His eyes slowly opened, and his vision was blurry. Where was he? He was in a bed. It was not his own; it was much more luxurious than the apartment in which he normally resided. No, instead he was leaned atop thick, luxurious chocobo down pillows, and in satin sheets. He wiped his eyes to focus his vision. He was dressed in silk pajamas. How had he gotten here? He tried to cry out, but the words would not flow from his lips. Instead, a squeaky croak emitted, and his throat hurt and tears began to well in his eyes automatically. His croak had not gone unnoticed, as he heard someone yelp as they tumbled from a chair in the hallway. He was not sure, but he wagered that's what it was.

A lithe young man with dark hair and a normally confident aire stood slightly disheveled, righting his tunic as he entered the doorway, aghast.

"By the gods, I told them you'd come to eventually!" Kurgan shouted as he strode across the room.

"Kur..gan...my friend," Balth choked out against the pain in his throat. He glanced around, noticing now that there were other beds with unconscious people of different races. Kurgan noticed Balth's confused glances, and he started to speak as he strode to a pitcher of water and poured a glass for the recovering man.

The smile had vanished from his face. "You do not know where you are. G-7, North San d'Oria." Balth managed a slight grin, despite the pain. Kurgan was one of the two most knowledgeable people about Vana'diel that he knew. He obviously threw the map coordinates in there in an attempt to remind Balth about how lost he would get in various places on trips with Kurgan, even with a map. But San d'Oria was his home. Balth's allegiance lay with Bastok and the race of men, but San d'Oria was his home; and the fact he knew the Prince personally was a source of great pride. He was in one of Prince Trion's churches. He recognized it now. But there were fifty or more people. None of them moving.

Kurgan adjusted the frequency on his linkshell, and it glowed a pinkish hue. Iron Maiden Troopers, the most powerful group this dimension had ever seen. Balth and Kurgan were both members, an honor neither of them would ever forget. Kurgan spoke into the device, "Balth has recovered, he is awake. I know. I have not told him yet. He is? Now? Understood." With that, he turned the device off and turned towards the door.

Balth gulped down some of the water, realizing he was very parched. How long had he been unconscious? What had happened to him? "Kurg..an... What ..happened?"

The expression on the young man's face turned grim. "A lot has happened, Balth. There have been...casualties. And you were one of them, we feared..." Before he could complete his thought, however, a vortex appeared in the air, and a tall Mithra, dressed in a pointed, red mage's hat and matching cloak and gold-laced red pants stepped out of the portal, and it closed in upon itself behind her. Her whiskers twitched and her tail moved back and forth warily, poised as if a mouse was eluding her, as she eyed Balth in the bed. He would have known this Mithra even in a throng of people; Estya the sage was unlike any other he had ever met, and the other most knowledgeable person he knew.

"Nyah, it's true! You are awake! The mages did what they could, but your wounds were extensive. We thought you lost like the others..."

"Balth... the beastmen attacked the cities, they sent the giant Treants, do you remember?"

He did. And how he wished to the gods he hadn't. He, Lanurk and McCoulick, the core founders of Trion's personal Death Crew, had headed to Bastok as soon as word of the massive hundred-foot tall monsters appearing outside the city walls arrived. The IMT had spread their ranks thin recruiting those who would to defend San d'Oria and Windurst, home of the Mithra and the Taru Taru. Between Lanurk, Balth and McCoulick, they hand managed to grab eighteen of the best TDC had to offer, including Kurgan, to make a stand. By the time they joined with the other squadrons Bastok had mustered, they stood over a thousand in number. It was a slaughter. Hundreds fell in the initial wave, but the hastily-banded-together troops adapted and figured out a plan of attack. Everyone was fighting, there was no convenience for field generals that day. The city would fall unless the monster was stopped. All three of them had lead their respective squadrons into the battle, and Lanurk's group had taken out one of the seven tentacles, McCoulick had done the same, and Balth's group was about done with one themselves. And then he saw it. A massive tentacle falling directly towards Kurgan. Balth screamed at Lanurk to cut a path in the small saproling monsters that were impeding their progress around the base, and Lanurk and McCoulick immediately went back to back, cutting a path in front of them. Balth used his katana and wakizashi to slice down the remaining and closed the distance with lightning speed. The tentacle was falling; Kurgan did not see it... he was going to be too late; he dove through the air, casting Utsusemi, a lost ninja art to prevent him from harm, and pushed the spell onto Kurgan, attempting to shove him out of the way in time. Kurgan shimmered as the tentacle made contact, and Balth knew he had succeeded in saving him. That was the last thought he could remember.

He looked up, and Kurgan had his hand clenched to his heart and bowed to the bearded ninja.

"..How...how long have I been unconscious?" Balth asked the pair.
Estya's whiskers twitched back and forth and her nose rankled a bit. "Balth, I don't know how to tell you this, but nyaxt Firesday will mark two years." A small mrrowl formed in the back of her throat, she had never liked being the bearer of bad news.

"Unfortunately, others were lost as well. But there is plenty of time for that later. There are many people who would see you, including the Prince. It is a troubled time we live in, but news of your revival will bring a smile to his face, I'm sure, as will it to the Mythril Knights in Bastok," Kurgan started. "Can you walk?"

Balth sat there for a moment. He felt weak, but he didn't seem to notice any problems. He went to get out of the bed, and instead simply fell back down on the pillows, unable to move. Estya stepped closer and produced a wand from her backpack. She moved it over Balth's body slowly, her tail lashing back and forth as she concentrated on using the device.

"It would seem you are still not fully healed... your mind has lost touch with your body. The muscles have become very weak. You will have to be taught to walk, and then run, and then fight, all over again. Nyat everyonnne can do this task, but I know you, Balth. You have friends, and we will help you. Are you up to the task, mrrowl?"

He indulged in self pity for a moment, and turned his eyes to the window. All his training, lost. All his skills he had spent honing his body to the ways of the Ninja, lost. The road was hard the first time, would it be any less so a second?

"No," he told himself, "the world is at war. My country, my honor and my friends need me." He turned to Estya and nodded.

"Purrrfect," she rolled off her tongue as she nodded approvingly to Kurgan. "Kurgan, by the way, has become quite the skilled warrior. He may even have a thing or two to teach you about the dark arts of the Ninja by the time we are through. I will inform the others of your reawakening. We will start tomorrow, nya~!"

Balth nodded, and sunk back into the pillow. Tomorrow would be a VERY long day.