UnShaekable (FFXII)

XLVIII) Imminent Evil

"Al-Cid," Vaan gasps, rushing into the closed cabin containing the strange man we met in Mount Bur-Omisace. His boots are kicked up on Reddas's desk and his dark hair is brushed in front of his eyes. A woman stands silently at his side, hands clasped before her.

"We let ourselves inside," the man replies, his accent as thick as ever. "The situation is one demanding some haste, you understand."

"How did you know where we were?" I ask, crossing my arms. Al-Cid stands abruptly, lifting his chin.

"My little birds, they tell me many, many things." He stops before Ashe, looking down at her through his dark glasses. "My Lady, the war begins now."

"Then you were unsuccessful in stopping the Rozarrian fleet?"

"I used a variety of methods. All went according to plan until it came time to request withdrawal of our most devoted generals." He paces to the edge of the broad ship, scratching his dark goatee. The rest of the party strides into the room, watching the odd man. "In their enthusiasm for war, our great military leaders went behind my back, straight to Marquis Ondore's Resistance."

"The Resistance?" Ashe repeats, eyes wide.

"During training, a division of Resistance ignored their orders and disappeared. They were next found exchanging broadsides with the Imperials over Old Nabradia."

"Why would they go there?" Basch demands. "They were asking to be found!"

"You misunderstand. Those ships most surely belonged to a Rozarrian division. They may have joined Ondore's resistance forces as patriots, or even mercenaries, but in reality, they are regulars of the Rozarrian army under direct command of our war-pavilion. This fifth column has invaded Imperial airspace and provoked a response. Unable to abandon them, His Excellency the Marquis was obliged to give his main fleet the order to attack." Balthier paces over to a nearby table, leaning against the edge of the wooden surface with his arms crossed as he listens. He's restless. "And the battleground... is Dalmasca."

"Should this fight drag on, Rozarria with enter the fray, the defense of Dalmasca as their excuse," Balthier muses, looking over at Ashe, "and we will have a war between empires."

"Neither side can take that," I huff, rubbing the back of my neck. "The casualties to both would be detrimental. Vayne's plan to take history back may just result in ending it."

"Correct! They will bide their time, waiting to strike, until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne—he will crush them and the Marquis both between his hands." Al-Cid claps his hands together sharply and Penelo jumps.

"Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer," Basch points out. "His advantage is lost."

"Vayne has advantages enough," Al-Cid counters. "He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me he has awoken something quite..." He slides his glasses to the end of his nose, eyes piercing mine. "...Large."

"Bahamut," I sigh, shaking my head and taking a deep breath.

"What?" Vaan frowns.

"Bahamut, Lord of the Sky," Al-Cid says. "There was a stirring in the Mist in the direction of Ridorana, I'm told. Bahamut awoke soon after this."

"It is the Mist that came before the Cryst was undone. It breathed lifted into this Bahamut," Fran speaks up, crossing her arms. "If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more Mist might it have drunk?" She turns to face Balthier. "All went according to Doctor Cid's designs." Balthier huffs and his fingers twitch, gripping the edge of the table tightly as he grits out his reply.