UnShaekable (FFXII)

XXXII) The Road to Archadia

~6 months before~

I sigh, chewing my lip and tossing my messy brunette hair from my eyes, staring long and hard at the drawing before me. A rough depiction of my cabin, blankets wrinkled and strewn across two shadowed figures. One, Dern, lays on his back, head rested on the arms behind his head. Half of his bare chest is exposed before disappearing beneath the covers. My own slim figure is curled up to the left, head rested on his collarbone. Light shines in through the narrow window to the room, indicating that we've slept in well past noon. Four feet stick out from underneath the heavy blanket, legs tangled from the ankles up. The best depiction I can create based on what I imagine this perspective looks like.

Setting the sketchbook to the side, I stand from my seat at my smooth desk and stretch to release the tense hunch in my muscles. Dern should be back any minute now, returning from trading in a smaller Dalmascan town I have yet to visit. Apparently, he thinks the village will be safer since the Imperials will most likely pay less attention there. I hope he's right.

Restless, I leave my cabin and wander down the hallway to his room. I open the door, taking a deep breath. Even after all these years, he carries the distinct scent of Archadia. Most likely that cologne he insists on wearing daily. I laugh to myself, shaking my head. Truly a city boy. Curious, I sit in the wooden chair at his desk and reach toward a drawer. I glance toward the doorway, paranoid, before pulling the bin open. Inside lies his revolver, extra bullets, and an x-potion. No surprises there. I move to the drawer beneath that.

I almost cringe at the stack of my own handiwork sitting in the bottom, a pile of drawings he's collected from me over the past year and a half. None are plans for the Castean. He supposedly keeps those in a special folder. On top of the sketches rests an empty potion bottle and a pair of rubies the size of my palms. Wonder why we haven't sold those yet.

Closing the drawer, I lean back in his seat, kicking my feet up on his desk. Frowning at an odd pressure, I sit straight again, pulling the journal under my boot out and leafing through the pages. I smile upon seeing my name too many times to count and open the last entry in hopes of seeing something to boost my ego. What I read, however, has my heart sinking and my breath caught in my throat.

"I received a letter from an odd courier yesterday. More of an envelope full of papers, honestly. I was hesitant to open it, but I did so after sending Shae away to test the new engine model I'm developing. The letter is full of records of where Shae and I have been for the past six months. In the back, there's a threat from someone in House Solidor (Vayne, no doubt). If Shae is not turned over within two weeks, he will find us and take her away himself. To some fate worse than death, I fear.

"The letter continued to tell me where the Imperials would be expecting me or Shae to be turned in, listed the amount of gold being offered. I refuse to let this go any farther than Vayne has already driven it. No, I fear they may find us all too soon. Today I make for the village where the Imperials will be; it's a heavily occupied section of land. Today I turn myself in.

"Shae, my love, if you were clever (or curious) enough to search my journal for my whereabouts, I beg you not to worry. Do not head for the capital, as I doubt they will bring me there for fear of being predictable. I have my own way out. All I need is for you to run and hide where Archadia will never find you. Merely await my return in patience."

The journal falls onto the desk with a thud, my hands trembling as I grip the edge of the wood. He turned himself in... Made sure he was caught... To throw them off? So they could torture him relentlessly for information he didn't have? I shake my head, my mouth dry as I try to swallow my dread. We could have escaped together. We've always done this together. Why did he...?