It was dark over the Royal Palace of Rabanastre. The Palace was lit up in celebration for the new Lord Consul, Vayne Solidor, and most of the halls bore only token patrols by the grey-armored soldiers of the Archadian Empire.
A large, slim shape darted over the high walls of the Palace, dipping and swooping through the walls, hugging the walls to avoid being seen. The vehicle was skillfully piloted by a woman, her amber eyes narrowed in the face of the wind as they traveled, her partner riding directly behind her, one arm wrapped around her stomach.
"You removed that seat just to get closer to me, didn't you?" She asked lowly, her rich accent filtering back to her partner, who smiled rakishly and leaned forward, kissing her cheek.
"My dear, you know me too well," He replied, his voice deep, also accented in way that came across and cultured and roguish at the same time. "You have to admit, the bike handles better without the added weight."
His partner smirked in agreement, her hands deftly manipulating the controls as they zipped through an empty courtyard, maneuvering around a fountain to avoid a small patrol. The woman twisted the bike and locked the brake, sliding to a halt in the hall. The man jumped from the hovercraft and landed lightly on his feet, his lips quirking up into a confident smirk as his sharp, ice blue eyes scanned the area.
He wore leather boots up to the knee with light grey armor plating, with tight, embossed leather trousers, a holster on his right thigh carrying a platinum weapon, and an off-white belt. Above that was a bronze and olive vest with a high collar, made of leather with intricate designs covering the surface and a small grey metal chestpiece, along with a matching pauldron attached to his left shoulder. Below that was a white shirt with slight ruffles around the wrist, with a bronze bracer on his right wrist and a pair of rings, yellow and green on the middle finger and red and blue on the ring, on his left hand.
He set his weapon, a rifle made of dark wood and metal with small carvings on the surface, on his shoulder, turning to look at his partner. "An open invitation if ever I saw one, Fran."
Fran was tall woman, a foot taller than her six-foot partner, including the long white rabbit ears perched atop her head, the tips mottled brown. She wore mostly dark metal armor on her long legs, thighs, chest and her arms, though it exposed a good amount of darkly-tanned skin and hugged her figure, a thin veil covering her taut stomach. Her nails were long and sharp, and she wore clawed stilettoes on her feet. A length of silver-white hair hung down her back, leading to a dark metal headpiece that circled her eyes.
"Let's not tarry then, lest our host close it." She replied, her eyes crinkling in a small smile. The pair quickly hid the hoverbike before stealing through the halls on foot, avoiding the patrols and following the directions mapped out for them on a worn, crumpled piece of paper.
As they came around a hall, they heard the rumbling of a door closing, and young voice speaking aloud. "Hey, watch it! Guess it's not leaving me much choice…" The voice faded into the distance, along with the tapping of feet. Approaching an otherwise uninteresting wall, the pair examined it closely, a panel above a meshed sort of window lighting up.
Touching the panel, a section of the wall slid into the ground, allowing the two entry. "Apparently someone else had the same idea as us." The man mused, scratching at his well-groomed goatee.
Now in a secret passage, the two ran through the dusty halls, coming to a stop as they spotted someone out of place. Well, just as out of place as them.
A young man with platinum blond hair, wearing a silver metal vest and matching baggy pants, muttering to himself and scratching his head, walking through the halls with a determined stride.
Fran tapped her partner's shoulder, directing him to continue on their path while she followed the other thief. Nodding, the man darted across the hall and continued, matching the directions on the paper to his movements. Coming to a small stretch of wall that seemed the same as the others, he tapped a specific brick, a section of the wall dropping away, to reveal a secret room.
Inside the room, the other thief hit a hidden switch while searching through the small chests in the treasury, causing the head of a statue of some sort of goddess to slide open, revealing a brightly glowing stone that shone gold. As the thief took the stone from the statue, the man decided to speak up.
"Quite the performance." He said honestly. He and his partner had flown over the walls, while this boy, younger than him by a few years, had seemingly walked in and effortlessly found the treasury.
"Who are you?" The young man asked suspiciously, clutching the stone in a gauntleted fist, his blue-grey eyes narrowing.
The man stepped into the room, a smirk on his lips. "I'm the leading man, who else?" He asked rhetorically, spying his partner entering the room through another secret door. "Fran, the magicite."
His partner stepped up behind the young man, making him spin in place. "Now then, I'll be taking that." She said, holding her hand out expectantly.
