[RP] Final Fantasy XII: The Archadian Epoch

Martel

Martel

All your username are belong to me.
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Rabanastre.

Capital of Old Dalmasca, and before that, many other kingdoms stretching back into the storied history of the Galtean Peninsula. Rule by the Dalmascan royal family lasted for several hundred years before the city's fall to the Archadian Empire, two years past now, where horrors that had not been seen centuries before the rule of the royal family had even begun had been unleashed. Now an Imperial territory as a consequence, and but a shadow of its former splendor.

The present festivities are a thinly veiled disguise, born with good grace or ignorance. The streets, lined with peasants both rounded up or there of their own volition - it makes little difference - celebrating the arrival of the new Consul. Last surviving heir to the Archadian throne, with the line of the firstborn casualties of war. A pity it was not this man in their place. Cormagg D’reena Thrace. A name to be despised, even without existing enmities: a craven fool, with perverse appetites matched only by his insatiable greed. A man who has indirectly bathed his hands in blood without lifting a finger. Sad times indeed for the Archadian Empire, for it to consider such nobility, let alone heir to the throne.

In other circumstances, pity may have been afforded such a wretched state of affairs, yet there is little room for pity in the hearts of the Dalmascan people now. Yet, nonetheless, they applaud the Consul as he makes his way to the Cathedral; autonomous in their actions. What else can they do? Whilst the end came two years ago now, with the death of their rightful ruler at the battle of Nalbina Fortress, the final end of their independence comes here. With dreadful finality, this is how liberty dies: lost within the cheers and stamping feet of those caught up in the celebration of a darker age, oblivious to the significance of this grand event they are a part of. Festivals were ever a good way of sweetening even the sourest of brews, and to cry out would only bring down the full force of the wrath of the Archadian Empire upon them; a wrath they have felt once before and are reluctant to court again.

It takes but one man to slay another. Yet which of them would have the courage, the daring, to be that one? The answer is, naturally, none of them: they are too old, they have families to provide for, and they lack the resources or the skill, or another of many hundreds of excuses. Leaderless and divided, they remain silent, watching as an era comes to an end, and a new one begins. Fitting, that he would give his speech in front of the Cathedral, under the watchful eyes of the Gods, pronouncing the death of Old Dalmasca, a Kingdom that has stood for far longer than their fledgling state, and proclaim the birth of something new, something terrifying: the Archadian Dynasty. Rumour has it that the Emperor is calling himself the new Dynast King, the next Raithwall, and with such power, who could oppose him? Who would dare?

The battle is lost, and the consequences of that loss are now beginning to reveal themselves…and may the Gods have mercy upon them all.

---

Archades.

Built upon the backs of the poor, and the ruins of those who drowned in their own indolence; the capital of the Archadian Empire and, by extension, much of Ivalice itself. A grand city, to be sure; rivalling even Rabanastre in its architectural brilliance, despite the markedly different style and history of its construction. The jewel of the Empire; ever a flawed jewel, yet nonetheless a radiant one, to be appreciated in its own fashion. A symbol of all that Humes can accomplish without the help of other races, or even the Gods themselves. A powerful symbol indeed, in these turbulent times, where the Gods appear to have long since abandoned the mortal races.

With recent military accomplishments, many have forgotten the true strength of the Archadian Empire: knowledge. Knowledge of legions of famed mages and artificers, little more than names with the passage of centuries, their life’s work stored within archives that would take several lifetimes to read, and several more to comprehend as they were once comprehended. Knowledge of arts long since lost, thanks to the rise of technology in the face of changing warfare, and bitter rivalry with the Rozarrian Empire. More recently, knowledge of times long past, and the power wielded by legendary figures, even the Gods themselves. Now the power of one man: Argenta D’Reena Thrace, Emperor of Archadia, and the new Dynast King of Ivalice.

He stands within the laboratories, motionless, inspecting the specimen contained within the tank. An interesting thing, far beyond any mortal’s comprehension, no matter what those prattling fools who calls themselves scholars and scientists preach. He is not so easily fooled; indeed, he is a far better position to understand such wonders than they, although they do not realise it. Nor do they comprehend the significance of his ambitions. Not yet, but perhaps soon…perhaps. He is a man of results, and the results of science ever bends knee to the one directing it…particularly if that one has been touched by Gods, as he has.

With reluctance, he leaves the room, leaving the scientists to do their work. It is important that no others discover this until the time is such that it no longer matters…despite his recent conquest over two long-time annoyances, Dalmasca and Nabradia, the Senate become increasingly insistent with each passing day, and their grasping hands corrupt all they touch; all that he has worked so hard to build. It is time, once again, to stamp upon the insects, and remind them who the Emperor is…a task most suitable for his Judge Magisters, who no doubt await his pleasure above. Yet not even they are privileged enough to venture this far into the laboratories and, it seems, for once he must go to them. A faint chuckle escapes his lips, the sound lost in the steady humming of machinery. A rather quaint notion, that. Not quite blasphemy but, given sufficient time…

He glances over his shoulder reflexively, yet emptiness greets him: it is not there. It seems that it is rarely there these days, and at this he feels a flicker of relief, quickly overcome by annoyance: he is the Dynast King reborn! What could possibly be more important upon Ivalice than he? Even for…that one, there should be a certain amount of respect: had it not proclaimed itself that he was the next Dynast King? Had it not pledged itself to his service, as had been the case with Raithwall of old? He would forge an Empire the likes of which had not been seen since the Galtean Alliance! His bloodline would rule for generations! Or, at least, the one he selected to be his heir. Cormagg was ever the fool, yet he would serve as a suitable distraction posted within Dalmasca, no doubt attracting all of seeds of rebellion that plagued his glorious dynasty, ripe to be crushed at his leisure. Even fools had their uses, it seemed.

He ascends the stairs, ignoring the prattling fools around him who quickly drop to the floor at the sight of him. One does not give consideration to insects, after all. He has far more important matters on his mind: the creation of his Dynasty, and the elimination of his enemies. Two Judge Magisters, his chosen servants of Law, have been brought into the fold. Now, it is time to bring in the other two, and cement his place in history as the greatest of all rulers, both before and after.
 
Dimly lit and with only the occasional guard, the castle was almost a dead zone. His eyes were keen; his hearing strained to its limit. He was being careful; so careful that it was slowing him down. But it didn't matter. If they were captured, this was all over before it had even began. He refused to fail here; when the first part of his plan was so close to fruition.

He was simply ensuring that the one he had hired received their payment. They didn't seem like the type to take double-crossing lightly. His goals would likely end if he tried to cheat them as much as they would if he got captured here.

He had hired someone else to scout the area with him. He knew the castle like the back of his hand, and the girl he had hired knew how to find the quickest way around any area. Her hearing was three times better than his at least, and had saved him from capture on multiple occasions already. He hadn't been made for sneaking around like this. Nor had he been made for fighting. He was primarily a healer after all.

