In the year 712 of Ivalice, Balthier and Fran had taken it upon themselves to venture beyond the borders of their Country. They had scrapped most of the temples and caves and even abandoned castles in search of treasures, and now they were looking for bigger game. There had been talk about Hume refugees coming in from this way and they wanted to check it out.
They were thirty miles south of the Paramina Rift, the Still Shrine of Miriam, and all the rest of the Kerwon continent. The mountains finally faded from view and tall forest trees took over. Not far out was a stone wall and it stretched for miles in both directions.
"The mist…it is gone." Said Fran, "But look, past the trees," She pointed at the stone wall that seemed to have been taken over by vegetation and falling apart. "We should set her down and take a closer look, yes?" By 'she' Fran meant the Strahl.
"Yes, we should," agreed Balthier. "Though, it may prove difficult to find a place to land." He said that bit more to himself than to Fran.
There was a small patch of land, an open field, not far from the wall and the Strahl was landed there without a problem.
"We don't know what's out there, so let's prepare ourselves." Balthier loaded his gun and made sure to bring extra bullets. Fran did the same with her bow and they walked off the Strahl with cautious minds.
There was a slight wind, making it feel colder than what it was. The air was crisp with the mist gone and it smelt of dead flowers, wood and pine trees. Together the duo walked through the field and into the forest where they made their way to the stone wall.
There was nothing there to harm them; only small creatures like rabbits, deer, and a few foxes that ran by them. It would seem that there was no need for any kind of weapon, but one could never be fully sure, and thus, they continued on.
It appeared, at first, that there was naught of use for them here until the stone wall presented them with more than just cold pebbles and vines intertwined with dead leaves and flowers. There was a door, or rather, a beautiful rustic looking gate sat vainly by some shrubbery. The ground beneath it looked as though it had been tampered with as if someone had tried to open the gate and shook it back and forth and then tried digging but gave up before they even got half way.
Fran pushed the gate but it was locked, so she whispered an incantation under her breath and a faint purple light swirled around the gate.
A soft click sounded and the gate creaked open by a few inches. Balthier and Fran made their way through but found it to be the same as the other side, only more of it.
"Fran, do you sense anything?" Balthier asked.

For a moment Fran did not respond. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "I sense a feeble heartbeat." She said sadly. Her eyes looked a few feet yonder from where they were standing and followed her instincts.
Balthier trailed close behind, taking notice of any dangers lurking about, but there was nothing dangerous to what, or whom, they found: A frail girl sat slumped over next to a tree. Her long, light chocolate brown hair fell forward covering most of her face. Her shoes had holes in them and the long dark green coat that she wore was worn with stains of blood and dirt and other misfortunes.
"Gods," Balthier breathed, resting his gun easy at his side.
Fran knelt down beside the poor child and reached for her cold, pale hand. "She is with us still. Her heartbeat is there, though it falters by the minute. If we leave her here she will surely die."
Balthier sighed. "I guess we have no choice then," he said as he put his gun away. "I'll carry her back."
Then we must hurry." Fran stood up and took out her bow. "I will have your back if anything happens."
Balthier smirked. "Naturally," he said. "Just give me a moment, will you? I don't want to hurt picking her up carelessly."
The pair walked back as quickly as they could and boarded the Strahl safely. Balthier set the girl down on a single bed and got to work saving her life. He removed her coat but taking a knife to it and ripping it off of her.

The unfortunate girl had been wounded badly on her side and still showing signs of bleeding out. She moaned in pain but kept still, her body too weak to even move the slightest.
Balthier kept his hands steady as he ripped off her coat and the once pretty white dress that she wore and was met by a white silk corset. What caught him off guard were the gold and silver coins and jewels sewn into the corset. Some of it had come off, leaving part of the girl's body vulnerable and in one of those spots she had been attacked, hence the bleeding wound.
Something else he thought interesting was a sheathed dagger that sat snug in a pocket on the inside of her coat. The hilt had been decorated in red, blue, green and purple jewels. One jewel was missing and Balthier guessed that the dagger had stopped a bullet from penetrating, or heavy blow from a random object. In any case, the girl was extremely lucky to be alive.
"This looks like a job for you, Fran. I'll get the Strahl flying if you can take over from here." And he took the dagger for safe keeping until the girl woke up.
Fran said nothing as Balthier stood up and walked away and then knelt beside the girl and placed her hands over her wound, whispering another spell.
A warm, white light seeped from Fran's hands and on to the girl, healing her. Within a few minutes, the bleeding stopped and the young girl was out of harm's way.
At last, she woke up and looked over at Fran; her blue-green eyes glazed over and weary.
"Am I dead?" she asked weak and tired. Her voice was deep and scratchy, but Fran could tell that underneath all that her voice was soft and sweet.
Fran shook her head and told her no.
The girl paused for a moment and then asked, "Are you an angel?"
This time Fran smiled slightly and answered, "No."
And like that, the girl fell back to sleep.