The blond boy backed away from them, holding the magicite behind his back. "No you won't!" He denied vehemently. "I found it, it's mine!"
The man leaned against a nearby table, crossing his arms over his chest. He had nothing to worry about; he and his partner were more than a match for one boy, though the blade sitting in easy reach at his hip did signal he was a fighter. "And when I take it from you, it'll be mine." He replied easily, Fran standing beside him.
The young man eyed them warily, visibly deciding whether the treasure he had grabbed was worth a fight. A sudden screaming made the two thieves glance away for a second, but when they turned back, the young thief had fled, a flapping shutter the evidence of his flight.
The man turned a dry look on his partner. "Exit stage right." He muttered with a shrug.
The mouth of the goddess's statue slid closed as if to mock them. "The gods do not smile on us." His companion stated ruefully.
"I prefer it that way." He replied simply, before pushing himself up. "Snatch whatever tickles your fancy, my dear, and let's be off. I'll follow him on foot while you grab the bike." As he spoke, the man circled around the table he was leaning against, wresting a well-polished sword from the grip of a statue holding up a sun. Testing it, he found it perfectly balanced and very sharp.
Fran shook her head at his choice. "Men and their weapons." She said, shaking her head.
"Women and their wrenches." He shot back with a grin, holding the sword low as he mantled over the low stone wall.
Rushing after the blond thief, the man tracked him by the sound of his metal clothing jingling and his panting breaths. He paused at the bottom of long staircase and sighed. "Palaces and their damned staircases." He sighed, making his way up. As he neared the top, an explosion rocked the palace.
Stepping onto a terrace, he could hear the sounds of combat coming from below and see smoke rising. The thief was sitting on the ground looking shocked, and he looked up at the sky to see large ship darkening the night sky, lit up from within with the glossair rings glowing blue. "The Ifrit, eh? Quite the entrance, I'd say."
The thief glared at him in question.
"Their timing's impeccable." He commented, watching the airship with narrow eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting all along."
Another shot was fired from the ship, landing in the courtyard below and kicking up a cloud of dust and smoke. The man coughed lightly, waving the fog away, spotting the blond thief getting to his feet and racing away. "Stop running, will you?" He called, jogging after him with an annoyed sigh. Couldn't he see that the wall ended ahead?
Fran flew up in front of the blond, spinning the bike around to face him, the engine glowing in the night. She stared at him from the seat, daring him to make a move.
"End of the line!" Her partner called, coming up behind the thief. "You have something I want." So give it to me or I'll take it from you.
The thief switched between looking at them, his eyes going wide. The man turned and cursed, running as a group of Imperials poured out of the door behind them. "Fran!" He called urgently as their metallic voices shouted behind him. "Time to move!"
Fran nodded in assent, steering the bike over the side. The thief, stunned by the turn of events, could barely make a surprised grunt before the man tackled him, hefting him up around the waist and stepping onto the parapet. "Off we go!" He cried cheerfully, throwing both of them out into empty space.
They dropped like stones, Fran steering the bike beneath them. Her partner landed safely behind her, and he reached out and grasped the blond's wrist, his hand holding the magicite.
The thief struggled in his grip, making him grit his teeth. "Let go of me!" The thief shouted.
"Keep struggling and I will!" He yelled back, the bike dipping dangerously. "What's going on, Fran?"
"I don't know." She replied calmly, a note of worry entering her voice. "It's not heeding me."
The bike wavered and dipped, the engines flickering as they barely floated through the air over the smoke and fire and combat below. "We don't have time for this." The man muttered angrily, clutching the thief as they bobbed.
"I'm slipping!" The thief called in panic. The man leaned over, grabbing him with his other hand.
"Not good!" He voiced his complaint to thin air as the Ifrit fired another shot beneath them. The bike gave out as the smoke rose, and they dropped through the newly-made hole in the ground.
It bounced off a wall, skidding and sparking as it slid down the crumbled remains of a staircase, the rock walls buckling around them. With a screech of twisted metal, they crashed into flat ground, throwing them off of the bike.
The man groaned quietly in pain, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up. He stood, coughing in the cloud of dust, looking around for his companion.
"Saul!" The accented voice of his partner called through the cloud. "Are you alright?"
Saul shook his head, brushing himself down. "I'm fine, Fran. Are you?" He shot the rising thief a searching glare before making sure they weren't followed from above.