One thing he was grateful for was that he wasn't wearing the robes his father would have insisted he wear as a White Mage. They would have tripped him up; made him sloppy. He was wearing a much more practical set of mystic armor Twin daggers were lopped into the belt that kept his armor tightly bound to his body, ready to be withdrawn at a moment's notice.

He didn't bother talking. Or rather he didn't know what to say. A few years ago, if brash, he wouldn't have minded talking. But recently, he had been as antisocial as was possible. After all, one of them might be dead before they were done here.

But now wasn't the time to over think such things. Quietly creeping up the stairs; he knew he was almost to the treasure room. The first step was almost done. There was no turning back now.
_____________________________________________________

So then. The Emperor was to come to them. A rare notion. She had rarely seen him in some time. Ever since he had declared himself Dynast-King he had been different. More arrogant. He didn't deign to spend his time or impart his schemes upon his Judge Magisters; those who risked their lives to protect and uphold his laws every day. It was almost insulting.

However, as the observer and servant, it was not her place to judge an Emperor. As a Judge Magister, he was quite possibly the only thing not under her jurisdiction. She would obey him without question. He was her master; by right of being a Thrace.

Catching sight of him coming up the stairs, she lifted her arm to her chest in a formal salute, and then bowed shortly before rising again. She would say nothing unless asked. Even though this entire ordeal set her on edge, she wouldn't speak unless spoken to.
 
It was refreshing not to hear the sounds of heels on the floor. Most Viera had to deal with that on a daily basis. Their feet being the way they were required that they all wear heels. As far as she knew, Miera was the only one that never had to do that. Ever since she could remember she was cutting her nails off with a large knife to stop that from happening. Of course, it always hurt, but the effects of being able to stand like a human were incredible. As she sneaked around the castle palace with the Prince, it was a more than welcome sound of silence that she heard as she walked along side him. The only noises she was able to hear were the sounds of the armor the guards wore clanging against itself. However, that sounded as if it were miles away.

From time to time the Prince would make a noise or two, but thankfully it was quiet enough that it caused Miera little worries. As they neared the treasure room, she went out ahead and scouted the area. Her bow was drawn just in case. An arrow was ready to go. All she would have to do was point and fire if need be. Her favorite area of attack was the neck. The space between helmets and the chest plate of their armor made it a sweet spot to hit. They would go down fast, albeit messy, and she wouldn’t have much to contend with. However, from the looks of it, she wasn’t going to need to attack anyone. Most of the guards were in another location. It seemed strange to her that the castle wouldn’t have guards near the treasure room.

Yet, she wasn’t complaining. It made her job easier, after all. As she continued walking, she couldn’t help but notice the shine of the marble floor under her feet. It felt cold as she was bear footed to make less noise. In a way, it was very refreshing to feel. Everything about the castle walls was completely symmetrical. If there was a painting on one side, there was another painting on the other side. It was the same with any vase or another other decoration. The time it would take to put that together, or even worse to clean it, was incredible. Yet, Miera knew she would destroy something if she needed to. Understanding beauty was one thing, understanding when beauty had to be destroyed for the greater good was another.

Once she saw that the way was clear, she waved her hand for the Prince to follow. She didn’t dare put her bow up even as she entered the room. Miera wasn’t sure just what the Prince wanted, nor did she care. Her job was to get him in and out safely. From the looks of things, that was going to be rather simple. “We are here. Please get what you need to get so we can be gone.” She whispered. She didn’t want to get stuck here for too much longer. The castle was beautiful, but it was not home to her.
 
“Young and bold, yet foolish and greedy, traits hardly fit for the crown prince.”

These were the thoughts that came about in the mind of the Consul’s diplomat, William Avranches, who stood on the cathedral, next to Imperial guards as he saw Cormaag D’reena Thrace, Prince of Archadia address the Dalmascan crowd. To be honest it was a messy business these past five years have been, from the Civil War in Nabradia to the war with Dalmasca, and its eventual subjugation and annexation. Had the Emperor been wiser, he’d be quick to integrate Dalmasca rather than having it treated as a second-hand backwater in the middle of scorching hot desert and barren plains, but who was he to question the Emperor?

To be fair, he has heard all the rumors, rumors that true or false, was laughable to him. Dynast King, a title that was left in the sands of time, left to decay into the dust along with Raithwall, yet the current Emperor adopted the title, pushing his claims on the territory from Archadia to Rozzarria. To be ambitious enough his intent to recreate Raithwall’s Gran Ivalician Empire is one thing, to maintain control over it without dissent and yet rule autocratically is another. But then there is this royal farce…

William was no fool, but then he knew of his position well, attached to the consul’s company, to stamp down rebellions, despite the prince’s greed, his pride, his…somewhat slothful nature. But he had little tolerance for those who appears to not have a clue on how to even run a city or province, let alone a hostile place such as Dalmasca, and in a place like Rabanastre, it was probably going to kill the prince before anything the emperor had planned for the region would come into effect. If anything came with it, at least it would advance his position up along the political hierarchy, and if it meant putting up with the Prince, then he would swallow what pride he had and put up with it.

William sighed, looking over into the crowd. The people, while afraid of the might of the Archadian Empire, probably deserved at least some comfort under the Archadian Dynasty. It was partially the case of that with him, and part of him just didn’t want to listen to anymore of the blowhard flapping his gums about. William chuckled, muttering to himself, “What I wouldn’t do for a cup of tea right about now.”
 
Taking deep, rhythmic breaths, Laverna lay motionless, ignoring both searing Sun above her and scorching stone beneath her. Invisible to the eye – she had some small skill with Magick, and Vanishga was ever a useful spell for one in her profession – she lay atop one of the stone outcroppings of the cathedral, rifle held in front of her, waiting. She had been this way for over an hour, frozen as if a part of the fixtures themselves; yet another weather-beaten statue, a testament to an older time. This was not an ideal position, yet it was safest: taking out every guard in the cathedral would have used up most of her stun bombs – she did not kill for free – and almost certainly would have attracted attention. She had had little choice but to climb out of the window and work her way down the building – very nearly killing herself twice – to find this position, at which she had no risk of discovery…unless some soldier got it into his head that he needed to check EVERY part of the building, including the outside of it.

The retinue arrived, ascending to the top of the steps leading to the Cathedral, and the smallest of frowns crossed her face. Had she been any other assassin, she would have needed considerably more than one bullet. There were enough targets down there to allow the one who took them all out to buy a small city with the reward money…perhaps even this one. She had long since earned more than enough money to do just that, yet nonetheless, it was an interesting idea. It seemed that this Consul attracted trouble; fully half of his retinue had had very large bounties posted on their heads, and not many of them had been posted by her current client, either. And, of course, there was Judge Zalaena down there, who was worth more than all of them combined. She might have made a more interesting target than the Consul, although the price on her head did not even come close to matching the reward she had been offered for his.

Her instructions had been very precise: she was to wait until the man had finished his speech before killing him. She didn’t see what difference it made – after all, dead was dead – but those had been her instructions, and one did not get a reputation such as hers by displeasing clients. Forfeiting the reward for this job was not an option, either. So, this was going to need to be done according to instructions. If nothing else, she supposed it would send a clear message to those few who still resisted, although it would do little than enrage Archadia. Given what had happened to Nabudis, she would be surprised if there was a Rabanastre left before the end of the day. But that wasn’t her concern.