Resting in the Valendia continent, the northeast of Ivalice, was the Arcadian empire. Emperor Larsa Ferrinas Solidor was having a friendly sword match against his protector, Gabranth, secretly known as Basch among close friends; his real name.
This was the longest match they had had yet and Larsa was sweating. His white tunic was sopping wet and it clung to his handsome chest. His breaths had grown deep as he struggled to keep up with Basch.
"Have you had enough?" said Basch.
Larsa laughed and swung his sword in a graceful manner. "Hah! You think this match over so easily?"
Basch was quick to block Larsa's attack and grinned. "No, not at all,"
Their match was interrupted by a member of the consul, an ever faithful observer who served Larsa's father before him. "Excuse me, your Excellency, but the meeting is in an hour."
Larsa sheathed his sword. "Yes, I have not forgotten."
The faithful consul member bowed deeply. "Of course, your Excellency," and he quickly excused himself.
"That sums up our match for today," Basch said, sheathing his sword as well and wiping sweat from his forehead.
Larsa nodded at this. "Until tomorrow then, if there is time for it," Sweat dripped from his lashes and into his eyes, stinging him. He could smell his body odor and grimaced. He left without saying another word and a bath was readied for him. He sat there in his steaming bath full of scents of lavender and rose petals and let his body soak up the rich nutrients that were placed inside.
For a moment it was quiet for the young emperor. There was no one demanding attention or calling for his help and requesting that he read and sign endless piles of papers. But alas, it came time for him to excuse himself of his lavish bath and return to his chambers where a set of clothes had been set out for him.
He wiped his body dry with a towel and once he was done he left it to hang over a chair for when the servant next came in to clean. He put on his clothes and neatly combed his hair. His hair was not as long as it had been when he was young but it still reached a few inches past his ears and laid flat on his neck with the exception of a few strands whipping out at the ends.

The walk to the consul room was shorter than Larsa would have liked. Basch walked just a few paces behind as always; he too had washed up and dressed up in his full Judge armor.
When Larsa opened the door he found the rest of the consul members waiting for him, as they normally did, and Larsa took his usual spot: in the middle of all of them.
"The young Emperor turns eighteen next month." started one of the members as if Larsa wasn't present. "We not only need to plan a grand celebration in honor of his 'coming of age', but we also have to think about an heir to the Throne."
This was a subject Larsa had been mentally preparing himself for years now. He knew he would have to marry whether it be out of love or by politics. Either way, he was prepared for whatever fate was waiting for him. A small part of him felt it would be not for love and the other way around, but he was ready to serve his country and people the best that he could even if it meant making sacrifices.
"What of the young eligible ladies of the noble houses here in Ivalice? Surely there is plenty to choose from?" suggested one consul member. "We should invite all of them to the celebration and Lord Larsa can have his pick."
Larsa struggled not to roll his eyes at the mere mention of 'having his pick', as if these girls were cattle and he was their master. He didn't want to think of them that way, and he never would.
Finally, he sighed, not being able to take the back and forth bickering. "My late father, Gramis, did not marry until his mid-twenties."
The men stopped, a little shocked to have heard this come out of the Young Emperor's mouth. "What are you saying?" questioned one of the younger men.
If Larsa wasn't already sitting up straight in his seat he was now, and he said to the men, "I'm still young, and so are many of the noble women you speak of. There is time for all of that. I will not tear a young maiden from her family and demand such a responsibility on her shoulders." Larsa knew the gains and losses of being Emperor, and he would not want to place that burden on anyone's shoulders, least of all a young girl who was hardly a woman.
"What of the older noble women?" proposed the oldest man in the room.
And then another counseled, "Invite the noble women, young and old, and see what happens. Maybe you will grow fond of one, or perhaps a moment of 'love at first sight' will ensue."
Larsa looked up at Basch. Even though he could not see his face Larsa knew the look he was giving him and looked back at the others. "Fine, invite the nobles, set up the celebration." He opened up a folded and slid a single piece of paper out in front of him. "I've taken it upon myself to add a bit to it. Take it and look it over." He paused for a moment. "Now, let us talk about the refugees."
And thus the meeting continued with flawless aptitude and care of the young Emperor.

