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.”

 

[khorvidae]

’Oh, moody,’ She must've pushed a button she wasn't meant to. Passing moments resulted in an increasingly vexed Balthier─maybe it was the questions that provoked it, or maybe it was J'wynevier; she had that effect on people. A stark contrast divided them; her swindle and his swagger. Too caught up in their own means to realize it was getting them nowhere. She was fortunate to realize it before it got out of hand, so J'wyn surrendered to the moment, remembering to breathe and loosen her jaw. No one else in their group imitated Balthier's ill-temper, not even the youngest couple that she'd expected it from, whose furrowed brows and bright eyes trained over their role model. Something had gotten under his skin and he was starting to get under hers.

“The Quetzalcoatl is closer, sure,” she led, albeit dissatisfied with the option or fueled by a sudden desire to spite Balthier. The honey-blonde had some sense, or her standards had been lowered by an impressive margin in the last few minutes. “Rather ballsy, though.”

“We like ballsy.” Loittant grinned. J'wyn's palm met the side of his head straight away, shoving him playfully. A fleeting laugh escaped her lips and his.

“You won't be going.” She reminded. At least she thought it was a reminder. The boy's demeanor turned on a gil and he whirled around to meet her gaze. She apparently hadn't told him that part yet.

“What─why not?” Guilt set in as quickly as betrayal pervaded his umber hues. Loittant always wanted a piece of the action, but she couldn't afford to lose him─not to Archadia, not now. They would take him given the chance, return him to his father or worse. The risk wasn't worth it, and she knew he hated when she did this but it had to be done. The last-second change was hers to make, she just hoped he'd understand.

“You'll be on the Kajikia. If push comes to shove, we'll need you.” Loittant looked unconvinced. Instead, his eyes jumped between the group of mercenaries with embarrassment embellishing his cheeks and ears with a pink hue. It wasn't even the fact that she changed things up last minute, it was that she'd done so in front of other people. The pressure to simply accept it weighed too heavy on his shoulders and he acquiesced. She tried to soften the blow, smiling, “Wladislaus needs you too. He's not comfortable operating the ship alone yet.”

“Right! Right─” Loittant's eyes remained fixed on the group, but pondering the likes of the moogle in question. “I'll be off then.” Shrouding his agitation like a warrior does his wounds, he adjusted his pack, grinned, albeit with an undertone of shallow glee, waved to the others and dipped out of the Sandsea. J'wyn straightened, relinquishing that maternal tone before she'd administered it to someone a fair few years from adolescence. Once the door swung closed, she brightened with excitement; a thrill on the rise.

“So, the Quetzalcoatl it is!” J'wynevier pulled a sagging sack of coin from her pouch and dropped it on the table, drawing the eyes of a few tavern patrons when the slab rang hollow. “Consider this a down payment.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

’Better a weak Esper than none at all.’ A sentiment Vayne wasn't definite he believed. Weeding out the weakest links in pursuit of preserving the strong maintained their integrity. They were pawns; naive, gullible, collateral, maybe, if they were fortunate enough to get that far. A rare case would have them silent, complicit at best, but pawns to a larger game of chess, nonetheless. This wasn't chess─not by a long shot. Were it a political matter he'd agree, but the battlefield had no room for faulty soldiers, not servicing Arcadia's army anyhow. Vayne would hang onto the theory then, until their practice came into fruition. Cid had yet to let him down.

He propelled himself from his desk, giving but one look its way. Not much had been done at it but he could have done so much more had he been awarded the time. The attack on the royal palace had done little to damage its confines, but what they lost in regards to nourishing their endeavor was far greater than the palace, far greater than his rule. It annoyed him how much he lost in such a short time, how little was his fault. It got away from him too quick.

Vayne was not unbeknownst to Cid's schemes, else he had little reason to bother with him at all. The prince granted the beloved scientist with reach and influence he'd otherwise be shrugged off for. Had Larsa the same privileges, Cid would march at his side preaching to him about returning the reins of history to Man. He wondered if his brother would believe in it like he did. At present, it meant locating and procuring the shards and abducting Espers, but what the doctor had in store beyond that was yet to be discovered. Soon Vayne would know.

“Yes, yes, my lot is in order.” he managed a soft smile that ran unnatural and cold upon his features, as if amused by his play with the young researcher. “Your boredom does not go unnoticed, Doctor Bunansa. Let us be off, best we not let it fester,” he seemed to tease─at least his cadence carried the idea.

He stepped from the raised platform where the desk was located and set for the door, deliberate in filling the gap between Cid and Liraz before drawing open the entrance. Bergan stood to the side, guarding as orders would have, but withdrawing from his post the microinstant Vayne emerged. The palace was in an uproar of cleaning and moving things around. The noise seemed unbearable in the office, but being amidst the cacophony made him appreciate and crave silence once more.

“Departing?” Bergan stood at attention to his right, but Vayne did not turn to face him; side-eyeing him. Simple formality, but common sense knew he'd heard their discussion, he had been just outside the door after all.

“At once.” Vayne nodded.

 

[Lucyfer]

Loittant was shut out. Even Basch could tell this hadn’t been discussed by how hurt the boy looked, even if the reasoning was likely sound. Someone behind, on the pirate ship, could be a boon depending on how things turned. They could get onto the Cetacea, but getting off was another story. They might need to open the gates to let in the Kajikia.

“We will try not to need you,” Basch offered Loittant, “We’ll do all we can to protect J’wynevier and come back with the weapon Archadia is guarding.” The words weren’t hollow, but may have sounded that way to the departing boy.

Balthier was the one to wave, retaining that strangely bitter and bored look, before attention shifted entirely to J’wynevier. Balthier reached for the coin pouch as it was dropped and weighed it in his hands, before offering it to Fran who opened it, and examined one of the gil with an eye that suggested she was very good at recognizing counterfeits.

If it was such, she did not speak to it, only returned it to Balthier who added it to his own gil stash, “We can divide it later, I’ll keep it separate,” he said, and did indeed keep the pouch of gil all bound up in its own pouch, “Let us be off then, before we are too late to get to the Quetzalcoatl.”

“We should alert Nono,” Fran reminded, “and gather supplies for another fight with Archadia.”

“Do you have no faith in us avoiding detection?” Balthier said, mock-hurt.

Basch rolled his eyes, “If she has faith, I do not,” not after the last time, “we can use that gil to gather what we need for another engagement.”

Balthier sighed in defeat, “I do not suppose I could persuade you all to do this after we have taken the Quetzalcoatl?” he knew why it was ballsy to target that one, after all. “No? Well, let’s hurry, then, to the bazaar.”

That’d be better than hopping shops, even if the street vendors were sometimes more expensive.

~***~

Vayne remained rather formal with Cidolfus, something that Liraz couldn’t help but notice, given the contrast in Cid’s easy informality. She wondered if it was old habits, or if he didn’t feel half as close to Cid, as Cid’s ease suggested. ‘It’s not your business.’ No, it wasn’t, but Liraz would wonder anyways at the strange relationship that stepped her up much higher on the social ladder.

“I am pleased you have taken my mental health into such consideration,” Cid commented as he followed, allowing Vayne to step between him and Liraz. Both would easily follow that half-step behind, and Cid would again grin at Bergan.

Liraz would only acknowledge the Judge Magister.

There was no time to waste, no supplies to gather – everything would be on the ships, after all. The use of moogling did indeed make it quicker, something Cid couldn’t help but point out with an, “Imagine how quick we could get from Draklor to the senate chamber!” as if that would help bring moogling to Archadia.

Liraz just bit down on a smile at his unsubtle attempts at something completely asinine in the grand scheme of things.

A grand scheme that had left Maxence waiting in front of the ship, sitting and reading over what had to be a new mark. He looked up at the sounds of the heavier footfall – and then was on his feet, back rigid, at the sight of Vayne and the Judge Magister.

Cid stepped ahead, “Maxence! And here I thought we might be leaving without you,” Cid stated, and Maxence flushed, half-embarrassed, half-angered, “Good to see you made it back in good time,” unlike Liraz, he offered no introductions to Vayne or Bergan, “dealing with those beasts would be frustrating otherwise.”

“You’d just leave me behind?” Maxence could not hide the temper that threatened right then.

“No, we wouldn’t,” Liraz wasn’t sure she wasn’t lying, “Cid’s just being impatient, even Prince Vayne had to rush for him,” oh by the Gods why did she say that! Cid had opened the ship up in that time, “Prince Solidor,” that was too formal. Oh well, “this is my brother, Maxence Belrune. He’s prepared the best chocobos for our journey into the Paramina.”

“Ah—right—sorry, Prince Solidor, for that, er…outburst,” Maxence quickly inclined his head as Liraz looped an arm around his, and pulled to suggest he follow into the ship without dawdling outside any further. He went with the tug, though gave her a sidelong look when he thought it wouldn’t be noticed by the following royalty

‘What the fuck’ was more or less the entire question in his blue eyes, a soft contrast to the green gaze of his sister that just rolled up in imitation of a shrug.

 

[khorvidae]

It took every ounce of self control in her being not to roll her eyes at their counterfeit inspection. Had she desired to award counterfeit change, she'd have waited until the deed had been done. Money hadn't been a concern─not entirely. She served well on her part, and now they would have to serve on theirs; something she could not ensure as easily as the viability of money. Vaan seemed confident in their ability to inspext change, though how much faith she held in the child's ability to be objective dwindled with every stray glance he offered to his beloved captain. Approval and validation; that's what he wanted, but she found Balthier’s resistance intriguing. He didn't want to dish it out, not as easily as Vaan would have liked; as though a depreciation of sorts would occur.

“Let's be quick.” J'wynevier situated herself in the back, positioning and gesturing for them to take the lead. Vaan was more than willing, locating himself front like it was his job to take the lead; he looked most natural there. He bolted out of the Sandsea with Penelo in tow. J'wyn smirked as they zealously departed. They needed equipment, the same couldn't be said for the excess-filled pockets of the crimson captain. She had readied herself to wait on the shopping spree, not take part in it.

The busy market district was, indeed, busy. J’wyn barely tiptoed through the bloodthirsty crowd of patrons and clamorous vendors as they shoved through her as though she were wading through white water rapids. Her sturdy figure did not yield to their violations in violence, but her glare demonstrated what she desired to revolt with. It was enough to move them away and keep her close to her people who also battled the crowd. J'wyn did not have to be from Rabanastre to understand their schemes or their kind. The prosperous district became such for a reason, even nefarious. Her eye flickered over each table with fleeting interest. Nothing─nothing─nothing. Suddenly, she lurched forth through the crowd to catch up with the curious no-name specimen when her memory served her suddenly to contents he was devoid of. Tearing her wandering eyes from the stalls guarding the streets, they neared the bazaar.

“Hey,” she nudged the honey blonde clumsily as she awkwardly positioned herself at his side, “What should I call you? No-Name is poetic and all, but I'm not particularly fond of poetry.” She flashed a bright, friendly smile, departing from her earlier decorum, or forgetting it for the sake of casual exchange.

