Again, aboard the Bahamut... Gabranth can only infer that his task at the Pharos — to put Ashelia to the sword — must have ended in failure. Even knowing that greater, more dire consequences were at stake than stopping her, knowing that he has fought and sacrificed for what could unquestionably be considered the greater good... It does little to ease the bitter sting of failure in his mind.

Still, it somewhat pales in comparison to what other failures he's endured as of late. It pales even further against the knowledge that he'd confronted Vayne — even if only in another life, another time, and even if it resulted in his own death — that he was able to exact some form of recompense against him.

(But is it truly another life, or is it a fate to which he's bound to return someday? In the Drabwurld he'd been told that time stood still in each shardbearer's home world, set only to flow again upon their return. But what if one never returned at all? What would become of his Ivalice if he continued to drift on like this, from one world to the next?)

When Balthier gives him his stare, Gabranth's own gaze is fixed downwards, a scowl writ clear on his face as he turns these thoughts over in his mind. At what he says next, however — at the word lordling — Gabranth's attention snaps back to him at once.

"Lord Larsa?"

Lord Larsa, who had likewise been summoned to fight for the Seelie cause; Larsa Solidor, whose shard had been found lifeless and dull, the last remnant of a shardbearer cast into the abyss between worlds... Gabranth's head swims.

"What's become of him?" He doesn't yet dare to let himself hope, but there is an urgency in his tone that cannot be missed.