cannot have much more packing to do, Vayne. You left with so little – unless you’ve found dozens of exotics you can’t live without? Perhaps bringing moogling back to the capital?” his tone was a bit chiding at the start, as if Vayne should have brought the entire castle – but that same approval was in his expression, play in his tone at the end.

Challenging, pragmatic people. Cid preferred to them to all the Yes Men in the world. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can test this theory.”