Remaining still, Laverna fixed her sights on the back of her target’s head. A single bullet would be all that was necessary; he was completely unprotected. Granted, this entire area was crawling with imperial soldiers to prevent what she was going to do, but no number of soldiers could deter her. Sound would not carry this far, but fortunately; she had another way of determining when the man finished his speech…


---

More than one fearful glance was directed at Judge Zalaena as she escorted the Consul to the Cathedral, her white-armoured figure turning previously cheerful voices into hushed whispers that seemed to carry no matter how low they were. This was all well and good; let them spread their rumours and stories. There would be no rebellion in this city as long as she was here. Yet nonetheless, her natural caution overrode her confidence in her reputation, and she was forced, not for the first time, to speak out against this stupidity:

“Your Highness, this area is far too exposed. I must advise that we-“

“Come now, sister mine. This is a day of celebration! The rebellion has long since been crushed. Who would dare assassinate me in front of such a crowd, and what fool within this crowd would cross blades with the mighty Judge Zalaena to reach me? You worry overmuch.” not for the first time, he cut her off in mid-sentence, dismissing her concerns as though she were a common soldier, and not a Judge Magister of Archadia.

She repressed a sigh, although her posture became stiffer, if that were possible; the only outward sign of her irritation. The man was a fool to think that the rebellion had been quashed. Two years now working to eliminate it said otherwise, and if he thought she was there solely to act as his personal pet, he had clearly been out in the sun overlong; that was what the snivelling bureaucrats attached to him were for. Like a plains animal, he did ever attract flies, and the flies within his retinue were amongst some of the most annoying; the drivel she had had to put up with getting here…it was something of a miracle she had not drawn her blade and executed them all long before now; she could almost certainly find a reason to if she looked for one. She was a Judge Magister, not a politician. This was beneath her. Yet it was by the command of the Dynast King himself, and his word WAS the Law she served. So it would be done.

Dark days for the Empire indeed, when Cormagg D’Reena Thrace ascended the throne to become Emperor…assuming he survived long enough to do so. Not Dynast King; no, this jester would never amount to the greatness of his father. Someone who sought to assassinate him might even be doing the Empire a favour. As they reached the cathedral steps, his face split into a mocking smile as he glanced at her again.

“See, Zalaena? Nothing to worry about. Now, let me make this speech so we can all get out of this wretched and miserable heat.” he stepped apart from his retinue, raising his arms in order to gather the crowd’s attention. Judge Zalaena kept her eyes firmly forward, yet she could not help but try to glance around. This place was unsecure; he was practically begging to be assassinated with all this foolish prattle. The sooner he was out of the open and inside the castle, the better she would feel.

---

Resisting the urge to set a man alight as he jostled her – the third one in so many minutes – Alysandra threaded her way through the crowd, her small stature allowing her to slip through. Liandra gave her all the difficult tasks; the woman was a hopeless incompetent. Invisible somewhere up on the Cathedral – honestly, if she could turn invisible, why did she need a distraction?! – she was no doubt waiting to put a bullet through the man’s skull. Although for some reason, their client had been quite insistent that he be allowed to finished his speech first. Wasn’t that polite of him? Oh, he had been a strange one, and as far as she was concerned, that didn’t make even the slightest bit of sense. Allow the enemy to deliver his message, and THEN kill him? Surely it would be better to kill him BEFORE he started? Politics. What a complete and utter waste of time! Verbal dancing with words that made little sense and meant even less.

It was her job, then, to signal to her companion when the man stopped his blabbering. Given the nature of these posturing bureaucrats, she suspected that dear Liandra would be waiting up there for several more hours; these people just loved the sounds of their own voices. This was going to be a very long, very boring speech, about liberty and honour, courage and tolerance…virtues that nobody in this crowd had, almost certainly. Preach, preach, preach; it was all these people ever did. Once you’d heard one political speech, you’d heard them all; they just said exactly the same thing with different words. The art and beauty of conversation was lost on these morons.

She sneezed delicately as road dust, and a stench that didn’t bear thinking about, assaulted her nostrils, the sound lost in the excited roar of the crowd and the thundering drums and soldiers, marching in perfect synchronicity. It was quite a spectacular sight, but it was really quite pointless and pompous: if this was how Archadian soldiers marched when they went into battle, it was nothing short of astonishing that they had conquered an entire continent. And their ruler had the gall to call himself the next Dynast King, of all things! If that was all it took to reach such a position, perhaps she should consider trying for it herself. It seemed the only thing these idiots knew how to do was get conquered by idiots with large armies.

Smiling to herself, Alysandra made a mental note to inform her tribe when she returned of the stupidity of the inhabitants of this part of Ivalice; no doubt they would all delight on invading the continent and bashing on one another with those ridiculous weapons they loved so much. All it would take would be one small skirmish and they would be convinced they faced people who could transform into dragons the size of buildings, or something equally preposterous! Apparently, the Judge Magisters could summon the Scions of Darkness. She had asked around, the one in white armour – really now, that was highly impractical! – had reportedly summoned The Condemner to lay waste to an entire city…she’d probably won it in a game of the cards with the Gods. These people would believe anything.

She was at the most risk, being a distraction, but the reward was more than worth the risk. Besides, it wouldn’t be much fun if there was no risk! She was going to enjoy running rings around these simpletons, dazzling them with her unparalleled Magickal ability before disappearing into the crowd as though she had never been there at all. Imagine the rumours that would spring up after this day! Really, the peasants would do her work for her; they would scatter like flightless fowl once their precious consul went down with half of his head blown off, screaming of the Gods delivering divine judgement down upon them or some equally absurd nonsense. She had seen Liandra’s work more than a few times over the months, and if that rifle of hers could punch a hole the size of her head through a wyvern’s hide, there wouldn’t be much of this man’s head left afterwards. Whilst she had no love for violence, the thought amused her. It was going to be truly spectacular!

She clapped her hands together; rubbing her palms as she mentally prepared herself. This was going to be fun!
 
His movements were as cautious as ever as they entered the room that would lead to the treasure room. His eyes scouted the room for any onlookers that would call for the guards. But then again, there was no chance of being able to stop them in time anyway. Perhaps instinct guided his steps now; and drew his five senses with them for company. No point in over-thinking things though.

He remembered the wall tile that would activate the hidden passage. After all, his father, mother, sisters and brothers had pointed it out to him enough times; they hidden there when they had angered their father or mother. ..When their enemies had come to purge them with steel.

Rowan shuddered. No. There was to be no thinking of the past. His time was nigh. Not even the power of the Dusk Shard could bring his parents back. So why was he dwelling on such pointless things as these? He owed it to his country to rule with steel and annihilate with power. He required no nethicite to claim the throne. That was why he would hand it over as payment without a single thought.

