The Dawn Shard lay quiescent and dull in Ashe’s hand, showing no signs of its incredible destructive power.

She had been thinking long and hard on how to harness its power – and even longer on the troubling possibility that she may not be able to do so without damaging friend as well as foe. For all her words on using the Dawn Shard as a weapon to wrench control of Dalmasca from Imperial hands, and as a weapon to keep those Imperial hands from snatching it back new-born, she was not unaware of the dangers associated with her plan.

And yet . . . she had hope that the Dawn Shard would allow her to command it, the way it had not allowed Judge Ghis. She was, after all, the sole heir to the Dalmascan throne, and – and Rasler had given the shard to her himself. Twice.

Thinking on Rasler brought its usual swirl of frenzied emotions: grief and pain, unending; anger and a savage desire for retribution; and now, newest of the lot, confusion and inexplicable guilt . . . every time she looked at Vaan.

Thoughts of Vaan brought thoughts of their next destination, and Ashe glanced towards the window to find the sun edging up over the horizon. They were still lodged in Rabanastre, it having taken a significant portion of the day prior to stock up on supplies – not least because Vaan had somehow persuaded the pirate Balthier and her own Captain Basch to quickly teleport to Bhujerba to go take care of an overgrown turtle in the Lhusu Mines. Granted, the Mark did give them some extra gil, which was always welcome, but Ashe found herself feeling somewhat snubbed that Basch had followed Vaan’s lead without even consulting her on it. Was she not the rightful Queen, that Basch had sworn to protect?

Slipping the Dawn Shard into a pocket, Ashe gathered up her mace and shield and the few meagre potions she carried at all times. The bulk of their items rested with Balthier, as he – with pouches at both hips – was the only one among them with sufficient space to store the items. Particularly since Vaan kept stealing them more.

Regardless, it was time to leave, and Ashe left the room and continued to the bar area of the Sandsea.

The Sandsea was bustling busily, even at this hour of the morning, but oddly enough, of their motley crew only Fran was present. “Where are the others?” Ashe asked, as she took the seat next to the Viera.

“Penelo is out buying phoenix downs,” Fran replied, in her odd half-sibilant half-sharp accent. “Basch—” she looked towards to door to the inn’s rooms, “—has just arrived, and Vaan is still sleeping with Balthier.”

About to suggest they go look for Penelo, Fran’s final comment registered and Ashe started. Then she laughed at her own foolishness. “You may wish to phrase that last as ‘Vaan and Balthier are still sleeping’,” she told Fran, waving until Basch spotted them and began making his way through the crowd towards their table. “Otherwise, you make it sound as though they are – or were – engaged in . . . well, fornication.”

Fran gave her an odd look. “I meant what I said,” she replied.

It was Ashe’s turn to stare. “But – that—”

“How does the morning find you, my Lady?” Basch said with a half bow – the most that would go unnoticed by the Sandsea’s patrons – entirely unaware of the conversation that had begun prior to his entry.

Ashe turned to him, grateful for the interruption. She must have misunderstood. “Very well,” she replied. “Do you have any further information of the route—”

“If you do not believe me, he can confirm it for you,” Fran interrupted. “Basch has engaged in . . . ‘fornication’, as you say, with Balthier and Vaan.”

Ashe choked a little, and watched as Basch’s face slowly gained a deep, pinkish hue, which, under any other circumstances, would have been a sight worthy of great mirth. As it was, it only horrified her when Basch remained silent, slowing deepening in colour, as though he simply did not know what he could say.

Catching her look, Basch took on a half-pleading look and said, “My Lady. . . .”

“Well now, what have we here?” Balthier, appearing from seemingly nowhere, slung an arm across Basch’s shoulders and peered at the faces around the table – Ashe, a mask of shock; Basch, a humiliated pink; and Fran, radiating smug. Balthier raised an eyebrow at Fran. “Traumatising the children so early in the day, my dear?”

“Enlightening the Lady of the facts of fornication amongst this little group,” Fran replied.

“Ah.” For a brief moment, a troubled look passed over Balthier’s face. Then he leaned back, clapping his hands down firmly on Basch’s shoulders. “In that case, Captain, would you do me the great favour of finding Penelo for us? I believe she spoke of buying phoenix downs this morning; a pretext to see her former Bangaa employer and those friends he still does employ, no doubt.”

“She left half an hour ago,” Fran interjected.

Basch rose sharply, throwing off Balthier’s hands and near knocking his chair over, his head down as he muttered, “I shall go directly.”

“And Fran,” Balthier continued, as Basch made a hurried exit, “would you mind waking Vaan for me? The lazy slug-a-bed refuses to rise; claims I’ve ‘tired him out’ or somesuch.”