His kindness towards Loittant had been filtering through her ever-musing mind since, and from his brief affirmation to the young noble, a warmness culminated. Not the type of behavior she'd expected from someone devoid of a title, no! Where was the broody criminal intent whirling around in his eyes? Or that pesky lone wolf mentality? A crestfallen visage, that much she expected, but when she inspected him for qualities she disliked, she was bereft of any.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Vayne's unkind features invited little chatter. Even Bergan hesitated; sharp inhales, a held breath that lasted seconds. The Judge had the perk of being mantled and concealed from Vayne's treacherous gaze, but that didn't prevent Vayne's attention from flickering his way. No one desired to bring up his depose. Perhaps it was out of courtesy for his fragile ego, or by virtue of his visibly ill-temper. Bergan had not yet gotten used to his temporary title, which meant he would be spared of his slip-ups. As for everyone else, well, he hoped for a short-lived adjustment period.

Sunlight pervaded the open streets, warming the stones, nourishing the atmosphere. A breeze wove through their bodies, as if privy to the masses of armor and fabric they decked themselves in. It took a great liking to his hair, the weather, heating the dark strands cascading down his face, only slightly concealing his tan structure. It sought to push away his shroud, the veil of wenge that he guarded himself with─that divided the light from shadow. A current tugged at the strands, tickling his cheeks as they swayed. It was less stuffy outside than in the palace. In it, he reveled, albeit briefly, as they closed in on the ship.

As their escapade drew to a close, an irritated, young man awaited them. Vayne overlooked his frantic scramble to attention, not that it made a difference to his demeanor. Cid appeared familiar with the boy, so Vayne maintained even decorum, though he'd defer to Bergan's creativity in those instances. Granted, he was taken aback by how uptight the boy was; scared they would abandon him. Bergan scoffed at his side, unimpressed.

Vayne wasn't given much of an opportunity to acknowledge the boy─Maxence─before he was hauled away. From it, he gathered they would be traveling by chocobo, an obvious prospect given the impracticality of going by foot through the Paramina Rift, but a important tidbit, nonetheless. Something about the boy conjured flashes of the younger prince, although what exactly reminded him of Larsa was completely unbeknownst to him. His dearest younger brother, ‘ah,’ that's what he had to look forward to back in Archadia.

Vayne was quick to trail the pair onto the ship. The Judge Magister must have perceived a reminiscent glimmer in the prince's eye, or maybe good timing was to blame, but he found room to speak.

“Lord Larsa awaits you in Archades.” Joy of joys, Larsa was eager to see him as well. Vayne hoped his younger sibling would be just as fascinated with the Esper as he was. In their path yet stood that extraordinary journey, but beyond it he found solace in the idea he'd see his brother again. In some aspects, the atypical comfort whirling around in his chest calmed the torrent in his heart, and the restlessness nestled in his furrowed brows grew wary and melted away.

"I am pleased to hear it," Vayne refused to provoke reasoning. He was content finding out from the lesser lord himself.

 

[Lucyfer]

Basch’s mind was a tally of items that Balthier may not consider for their upcoming engagement. Not that Balthier was likely to forget much, but the man had little respect for the uses of magicite to those not skilled in magic, as Fran and Penelo were. Basch had no such talent, but he’d found a magicite imbued with curing magic could be just as useful as a potion at times, and another fueled by fire, often better than an explosive.

At least, when they didn’t want to plummet thousands of feet to their deaths by opening up a ship.

He intended to seek out a shop that specialized in the stones and gather a few before waving those with the gil over. He was not jostled nearly as much by the crowd; his figure still held itself as a knight as he walked amongst them, and gave off that silent warding that kept people some distance as they moved by.

Not that all were so polite, but it wasn’t the same kind of jostling that Vaan just pushed through with his own shoving and movements. Basch could almost sigh at it, envy at the energy, exhaustion at watching.

Instead, he was distracted from his search and his mixed emotions by the red pirate coming up alongside him to ask for a name.

He allowed a brief chuckle, allowing a smile to warm his face at her query. He understood how suspicious it was, and knew he couldn’t alleviate that suspicion here, “I mean not to hide it from you, Lady J’wynevier, but just right now it may be best not to mention it,” not that anyone was really paying attention, but it only took one person to hear the name, and then see his face. He understood, “Should you ask me again on your ship, I will give you my name. For the time being, I suppose you can call me Noah.”

A name his brother now forsook in favor of Gabranth.

Someone may as well honor the man that Noah could have been.

“I admit there is some poetry to the choice, but I hope you shall forgive me. I have no skill as poets do, but I have something of a poetic heart,” his life had become a tragedy in so many ways, how could he not develop a bitter fondness for it?

His gaze shifted, losing some of the softness, but none of the amiableness, as he finally saw the magicite out of the corner of one eye. He meant to redirect the conversation, but he heard the familiar ‘tch’ of Balthier.

He looked around and saw Balthier standing not far – and looking up.

His own gaze went up and he saw a ship. “Is that…?”

“Yes.” The way Balthier spoke, one may have assumed he held a grudge against the very wind beneath the ship’s wings.

~***~

Liraz could hear the comment from Bergan as she moved not towards the cockpit, but the opposite direction. There wasn’t really any room to relax, the ship was made for quick travel between few people, and with Vayne and Bergan joining them, it felt crowded even at this distance.

Maxence broke from her hold, “You didn’t tell me a judge magister would be here?”

“Do you expect the Prince travels without one?”

Maxence didn’t have a response for that. He hadn’t thought at all, and that was obvious. He flushed red and buried his face in his hands, acknowledging his own mistake, and failure to make a good impression. Liraz sighed and patted his shoulder, “I basically called Vayne ‘Consul’, so we’re both doing great.”

“Thanks,” Maxence said, sarcasm heavy, “now how am I supposed to be a Judge.”

“I don’t know, maybe undergo formal military training like everyone else?”

The look he gave her as he lowered his hands indicated his abhorrence of the idea. Liraz just rolled her eyes. That was exactly why he’d never be a judge. Now wasn’t the time for that old and tired conversation, “Just focus on the chocobos.”

The ship jolted beneath them, and Liraz reached for the wall as Maxence remained fairly stationary and glanced forward towards the cockpit. No doubt where Cid was. Possibly where Vayne and Bergan were. It would be easy to stay back here in each other’s company until they returned to the Cetacea, where the chocobos waited, but that was fairly cowardly.

Although, much less cramped, which everyone might appreciate.

Maxence made the move, changed the subject, “Montblanc mentioned a mark in the Paramina – a white chocobo.” His eyes were alight with the idea as they made their way towards the front. “Do you think we’ll be staying long enough over the Paramina to look into it?”

“Possibly,” that wasn’t Liraz’s call, and it depended heavily on a lot of things, “I thought you were busy trying to breed a golden chocobo?”

“I am – but this might help! I know a black chocobo is involved, and I have plenty of those,” that had been the easy part, “it’s what to breed the black chocobo with that I keep coming up empty handed.”

“Oh by the Gods, is this the golden chocobo talk again? Honestly, Max,” Cid complained as they entered the cockpit, but not without a little humor in his tone. He wasn’t piloting, another was at that duty, though Cid occupied the co-pilot’s seat. He claimed to be a better pilot, but he never bothered to prove it. “What has you on this subject again?”

“There’s a mark for a white chocobo in the Paramina,” Maxence explained, “I’ve never seen one before, so I’m thinking that might just be the breeding stock I need, if I can catch it.”

“Ha! Well, at least I know there’s no lack to your scientific ambitions, even if they remain so singularly set,” Cid gave an almost disappointed sigh, “still, a golden chocobo – ah, what a boon that would be! Chocobos that can run across the ocean, and stride over mountains like nothing. I hope that I live to see it.”

“You wil—” the ship suddenly jerked, and though Maxence held his balance fairly easily, Liraz lost it. The wall wasn’t conveniently close this time, but the arm of a former consul was, and on instinct she grabbed it to stop the fall and steady herself – assuming Vayne wasn’t also thrown off balance.

 

[khorvidae]

Lady J'wynevier─was he trying to get her to blush? The kindness etched in his face rang as truly and purely as the words uttered to Loittant. A laugh, for a while there, she didn't think he was capable. Charmed as she was, she searched him still for qualities. Steadfast, pure hearted, working alongside this bunch? She grappled with it, in disbelief mostly. J'wyn was likely projecting. Not that she had been particularly unloved or betrayed in her early years to lead her down this path, but many were. Mercenary work was not for the faint of heart. She wondered how he got into this line of work.

“Noah,” she echoed the title affirmatively, searching for even the subtlest indication that it suited him. Repeating the syllables, carving a place for it on her tongue, lent itself to little more than stripping it of all its meaning. Luckily, her gaze was brought skyward before its lack of meaning failed to embed itself in her psyche and so Noah he would remain. J'wynevier noted the choice, wondering if it was derived from somewhere meaningful or if he just really liked the name. They hadn't time for her to pontificate, especially when the Quetzalcoatl glided overhead. She huffed.

“We missed it.” Vaan whined. “Now what?”

“Fret not,” J'wyn sang, “I have a Plan B.” The one she was set on to begin with; Plan A was a contingency that she put little faith in. The truth being that Plan B was Plan A all along─or was it? The Quetzalcoatl, located not all that far from the Sandsea, was indeed faster to get to, but she understood how indiscreet hauling an entire party would be. She found it laughable; she liked danger, but labeling herself Public Enemy #1 by purloining the Imperial carrier that their former Consul and Prince of Archadia would be boarding seemed injudicious, even for her. J'wyn had not been blind to the chaos in the palace until recent. Peeking through the windows, they worked day and night to polish the interior prior to the prince's departure. She imagined them ushering their dearest Vayne Solidor out of the palace with mops in hand and buckets in tow. Too bad she hadn't gotten to witness it.

“We'll take the bazaar moogling back to the Southgate─” She visibly mapped the landscape in her head, staring with squinted eyes into the back of some hapless person's cranium. That would take them to the Giza Plains, where two fighter class ships were reported docked. One had a malfunction of sorts, of course, she would not enlighten the group with that fact. Not unless the ship didn't work. “Two Archadian fighters should be there.”

“They’ll be guarded, we can't do that.” Vaan crossed his arms, an adorably juvenile attempt to take the reins. They could do that, and would.

“How do you figure?” J'wyn quipped. “We take them out, then snag their ships.”

He looked thoroughly dissatisfied with that idea, with his furrowed brows and puckered scowl. With all his fancy weapons, did he not expect to use them? Last she checked, Dalmascans hate Archadians, so she merely provided an opportunity to take out their anger on their Imperial overlords.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Vayne hadn't expected the interior to be as confined and small as it was. If he tried, his wingspan could have stretched the width of the tiny cruiser. He didn't, not with everyone in his way, but he considered it. The Cetacea, a cargo ship, would provide a larger, safer area to traverse. The heat of several humes bothered him more than who he rubbed elbows with. Had he escaped the summery outdoors just to overheat within? Vayne sure hoped not. Still, he situated himself up front so that he could see the sights they crossed over. His gaze followed the walls that led him to the roof, where the various plates and screws convened around a handle. He guided his hand up to it, capturing it and pulling to test its hold. It proved itself most useful when the ship jolted with life, taking off with a rumble he pretended didn't disconcert him.