Pressing his hand on the tile, he felt it give way under his hand and slide inwards. The rest of the wall followed with a noise that made him flinch and scout for interlopers once again. Had it always been this loud? Or was it just now that he was actually in danger that he noticed it.

As the wall slid around, he breathed a sigh of relief; his first real sound since he had entered the palace. He slid in and took one last look around, arms folded tightly to his chest; almost as if to keep his emotions locked in; a necessary containment.

Jewels and gold made up a bulk of the Rabanastre Palace treasure room, and none of that mattered much to him. He had no more requirements for money or trinkets. His sympathisers would provide him with everything he needed, after all. What he was looking at was the huge statue at the top of the room. Lifting his fist and wrapping it in his clothes so as not to hurt himself, he knocked it onto the face, which cracked and splintered under his strike. He had no time to wait for it to open up; it always took much too long.

An amber glow emitted from the hole he had made, and without a second thought, he reached in and grabbed the source of it; a polished jewel. The warmth of it filled his body. It was power incarnate. Raithwall’s legacy. The Dusk Shard.

And he had no use for it. Stuffing it into a pocket, he glanced over at Miera; the woman he had hired. “We won’t be coming back here. Take what treasure you please. I would hate to see it go to waste. Consider it an extra payment, for services rendered.” And with that, he left the treasure room to keep watch while the Viera took what she wanted.
 
Miera wasn’t a very greedy person. In fact, she was about as not greedy that one could be. However, the temptation of the jewels was far too much even for her. The entire room was lined with them. There were rubies and emeralds and the like all over the place. Just a few of them would ensure that she would have food on her table for years to come. The Prince had taken some sort of shard from the treasure room. Miera didn’t know what it was, and quite frankly didn’t care. If a rock was all he wanted, who was she to judge? If one wanted a rock, one was entitled to their rock. After all, Miera was about to get a few “rocks” of her own.

On her side was a somewhat large bag. It was a dark brown bag that fit over her shoulder. It fit right in place next to her quiver of arrows. With her free hand she opened it and from there started grabbing every gem in sight. It wasn’t long before it was full. While she would have loved to get more of them, she had no method of carrying them. Her long skirt didn’t have pockets, her bag was full, and she was not sacrificing arrows for gems. With a last look around she sighed and scratched her head. “I am afraid that this is all I can carry. We are going to have to leave now.”

She quickly followed the Prince a little ways down the hall. From a distance she could hear a commotion, but from the sounds of it, it had nothing to do with them. That same commotion was probably what had the guards busy. “The way to the sewers is down this hall,” she said to the Prince. She pointed to the left and walked a bit down there. “It is not too much farther.” Once they were there, it would be a breeze getting back to safety. Miera would then go home and stash most of the gems while looking for a buying for a few of the others.
 
“Our history is the history of pain. When we remember the past, we do not remember it for the great accomplishments achieved by scholars and scientists; the discoveries we have made. We remember it for military conquest; great battles won and lost. As you stand upon the brink of the Archadian Empire, do you think of the technological achievements we have made over the centuries since our foundation, the noble lineage of our houses? No; you think of our strength of arms, and the unfortunate events two years past.

I do not blame you, my friends; I, too, think this way sometimes. Try as we might, we cannot let go of our pain, and it is this that has prevented us from forging alliances, from coming together as the Gods intended and creating a united Ivalice, a nation of peace and prosperity! It saddens me, my friends, that our history has been written in blood, when the ink has not run dry. War does not determine who wins or who loses: it simply determines who is left. We are all that is left, and should we not learn from our past errors? I stand before you now not as a conqueror, but as a man wracked by remorse by the actions that my country had to take to maintain its stability, hoping to build a greater future from the ashes of the past.

The wars we have fought in the past have not been against powers and principalities, kings and armies; they have been against chaos, against despair! My father once said this to me, when I was a child: “Greater than the death of flesh is the death hope; the death of dreams, and against this peril, we can never surrender.” Let us take heart in his words, friends. The dreams of those who are dead linger still, within all of us, and they can be heard, can be felt, if we but listen to them. In his time, the Dynast King Raithwall dreamed of a united Ivalice, and by the blessings of the Gods, he saw his dreams become a reality. All remember the Galtean Alliance as a great gathering of the nations of Ivalice; as a time of peace. Yet do any remember the battles that came before it? The blood Raithwall had to spill in order to see his dreams realized?

All of life can be broken down into moments of transition, or moments of revelation. The future is all around us, in these moments of transition, waiting to be born in moments of revelation. We now come to a moment of revelation, as I stand here before you now, upon the Cathedral steps. Under the watchful eyes of the Gods, let us take a step forward together to greet that future, to put an end to the chaos and despair; to bring forth a new era of peace the likes of which we have not seen since the age of the great Dynast King himself!”

Cormagg D’Reena Thrace was many things, Zalaena conceded, but a poor public speaker was not one of them, as the crowd erupted into applause as he raised his arms, some of them even cheering. He knew exactly where the grievances of his audience would lie, and had rather deftly smoothed them over. Of course, there was no way of knowing how much blood Raithwall had spilled before his time as Dynast King, because no known histories documented the events leading up to the forging of the Galtean Alliance, yet that was the beauty of it. A sloth and a craven man, to be certain, but an excellent public speaker, perhaps greater than her late husband in these times, where people needed to be brought to heel, rather than reasoned with. Still, his smugness was insufferable, and no doubt would be for the entire time she was here, which may be several years. Despite his speech, there would still be resistance, and many public executions in answer. He would need to make several more speeches before this mess was cleaned up.

The sky was suddenly alight with fireworks – that was odd, those were being saved for the festivities tonight – and, a fraction of a second before Zalaena realised that this was little more than a distraction; it was too late to do anything about it, as the scene dissolved into chaos.

---

As the crowd erupted in thunderous applause around her, making her teeth rattle, Alysandra snorted. What utter drivel! She was almost glad to be doing this; the world would not weep for the loss of one more pompous bureaucrat, certainly not this one. When she saw the client again, she was going to have words with him for making her sit through this insufferably dull speech, filled with enough lies to make even the most experienced gambler blush. The client had wanted them to wait just so that he could say THAT? What a waste of his last few moments of life. Well, that was just too bad for him, wasn’t it? When people thought of him, they would think of that incredibly dull speech he had just delivered…if he was lucky. It was likely they would forget all about that little speech with what was to come.

Tapping her staff on the ground, she unleashed a Thundara spell into the air, swiftly followed by a Fira spell from her hand, the resulting energies quite spectacular and, despite the harsh sunlight, plainly visible. But of course, it would be: she was a master of Black Magick, and this was but a fraction of what she was capable of. The beauty of it was that these fools would think it a display for their new Consul, and in a twisted way, that was exactly what it was. It was designed for a far more sinister purpose, however…although if Liandra couldn’t figure out what this applause meant, she was even stupider than Alysandra gave her credit for.

“All hail the mighty Archadian Empire.” she muttered, waving her free hand to cast Decoy upon a few unsuspecting members of the crowd, all staring mindlessly up at her little display, which still crackled away merrily. She did NOT want to be singled out when things got messy, which would be any second now…ah, there we go. She would hate to be in the front row right about now.