“I shall have him down in fifteen minutes,” Fran replied, rising.

“Hmm. Best make that thirty,” Balthier responded. “There’s no rush, after all.”

“As you wish.”

“And now, milady,” Balthier said, turning to Ashe and bowing flamboyantly. “It seems there is an explanation awaiting you. Shall we retire to the terrace, the better to avoid prying ears?”

“I – yes,” Ashe said, a little unsteadily. “Do – do lead the way.”

Balthier smiled a smile full of smug amusement – or so it seemed to Ashe’s admittedly uncharitable thought of the moment – and strode off towards the Sandsea’s terrace. Ashe followed in a daze, feeling something of the shock that had consumed her on learning of her husband’s, and then her father’s, deaths. This was by no means as severe, but still shook her in a decidedly unpleasant manner.

Balthier led her to a table furthest away from the main bustle of the tavern, and waved off the server who had begun to move in their direction. He took a seat with his back to the wall, and gestured for her take the other.

“So it is true, then,” Ashe said, remaining on her feet for the moment.

“I find myself assuming from the words spoken previously, that Fran took it upon herself to enlighten you of a single night that Basch spent in the company of Vaan and myself,” Balthier said, looking as unruffled as ever. “Of course, if I am wrong, I shall now have two things to explain to you.”

Ashe sank into the chair. “That – was the matter of which I spoke,” she replied.

“And doubtless you are wondering what purpose such a thing could have, for the dear Captain does not strike most who meet him as one for needless pleasures.”

Ashe scowled. “I have no intention of being trapped into insulting the Captain, if that is your wish.”

Balthier waved a hand. “Nothing could be further from my mind,” he said. “However, that is what you were wondering, is it not?”

“After a fashion, yes.”

“And doubtless you were also wondering why Basch might choose to do such a thing, when he openly avows that his life is dedicated to the restoration of Dalmasca,” Balthier continued. With one leg crossed over the other and his elbow resting on the desk the better to gesticulate, he appeared urbanely unruffled, and in that moment, Ashe hated him for it.

“I suppose I cannot expect a sky pirate to understand fighting for a worthy cause,” she spat.

Balthier’s eyes narrowed, but he gave no other indication that the barb had struck. “Not at all, Highness, I merely refer to the fact that those consumed by vengeance tend to lead somewhat . . . ascetic lifestyles – and indeed, to all appearances Captain Basch would be among them.”

“Then how does this ‘one night’ fit into the life of one whose life is dedicated to a consuming cause?” Ashe challenged. “You seek to talk in circles, Balthier, but I have yet to hear a reason for this purported night of fornication.”

“Patience is a virtue, Highness,” Balthier sighed.

“And my patience runs thin,” Ashe snapped. “Basch is dedicated to the restoration of Dalmasca. Was this merely a momentary diversion, a – a result of years of abstinence? Should that be the cause, I admit that I shall think less of him, but at least it will be less torturous than hearing you attempt to twist the truth into something that tarnishes you both a little less.”

“I have offered you an explanation, Highness, now are you going to listen to it or not?” Balthier said, his tone sharp. Ashe, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt change in his demeanour, opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it and nodded.

“Good.” Relaxing, Balthier’s tone returned to normal. “I shall explain the full of it to you, for it was my idea, and the reasons were not so base as you seem to believe. And no interruptions,” he added, as Ashe opened her mouth again.

“Then I had best be allowed to question you once you are finished,” she warned.

“Of course,” Balthier replied. “To begin, the evening was not in spite of the Captain’s dedication to Dalmasca, but a direct result of it. He—”

“What?” Ashe sputtered. “You cannot expect me to believe that.”

Balthier sighed. “No interruptions,” he said. “Fran has remarkably good timing, and I have no doubt that Basch will wish to avoid the Sandsea for as long as possible, but Vaan has a tendency to be an impetuous idiot and Penelo only differs from him by having a little more basic common sense. We will not have forever to conduct this conversation, and it is best that I explain everything to you first, and then allow you to question as you like.”

Taken aback once more, Ashe nodded slowly. “I apologise,” she replied, a little humbled.

“Good. Now, where was I?”

“The matter of Captain Basch’s dedication to Dalmasca,” she prompted.

“Ah, yes. Now, it should be plainly apparent to you that Basch considers himself to have failed in a way that means he can only define himself as a failure. He failed your father, he failed Dalmasca, and he failed those under his command.” Balthier steepled his fingers together. “The path to rectify two of those failures is open and obvious before him; protect you, and aid you in restoring the Kingdom of Dalmasca to its former glory.