“I wonder how he is,” Vayne paused. Bergan wasn't the proper person to ask, he wondered all the same. It plagued him, his brotherly concern. Orders and paperwork sated his worry for a couple of days, but what came now was guilt. Its subtlety made it difficult to discern from the general unease he existed in, but he found the most personal distaste he held for the Senate derived from Larsa. How they wished to puppeteer him, to make him dance to their whim, to have him bend to their unyielding will. Vayne did not deign to inform them their beloved Larsa would not surrender so easily, as it benefitted the both of them to allow the Senate's delusion to control it.

“He is in good hands,” Bergan comforted, “Gabranth and Drace have done well to keep him safe.” He was assuming, a stretch too far for Vayne to feel content with. Assumptions weren't inherently true, no matter how secure they seemed.

The ship jerked suddenly, causing Vayne to lose footing and yank on the panic handle he falsely assumed he didn't need. He captured it, quick to steady himself until another figure collided into him, grasping at his free arm. Stable enough to hold her, he allowed her to use him until the ship gained back its equilibrium. They were pushing the weight capacity. Bergan's armor probably weighed half the lot of them, no wonder they couldn't remain steady. Or perhaps the weight of their words interfered. Who operated this thing?

“Perhaps Doctor Bununsa should take the helm,” Vayne was wholehearted in this proclamation, but, given how unfeasible it was in the air, Bergan snickered beside him. The prince found this far from funny. The trials and tribulations they put this ship through, the least they could have was a decent pilot. His attention shifted, finding solace in the aid he provided for the strawberry blonde scientist. They were fortunate he could support the two of them, lest she went barrelling through them and hurt herself.

“Are you alright?” Vayne found his manners. Satisfied or no, he'd been frazzled by the event, he couldn't imagine how she felt.

 

[Lucyfer]

Basch was not sure what to make of the way J’wyn seemed to search him. No doubt, she was trying to determine how honest he was, how much of a threat he was, too. He had admitted to lying, but something about the look didn’t quite match those biased thoughts, and he couldn’t filter through them to figure it out.

There would be a lot to learn, though he knew they were unlikely to be with J’wynevier long beyond this side mission to grasp nethicite.

Besides, there were more pressing concerns – the loss of the Quetzalcoatl and the new plan. Likely, the plan the pirate had all along, with the two fighters. Basch furrowed his brows, “Those fighters will be heading back to the main ship soon, if the Quetzalcoatl is returning, will they not?”

“Perhaps,” Balthier shrugged, not as concerned as Basch felt he should be. He did give Vaan a wry look at his complaint, “Come now, Vaan, it isn’t as if this is anything new to us.”

Basch nodded, “This time we will be prepared.”

“Unlike the last times,” Penelo chimed, wrapping an arm over Vaan’s shoulder as she came back with her bundle of supplies, “Which, I suppose we might want to hurry, huh?”

Balthier gave an affirmative hum, and looked to Basch then.

Basch understood, “I found some magicite we may want to invest in. I do not know if magicite will work around, ah, the weapon, but it could be a boon if it does.”

“Fair point,” Balthier agreed, “let’s get a small variety, then,” he stepped up to the merchant to begin haggling and Basch stepped away to let him. Balthier was all charm and smiles dealing with the merchant and joking about their use of the magicite in teaching ‘poor Vaan’ magic, gesturing back to him as he worked to get the price down.

Fran just shook her head, tossing her hair in mock exasperation behind Balthier’s back.

Balthier soon had a nice bag of stones and he tossed them at Vaan, “Try and keep those safe,” he said to the boy.

~***~

It was not a great day for Liraz to be making impressions. When she realized who she’d grasped, it took everything in her power not to let go. That would have only made the situation worse with a fall, and Vayne wasn’t pushing her away, so she was able to use him to straighten up, and then step away, and put her back to a wall, as Vayne bemoaned the fact Cid hadn’t taken over.

Bergan found it all quite amusing, it seemed. And she saw the little look Maxence gave Bergan from the side; subtle admiration, less subtle curiosity. And, no doubt, no small pride in how Bergan stayed upright, just like himself, compared to the Prince.

And her.

Doctor Bunansa laughed at Vayne’s declaration, “A bit late now,” he admitted, “but perhaps I’ll pilot us down at Paramina, hm?” he suggested, not at all bothered since he could sit down and not worry about anything.

Liraz was quick to nod to Vayne’s inquiry, “I’m all right,” she was, after all. “Thank you – and sorry, I should know myself better to stay near the walls.” She could at least use them to stay balanced and if she was jolted, she was jolted close to a wall. “I’m not on these small cruisers that often.”

Maxence shook his head, “If you’d just learn how to stand on a ship—”

“Without those shoes you would fall too,” Liraz reminded him calmly. He may resent her for doing so in front of his Beloved Judge, but he deserved it.

He flushed a little and huffed, “It’s not just the shoes.” His invention, of course, so he’d not put them down too far. They were rather interesting shoes, the balance they offered only a bonus thanks to their springs and the way they distributed and dealt with weight and falls. They were made to allow him to jump higher, something he’d decided he needed when the black chocobos he raised started getting rowdy and trying to go higher than he could reach them.

It was perhaps for that reason, he opted to ask, “Are you all sure you don’t need an extra hand in Paramina?” Cid and Liraz had denied him, but Vayne outranked all of them, so why not try again? “The chocobos should do fine without me, even in the cold, but if it’s going to be a strenuous venture, they might need some extra guidance to stay in check.” Obviously, he just hoped to have a way to show off in front of a Judge Magister, and get closer to that position.

Well, obviously to Liraz, who was shaking her head.

She saw what Famfrit did.

She wanted Maxence nowhere near that.

 

[khorvidae]

Vaan captured the stones, promptly spinning on his heels with newfound energy mending the frown marring his delicate face; a facsimile of his former self, lest he bring down the hardy spirit of the group. He stored them in his pocket. For a moment he lost the crimson tressed pirate, searching the crowd filtering in just to notice her by the moogle on the far side where she'd slipped off to during their haggling session.

Boredom rested atop her brows, evident by the knotted stance and the distinct sense of irritability gnawing at her. She's counting the seconds with total passive-aggressive intent, ready to wield it antagonistically given the chance. Slowly, she's worn thin of patience and kindness, and to blame were her ruminations, wanting─needing whatever it was Archadia would possess. It didn't matter if they improved upon every iteration of every machine she stole, recruited twenty soldiers for every one she had, so long as she kept up with their firepower─

With massive, glossy eyes, the moogle to her left peered up at her like she was some rueful giant. J'wyn looked anywhere else but the tiny creature to preclude the onset of adoring squeals she would lose herself to. This was not fair. She was busy brooding. Couldn't it see her menacing scowl? Warding off its admiration meant playing the sordid monster, and she couldn't be mean to a moogle if she wanted to. J'wyn stole a glimpse, he winked at her. ’Too cute.’ Her lips curled.

“Find everything?” Noticing the group bounding towards her, she propelled herself away from the post, finding reason to smile from somewhere, but pretending it didn't exist because it meant admitting she was frustrated in the first place. By the time they came around, she'd already lost count of the seconds she sought to weaponize, and forgot what she riled herself up about to prelude it. Damned moogle. Somewhere she lost track of what they bought too, not that it was any of her business, she was just nosy. Probably the standard assortment of goods.

“Yeah, I think we're ready.” Vaan bounced toward her, having quickly forgotten his prior revulsion.

“These fighters; will they hold all of us?” Ashe had been quiet since the Sandsea, J’wyn began to get worried. Now it contributed to her widening smile. Of the few questions she asked, this excited the pirate most.

“We'll make it work.” This non-answer evoked a hard, dissatisfied frown from the girl; not differing too far from her neutral countenance. Where was their sense of adventure. Half the fun of piracy was finding out.

"Right." Ashe huffed.

"So," J'wyn gestured broadly to the post she rested on prior, "Shall we?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Vayne mentally scoffed. The doctor would have reason to be cautious then. Meddling with their lives made little difference at present, but in the presence of an Esper? How could he compromise that? They were fortunate autopilot existed─evidently refused or unbeknownst to their current pilot─to prevent the joust between the carrier and weight distribution and any other traffic in the sky. A distinct lack of trust embedded itself in Vayne's neutral countenance now, his fingers tightening the handle into his palm. He'd never let go then. Not with recklessness running rampant. He afforded no words toward their captain; they probably got the point.

A redeeming factor of the sudden ordeal was knowing that no one was harmed. As Liraz weaned off his aid, finding footing. He could not blame her for losing balance─he could blame her for almost taking him with her, however. Vayne spared her the lecture. She looked frazzled enough as is, and she was soon content bickering with the chocobo wrangler. He eavesdropped; doing what he did best. The boy seemed rather enamored with what their end goal was, Vayne wondered if he grasped the true weight of their find.

He mulled it over. He gauged Liraz's expression, a distinct, “no,” echoed in her shaking head. What fueled it, he wondered. Then, his irises shifted to the doctor, from whom he gathered very little. The man faced away from him, so he ultimately deferred to Liraz's judgment in knowing the boy. For what reason he desired to come lost itself between them, but the prince did note the ogling of Judge Bergan. How quaint. Vayne smirked.

“It's best you stay on the ship,” a light tone weaved through the rejection to soften the blow. He didn't bother with reasoning through it. There were plenty of established reasons, ones that would be deterrents for even the mightiest men and brashest soldiers. Maxence looked young─real young─and if his only excuse for coming was to keep the chocobos in check, Vayne felt obligated to refuse, if only to preclude the inevitable harm done should things go awry.

"Keep the Cetacea warm for us," Bergan added. The prince barely warded off a dry chuckle. That would be one way to be helpful; crank the heat for the moment they returned. They were accustomed to more temperate weather anyway.

 

[Lucyfer]

Balthier was the only one who appeared amused by the non-answer that J’wynevier provided to them about the fighters. Likely, he knew the size. If he was worried, he didn’t express it at all, so Basch would not worry, or insist on more information that J’wynevier may or may not have. If it wasn’t big enough, well…they could try and talk Vaan and Penelo into staying behind, as likely as that was to fail.

Such children really shouldn’t be involved in this. ‘You would do the same.’ He would, and he had.

“Yes, let’s,” Balthier agreed, stepping up to the moogling moogle, “all of us to the Southgate, if you would, please,” he addressed politely.

“Kupo! Just hold still,” it seemed more chipper than Basch anticipated; he wasn’t sure why that even drew his notice right then, as moments later, they were all vanishing with the magic of the teleportation and appearing at the Southgate.