…
Saul's Diary (the word 'Diary' has been scribbled over with pen, replaced with 'Journal!', which is underlined)
Entry I:
He said I should record my memories. Given our adventures, they might make a good book in the future. That's what Balthier said, and given what I've seen and done, I kind of agree. So, here it is, my story. I guess I should start at the beginning.
It started with a fight. And that fight started because of me. I needed the gil for food, and I didn't have it. Others did, and I may have 'liberated' it from the pockets of some unsavory types, who weren't happy to give it away. And I wasn't quite as stealthy as I thought, which led to me getting cornered in a small park in Nabudis, before it got wiped off the map.
A harsh blow to the face sent Saul sprawling to the ground, impacting painfully on the cobblestone street. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, grunting in pain.
"You think you can just steal from me and get away with it?" A snarly voice called from the park entrance, belonging to a bangaa with deep red skin, a black spotted snout and many earrings in his hanging ears, the roundness of his midsection an example of his wealth.
"I did think I got away with it." Saul replied, standing and facing the small gang. "That is, until you caught up with me."
"What made you think even coming near me was a good idea?" He asked angrily, the men around him, cracking their knuckles and looking threatening.
Saul shrugged simply. "I didn't think you'd miss a few coins."
The bangaa drew back, before stepping forward threateningly. "A 'few coins'?! You stole two hundred gil from me, you little punk!" He shouted.
The man shrugged again. "You look like you can afford to miss a few meals, tubby." He shot back, gesturing to the bangaa's stomach. "And an 'upstanding citizen' such as yourself should have no trouble making that money back in an hour."
"That's not the point." The bangaa replied, folding his arms. "Boys, go show him the point."
Four of the five men closed in, while the last hung back, withdrawing a dagger from his belt.
Behind the gang, a young man with brownish-blond hair watched events unfold, leaning against a wall, a rifle sitting next to him as his sharp, dark green eyes took in the action.
The first charged with a wild swing that Saul ducked under, punching the man in the stomach, and when he bent over, elbowed him in the face. The second stepped in and slipped under his guard, his foot crashing into Saul's ribs. Saul stumbled back, grunting in pain as the man came at him again. This time, Saul grabbed his foot and twisted sharply, getting a crack of bone and a scream from the man before yanking him down and slamming his knee into the other man's head.
The third and fourth were more cautious, attacking at the same time. Blocking one blow meant leaving himself open to the other, and one slip-up allowed one to land a harsh blow to Saul's ribs and another to his face, the impact making his nose snap out of place and spin around. Using the momentum, he spun back around and landed a spinning backfist on one of the men, the other attacking.
Saul blocked a short series of blows, before seizing his enemy's arm and pulling it out, slamming his other hand down on the elbow, making it bend in the opposite direction, before swinging his fist into the other man's face, punching him in the stomach and then the side of the throat, making him collapse to the ground.
The fourth man reengaged, dashing at Saul and leaping, spinning around to launch a kick at his head. Saul ducked under, stumbling to the ground as his injuries made it very clear he was reaching his limit. Planting one of his hands on the ground to steady himself, his hands raked through the wet earth, coming upon a smooth, fist-sized stone that he grasped tightly.
The fourth man brought his heel down, meaning to hit Saul in the head, though the injured man lurched out of the way, the blow landing on his shoulder instead. Saul gripped his rock and swung it into the man's leg, making him cry out in pain and fall to his knees, where he was hit in the side of the head with the stone.
Saul pushed himself up, panting heavily with a thin stream of dribbling down his face from his nose and above his left eye. The first man, having recovered from his attack, leapt back into the fray, putting his shoulder down and charging at Saul. He slammed into Saul, carrying him into a nearby tree, the impact shaking the trunk.
Saul groaned in agony as his damage ribs took more punishment, switching the rock to his left hand and bringing it down on his attacker's head, once, twice, before the man's grip loosened and he slipped out, seizing the man's hair and slamming his face into the trunk.
Saul turned to face the bangaa, only to find the last man a few feet from him, his dagger glinting in the low light. Saul tried to dodge the quick swings, but he had taken too much damage, stumbling over his feet as the man swung at him, slashing open his sodden and muddied shirt, spilling his blood on the previously beige cloth.
Multiple cuts and wounds were opened up on his chest and arms, causing him to drop the rock. The knife came back, and as it swung once more, Saul mustered up the last of his strength, lashing out and catching the dagger-wielders arm with his left hand, grasping his hand with right. He pulled and twisted, ripping the knife away and gripping it, slamming the hilt into his attacker's face, dazing him. Saul, still holding the man's arm, pushed forward, shoving the man across the park onto a low wooden bench, slamming his hand down on the wet wood and bringing the knife back, driving it into the man's palm, pinning it to the bench.