Three weeks had passed since Fran and Balthier found their new little companion. Willow was her name and she was eighteen years of age. She didn't tell them much about herself other than her family was killed by a man who called himself Valan Linshk. He was a terrifying brute who had many people killed who didn't side with him.
They had just made their way into Rabanastre when Balthier and Fran asked how it came to be that this man came in to power Willow only shrugged and said, "He didn't like the country being ruled by Royalty and thought it best that the land be governed by a group of people of many backgrounds, ethnicities, and religion. But the way he went about it was evil and enticing; enticing to those who were swayed by his choice of words and twisted views. They were almost as bad as him. "My family and I were making our way over when we were attacked. I got separated from family and got lost in the woods."
"But you didn't get out totally unscathed, did you?" Balthier commented.
Willow said nothing.
Suddenly, a chipper female voice sounded out through the crowd and the trio lifted their heads in the general direction.
It was Penelo and she was running with Vaan to greet them.
"It's so great to see you guys again. How are you doing?" she asked them.
"We are well, thank you." Said Fran, and then she eyed a curious little object around Penelo's finger. "It seems we have a lot to catch up on." She pointed at the ring.
Penelo blushed and held her left hand close to her chest and spun the ring around her finger. "Thank you, and yes, we do." She then looked in Willow's direction, but before she could say anything Vaan cut in.
"Who is she?" he asked.
Balthier said, "This is Willow. She's a refugee we found passed the borders of Ivalice."
A look of shock spread across bother Vaan and Penelo's faces.
"No way! Did you go past the border? What was it like?" Vaan asked.
Penelo rolled her eyes. "Don't go getting ideas, Vaan. There's a reason we haven't gone yet. Look at all the refugees that have almost died trying to make it over here. It's dangerous." She looked at Willow and gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Her voice trailed off.
Willow shook her head. "It's alright."
Penelo cleared her throat. "Let's hurry and go to the bar. I'm super hungry. We can talk more there."
Willow followed close behind, making sure that Fran and Balthier were always in her line of vision. She didn't feel like getting lost in such a confusing looking city. Well, at least it was confusing to her, at least right now. Although it was hard to say how long she would stay here. Balthier and Fran never stayed in one place for more than a couple of days.

They sat there in the bar on the top floor in the back, away from others the way they preferred it. Whilst waiting for their food Penelo asked more about Willow: what was her favorite color, how old she was, what she liked to eat, drink, or what she liked to do for fun? All were simple questions to answer until she asked if she would be staying with Fran and Balthier for very long.
"There is a place especially for the refugees here in Rabanastre. They'll treat you well and help you get back on your feet."
"And maybe find someone in your family," Vaan said.
The pleasant smile that rested on Willow's face now faded. "They were killed." She said solemnly. "By a man named Valan Linshk." She told Penelo and Vaan the same thing she told Fran and Balthier, only a shorter version of it.
"I'm sorry to hear about your family," Penelo said. "I lost mine, too, when I was around your age a few years back. So did Vaan."
Vaan nodded to this. "So does that mean you'll stick with Balthier and Fran then?"
Willow thought back to her first week with Fran and Balthier.
Balthier was sitting in a chair across from Willow. He was holding both her dagger and glorified corset. "What is a refugee like you running around with items like these?"
Willow cupped her hands and rested them on her lap while she tapped her foot nervously. "I took it from someone who didn't need it."
Balthier raised a brow. "Oh? Like who?"
Willow answered him quickly. "Some rich person," She then held out her hand. "Can I have the dagger back, please?"
Balthier scanned the dagger. "Why? I thought you stole it off some rich person?"
"It's protected me through a lot. I would feel better with it on my person." She told him as a matter of fact.
"'On my person' she says." Balthier mimicked.
Willow didn't think it very funny. And then Fran came back on Strahl with items like potions and a clean cloth and other healing materials.
"Stop giving the girl such a hard time," Fran said.\
Balthier protested a bit. "I'm only trying to figure out who she is."
"I did tell you. My name is Willow." She said quickly and then was stopped short from what else she wanted to say when Fran tossed her a brown bag. Willow opened it and found a fresh pair of clothes and new boots.
"I hope the boots fit. Your others were beyond repair." Fran took a seat on the armrest of the chair Balthier was sitting at. "Do you like what I picked out for you? I'm sure they will fit you well. It's better than running around in ripped clothes, yes?"
Willow looked over each set of clothing. There was a white frilly strapless dress that stopped right above the knees, and then there was a dark blue velvet coat shaped like a cardigan only instead of stopping at her waist it reached further down and stopped a few inches above the length of the main dress. In proper sunlight, their coat shined a dark green. The front of it had strings that tied right below the chest, keeping her breasts looking cute and perky, and the gem of her necklace stayed well hidden under her dress, leaving only the silver chain visible. Next, she looked at a pair of black tights covered any scares she might have had while running from the people who sought to kill her. She had her long hair in a braid but hid it underneath the matching beret cap Fran had bought her.
"You can keep the corset and the jewels and coins on it. Sell them, keep them, I don't care, but I want that dagger back…please."

Without another word, Fran swiped the dragger from Balthier's hands and handed it to Willow. "If you are going to be staying with us until you decide to go, you'll need that to protect you if neither of us is there to do so." She looked back and Balthier for a second and then headed to the front of the Strahl.
Fran's voice cut into Willow's thinking as she said, "Willow will be staying with us for a while until she decides to leave or if she decides." And no more was said on the topic.
"So, Larsa's birthday is in a week. He's sent us an invitation for all of us to come. Will you three be there? Ashe is supposedly coming too." Penelo said.
Balthier and Fran looked at each other and grinned.
"Yeah, we'll pay him a visit," Balthier said.