He turned his eyes towards Giza and was relieved to see the heat of the sun beating down on the area. Not that he worried overmuch about the rainy season, but he couldn’t imagine it would be fun tramping around the wetlands, trying to get a ship to start – well, if it was out so far. J’wynevier hadn’t quite told them just where the ship was, after all.

Balthier stretched up his arms, walking a few steps away from the moogle, “Never can get used to that feeling,” he said as he arched his back, and then shook out his arms, “Regardless,” he turned towards the other pirate, “which way from here? I shall leave the leading role to you, for now,” as if it was such a hardship.

Fran visibly rolled her eyes behind his back, so that Penelo saw and giggled. “Aww, are you starting to get impatient, Balthier?” To J’wynevier, she added with that beaming smile of hers, “he’s so used to leading us, you would think he’d want a break from it.”

“I happen to enjoy knowing what is going on, thank you very much,” Balthier countered.

“But you do know what is going on,” Penelo pointed out, to a little irked side-eye from Balthier – though Basch saw the lightness in it. The humor. It twisted his lips up just a little, and Basch felt some relief at the sight.

Balthier was hard to read when he wanted to be, but he seemed to soften around the kids.

~***~

A smirk. The trickles of amusement. A pointless order.

Even Liraz felt Maxence’s temper, some of it struck her. To be asked to do such a pitiful thing as keep the ship warm when her sibling was going into danger? She’d smack someone. As it was, this was keeping Maxence safe, so she wouldn’t rise to his defense in this, and would keep her own sympathetic temper down as Maxence first accepted – then looked annoyed, thanks to the addition of Bergan.

“Maxence won’t be in charge of that, I am afraid – he’ll be in our transport to make sure to wrangle the chocobos when we return, presuming we can keep them all alive, of course,” Cid chuckled, but it wasn’t without truth. There was a good chance the chocobos could perish if they didn’t leave them far enough away from the esper, and that would complicate things for getting back. The goal wasn’t to get them killed, at any rate. “I am sure you can make sure the transport is quite warm, though?”

Maxence scowled at Cid for it, “Sure,” he might let it be freezing instead. Liraz was almost willing to bet on it. At least he allowed that to be the end of it; Liraz supposed he knew better than to mention the death toll of the last encounter. Besides, he’d been told more than once that discussion was Secret.

He was lucky he got to know anything at all, considering he wasn’t involved in the research or fighting of the Espers.

The communications buzzed to life, and Liraz turned her attention towards the conversation between the captain and the Cetacea, as they discussed which hangar to dock in within the Cetacea. ‘Not long then.’ The Cetacea was at least more stable to walk in, given its size. The nerves were finally starting to crawl up her spine, the reality of hitting the Paramina Rift and finding Mateus beginning to form as real in her mind.

‘Worse if Mateus isn’t there….’ To be proven a failure in front of an audience like this…were it just Cid, it would not be so bad, but Cid was putting her trust in her deductions and bringing along Vayne Solidor this time.

‘And if Mateus is, I have to be ready.’ Plenty of ethers. Definitely plenty of ethers.

They fell under the shadow of the Cetacea, and the landing was a bit jostling still. Liraz pressed one palm hard against the wall so she wouldn’t move much more, and grit her teeth against the uncomfortable landing.

Cid rose with a single clap of his hands and stepped around his chair, “I will see to it the Cetacea’s commodore knows we can be off if they have not realized it already,” he said, moving towards the exit, “I am sure I do not need to direct any of you around the Cetacea, but when we arrive at the Paramina Rift, do be sure to head to the Pisces hangar.”

Liraz already knew that, considering they’d docked the chocobo transport there, but nodded anyways, pushing away from the wall, and taking only a moment’s hesitation before stepping after Cid to leave the small transport.

The captain was clearly going to wait for everyone to clear out.

 

[khorvidae]

She was quick to recover, integrating herself effortlessly and smiling when she relieved Balthier of the leading role. Penelo's soft, jovial nature softened the hit to his ego. J’wyn hummed a laugh.

“Oh, I don't know,” she led in a humorous tone. “I could pull a fast one he'd never expect.” Mostly in jest, she could not guarantee the path ahead.

“That would not be wise.” Fran cautioned, albeit also amused by the notion of taking him off guard. Throwing him off would rot J'wyn's rapport with the lot of them. She wouldn’t risk such concord casualties until they were officially fractured and had no reason to bother with each other; had she the desire, which she didn't. Lucky them.

In transitioning to the spot up front, she took in their surroundings. Most notably the lack of guards at the entrance and the dry season awaiting them. The pirate wasted no time bounding towards the door, with the group trailing close, knowing exactly where they were headed.

Pushing open the massive, steel doors, awaiting them was the dry desert. For miles, it stretched, a landscape so barren yet brimming with life. Like a painting, the stills of distant Dark Crystals twinkled with radiant light, the reflections of which could blind the eyes with prolonged exposure. The masses of crystal were impressive in scale and luster, yet remained the creatures prowling the panorama betwixt the observer and the plains’ various luminous structures, gorging on the scarce contents of the land to preclude the primal horror of hunger gnawing at their stomachs. The beauty of such lands danced before the group, as well as the ugly instincts of bloodthirsty beasts. They ravaged each other, tearing apart or defending what was rightfully theirs. These were the lands of volatile winds and sand, soon again the lands of rainfall and floods. Worse had impeded them, yet the daunting nature of the countryside implanted an eeriness in their chests, an unease to match the starving creatures that inhabited it and to offset their excitement.

It was a good thing they weren't going that way.

Not entirely true. They would be, just not yet. And not on foot.

J'wyn pressed herself against the entryway wall, peeking around the corner and across the way to see if the fighters she'd heard so much about waited there. Bingo! A cackle tempted her chest, overwhelmed by delight to see that they were indeed there, loitering or something. J'wyn wasn't exactly sure what; she wasn't going to ask. Three men danced around the ship, clumsily inspecting parts. Even from a distance, they appeared to be stuck. She could fix stuck. Stuck was no hard venture for her, but for these fools? Evidently so.

With a grin brimming with as much joy as the Giza Plains had monsters, she twisted back towards the group. Her hand flew up to the handle of her weapon.

“Wait here.” She uttered, spinning back around, skipping into a run.

Prancing across the length of the wall, voices emerged. Pilots poked and prodded their ships. One yelled, “The fuck did you two do?” Shoving through two others to inspect the fighter. He buried his muscular hands in the machine, tugging around cords and cables, then growing visibly enraged and slamming his weight into the ship, leaving the internals there. A fit of sand whirled around them, finding quarters in the fighter's chassis. He whipped around to give both soldiers a hard look, searching for some oasis of patience to drink from so he didn't kill either one of them. Apparently, he came up empty-handed and, furthermore, thirsty.

“We left them out in the sand; what'd you expect?” Mustering the courage to not only speak, but talk back. Ballsy, yet admirable. The junior pilot, now on his knees, gathered his essence in recovering, a hand flowing through the sandy waves beneath him.

“Left them in the─what?!” Their leader threw up his hands, the incredulous nature ringing a little louder than he was prepared for. “Whose fuckin’ genius idea was that, then?”

“Yours─!” Their unity marked the loss of wavering forbearance. His hands flew up again, dismissing the two. The weight of his intolerance, or their union, thrust him back a few paces. He clumsily caught himself, kicking up more sand in the process, and stormed off.

Shrouded by the blanket of shadow, J'wyn's silhouette materialized across the sand from the other side of their broken fighter, extending her bladed rifle out with a single hand towards the already compromised soldiers. Their hands floated up and tucked behind their heads. Smart, this would be easy then. One opened his mouth, receiving the chilling eye of the barrel.

“Captain!”

“Oh my fu─What?” Not two seconds had gone by since he left the pair. His rage was palpable. As he rounded the corner, her target switched, and he walked right into her line of shot, halting before the blade rather than the gun. “What the fuck do you think you're doin'?”

“Commandeering,” J'wyn gave an ironic smile. “Now move.” He opened his mouth in protest, but the acquiescence that followed concluded with his hands held over his head and the bunch of them shuffling toward the wall. J'wyn waved over her crew.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

‘Warm for the chocobos then,’ Vayne's mind insisted. Bergan glanced at him like it was a shared thought, but the prince pretended not to notice. If it was any consolation, Vayne would make an effort to keep his assigned chocobo alive and well. For his part, Bergan couldn't stand the sight of any perished animal, let alone a chocobo. He's awfully smug, though. Vayne couldn't help but hope his chocobo felt particularly ruffled that day in hopes of witnessing him be flung off and humbled. He hadn't ridden in a while, though; perhaps karma would have him thrown off instead. With the boy's switch in temperament, the prince should have deliberated whose services he borrowed a tad more.

The static buzzing from the front of the ship enticed his attention. They were close, and that was exciting. That meant they strayed not too far from the Rift now. The carrier ship came into view, following the same aesthetics that Aulard El Enrique was notorious for. His insistence on such aquatic designs was lost on the prince, the humor in it coercing little but an amused breath. A whale—that's the shape the Cetacea paraded as some coronation float hundreds of meters in the air. Steel blues and fog grays mimicked the tones of the aquatic beast, and as they ducked beneath the ribbed underbelly, Vayne feared it would crush them like one too. They hooked into place, being pulled slowly into the vessel. Vayne was glad he'd put all his faith into his panic handle at that moment. He prepared himself for any other unstable passengers. When none came or sated the heroic thirst he steeled himself for, he glanced around.

“Excited, Lord Vayne?” The Judge was familiar with his tells.

“Quite.” His flat reply received a dry laugh from the Judge. He was being genuine. Mateus, would soon be in their grasp.

As Cid exited the ship, Vayne pictured the renegade divine lingering over his shoulder. Maybe it was truly there; he wondered what it thought. This was neither their first Esper, nor the scientist's first rodeo in capturing one. Famfrit prevailed as his first catch, the beginning of a larger story in restoring humanity's autonomy and freeing the fallen slaves of their spiritual overlords. This must be gratifying. To darn frayed history they played a part in. Would an apology mend the gap? Or convalesce in the interim?

What did it matter? They needed to capture the Esper first.

Vayne was one of the last people to leave the ship, allowing those most in-the-know to lead.

“Excellent piloting.” Bergan spat a few kind words. Vayne thought it better left unsaid.

The interior of the Cetacea differed little from the ships he'd boarded in the past. It looked as spacious as a whale's innards, though, and more stable than the minnow they jostled within. To be on steady ground would suffice. He swore he began to get motion sick.

He called to mind an earlier conversation about proper containment for the Esper. Curiosity seized him, and suddenly he approached the next best to Cid himself: Liraz.

"I recall earlier mention of holding quarters made for the Esper." Vayne ushered himself closer to the young woman's side. "You wouldn't happen to be too busy to lead me to them, would you?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Basch watched Balthier scoff, and mock the ‘wait here’ as J’wynevier bounded off. He did, for a time, as Fran stepped up and pulled her bow off of her back and strung an arrow, prepared to provide back-up at a distance. Balthier had pulled his gun, and he tapped it on his shoulder as they did, indeed, wait.