Saul scrambled back as the man screamed in pain, his fingers clumsily scrabbling for the smooth rock, finding it and lunging at the pinned man, bringing it down on the side of his head.
Beaten and bloody, the last man standing pushed himself up, freezing at the sound of a hammer being pulled back. Slowly spinning around, he found the bangaa leveling a rifle at him, fearing dancing in his beady eyes.
"You-what the hell are you?!" It shouted at him, his voice shaky. "What kind of monster are you?"
Saul weighed the rock in his hands, trying to determine if he could hurl it before the bangaa could pull the trigger. A loud crack made him jump, the bangaa stumbling forward a step before collapsing on his front, revealing a man standing behind him, wielding a smoking gun.
"I thought he'd never shut up." The man said lightly, resting the gun on his shoulder. He took in the sight of six men, five laid out in various states of unconsciousness or even death, caused by the six, who dropped to his knees, clutching his ribs. His eyes softening, the green-eyed man held his hand up, folding it in a short pattern, before waving a white glowing ball at the kneeling man.
Saul saw the spell heading his way, flinching as it impacted his arm. Instead of pain, however, it healed some of his wounds, erasing a portion of the pain. He looked up at the other man in question. "What…do you want?" He panted, wiping the blood from his face.
"Not here." The man replied shortly, his accent cultured but mischievous. "Snag whatever grabs your fancy and follow me."
Arching an eyebrow, Saul quickly searched through the pockets of the other men, grabbing whatever gil he could find, taking the bangaa's gun and ammo pouch, finding a potion hidden within. Loot thus looted, he stumbled after the other man, who walked with a confident stride.
…
The man led Saul around the Aerodrome, to a private hangar where a long skyship sat. They walked up a small ramp into the cargo hold. The other man gestured for Saul to take a seat on a box. "I'll get you a shirt." He said, before disappearing into the halls.
Saul sat himself down, sighing in relief. He loaded a bullet into the gun he had taken off the bangaa, just in case the man attempted to kill him. He had only followed the man because he saved his life.
Looking up, Saul got a faceful of white shirt. Blinking, he set it aside and pulled off the rags of his former shirt. "Who…" He grasped his bent nose and twisted it back into place with quiet grunt and a crunch. "…are you?"
The man leaned against the wall, watching him with sharp green eyes. "I'm the leading man, who else?" He replied rhetorically, finding great amusement in the way Saul glared at him. "You can call me Balthier."
"Well, Balthier," Saul drank the potion down, sighing as most of his wounds were mended. "why did you help me?" He pulled the shirt on, shaking his head.
Balthier shrugged. "A man gets cornered by a small gang and beaten half to death, who wouldn't stop and help?" He replied easily. "Though, the fact that you managed to win against those odds is impressive, I will admit. Even I would've had trouble."
Saul narrowed his eyes on the man. "Are you buttering me up for something? What do you want?" He asked suspiciously.
"You don't trust easily, do you?" Balthier questioned, crossing his arms over his bronze and olive vest.
"I've been living on the streets for a year." The beaten one answered. "I'm not stupid."
"Getting the point, I saw potential in you." Balthier replied honestly. "The potential for greatness, a veritable untapped gold-mine of talent. But, like gold, it needs to be refined and shaped before it becomes truly valuable. And that's what I'm offering you."
Saul arched an eyebrow at him. "You're offering to train me?" He asked bluntly. "Why? And how?"
Balthier sighed, rubbing his chin. "You're quite the straight-shooter, aren't you?" He muttered, mostly to himself. "As for the 'why', well, as much as it pains me to admit as the leading man of this story, there are somethings I can't handle alone. As for the 'how'...I was an Archadian Judge, once. The youngest in the Empire's history. I gave it up to be a Sky Pirate."
"How do I know this isn't some ploy to kill me?" Saul asked, his icy blue eyes fixed on Balthier's dark green.
The sky pirate snorted. "If I wanted you dead, I would've let that bangaa shoot you." He pushed off the wall, meandering towards Saul. "I'm the leading man, and we always have a sidekick." He held his out to shake.
Saul shook his head. "I'm no one's sidekick." He grunted, standing from the box. "But…I wouldn't mind being called 'partner'."
Balthier smiled as their hands clasped, and the deal was sealed.