---

The light show in the sky – her errant partner was ever keen to show off, it seemed – was the signal she had been waiting for…not that she had needed it, given the applause. Checking her line of fire again – the target had moved slightly, it seemed - Laverna pulled the trigger, rocking slightly with the recoil before relaxing and lowering her weapon. Even from this distance, she could see the results quite clearly, as the target’s head seemed to simply explode in a bloody fountain as the rest of him erupted in flame. Under normal circumstances she would have used Dark Shot, but the client had requested a very loud message be sent, which called for the more spectacular Wyrmfire Shot. At least they wouldn’t have to cremate the body.

Cheers turned into screams as the crowd suddenly realized what had happened, and quite suddenly there was pandemonium below as everyone tried to get away at once, the result being that nobody really managed to get anywhere at all. Laverna settled herself into a more comfortable position. She was in no hurry, and if she attempted to escape now, it was likely that she would be caught within the crowds, or by one of the soldiers on the way down. She was invisible up here, and there was no way of determining where the attack had come from, given that she had blown off his entire head. Given Alysandra’s little display, she could afford to wait. Perhaps she could now begin to enjoy the festivities; they were certainly about to get interesting…
 
(OOC: Short post, but I can’t do much at the moment.)

Miera heard it all almost instantly. There were fireworks at first. She thought it was odd enough that the fireworks started earlier than usual. What most people wouldn’t hear, however, Miera was able to catch. There was gunfire. Just one shot was all she heard. Followed by that gunshot were screams. Followed by the screams there was the clanging of armor and the sounds of people running. It was the sound of panic. Miera instantly knew that it was not the time to get caught sneaking around the castle. “Something has happened. We must hurry,” was all she said as she darted off down the hall. Once she got further down she instantly was able to see the tile they had to lift up to get to the sewers. She quickly bent over and lifted it to the side. From there, she looked over to the prince and waited for him to go first. After all, she couldn’t accept her payment from a dead man.
 
As they left the treasure room, Rowan's entire body went still at the sound of the crack. For a few seconds it echoed through the air, but just as it began to grow faint, screams replaced it. The sounds of footsteps chaotically stampeding through the Rabanastre square told him that everything was running smoothly. Though a little ahead of schedule, to his chagrin. The guards would be on high alert.

"It's done," he said to Miera. There was always the possibility that the assassin had missed, but he doubted it. She had a reputation and a clean slate. She had never failed a contract before, and such an open area probably made for an easy kill, not that he would know. He was a healer. Not an assassin. He apparently had never been meant to dirty his hands himself. He wasn't sure whether that made him fortunate or spoiled. Perhaps both?

While he was deep in thought, his accomplice had already run ahead and found the alternate entrance to the sewers. She worked quickly and was to the point. He would have to make sure she received an apt reward if he won this war. She lifted the tile to the side and Rowan stared down into the darkness, before holding his breath and jumping down without further hesitation.

Murky water and a grotesque smell met him, and water splashed around him as he made his landing, knees slightly bent so as not to hurt himself. If he hadn't been thankful that he wasn't wearing robes before, he certainly was now. His armor had been custom tailored to his short, slight form, and so didn't dip into the waters. His greaves were thankfully waterproofed, but the brown, filthy water mulling around his legs still made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and he was eager to get out of here and into drier land.

A croak from behind made him wheel around. On a ledge above was a huge...something. It looked like a frog, covered in warts. Glistening wet, with huge, bulbous black eyes, it shocked Rowan so much that he let out a sound between a yell and a squeal; the high pitch much to his chagrin. His hand sliced through the air as white wind gathered, turning into a pillar of light above the toad...frog...thing. A white circle formed from the swirling white blades above the pillar around the creature, releasing an explosive white light that filled the pillar.

The unfortunate amphibian was more or less decimated. Blood, slime, pus. and all manner of other extremities splattered the walls, floor, and ceiling of the sewers, and as the magic faded with a gust of source-less wind, Rowan realized he had just used his most powerful and only offensive spell...on a relatively harmless toad. Which had actually managed to scare him more than anything thus far. Turning away from the remains of what could only be described as a massacre, he folded his arms and blushed lightly. How embarrassing.
 
And there he was, William saw the young prince, escorted by the Judge Magister who had accompanied them. The man was still willing to go through this, despite the obvious risk of assassination there would be. A sane man wouldn’t even address the crowd, but no matter, if his pride blinds him to the reality, then let the reality deliver judgment on him.

Then William heard his speech, an attempt to smooth over the grievances that the people of Dalmasca had. He started talking about his father’s goals; restore united hegemonic control over Ivalice to promote peace, prosperity and order. William had to admit, it was actually a pretty good speech. If he was born a commoner of Dalmasca, he would’ve cheered right along with them. Yet how many lives, innocent or guilty would it take to actually follow through on that speech? William thought about it himself. Had he been in the Prince’s position, what would he himself do to achieve said goals.

The fireworks shot up into the sky. But wait, the sun has not set yet. “What is going on?” Before anyone would’ve realized, William heard a body drop, and the guards began to rush over to see what happened. William put on a look of concern, as he himself walked over to the body. It was definitely the Prince’s, but it looked as if half his head was blown off completely. Someone had assassinated the Prince, and the people were thrown into panic, a typical response considering the situation that the people were in.

William said in a stern voice, “Don’t just stand there, try to calm the people down!” The guards then began filing out to do their jobs. It seems his speech on order and peace only ended with war and chaos. If it wasn’t for the current situation at hand, he’d chuckle to himself. Looking over at the Judge Magister, he said, “We cannot leave the Prince’s body here. Let’s take him inside.” He nodded, motioning to lift the dead corpse’s arm around his neck, so he can at least be carted out with some dignity.
 
“Stand firm!” Zalaena snapped at the guards, infuriated that one of the Consul’s little pets had attempted to take charge of the situation, and perhaps even more infuriated that they had leaped to the command of a civilian. How dare he? The name and house of the man escaped her, but he certainly had courage – or lacked brains – to dare and try to take control with a Judge Magister present. And of all the foolish commands to give! Calm the crowd down? Calm them down? Did he have ANY comprehension of what had happened? Whilst the assassin would not be in the crowd - not unless they were extremely stupid, and one did not live long as an assassin if they were stupid - whoever shot that little Magick display into the sky almost certainly would be. Zalaena would have their head mounted on a pike before the day was through, and the name of the one who had hired them. The guards were insufficient in number of detaining the crowd in their current panicked state, which was no doubt what the hidden accomplice had planned for. She, however, was not.

The form of Zeromus appeared behind her at her mental call, casting a shadow over the crowd, who erupted into fresh screams, no doubt thinking she was going to kill them all. She was sorely tempted; clearly the seeds of rebellion ran deeply in this city, and the only way to stamp those out was to lay waste to the entire city, as had been done with Nabudis. Executing an entire crowd of people would no doubt serve as quite an example, but it would be little more than petty vengeance, and might only serve to encourage the rebellion at this stage. No, this was going to require a more direct approach…which involved finding the decoy and ascertaining who had hired them. There would indeed be retribution, but it would be directed solely upon the one responsible for this.