“We may move,” though the situation had not wound to a conclusion, Fran spoke it, and Balthier was the first to move, approaching the fighters and their ‘guards’ – if they could be called that – as J’wynevier put a threat to the captain and they all fell in line. Balthier snorted at the scene.

“I will give you credit for flair,” he said, “Noah,” apparently he’d heard the false name, “Ashe, Vaan, Penelo – watch the guards.” Balthier dropped his gun back into its holster, and Fran moved her bow back over a shoulder.

Basch nodded, “We can do that,” it would keep them from running off and letting others know, so they could be stopped. It was obvious to him that Balthier, Fran, and J’wynevier would see to it about fixing the ships.

Penelo took her staff out, and set it into the ground in front of her, taking a ‘guarding’ position and mocking up a stern look as she stared down at the trio of guards, who had taken seats on the ground, perhaps aware that looked better for them. They’d have to go through the hassle of standing up to run, after all.

If she meant to be intimidating, however, she was not.

Basch did not bother drawing his blade, only moved to take a position between the trio and their run back to Rabanastre. Though, he doubted any would try.

“Ugh – what in the blazes did you do to these poor ships?” Balthier asked, before even getting his hands in the guts of one. He already looked repulsed.

“He had them left in the sand,” that junior pilot remarked, still willing to put all the blame on the leader, despite their situation.

Balthier gave the leader a look that would have wilted roses from the sheer disgust reflected. “Honestly,” Balthier’s exasperation was apparent, “I’ll deal with this one,” he told J’wynevier as he decided on the fighter he had the unfortunate displeasure of looking into. “I have never dealt with sand in a ship, but I know how to. Some of us know how to maintain our vessels.” He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up past his elbows.

Everything about his disgust was almost too amusing, except Basch felt it wasn’t actually theatrical. Balthier truly was that disgusted with it all, and not animating to animate.

Perhaps Penelo didn’t get the joke, “Try not to break a nail, Balthier!”

Balthier mocked her, too, before leaning into the chassis to start on the tiresome work of cleaning the sand out of all the little holes, and around the gears, to get the machine up and running again.

Occasionally, requesting Fran’s help where he couldn’t quite reach.

~***~

As Liraz stepped out of the ship, Maxence followed behind and stepped to her side, “I’m going to go check on the chocobos,” he sounded a bit more put off, though she could hear the invite in his tone. He probably wanted to vent to someone that could respond, rather than a chocobo that would just make noises he’d imagine meanings to.

She did not plan to join, and nodded, taking out the little bit of nethicite she had been entrusted with, “I’ll see you soon,” not a lie, and perhaps she would even join him before it was time, but it was signal enough that she wasn’t going with him right then.

He didn’t press, and headed off to check on his beloved birds, as she turned the stone over in her hand, focusing her thoughts on it, pulling at the magic that radiated within the glyph, finding the tension to feel it, without activating it, reminding herself of the hum of it, of how it would feel to tune – before a shadow fell over her, and she looked to her side just before the owner of it spoke.

‘Can’t you bother Cid?’

She wouldn’t say that, of course, as she tucked the shimmering purple nethicite back into her pocket. “No, I’m not too busy,” she answered him, even if a part of her wondered how he would have taken denial.

‘Prove yourself first. Then you can start denying princes.’ Her mind wanted to add ‘handsome’. It also wanted to add ‘murderer’. Both were enough incentive not to do anything too rash to earn displeasure.

Her parents would be so proud to learn who she was rubbing shoulders with. They’d be proud to know all that money sent to put her through the Academy had paid off in such a way, beyond just being an apprentice to the head scientist in all of Archades, possibly in all of the world.

She made a small gesture for him to follow as she began to lead through the Cetacea. Its design truly was similar to just about every other large ship, so navigating it was not much trouble for her. She knew that the containment chamber was near the Pisces hangar, part of the reason the chocobos were docked there. It was a cargo hold that had been modified just off to the side of the hangar.

She could have walked silently.

Perhaps she should have walked silently, given her propensity to shove her foot in her mouth, but there was hardly that familiar camaraderie that would allow her to feel comfortable in the silence, so she let that discomfort get the better of her as she noted, “There were not many who believed in Doctor Bunansa’s theories,” especially after Giruvegan. That was when most broke from him.

He remained employed.

He created fascinating things, after all. Nethicite! But as for trust in him? That had seemed quite low.

“But he has spoken highly of you for a while,” enough to bring Vayne into this venture, before his return to Archadia, “I am…curious what has kept you so faithful to the Doctor?” His faith was obviously being rewarded, but why? “Call it scientific curiosity,” she said then, with a quick smile, not entirely genuine, “as one of the few others who’ve held faith, I’m trying to figure out the common denominator.”

 

[khorvidae]

“Sand traps heat,” J'wynevier offered her knowledge without inquiry. “If I had to guess, I'd say the engine's buried and overheating upon start-up.”

She approached the adjacent ship, running her fingers along the magnesium hull. Her gun flew over her shoulder, finding accommodation along the length of her back where it sat before.

The bonnet wasn't packed with as much sand as the other airship, so she set to swiftly scooping most of it out with a large, gil-deserted purse. The engine was hot, absorbing every ounce of heat and relaying it to other components. Miraculously, they hadn't damaged any parts or blown any fuses in their panicked flurry.

The chassis, now devoid of pesky particles, could thermoregulate well enough in the following minutes. Once they got them in the troposphere, the air would do just enough to keep them cool.

Until then, J'wynevier rose back to her feet, dusting herself off and clapping away the sand that had grown too emotionally and physically attached to her for her liking. As it stuck to her skin she was reminded why she hated it, like a thousand tiny darts clinging to her by needle points, a gust of wind pulling every speck across her flesh, leaving phantom lacerations in their stead. She clenched her teeth to take in a shallow breath, filtering out the sand. The heat she could bare, but this was torture.

Their “guards” had done well to deter escape despite initial doubts.

“So,” J'wyn clapped her hands together as she neared, “who's riding with me?” This question excited her. It meant gauging who instilled some level of trust in her. Vaan shrugged dismissively, keeping his eyes on the guards. Ashe was less committed.

“I'll ride with you.” That's a win! Of all people, Ashe was her least likely candidate. The red-headed pilot's visible joy evoked a twinge of regret to probe the blonde's cheek. Penelo glanced at her younger counterpart, assessing Vaan before making her decision. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a brief nod of agreement before gluing his attention to the faulty pilots.

“Vaan and I will fly with Balthier.” Well, the kids didn't count. Together they barely counted as one adult. Not that she doubted Fran would abandon the spikey-haired pilot; they were tied at the hip, even now. That left Noah to tie the imaginary scores or leave her to share awkward “bonding time” with Ashe. With how the woman eyed her, J'wyn was frightened by the prospect.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Whether he truly inconvenienced the woman meant little. Curiosity's hold on him overrode any duties Liraz had to tend to; were it contrary, he expected her to vocalize as much. When she hadn't, when she gestured for him to follow, a pleased yet polite quirk teased his mouth and he trailed her for as long as he remained unsure of where to go.

When a vague idea graced him, he positioned himself at her side; arms knotted behind his back, steps even in certainty and direction. Vayne tried to get a read on her. His shaded eyes pranced around endlessly, squinting when he thought he'd pried a conclusion, and softening when that did not satisfy him. In breaking the silence, she broke his train of thought, leaving him reeling. Bergan's armor began to do his head in anyway.

He was content with silence, preferred it even, but he presumed she didn't share that feeling. Perhaps nerves motivated her need to speak. Did he make her nervous? He couldn't fathom how; being an intimidating political power with a marred history? All political powers had shady backgrounds, not just him. Being top of the food chain, a prince no less, emphasized his misdeeds more than any measly senator or─more fitting─scientist. The rumors were not abated by time as his father promised; Vayne would not be surprised if Liraz too bared the infection of susceptibility.

Can one be gullible if the truth is as told?

“Surely, you are not unbeknownst to Cid's desires.” Vayne said, leaving it vague in case she was. "Joint beliefs are as proper a reason as any." His gaze traveled forward, no longer searching the girl but the walls for the right door.

Their camaraderie breached the fine confines of mutual respect, that was obvious to the least observant eyes, but with a more attentive look into their relationship, the contrivance reared its ugly head.

Both parties─royal and no─had their own goals. They overlapped, conveniently. What Cid proposed, what Vayne desired, they intertwined and, together, they danced in perseverance in pursuit of that goal: to restore autonomy under Archadian rule. One could not be without the other; the doctor could not do research, or in this case retrieve Mateus, without Vayne's resources, and he could not obtain the proper power and backing without Cid's research. Their synergy spoke quite loudly, but for good reason.

To Vayne, it was equally performative and genuine.

 

[Lucyfer]

Basch spent much of his time watching the prisoners, but also glancing over at the progress the pirates made with their ships. Balthier seemed to be having more of a hellish time with the sand, but Fran was there to assist – clearly, not as opposed to getting sand on herself. Basch envied none of them.

Divisions began. Ashe chose to go with J’wynevier – the only one. Penelo volunteered her and Vaan for Balthier, and no one needed to ask Fran. That put four in the same ship already. Basch wouldn’t be rude and add to that small compartment, nor leave Ashe alone with J’wynevier. They didn’t know her well enough to be certain she wouldn’t abscond with the princess, after all.

Not that she’d given any signs of being aware that Ashe was a princess.

“I shall accompany you as well, Lady J’wynevier,” Basch easily volunteered himself with an inclination of his head.

“Then it’s settled,” Balthier declared, “we’ll get these ships up and make our way,” he didn’t state the direction, there were still Archadian guards sitting around, after all, “Which leaves just one problem….” His trailing words and gaze made it obvious he hadn’t forgotten them at all, and attention moved to the guards.

“We—we won’t do anything!” One of the guards quickly declared.

“Mmm, easy to say with loaded guns and weapons all around you, isn’t it? Is it so easy to follow when we’re long gone?” Balthier mused, before looking at Penelo, “You know some spells, don’t you?”

“Yeah….”

Balthier nodded, “Do…something that will at least buy us some time, would you?”

Penelo smiled brightly, and nodded, before looking back at the guards, “Don’t worry,” she said, “it’ll only be temporary, I promise.”

“Wai—” the voice was stolen from the guard as Penelo lifted her staff up and murmured the word Basch knew to help a caster inflict silence on another. As words were a key component of spell casting, silencing a foe left them unable to cast. It also would keep their mouths shut. However, that wasn’t where Penelo stopped.

“Tumultus!”

Confusion fell upon the men, as well, and when Basch went to untie them, one threw a haphazard punch at him. He caught it on his arm, but didn’t retaliate as the guard staggered up like a drunkard, blinking in the sun with such uncertainty.

Basch felt sympathy for them. They could die out here wandering around aimlessly. “I’ll, ah…at least direct them back to the city.”