“And the means by which both are to be done are ones he is familiar with, as a former Knight of the kingdom. They are also ones that you are familiar with, and this is most important; it means that with the slightest word or look, you convey your trust to him.”

Ashe nodded. This was, indeed, something she had counted on, as more time passed and she saw more truly that Basch was fundamentally incapable of betraying anything or anyone; she had given her forgiveness in words, but words did not speak as loudly as deeds, and thus she had taken to treating Basch in the exact manner that her father had – as one whose loyalty is as unquestioned as one’s own arm.

Balthier, seeing her agreement, sighed and continued. “The last, the failure to those under his command, is not so simply addressed. Most were seasoned veterans, whose lives were as dedicated to Dalmasca as his own, and therefore not his responsibility; but there was one, a boy seventeen years of age, who was a recent recruit. He showed very great promise, but he, too, died the night your father did. His name was Reks, and was Vaan’s older brother.”

“May I ask a question?” Ashe said quietly. At Balthier’s nod, she continued, “Was Reks not the name of the Dalmascan soldier who reported Basch’s supposed betrayal, and died shortly thereafter?”

“Yes, the very same,” Balthier replied. “Perhaps I was being overly dramatic in saying that he died the night your father did, for that is literally untrue, but he certainly received the wound that killed him that night, and to listen to Vaan speak of him . . . there was little enough left of his mind before he finally passed on.”

Ashe nodded, clasping her hands together. She . . . had not realised that that Reks was Vaan’s brother, simply had not made the connection despite hearing Vaan speak of him. It occurred to her that if Reks looked anything like Vaan, then he may also have shared Vaan’s resemblance to Rasler, which – should Balthier’s words be true – could only have deepened Basch’s feeling of responsibility. “Go on,” she said.

“Consider, then, that Basch has found himself in the company of two people to whom he feels equally responsible,” Balthier said. “Yourself, of course, but also Vaan. He feels that he has deprived both of you of Dalmasca, and also of your final remaining family member. Both of you are thus alone in the world, and he blames himself for that.

“Yet with you,” Balthier continued, flicking his fingers at Ashe, “he has a way forward, a structure he can follow to atone for his failure. With Vaan, he has no such structure.”

“But – Vaan is always so friendly with him,” Ashe protested.

“And what reason does Basch have, to trust friendliness?” Balthier pointed out. “If his story is to be believed, then it was his twin brother who aided in framing him as the murderer of your father, and it was his old friend Vossler who most recently proffered betrayal. Besides, Vaan’s way of the world is quite separate to the Captain’s. To Vaan, a friendly overture means forgiveness. To the Captain, it means nothing of the sort. And thus Basch remained uncertain of his place with Vaan.

“You may have noticed,” Balthier added, “that, for most of our travels, if Basch did protest at something Vaan suggested, it was merely a token protest and he would cave with the slightest of pressure. This was solely because of the debt he felt and still feels he owes Vaan, and it is also something of which Vaan himself does not have the slightest inkling.

“It was rather pathetic, really. And so, I decided to do something about it.”

Once again, Ashe found she could not hold her tongue. “And this led to fornication,” she said, disbelief plainly evident in her voice.

Balthier raised an eyebrow. “Of course it did,” he responded. “Few other activities require such a level of obviously apparent trust as rampant fornication, particularly sodomy between two men. I was already aware that Vaan is astoundingly open-minded and mature about such matters given the immaturity he displays elsewhere, and thus had little doubt of his answer when I suggested it. And with Vaan’s enthusiasm directed towards something, if Basch had the merest inkling of such an inclination, then I felt sure he would agree.

“And thus I was able to manipulate matters so as to remove myself from the tableau almost entirely, leaving Vaan to enjoy himself physically and Basch to bask in the trust and welcome shown to him by someone who, by all rights, should hate him. Thus reassured, the good Captain is now willing to stand more firm against Vaan’s more frivolous requests, which leaves the boy pouting but saves the rest of us some time.”

Ashe stared at the table, frowning. She . . . had not thought of matters in that light – indeed, it would never have occurred to her to think of matters in that light. And yet it made all too much sense.

Apart from one point. “So you engineered this entirely out of the kindness of your own heart, to save us time,” she said, looking up, disbelief evident in her voice and face. “The rest of what you have said is believable, save for that part. What motive could you have had in organising such a thing? Our well-being is as nothing to you.”

Balthier raised an eyebrow. “Far be it for me to contest such a complimentary opinion,” he said. “However, you are correct; I had an ulterior motive. You see, my dear Lady Ashe,” he continued, leaning forward and smirking in an entirely disconcerting manner, “I got to watch.”