Acting at her command, Zeromus unleashed a Slowga spell, blanketing the entire crowd and practically stopping them all in their tracks. Their screams became a dull whine as they still sought to escape, but they were as flies trapped in amber. They weren’t going anywhere unless her Esper released its hold, and she had no intention of having it do so until every last person here was confined to a warded cell and interrogated. She turned then to the guard captain, who looked more than slightly shaken – a man almost young enough to be her grandson, she noted with some disdain – and gestured curtly.

“Arrest them all. There is more than sufficient room in the palace dungeons to hold them. If any resist, kill them. Once you have done that, turn your attention to the surrounding area. I want this city locked down.” she turned away dismissively, unmindful of the presence of Zeromus; she had long since grown used to the Esper, and the power it wielded. It was as much an extension of her as her sword was by this point, and if it encouraged terror in those present, so much the better. She spared a glance for the Consul’s body, which was still crackling away as it turned to dust. There wouldn’t be much of a funeral for the body of Cormagg D’Reena Thrace, it seemed. What a shame.

Of course, that meant she now had to deal with the bureaucrats. As Judge Magister, she had held absolute power even with the Consul present, but it would seem now she would have to exercise it…some of these fools were far more ambitious than they should have been, and as she was going to need to report on the situation to the Emperor – there was every possibility that this had been his intent from the start, although she would need to act as though it hadn’t been until she learned more – and that meant she would need to leave one of these simpletons in command of the city, at least until a proper replacement could be sent. Although who could possibly replace the heir to the throne? With Cormagg dead, the Thrace line ended with its current Emperor. Whilst Zalaena herself was a part of the house by marriage, she had no desire to claim the throne for herself, and unless the Emperor ordered it, she would not even consider taking control of Dalmasca for herself. The place was unsalvageable. Better if they burned it down here and now. The only thing stopping her from doing as much as that the Emperor evidently did not share her sentiments, if he had sent his only son here to try and bring the city to heel.

“It is highly doubtful that there will be any further assassinations.” She said finally. The statement served two purposes: to stop their gibbering, and to remind them that if there were any further assassinations as they sought to take advantage of the chaos to remove rivals, she would know about it. “Until I can resolve this matter fully, you are all confined to your quarters the palace. Any who defy this order will be treated as an accomplice, and punished accordingly. You.” she gestured sharply at the one who had attempted to take command before he could scuttle away with the others. “You will stay here. You will assist with apprehending and interrogating the prisoners, since you seem to believe yourself qualified to do so. But make no mistake: your earlier impertinence will not be forgotten, and if you ever dare to presume to speak to me in such a manner again, or supersede my authority in any way, what befell the Prince will seem as a trifle when compared to your fate. Do I make myself clear?”

Even in death, Cormagg D’Reena Thrace was causing problems. It seemed there would be no rest at all for her for the next few days. Interrogating all of these people – which she would do personally for many of them – was going to take several days, although no doubt most of them did not know anything at all about this. Yet it would not be a complete waste of time. A goodly percentage of the Dalmascan populace was here, and she would not have a better opportunity or excuse to weed out the filth that plagued this city. Although for the moment, her primary concern was maintaining order by any means necessary. One way or another, someone was going to pay for this, and pay dearly…

---

This was supposed to be a simple mission for her. There was no feasible way that an entire crowd could be detained and, with her diminutive stature and ability to cast Decoy, it should have been impossible for them to apprehend her. Whilst she was in greater danger than Liandra, the danger was so negligible that it was hardly worth considering. Indeed, Alysandra hadn’t considered it a danger at all…at least until the Judge Magister had confirmed rumour for truth by calling upon Zeromus, the Condemner. Panic flooded through her – along with the rest of the crowd, it seemed, as screams of panic turned to pure terror – although her voice was surprisingly calm as she muttered aloud to herself:

“Oh. That’s just wonderful.”

A gasp, which came out as a long, slow sigh, issued from her lips as was hit by the most powerful Slowga spell she had ever experienced, effectively stopping her and everyone around her dead in their tracks; it might as well have been Stopga, for the speed at which she was moving. Time Magick was not her forte, but she had been trained during her time in Rozarria to counter it, at least to a degree. Unfortunately, those counters involved either casting Decoy to divert attention away from herself, or countering with the most powerful Black Magick spell available to her, to force the caster to focus on either stopping her spell or containing her and risking getting annihilated. Unfortunately, her first tactic hadn’t worked, and using the second would only draw the attention of every soldier here…and probably wouldn’t work anyway, considering it was an Esper she would be attacking. Her chances of survival if she did that were minimal. But at least the Esper had not utilised the Gravity Magick for which it was infamous...she could be a smear on the cobblestones right now, rather than a slowly moving statue.

No, there was little she could do but allow herself to be captured for the time being, and pray that Liandra saw fit to rescue her before she was interrogated…which she almost certainly would, because Alysandra knew a lot about her, and she was even more self-serving than Liandra herself. She would have no qualms about telling that armoured white terror everything she knew if she could avoid having her head stuck on a pike. Not that it would make much of a trophy; it was a very small head, after all. No, they still needed to separate her from the rest of the crowd, and it would take a highly perverse twist of fate for her to be chosen first for interrogation. She was likely safe for a few hours, at least. Hopefully that would be enough time for Liandra to meet up with the client, get the reward, and then head back and break her out of prison…somehow. She’d leave that little detail up to her. For now, she needed to concentrate on looking as innocent as was possible. Perhaps if the guards believed her to be just an innocent little girl, they’d let her go…and perhaps Knight-Star Pashtarot would descend from the sky to subdue his counterpart. Hope was such a ridiculous thing sometimes…
 
OOC: Sorry for the short post, had to put this through multiple rewrites...wow I'm picky in my responses...

IC:

What was a scene of mass chaos and panic continued when he felt a strange presence coming from the Judge, he laid down the body and watched as she saw a strange creature coming down from the sky, much to the terror the people were feeling right about now. “So this is how Rabanastre ends, just like Nabradis…” William said calmly as he looked at the beast swoop down, but rather than actively move to kill the people, it instead cast a spell, slowing their movements and preventing their escape.

Rather than calming the people, they gave the people even more reason to be scared. William put his hand on his head, “So much for civility. Just wonderful…” William thought to himself as the guards began rounding up the entire city, essentially making the city just one big prison. And then he was reprimanded by the judge for just trying to do the right thing. William looked at the judge coldly, despite her threats to kill him so slowly and painfully it would be legendary among Ivalician circles. He was taken to death threats pretty well. Although he was not one to take such threats lying down, picking a fight with a judge magister was probably an option best left for suicidal old fools. “Hmph, very well then.” Fixing his jacket, William began to walk into the cathedral, heading to the streets to oversee the people being carted to the dungeons. “So much for diplomacy.” He said to himself in a calm yet low tone.
 