Balthier sighed, “If you must. My ship isn’t quite ready.”

“S-sorry,” Penelo seemed to realize then she may have gotten a little overenthusiastic about the spellcasting. “I can help!”

~***~

Vayne Solidor was a politician through and through. Not that Liraz had doubt it, but his non-answer said enough. He mentioned aligning with Cid in the area of desires, leaving out which ones. Cid had many, varying, desires. Vayne was not wrong in that it was a good reason to stay by Cid’s side, but it was still a carefully crafted answer to also say nothing.

To say whatever the listener wanted to hear, really, since Liraz was also aligned with Cid. She could easily imagine that her own desires and Vayne’s were thus in agreement, but she wasn’t quite so foolish. ‘This is why you had problems.’

Her temper may have lessened over the years, but there was still a terrible idea to pop Vayne’s non-answer with an asinine question, or off-hand comment. One she couldn’t quite keep in check, as she said, “Oh, you and Cid both share a desire to bring moogling to Archadia? I can see how that would create such a strong bond.” It was the first thing that came to mind, given how Cid had continued to insist on that through Rabanastre.

It also served the purpose of showing that Liraz wasn’t impressed with his non-answer, though she doubted that was going to make Vayne change it. It was only softened by the fact her smile held no malice, only amusement. Her tone also held no sarcasm to it. She’d learned a bit from those fights.

She would never have the deft tact of a politician, but she’d accepted that. What she did have, was an ability to make it clear it wasn’t working. The academy had been full of Vayne’s type, nobles who belonged only because they had the money for it, not the brains.

“I wish you luck in negotiating with the moogling guilds, I am sure that will require your silver tongue and Cid’s innovations, to convince them,” but they were in the Pisces hangar then, and the storage room was ahead, so that conversation could drop off with a whoosh of the doors, and the revelation of the wonderfully monstrous invention that took up much of the room.

A couple of the scientists Cid had on board to monitor it looked up, but looked away almost as quickly, allowing the group entry without ordering them away. The couple of dogs in there as guard also relaxed as they saw Liraz, familiar with her presence more than Vayne’s.

The device was tall, but spherical. The floor of it was a crystallized contraption attached to the metal components, and similar to the nethicite that Liraz had, there were glyphic symbols all upon the base, which she gestured to, “It took quite a bit of translating, but we tested it with Famfrit. It was able to hold him against Cid’s bond, so it ought to hold Mateus once the glyphs are activated.”

And they would be activated through the metal that wove through it, and outlined the sphere, reaching a point at the center. Liraz stepped to the machine it all hooked to, and turned it on. The glyphs began to illuminate, and a low hum emitted. Mist pushed through into the sphere, before warping around it, twisting into a translucent barrier for Vayne to see. “The Mist is the power of it. It’s well under control. Famfrit tested that, as well. It won’t feed Mateus power, but force Mateus to hold form so it can’t just vanish on us into the aether, once it’s free of the temple.”

Unlike her stone, which would compress Mateus to Mist so they could bring it along.

 

[khorvidae]

So the scores were officially tied! As long as she wasn't rendered the loser, J'wyn was content with that verdict.

In truth, J'wynevier's history exposed how little an ill-conscious ailed her. If they stood in her way, there was little reason to offer mercy to any of Archadia's ilk. She was not forced to make that decision that day; for the best. Instead, they entrusted Penelo to do the honors of silencing and confusing the soldiers. For how long would they dawdle along the city wall, she wondered, and what would get to them first; the beasts or the sun? The group was far more charitable than she; more than willing to toss them to the wolves and move on. They circumvented bloodshed with an equal willingness. For what reason? These people infiltrated their home, terrorized their people, yet they brandished mercy in spite of it. J'wyn's fingers already teased her gun.

“They will report to their superiors.” Ashe declared, as Noah and Penelo directed the dazed soldiers. She opted to stay behind.

“Agreed.” At least the fear was mutual. “How much time will this buy us─”

“That their deaths wouldn't?” Ashe's curt interruption caught J'wyn off guard. It sounded rather barbaric when she said it. Had she heard this sentiment before?

“Yeah,” The red-head frowned, “that.” In this case, the reward for high risk would be low; whatever a knife in the back was valued at. Ashe remained neutral when J'wyn predicted an ugly sneer instead. Somehow, the lack thereof perturbed her more. They could not save everyone. A few sacrifices for the masses were necessary, she assumed they understood that, otherwise they would be in for an ugly ride.

“I don't know.” The blonde admitted. “Ideally, Penelo's stupor will be enough.”

“In the long term?” J'wyn did not think in ideals, so she was a tad miffed at the suggestion.

“For now.” That maternal assurance─alien as it was─settled her rather well. She didn't like it. Ashe offered a glum smile, like a woman too old and weak to fashion the muscles in the proper order.

They'd best hope it'd buy them enough time. How much of a difference it made was left to be revealed, the covert details of their schemes played in their favor. Still, knowing that two fighters may be piloted by unofficials might put most fleets on edge; especially the one housing the infamous prince of Archadia. Or, perhaps not. J’wyn would memorize the ship ID just to be safe; common procedure.

Speaking of, the pirate retreated from Ashe's side. Shuffling through the sand, her shadow melded with that of the much-less-loved airship. Progress was being made, no doubt, just not in the timely fashion she was used to. To pry or not to pry, she considered the options, like an annoying child on a field trip; “Are we there yet?” However, she did not utter those same words, in essence, it's what she meant while hovering over Balthier, asking, “Any luck?”

She hoped he'd understand her impatience. J'wyn had prepared for the worst. It preyed on her nerves no matter how she breathed or self-soothed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

Vayne huffed a dry laugh. It sank into his throat, a force in his lungs to draw out any abiding breath there. An inoffensive push he was hardly amused by, but, for the sake of being personable, he'd indulge. He didn't think his answer would be sufficient─not for the doctor's apprentice of all people─no. His arms, knotted behind his back, tensed with a rush of something unpleasant. ’Fine then,’ his mind petulantly grumbled. Vayne left her half-hearted attempt at humor in the hall beside the unimpressed scoff he afforded begrudgingly. He got the point.

The doors drew wide, pulling the gaze toward the center, where the mechanism lay in wait. A crystallized amalgamation stilled by metal modules sat at the base, the primary component a ginormous, spherical cage. The hustle of the room quickened and dispersed as they entered. Vayne had yet to see an Esper in person, but, with Liraz's expertise, he assumed the contraption would provide ample room. They would hate for their dear Mateus to be cramped, wouldn't they?

The prince scrutinized the make of the cage, seeking the parallels between it and the nethicite he'd held. Famfrit bonded to Cid, so he questioned its durability against a less willing spirit. Soon, they would find out, albeit not soon enough.

“For how long has this been in the works?” Vayne inquired. This seemed like a project he'd be completely aware of, yet its nature remained covert; for chance little came into fruition undoubtedly. Still, Cid had a tendency to overshare; overindulge in the most spectacular details, retracting when he'd realized his mistake. Vayne wanted more, typically, however he awarded Cid his secrets for his creations, as it seemed he had little else.

He approached the bottom to better analyze the embedded glyphs. Leaning forward, he was tempted to touch it with gloved fingers and gauge the glassy texture of this stone as he had the last. He kept his hands to himself. Better left untouched, lest the first from his gloves translated a dirty smudge across the base. He wouldn't mar the beautifully designed accommodation.

The murmur of the room fell into an atmospheric droning that blended well with the ship's brontide. The prince couldn't help but notice how far they escaped him─the scientists─tending to their wares and whims but avoiding him like the plague itself. Their veiled excitement rang hollow─more hollow than the germinating zeal in his chest. Long discarded was the idea he may bind to Mateus; too optimistic for his taste. Now, his focus settled on trapping and retrieving the Esper for testing. If successful, sister projects would be launched to obtain every one they could.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Oh, we hardly need long term,” Balthier said, still bent over his ship, “not with the red tape of the Empire,” his smirk held irritation, and too much knowledge of that red tape, “I am sure we’ll be well on our way by that time, and if not,” Balthier shrugged, “they still have to find us.”

And the plan was not to be found, although, he was realizing without Archadian uniforms this might not go over well. “Mmm, I suppose we could have stripped them first, though.”

“That would work for me, how?”

Balthier glanced up at Fran. He didn’t have an answer for that. He looked back down into the chassis as J’wynevier came over. How were they going to covertly hide Fran? Well, hangars didn’t always pay attention to incoming ships, they just let them land and go about their business. Certainly, it would be the same.

“Just about,” he wasn’t bothered by J’wynevier’s tone, he understood it quite well, “the timing chain was significantly impacted by the sand, but I’ve just about got it cleared,” his finger swept over the links, clearing more sand away from the nooks and crannies of the chain to make sure it wouldn’t cause more problems than necessary.

He needed the ship to survive to the Cetacea at least. After that, they’d have their choice!

Maybe the Quetzalcoatl again.

Maybe he just wanted to steal that one.

“Ah! There we go!”

The last bit fell clear, and he straightened up, looked at his hands, and sighed as he reached for a handkerchief in his pocket. “As for you, Fran, I know you have a hood. It is not my fault you choose to dress the way you do to stand out to every man and woman alive.”

Her ears were a dead giveaway, but so was her attire.

Not that any man or woman alive complained at the sight. Well, some women did, admittedly. They shouldn’t worry about such things. “Unless there happen to be spare sets of armor in the ships, we’re all likely to stand out, but odds are we can sneak these ships into the hangar and park them near some crates, unless disguises happened to be a part of your plan, J’wynevier?”

As he asked it, he saw Penelo and Basch on the horizon, returning to their group, sans any annoying Imperials.

They were close enough to have heard, and Penelo palmed her face, “We should have considered that!”

“It’s okay, the hard part is getting onto the ship,” Basch reassured, “once we’re on, it’s easier.”

“Of course it is,” Balthier clearly disagreed – then again, piloting was his thing, “especially when we’re outnumbered and cornered immediately for looking different,” he sighed, but allowed, “Not everyone is in uniforms on these ships, so I suppose we can claim to be off duty and figure it out from there. But we should get going if disguises were not a part of this plan.”

To catch up.

And beat Penelo’s stupor wearing off.

~***~

The answer to Vayne’s question was not an answer he would want to hear. “From the time Famfrit was obtained,” Liraz offered him the truth, because there was no point in suggesting it had been in the works longer than it had been. How lucky they were that Famfrit went with Cid willingly! There was no back-up plan that Liraz was aware of.

Of course, he had insisted that Venat assured him Famfrit would come. Cid had been confident.

He was not confident in Mateus. Although he did not say it, Liraz could assume his delusion told him that Mateus did not fit with anyone he knew, so Vayne was unlikely to inherit, nor would any Judge, herself, or Maxence.

That was all right by her. Liraz had only ever had eyes for Shemhazai.