Heat boiled up in Ashe’s face until she was sure she must be glowing with embarrassment. For a few seconds, she was speechless, entirely unable to respond to such a – a lascivious comment.

Which, of course, was Balthier’s intent.

Just as she gathered her wits, however, Balthier glanced over her shoulder and smirked once more. “Ah, Fran! Excellent timing, as always.”

“Excellent timing, my butt,” an all-too-familiar voice grumbled, and Ashe froze up again. She had not even thought of how she was going to face Vaan after this revelation – Balthier was and would most likely always remain unchanged, and her thoughts had been taken up with the Captain.

. . . and come to think of it, she had not even considered whether Vaan’s place in the supposed story was true, as she had questioned Basch’s. It simply had not come to mind, as though she automatically accepted its tacit truth. That, she suspected, was less than complimentary.

Vaan was griping at Balthier, gesticulating wildly, his words failing to penetrate the dampening fog surrounding Ashe’s contemplation. She found herself observing him in a new light; less as a thief who had the galling temerity to look like her deceased husband, and more as a Rabanastran citizen who had lost everything to the war, just as she had. Something more akin to . . . well, kin.

It seemed that she had misjudged Balthier, as well; though he had proven himself as flirtatious and lascivious as his reputation would have one believe, he had also proven that he was willing to engineer an encounter whose main benefit was not for him, for all that he tried to hide such intent behind crude lechery. And that the lechery was crude served to highlight yet another facet of his character: that he had not intended to have to explain his actions to another (for Balthier most commonly stood as the antithesis of all things crude), and thus he could only be a sky pirate entirely comfortable with altruism. However much of a contradiction that seemed.

And finally, Basch. Basch, who held steadfast to his dedication for a country that now despised him and believed him dead, whom she had not even thought could be experiencing any sort of uncertainty.

I am a fool, Ashe thought.

“Vaan, look what Migelo gave us!” Ashe’s head lifted on hearing Penelo’s voice, knowing what she would see with the girl. As Penelo darted forwards, skidding to a halt beside Vaan and distracting him from his argument with Balthier, Ashe saw Basch hovering back near the head of the stairs. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Basch turned away, his head down and a grim set on his features.

It was evident that he felt ashamed she knew of his night with Balthier and Vaan. And, given Balthier’s tale, she, Ashelia B’Nargan Dalmasca, was probably the only one who could lift that shame for him.

Rising, she walked across the terrace. Basch tensed as she approached, and stood rigid with his face turned towards the group she had left at the other end of the terrace. Penelo and Vaan were still chattering, and no doubt Fran was ignoring them all, but Ashe could feel Balthier’s eyes burning into the back of her head.

She came to a halt beside Basch, facing the stairs. From the corner of her eye she could see the tense muscles of his jaw.

“Captain Basch,” Ashe said, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“Majesty,” Basch responded, his equally low and cautiously neutral.

Ashe debated what to say. To state that he was forgiven intimated that there was something to forgive, and also something that was in her power to forgive, and this was untrue; yet how else could she make plain her acceptance of the matter?

And then she knew.

“The loss of Vossler saddens me, as I am sure it does you,” Ashe heard herself say. “You were friends, were you not?”

Basch jerked beside her, although whether in surprise or another – more painful – emotion Ashe did not know. She remained staring straight ahead, forcing her stance to remain loose and open.

“Once,” Basch said, after a moment. “We were friends once.”

Ashe nodded, then said, “If there is one thing I have learned from the events of recent days, it is that Dalmasca’s knights remain ever loyal. I may not understand, or agree, with the form that loyalty takes, but I cannot deny it.” Here, she turned and met Basch’s eyes. “And so long as that loyalty does not bar my path, it shall never be rejected, or forgotten.”

Basch was silent for a long moment, as though struggling for words that might reflect the emotion she saw roiling behind his eyes. At last, he said, “At this moment, Majesty, I have never been more proud to be a knight of Dalmasca.” And I have never been more proud of you, said the face and eyes of one of the men who had helped raise her.

“Penelo, stop hitting me!” Vaan yelled behind her, breaking the moment. “Can we go now? Please? And leave her behind?”

“As if you could!” Penelo retorted. “You need me around to keep you out of trouble, Vaan.”

“I find it doubtful that anything could keep young Vaan out of trouble for longer than it takes a cactite to shed a needle,” Balthier drawled. “However, we are long past due to depart, wouldn’t you say, my Lady?” he continued, catching Ashe’s eye.

Ashe smiled. “Indeed,” she said. “Let us go.”