Miera didn’t quite get by what the Prince meant when he said it was “done”, but she didn’t have the time to care. The most important thing at that moment for her was getting out of the castle alive. Of course, the Prince had to be alive as well. He jumped in first just as she wanted him to and she quickly followed behind. The smell of the sewers bothered most people, but Miera had gotten used to it in her time there. Whenever she went there now, the smell was the very last thing on her mind most of the time. However, in her particular living quarters in the sewers, the smell was practically gone completely. Of course, that was by her own efforts long ago.

The water quickly soaked her feet as it splashed around her. It garnished no worry from her, however. The only thing on her mind at that particular moment in time was to get out as quickly as possible and collect her payment. Before she could begin going on forward, there was a slight… noise that emitted from the Prince. A froglike creature had spooked him, and in retaliation, he killed it in a rather brutal, if not quick, manner. As much as Miera would have liked to have not said anything, she couldn’t help at all but to crack a smile.

“Well, if you are done killing defenseless sewer creeps… we should get going.” She walked in front smiling again. At least when push came to shove she knew the Prince wasn’t useless. With that, she simply continued walking. As of that moment there was no cause for concern from anyone catching them. No one ever really walked the sewers. Surely if something too terrible happened above they may have made an exception. Though, from her view point there was no reason to. She left no traces of anyone being in the castle nor did she leave any traces of anyone entering or exiting through the sewers. As far as she was concerned, she was perfectly fine, the Prince was perfectly fine, therefore her money was perfectly fine.

As they continued walking the only sounds she could hear were the sounds of their own footsteps in the murky water. Everything truly seemed clear to her. "Do you need a place to hide after all of this? That can be arranged as well," Miera asked. She knew he probably wouldn't accept. However, it was nice to ask anyway. Odds were that he was going to leave the city as soon as possible. "Personally, I am looking forward to a rather nice nap when I get back home." Another smile crept along her face as they continued walking. She wasn't going to have to go out for jobs for quite sometime. She wouldn't even have to hunt for a while. With the money she would be getting, she could buy so much food and not have cause to worry. As she listened out for anyone else in the sewer, she couldn't help but take note of the sounds of the jewels in her back.

The clinging of them together was like music to her ears. As they continued walking she whispered to herself, "I have got the world in my pocket and it is still not enough." Miera was practically beaming with concentrated happiness.
 
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As his accomplice dropped down behind him and saw him essentially vaporize the toad, her former stoic demeanor cracked a little and she smiled. Looking away, Rowan tried to look as haughty as possible to cover up his earlier reaction. He didn't need to-couldn't afford to- look weak. Not even in front of hired accomplices only in it for the money. He needed to remain as strong as possible.

The Viera didn't seem to dwell on his earlier jumpiness (and high pitch), instead asking him if he wanted a place to lay low for a while after they were out of here. Apparently giving free reign of his treasury to the woman had put Rowan in her good books. Still... "That won't be necessary." He spoke curtly. "I'd rather not put you in any more danger than is strictly necessary." He didn't look at his accomplice as he scouted the winding passageways of the Garamsythe Waterway, watching and listening for any intruders.

"I intend to go to Bhujerba when I finish here," he said, walking forward again with arms folded. "I have sympathizers there. We'll get in there quietly, through an airship, and prepare for war." Rowan didn't know why he was talking about it; why was he talking about it? Did it make it seem more real? More impending? More genuine? If he didn't even know then where was he?

Tch. No time to think about that now. ​"Let's keep moving."
 
She resisted the urge to cut him down for his insolence as he glared at her, although it was a close thing. It was to be expected of posturing fools who spent their entire lives curled up behind a desk, where their biggest worry was what they were going to dine upon that evening. Disgusting. He presumed to know what was best for the Empire over one who was as the Law? He would need to be put in his place at some stage, if he was to be of any use whatsoever. Backbone, whilst admirable in some circles, would snap if too rigid, and against the authority of Judge Zalaena, none except the Emperor himself could stand tall.

“I want the prisoners placed in warded cells immediately!” she snapped, what vestiges of patience she had slowly evaporating. The crowd was moving at a modest pace, although the process was being hindered somewhat by the inability of the soldiers. If these had been her soldiers, they would have been rounded up in a matter of seconds. It was no wonder the bureaucrats had grown complacent and corrupt; the soldiers inside Archadian borders were soft and weak. It was a miracle that rebels hadn’t overrun the entire state by this point, given the sheer incompetence she was witnessing.

She turned away in contempt, moving towards the Palace, Zeromus trailing behind her like some sort of ghastly pet. The crowd was firmly in hand, yet she was not going to get rid of the Eidolon…at least, not yet. Let fear worm its way into the heart of Rabanastre, and let them know how close to extinction they were. It would stave off any foolish notions of rebellion, at least for the moment. There was already quite enough to deal with here. Assassinating the heir to the throne constituted an act of war, so if this was the work of rebels, as she suspected, it was likely that this entire city would be razed to the ground in retaliation. Although this would be no great loss. Perhaps she would arrange for the bureaucrats the Prince had brought with him to be within the city when this occurred, as well.

A thought for another time. For the moment, she had things to be doing. Her own soldiers, interspersed amongst the ranks, would inform her of any developments. Unlike those who had been stationed here, they were experienced veterans. They would not encounter any trouble…

---

“You there! Move along!”

Alysandra ducked instinctively, although the command had not been aimed at her. She breathed a slow sigh of relief. Whilst escape was quite impossible in a crowd this thick, with the threat of impending doom in the form of the Condemner hovering around, the threat of discovery remained minimal. Although she didn’t much fancy being put in a prison cell. Those things were always filthy with dust, blood, vomit, faeces and the gods only knew what else. Not the sort of place for a prodigy, certainly. Oh, there were going to be harsh words exchanged with Liandra when this was all over, to be sure. She must have known that the rumours about Judge Magisters wielding Espers were reliable! She knew about everything that went on in this part of Ivalice, it seemed. Had she known about this, she would have re-considered her strategy. Or would have outright refused. Not even a nethicite shard was worth imprisonment, torture, and then execution…if she was lucky. Given that the Judge had been the only one who hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid when the Consul’s head was blown off, she doubted she would be lucky.

She muttered a stream of curses under her breath, more than enough to make even the most hardened of sky pirates go red in the face. Oh yes, they were going to have words...


---

Larverna frowned from within her place of concealment, watching the soldiers confer amongst themselves, although she could not get too close without risking detection…they clearly knew what they were doing. But of all the places they could have chosen, they had to choose the designated rendezvous point; a little-known sewer access hatch that was often used by smugglers and thieves…and, of course, the occasional assassin. The network of tunnels underneath the city was extensive, but then, they didn’t need to search the tunnels: all they needed to do was station a guard or two there and wait. Nobody coming up through the exit would know until the point when they opened the hatch…at which point, the soldiers would have them.