“The groundwork was laid well beforehand. The Doctor’s research into nethicite and the ebb and flow of mist played well into this creation. Paired with my understanding of the glyphs and ability to write them into power, I am certain it will hold Mateus against his will if necessary, until we can find a way to forcibly bind Mateus to someone, or find someone Mateus views as agreeable. There are alarms and failsafes if anything should weaken or cease to function as expected.”

There were no guarantees.

No guarantee Liraz and Cid could fix it, if it broke, either. Then they’d have to contend with Mateus on the ship, which no one wanted to do. “Doctor Cid does not think Mateus will bind to anyone here. He doesn’t say it, but he held certainty with Famfrit before we approached him. Cid holds certainty on this device.”

She couldn’t help the sidelong look she gave him, “If you have trusted Cid this long, a little more faith couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Liraz had her doubts. It was why she had the damn failsafes and alarms added, even if it was a bit of extra work, a few more mechanics added so that if any glyph was disturbed, they would know about it immediately.

Cid had too much faith in his delusion.

 

[khorvidae]

“We'll set off an alarm sooner than anyone will see us.” Vaan crossed his arms, a knowing air in his tone.

“Part of setting off the alarm is being seen, Vaan.” Ashe broke his confidence in one fell swoop. Maybe he wasn't the expert of thieving he thought himself to be. He deflated.

If she'd been forewarned of the six people passengering alongside her, J'wyn would have planned in advance for fashion accommodations, but they were cutting it close as is. Unfortunately, they would just have to deal, lie low, and stay quiet. She'd get them in and out no problem; disguise or not.

“The clock’s a-tickin’,” J'wynevier took a step backwards. It's coming into fruition─her plan, this perfect, perfect plan. With a little help from Lady Luck, she'd have yet another Archadian weapon in her grasp to diagnose and dismantle. She wondered what it was─what the hush-hush nature of it betokened. To witness what Archadia built in pursuit of control, the lives lost at the hands of unforeseen, unfair circumstances; this was the inducement to her cause. It's evident in her voice, “Let's hope our hard work pays off.”

“Yes. Let's,” Fran dryly agreed.

J'wynevier sauntered toward the ship opposite theirs, a flippancy in her foreboding words, “Try not to crash, would you?”

"No promises!" Penelo's remarkably light tone permeated the air, followed by Vaan's conclusive whine of her name.

Hopping on the ship, she anticipated a rough start. Hers was the least compact of the two. In retrospect, she questioned whether she should have taken the children, so the weight discrepancy didn't interfere with the internal cooling of the other airship given its issues. Evidently, she wasn’t too concerned with it, as her fingers floated over the buttons, mulling over all the right ones, but so terribly tempted to nudge the bad ones. The cockpit felt cramped and claustrophobic, and the notion that she couldn't stand was enough to send her into a hyperventilating panic attack, let alone the finicky control panels and well-loved split stick. Were those meant to drift? It failed to keep itself upright, leaning against the bottom column to keep still.

That’s encouraging…

“Have you flown a ship such as this before?” Ashe stepped on, using the door frame to keep herself steady. The ship jostled, in turn, causing J'wyn to smack something she probably didn't want to. At least she hadn't turned it on.

“Yeah, yeah,” she leaned over to check on whatever it was she hit. Nothing stood out. They'll live. “A long time ago.” It felt twice as long ago with how unfamiliar it seemed. Her perfectly streamlined buttons and levers spoiled her; this was torture.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ── ೄྀ ࿐​

“Certainly not,” a contempt look weaseled its way on his face, filling the crannies of a wry smirk.

That trust had gotten him this far, hadn't it? Stuck in the maw of curiosity─a contagion of the doctor's making no less─and sailing across the continent to sate it. Vayne had a sneaking suspicion that from it would sprout a series of more agonizing questions.

If all went well, that is.

Much as Cid's confidence ushered in a sense of security, the tug at the back of Vayne's mind recognized it as false; overexaggerated to the highest degree. To gorge─to surrender to starvation and feast upon the scraps of certitude offered by mere means to placate him in a vulnerable moment─well, it was smart of Cid to indulge him. He would have done the same. Even now, he could not bring himself to be upset; he was thrilled.

In the fleeting displeasure that regarded his absence, he had to appreciate the delicacies of time and scientific and magical craft that emerged from this project. It had been in the works far longer than he thought it'd been, that's for sure. He feared the day something goes horribly wrong, and he's not in the loop to mend it. That lack of transparency─hopefully it would remain contained. This had to be; a controlled chaos, but controlled nevertheless.

Liraz seemed rather proud of it, and he couldn't blame her. A testament to Archadia's innovation, this containment and her skill. Vayne oo'ed and aw'ed in silence.

"Can science produce a bind─one as tenacious as the doctor's with Famfrit?" He didn't think so. Nothing genuine. A forced connection would have him retaliate at the first chance. Vayne silently volunteered a Judge for the experiment─Bergan would be perfect. The prince didn't desire to compromise himself until they had an established process, but Bergan? Go right ahead.

 

[Lucyfer]

The groups split, and Basch gave Vaan a bit of a weary smile as he heard the whining voice, before he turned to follow into the remaining ship after Ashe. It was, indeed, fairly cramped, though he expected it. He may have preferred chocobos, but he was not at all unfamiliar with how small a fighter could be.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed it, and he kept his distance to allow the women more space.

J’wynevier’s answer wasn’t entirely reassuring. It left several questions up in the air about her history, but they all had a bit of history they weren’t soon disclose. He caught Ashe’s eye on that for a moment, but he would not ask, would not press. They didn’t need J’wynevier to press more on their identity.

Especially Ashe’s.

Though he had promised one thing – if she asked.

He could have waited for that, but he noticed some of her nerves. ‘Your name will not ease them.’ No, but perhaps it would be a welcome distraction from the nerves of the fighter, “Ah, now that we’re in the ship, I believe I promised you my name.” He’d ignore any look from Ashe, any command to stay silent, “My name is Basch fon Rosenberg, originally from Landis, when it existed.”

It…didn’t really exist anymore.

Not in a meaningful way, though it faired better than Nabradia.

~***~

“Theoretically, science can do anything,” Liraz answered Vayne’s query as to the bond. If Mateus chose no one, that would likely be the next project – forcing Mateus onto someone. “We are creating nethicite, something considered the domain of the gods,” Liraz looked over at Vayne, “we have created a way to bind an esper in place, yet another domain of the gods. We also intend to break their bindings on Mateus and pull him free of a deifacted prison, into a manufactured one. Why not then learn how to manufacture a bond?”

That it was possible, did not mean it was a good idea. “I would theorize the answer would lie in magicite over nethicite, as magicite contains magic that can be used within itself. Most magicite does not survive a single use, and that is a flaw we would need to overcome, but the bond between the magic and the stone would offer up something.” It was strange there wasn’t more research on that, to create stones that held magic indefinitely and could be used on a whim – perhaps with a recharge, the way people needed to recharge, but nonetheless.

Then again, people preferred to use their own pools of mana.

But therein lied the problem every scientist faced: possibility. Just because it could be done, should it be done? Liraz liked to think she had limits, but they had yet to be tested. How far would she go, on this venture?

Liraz moved away from the prison, seeing no more need to be near it when it wasn’t in operation. Vayne had seen it; there was little more to point out to him. “Why, has Mateus already stolen your heart that you wish to make sure Mateus remains at your side, Prince Solidor?” No, that was hardly it, but she wasn’t above a bit of teasing, aware she’d get nothing from him. “Or do you have eyes on another you wish to make your own – Ultima, perhaps?”

The one who began it all, if the stories were to be believed – if Cid was to be believed, as he spoke of the mad things Venat told him.

 

[khorvidae]

“Right,” J'wynevier replied dismissively. The weight of that name failed to sink in initially. Admittedly, she had just forgotten about the conversation in question, spending a moment longer in recollection than she would have liked to recall it, and, even then, she was too busy pressing buttons to pay it immediate attention. The moment arose when she questioned why it had to wait and why his name had to be kept secret until now. She didn't believe it at first, although she gave pause to consider the true gravity before whipping around in her seat to give him a long, harsh look in the face. This had to be some sick joke. Yet, as she searched him for any signs of cracking, she came up empty. Even in searching Ashe's visage, nothing. A sideways look, disappointment too, but nothing.

“You're kidding…” it floated, in exasperation, from her thin lips. Last she heard, Basch fon Rosenberg was rotting six feet under. Again, she scoured his face for anything on the contrary. “You're not kidding.”

“It is not quite so simple.” Ashe sensed the discomfort on J'wyn's face and rushes to ease it. A silent moment passed before the pirate shifted back around. After finalizing a few buttons, the ship’s engine rumbled to life, and they're off the ground. She's already got a down payment on their services, they're in this deep, so she can't dump him now, though she considered it. Ashe slipped into the seat beside her. Her gaze lingered for a few long moments that J'wyn endeavored to avoid. She's stuck in contemplation for a while, staring out the windshield. ’What had been the final straw,’ she pondered, as if she couldn't ask him. To be fair, it was likely none of her concern – until she realized it kind of was. They were careening into greedy, Imperial arms that he once readily danced with. Had there been some veiled plot, she could not fathom why he'd offered it freely. Ashe's eyes pleaded in her periphery.

Abruptly, a walkie shrieked to life. Through the static came a voice, most definitely angry, demanding through crackles and pops the location where both fighters sat. A protracted and hesitant moment had the pirate's hand floating over the mantle. The mental overload would have to wait. Now, she plucked the radio, and, following a deep inhale, she called to mind her past and spoke, “2.7.05. Minnow, we're outside Rabanastre, gaining altitude now.” J'wyn channeled the anger of the former captain of this vessel, “Sorry, some jackass left the ships in the sand.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” The man on the radio luckily doesn't notice anything suspect, but he does sound rather concerned. J'wyn, within her seat, shrugged, mouthing, ‘Why would I know?’ She was as dumbfounded as he was. Then, without warning, she took hold of the controls and angled upwards to finally gain altitude.

⠀⠀⠀⠀── ೄྀ ࿐​

That was the magic of ingenuity. They would have to find out, see where the results took them, and make decisions from there. Although, he doubted the true validity of any false connection, like an arranged marriage, had he any choice to be wed, he'd choose their most powerful figment, ‘twas to be expected of the redoubtable prince. Manipulating the core value of an esper would hold contentious results that could – although guesstimated for precaution – affect the augments they provide, be it negative or otherwise; Vayne expected the worst out of habit. Cid's experiments should have done well to ease his worry, given their consistent results and gleaning lack of disaster.

“I would prefer a natural connection if it can be helped – and if Ultima would have me, of course,” he refused to dismiss any possibilities, no matter how out of his favor they impressed, especially with regard to Ultima. Briefly, it crossed his mind that espers could have multiple bonds, perhaps not limited to one. How out of his favor sincerely was it? One in a hundred thousand, one in a billion? He'd done well to tame his mind in the interim, sate what intellectual hunger the possibility inspired. But now that the question lay before him, bare in the most vulnerable way, he glanced unto the subject that roused it: Liraz. The hunger of a scientist, like a man half starved in the midst of a dining hall, he wondered if her decorum was by virtue of a lack of enthusiasm or if he'd become too accustomed to Cid's eccentricity. He pried again—that nasty habit of his—staring for a few moments before coaxing his gaze, and body, towards the door at long last.

