UnShaekable (FFXII)

VIII) The Lhusu Mines

The aerodrome is busy as always, filled with people of strange accents and dress. A foreign city hidden high up in the clouds, lost from the mainland and hung by the Empire's invisible puppet-strings. As if on cue, a group of Imperial soldiers rushes into the port, looking around wildly. Balthier leans over to mutter something to Basch and the captain nods.

"No good, he's not here," one of the soldiers huffs, turning to face the other two.

"Keep searching!" another commands. "This way!"

"You're a dead man," Balthier says, leading the way out of the aerodrome. "Don't forget it." He looks over his shoulder pointedly. "And no names."

"Of course," Basch replies lowly.

The city is built from faded stone, monochrome as ever. In the distance, swoops of bright blue crystal rise from the ground and give off a gentle, pulsing glow. The wind is gentle, chilling my skin as the dense gray clouds hide the sun. Beautiful. Will night ever fall if we keep chasing the sun?

"The Lhusu Mines are just up ahead," Balthier says, leading us past conversing friends and couples alike. "Though, I do hear there's not much left there these days."

"The Empire likely sucked it dry of its magicite," I shrug, earning a curious look from Vaan. Before he can speak, another terribly familiar voice stings my ears. It seems my past wants to yap at my heels these days.

"You're on your way to the mines?" We turn to see a small boy holding himself up on the edge of the bridge's walls, peering down at the clouds below us. A head of sleek black hair turns to reveal pale blue eyes and an assertive expression. "Then please, allow me to accompany you." Gods, of all the things he could've done... "I've an errand to attend to there." The glint of his ruby earrings catches my eye and I nearly groan. Way to blend in, Mr. Upper Class.

"What manner of errand?" Basch asks, looking down at the boy hesitantly.

"What errand? I might ask the same of you." He looks up at the captain, a dark eyebrow raised. Balthier, obviously annoyed with his narrowed eyes and tight jaw, shoots a glance to Basch. I sigh; the boy's "way with words" never subsided.

"Right, come on then."

"Excellent," the boy replies, dusting off his bunched silk pants.

"Do me a favor and stay where I can keep my eye on you," Balthier adds, hands resting on his hips and head lifted high. "Should be less trouble that way."

"For us both," the child nods.

"So what's your name?" Vaan asks, crossing his tanned arms.

"Oh, I..." The boy turns to face him and I chew on the inside of my cheek when his eyes flicker over to mine in quick question. After the slightest bit of stuttering, he answers with flushed cheeks. "I'm Lamont." He tears his eyes away from mine to look at Vaan. As thick-headed as he is, I have to admire Vaan for his genuine concern.

"Don't worry," he replies, misreading "Lamont's" hesitancy. "I don't know what's in that mine, Lamont, but you're in good hands." He grins, turning to face the captain. "Right, Basch?"

If the boy and his little act made me want to smack my head against the ground repeatedly, Vaan's slip-up has me ready to launch myself over the edge of this bridge and fall into the concrete sea miles below. Balthier's jaw drops as he exchanges a bewildered look between Basch and the thief and Fran sighs, disappointed. Unfazed, Vaan rests a hand on Lamont's shoulder, smiling at the captain. And then he realizes, his face falling. Balthier shrugs, rolling his eyes and performing the same odd half-wink I've seen so often. Basch sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.