How they had found it was a mystery…it was well-hidden. Presumably they had been tipped off by someone…Alysandra, perhaps? That seemed unlikely…she wasn’t stupid enough to do something like that. There would have been some commotion by this stage if she had been discovered, as well. No, this was something else. She weighed up her options. Killing them was a simple solution, yet would attract far too much attention; it would probably bring the rest of the soldiers – and the Judge Magister – right down on this position. She was not about to play at being a distraction, either; she was an assassin, and she had completed the task she had been paid for. She did not work for free. It seemed there was little she could do but watch. Although that was preferable to the alternatives: people were being herded like cattle for the dungeons, and it was all she could do to remain concealed in the shadows.
 
Miera listened quietly as the Prince went on discussing his plans. She honestly didn’t expect him to want to stay in the sewers, but she figured it would be polite to ask. Normally, she wasn’t polite at all. However, the Prince hadn’t once treated her badly at all. He even let her take whatever she wanted from the treasure room back at the palace. As far as she was concerned, he was okay. Of course, she didn’t yet trust him fully. Something like that would take far more time. Still it was nice to know that there was at least someone in the city of Rabanastre that wasn’t a complete barbarian.

Once she stopped thinking for a couple of seconds she stopped to make sure she was still on the right path. The sewers below the city were a labyrinth of waterways and passages. It was easy for most people to get lost and never be able to find their way out. Once she was comfortable with her surroundings again, she quickly started walking again. “It should not be much longer now,” she concluded out loud. She was completely right about that. As they continued she started noticing familiar markings she had left on the walls of the place. For most people they wouldn’t be able to see them. Miera was a Viera… of a sort, at least. So she was able to see them just fine; even if the sewers were dimly lit.

In the distance there was a ladder. The ladder itself made from steel and built into the wall of the sewer built long ago by workers. With ease she climbed to the top. “I am going to peek out and see what it is like out there.” Without waiting for a reply, she did just that. It took a bit of strength on her part, but she got the hatch open. The light practically blinded her and caused her to gasp and wince for a second. Much to her surprise, she was greeted by the faces of two guards in armor she had come to learn to loathe. “O-Oh no…” Without wasting anytime she dropped the latch and slid down the ladder.

“We have to go! Now! I will try to hold them of-“, her words were cut short as the latch was quickly forced back open. Almost as soon as the hatch opened, two guards dropped in and quickly started approaching. She took a few steps back and drew an arrow. Once she pulled back the string she aimed quickly and released an arrow into the neck of a guard. However, where he once stood, two more quickly followed. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to do much. It was close quarters in the sewer, and she did not have enough room. She fired two more arrows. Once hit the armor of a guard and did nothing, the other hit a different guard in the arm.

Another two guards dropped into the hole behind them. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to do anything. They got closer and closer and as fast as she could fire arrows… she couldn’t keep up with them all. She was getting nervous and starting to panic the closer they got. A couple more arrows flew as they were now running towards her. She hit one more in the neck… but it was for nothing. She quickly felt a large pain in her stomach as a fist hit her. Without much resistance she doubled over to her knees and clutched at her stomach.

Miera was useless at fighting in close quarters… there was nothing she could do as she felt another large and painful smack hit her arms. She yelled out in pain as her bow fell from her hands. The guard in front of her then raised his armored hand again and hit her on the side of the head. The very last thing she saw as she hit the ground was the foot of the armor she had come to learn to hate. In just a few moments, she was out cold and completely at their mercy. I-I failed...
 
Rowan was apparently relying on Miera's sense of direction to get through the winding maze of the Garamsythe Waterway. It had always been a huge, sprawling underground sewer, but there were some places that hadn't been explored since its construction, and completely dark places beyond the sewer that had never seen the trespass of man; at least, it hadn't suffered it for long. Now full of Mist and all manner of creatures, only the brave explored the deeper reaches nowadays. and none had come back.

Thankfully, they were in the outer levels, and as Miera seemingly used the walls to determine where they were going, they quickly found a ladder that led back to the surface. Miera pushed the manhole aside to scout for any patrols, while Rowan leaned against the slimy walls of the sewer, hoping that she had chosen a discreet place to emerge rather than anywhere crowded like the central plaza.

But as quickly as she had come up, she had scrambled back down again, looking significantly less cautious than before. Rowan could only assume something had happened that made caution no longer an option. And no sooner had the Viera hissed “We have to go! Now! I will try to hold them off" than her words were cut off, and two guards dropped in. Damn. Their reactions were quick. Too quick. He could only come to one conclusion. Someone knew they were going to be coming out of the sewers.

One was swiftly brought down by an arrow to the neck-Miera hadn't been lying about her archery prowess- but the others were wounded, or glanced off the arrows with their armor. As they got closer, Miera was out of options. She managed to bring down one more, but then a punch in the stomach stopped her in her tracks, and she doubled over.

Damnit, he was supposed to run but…he couldn’t just sit and watch someone get captured like that. Not a citizen of Dalmasca, and someone who had helped him to boot. Rather than run as a strike to the head took Miera out- he wasn’t physically fit enough to get farther than the guards, anyway-he whipped his hand through the air again, preparing another Holy spell. But as the white wind gathered in the air, becoming a pillar, he realized how pointless spells with long channel times like these were without someone to provide close range support.

His arm was restrained with such force that pain shot up to his neck and he gasped in pain. “Get your hands off her!” Who do you mongrels think you are?! I am a prin-“ This final word was cut off as a heavily armoured arm struck him in the back of the head, and he dropped to his knees, then to his side, submerging half of his body in the sewer water.

He wished he could have thought something pompous and rebel princelike as he fell into unconsciousness, such as this is an outrage! Or damn Archadian dogs! But much to his chagrin, he thought something much less couth and quite a bit more predictable.

Shit.
 
How disgraceful it must be, for the people of Rabanastre to suffer such a fate. But he was not in the mood for such matters; having been threatened with his life by a Judge would do that to him. He looked at his pocket watch as several people, by all accounts frozen by the Esper’s spell were hauled away to be locked away indefinitely. However unfortunate it may seem to them, it did not affect William in the slightest, even going to help some of the guards tend to sound of the unruly members. He was deeply annoyed at the developments, and to be honest, if the Prince hadn’t been an absolute fool he would have lived to continue being the Consul of Archadian Dalmasca.

Putting the pocketwatch back in his jacket he then turned to the crowd as they were being escorted into the dungeons to await what horrors there may be. Humes, moogles, Bangaas, all now prisoners of the Emperor’s will, fated to either plead innocent or guilty, to live or to die, such was Arcadian Law, and the Judge would serve as Judge, Jury and Executioner. “This is going to be a long few days here.” William said calmly.

As the crowd progressed, William did see a figure stand out, escorted by guards. The dead giveaway of her reptilian wings meant one thing. “A Gria…such a rare species around these parts.” Knowing the matter at hand, he would have to make sure to interrogate her personally, if she cooperates, then the matter could be done and everyone can get back to be on their merry way, though he personally did not know what would be the consequence of such action if the Judge knew who was responsible, and something in the back of his mind knew that Rabanastre will soon be the new Narbadis no matter which way he saw it. Best to play to the Judge’s whims for now and then, if and when it happens, find a way out before he becomes a fixture of a new Necrohol.
 
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