“To the hangar, then? Before they leave us behind.” Bergan, now with eyes on him, vocalized.

“I hazard to ask what brought on your worry, Judge Magister,” Vayne mused. “If I didn't know better, I'd reckon you're excited.”

“Perish the thought.” Bergan shot down most abruptly. "I would hate for you to be left on the ship." Perhaps it was above him to revel in juvenile feelings, it was not above Vayne, however. Contrary to his reserved demeanor, he was rather antsy.

"Cid would not leave without Liraz, I'm sure." He implied a great deal in that statement, fleeting as it was; that the doctor valued his apprentice more than the prince himself was most glaring, even if unintended. Bergan stood straighter. He gave quick notice to the woman in reference, although resigning to the ground when Vayne seemed rather unimpressed.

 

[Lucyfer]

It took a moment.

Well, more than a moment, for J’wyn to recognize the name. Basch really did dislike the way it was so easily recognized, even if she had to come out of focusing on the ship to realize it. At the rhetorical question of ‘kidding’, he did begin to shake his head, and it sunk in.

He was telling the truth.

He sighed and let his gaze sink as Ashe interjected, but did not defend with facts. There may have been time for it – but J’wyn did not ask.

There was an interruption to the moment, to any questions that could have formed, in the noise of static that burst over the radio. J’wyn answered, and Basch all but held his breath as he waited for a response – and held the back of Ashe’s chair rather tightly as they angled further up. HE hadn’t chosen to take a seat. It felt a bit wrong.

Despite the silence that hung in the air around the question of leaving a ship in the sand, there was a response.

“Never mind. Cancer hangar is open. You can dock within and file the paperwork for what happened. We'll get the ship looked over.”

No authorization codes – but then why would they need it when they could tell it was Imperial make, and when the ships were expected? Basch knew he shouldn’t question luck, but it worried him a bit all the same. They still lacked disguises. Would the other group be sent to the same hangar? Would they have to find each other?

He kept silent, so that his voice wouldn’t be heard if J’wyn responded.

~***~

Prefer was not denial.

“Of course,” Liraz echoed his sentiment, but not without lingering humor, a trace of a smile, at how Ultima was too obvious in a way. Despite that, the sentiment seemed sincere. Ultima for the Ultimate! Famfrit and Cid were an unlikely pair, and were it not for how long Liraz had longed to meet Shemhazai, she wondered if they would seem odd from the outside. Likely not, so how could Shemhazai be her fate any longer?

Ultima, then, was too obvious for Vayne – but if it was what he wanted, she could forge it. They needed that power on their side, after all.

She hadn’t looked away when he answered, though his returned look was uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t place. ‘A step too far in a glance.’ To step back or look away would have been wrong, as she half-waited for more. A question, a statement, a movement.

Vayne looked away first.

Bergan’s interruption was welcome, as her gaze drifted where Vayne’s went, before it went to Bergan. Not that Bergan addressed her, but she was brought into it by Vayne’s comment. She shook her head, confirmation instead of denial, “No, Cid will not leave me,” he had no alternative to her.

Vayne he could leave.

Bergan.

He could even send Liraz on her own, if he believed her skilled enough to face Mateus alone – which, he did not. Liraz didn’t have such faith in her own talents, either. She rather wished he actually brought more than Bergan and Vayne. Gabranth, Drace, Hausen, Zargabaath – any additional magisters would have been wonderful!

But no, Cid’s faith was in himself and Famfrit, alongside Vayne, and Bergan.

Arrogant as ever.

“But if you are concerned about time, the hangar is near,” Liraz gestured to the door, “I can show you to the ship so you can make sure you are not abandoned by the good doctor.” She did not know how close they were now. No message had come over the ships comms to call for them to join Cid in the hangar yet.

 

[khorvidae]

“Copy that.” J'wyn tossed the walkie back on the magnet. That was less than ideal. They would be met with Imperial personale, then. Great. Though, she couldn't convince herself to be too upset, since she was to blame for oversharing. She's silent for a moment, perhaps a moment too long, as their request lingered in the air. There's a silence that divides them.

She was flying, that was J'wynevier's excuse. It was about then that she regretted not hauling the kids instead, at least they would've said something, kept her company, or anything. Ashe looked like she wanted to speak -- flock to Basch's defense -- but couldn't find the words.

What were the words?

She seemed to grapple with it as much as the pirate. Maybe there was no explanation for it. That didn't reflect well on her face, though, dumbfounded as she was. J'wyn cleared her throat, which caused Ashe to jump out of her skin.

“He was framed.” She didn't sound too convinced of that herself. J'wyn huffed a laugh, equally in disbelief as amusement, but Ashe pressed, “He didn't kill the king.”

“You are mad if you believe that,” J'wyn chided. “There are witnesses that place him at Nalbina Fortress at the time of the invasion, killing Raminas. It is a wonder how he still lives.” She hazarded a look back at the man; thin, frail, but strong, and his eyes are kind. One too many betrayals diminished her ability to be fooled by them, encouraging her focus to flee lest she fall victim once more.

“It wasn't Basch that they saw. They were mistaken.” Ashe spoke with conviction. How many times had this tale been woven that she'd been manipulated into believing it herself. How foul of her to dismiss victim testimony that had been proven.

“Then what say you, Basch?” J'wynevier's grasp on the controls tightened. “What truly happened that day?” If she was to work with him, a known criminal complicit with the Empire, she'd ought to know what the truth was, as her remembrance seemed to mislead her.

⠀⠀⠀── ೄྀ ࿐​

“The ship is large enough. We may land by the time we arrive.” Bergan agreed. Of course, he did. He was just tired of hearing about the complexities of science, he hadn't a care for punctuality.

Vayne hummed, “Very well.” She seemed rather eager in any case. “I overestimate our speed.” There was a deviousness in the way he looked at Bergan while he spoke that caused the man to shift uncomfortably in his armor. ‘Our speed’ meant his speed.

Better judgment kept him quiet.

It was quite interesting how he deluded himself all too easily to give credence to the idea that he was among Vayne's favored Judges, but those privy would know he favored those that tended to his dear younger brother most—ironic given their distaste towards him. Flattery was Bergan's favorite, and while it was in his best interest to consider the quality of life and safety of the prince, it was glaringly obvious when he was doing too much.

A breeze whistled through the ship, like the vents echoing the flow of air into a song. Not a very pretty one, but a song nonetheless. The ship was remarkably loud when they weren't guarded by insulated walls. It was just cool enough to cause a shudder down Vayne's spine. The Rift was close, the ship felt it more than he did, but it made its subtle presence known.

“Someone let a draft in,” Bergan remarked.

“We mustn't be far, now,” confirmed Vayne. The surrounding area was affected when the blizzards got bad in the Rift. That did not bode well for their trip. Even less for him. He'd make due. It’s obvious from his tone that he's dissatisfied with proving the Judge right. A group scurried down the hall adjacent to theirs, and voices could be heard, though the contents were indistinguishable. They must be as knowledgeable as they are about their whereabouts.

“Lead the way.” Vayne gestured for Liraz to take the front.

 

[Lucyfer]

As the conversation with the Imperials ended, silence fell. Basch wasn’t sure if they were going to go back to the earlier conversation, or let it drop. He was quite willing to let it drop. Unfortunately, Ashe opted to continue it, and she didn’t sound sure. J’wynevier had no reason to believe it, and made it quite obvious that what she was being told, wasn’t all that convincing. Honestly, Basch didn’t blame her.

It was ludicrous.

He let out a sigh as it was turned to him to speak, “It is what Ashe says. I was framed. The name I gave you, Noah,” he reminded gently, “was the name of my twin brother. When Landis fell, I was separated from my family. I assumed the worst, and fled to serve against Archadia. My brother, it seems, went the other way, and joined them. We only met again on opposite sides, and he had a scar to offer,” his hand touched the side of his face, near his left eye. “Noah killed King Raminas, and made sure there were witnesses to point the finger at me.”

He let out a heavy sigh, “He serves Archadia as Judge Gabranth,” no one saw his face. Even if they did, few truly knew how Basch looked. None would know. “That was our mother’s surname,” whereas he continued to go by Basch fon Rosenberg, it seemed Noah was now Noah Gabranth, and answered to the surname most of all.

No connection, no obvious tie to him.

“I know how it sounds, believe me,” his hand had fallen back into his lap, and he looked over at J’wyn, even if she kept her gaze focused on the sky and not on him, or even Ashe, “I would not fault for you not believing me, and I rather hope we do not run into Judge Gabranth on this ship so I cannot prove my innocence to you,” he hoped the odds of that were low, but with Vayne possibly on board, there was a chance.

“But it is the truth.”

~***~

A chill ran through the ship as the speed was discussed, and though Liraz thought it terribly improbable they’d already reached the Rift, it seemed she had underestimated the speed of the large ship. She usually did; they always seemed too large to move at any notably fast pace. That, and she never considered how much she walked to take all that long, either.

‘Well, no time to meditate, then.’

A shame, but she wouldn’t let that ruin the mission. She’d connected with the magic in the stone often enough, she knew how to do it again in the heat of the moment. She was ready for this, and nodded as Vayne again requested her lead. She stepped to the door and out, taking a left towards the hangar that, really, wasn’t far at all. Given they had to bring Mateus here, they couldn’t risk it being far. Just down the hall, the Pisces hangar opened up for them.

The transport vessel was somewhat taller than the others, due to the cargo it held, and wider. It was not a ship that would be fast, that much was obvious, and Liraz was able to step onto the ramp and input the keycode for the door to open it, if Vayne and Bergan wanted to come in, “You might want to get something warmer,” she advised them, unsure if they truly intended to travel that way.

Whether that meant a coat, or some sort of warming bangle, she didn’t know. She just didn’t want to be keeping a fire spell up the entire journey.

Not that Cid had given them the opportunity to change at Vayne’s office, but certainly he had something he could grab, right?

The ship itself was too warm, and humid, with the permeating scent of sylkis greens filling the air, a sweetly acidic smell. Chocobo’s kwehing could be heard from the back, and that was where Liraz headed to get her own coat; leaving it there guaranteed it’d stay warm and she wouldn’t forget it, after all.

Maxence was there, feeding the chocobos to prepare them for the trip, “We’re almost there,” Liraz said on entry, throwing on her black coat, but leaving it open lest she kill herself of heat stroke. “Hi Malah!” she greeted one black chocobo cheerfully, reaching for the head he readily brought down to receive scritches.

“Already?”

“I know, I forget how fast these ships travel,” Liraz said. “Cid isn’t here yet, then?”

Maxence shook his head, though Liraz doubted Cid would be long.