That was how I met Balthier, my sky pirate mentor. I still had to heal before we could start my training, but it was as good a start as any to a partnership.
…
"What happened?" Fran asked in confusion, crouching over the wreck of their hoverbike. "Our hover didn't just drop - it disappeared."
Saul rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. We just modified it yesterday! "Oh, forget it." He sighed. "With the Ifrit overhead, flying would be playing with fire, and getting burned is not on tonight's agenda." He looked past the blond thief, into the surprisingly well-lit waterway, his face twisting in a grimace. "We'll go the old-fashioned way."
Fran glanced at the thief, who was staring at her ears in question, before looking at Saul. "Not many viera where you come from, thief?" He asked.
"It's Vaan!" The thief insisted, before gaining a contrite look. "Sorry."
Saul brushed his pants down, stepping up next to his partner. "Well, Fran's special. Not many viera would deign to partner with a hume."
"Oh?" She turned an amused look on him. "Like a 'sky' pirate that steals through the sewers?"
The pirate grimaced, and nodded. She had a point.
"Pirates?" Vaan asked in surprise, glancing between them incredulously. "You're sky pirates? So you have an airship?" He asked excitedly.
"The best in the sky." Saul replied proudly. "And the name's Balthier. My lovely companion is Fran. And since we're all in this fine mess together, we'll have to work together to get out of it, understood?" He subtly eyed the magicite Vaan was holding. Perhaps he'll get distracted, and I could snatch it.
Apparently he wasn't subtle enough, as the thief hid the glowing stone behind his back, storing it in a pouch attached to his belt. "Don't even think you're getting this." He rebuked.
"Never crossed my mind." Balthier lied smoothly, checking his weapons. "Given the rancid smell, I'd say we're in a sewer of some sort, so we can expect rats, possibly bats, and all sorts of slimy, distasteful creatures."
Fran huffed, retrieving her bow from the hover. "Much like our contacts in the city, then." She joked blandly, checking her quiver.
"Indeed, but much less responsive to coin, I presume." The pirate replied, before turning to Vaan. "Well, you live here. Lead the way."
"Um, alright." The blond thief looked around the halls of the waterway, gathering his bearings. "This way."
They set off at a brisk walk, the sound of their steps mingling with flowing of water. The lanterns' light shone through colored glass, giving the whole area a blue glow to it. Along the way, the party encountered rats with glowing eyes, who leapt at them, snarling, but were easily defeated by a swing of Balthier's sword or Vaan's blade. Small bats also dropped from the ceiling to nip at their ears, and Fran's bow ended many of them.
Walking down a set of steps, Balthier made a noise of disgust. "Definitely going to need a wash." He grumbled at the water lapping at his ankles.
"You're not the one with exposed feet." Fran replied dryly, looking unconcerned from the smell or the dirtiness.
They paused upon sighting two bodies, sprawled in the water. They were fresh, clad in light armor with gaping wounds being gnawed on by smaller vermin, who fled as they approached. There was no use in checking to see if life remained in their bodies; they were obviously dead.
Still, Balthier almost knelt next to them, examining the bodies with a critical eye. They were definitely not Imperials, given the midriff-baring armor and silver metal plates. Imperials preferred full-body armor, colored dull grey and black. "Insurgents. Likely wanted to take advantage of the lax security and sneak into the fete, to feed the good Consul cold steel for dinner." He shook his head ruefully. "And here I thought we were being original."
He patted the bodies down, finding a pair of potions each, with one having stored a tuft of Phoenix Down on his person. They had both died before being able to use it.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Vaan asked indignantly, making Balthier give him a dry look.
"They aren't going to need it, now are they?" He replied rhetorically, grabbing a curved sword from the water near the bodies, tossing it to thief. "Here. That little blade of yours may be fine for chopping rats, but I get the feeling we'll be finding harder enemies ahead. Think of it like this: would you rather leave this perfectly good equipment behind to rot with their bodies, or take it in their stead and put it to good use?"
Vaan shook the water from the longer blade, grasping it comfortably. "I know see what you mean, but it still feels odd…" He shook his head, taking the lead once more. "Do you think the Consul knew an attack was coming?"
Balthier shrugged, taking aim with his rifle and firing. A rat some yards away squealed as its head exploded. "Vayne would be used to such attempts on his life, and given how fast the Ifrit responded, I don't doubt the fete was a trap, which the insurgents sprung admirably. A fine, bloody banquet." He sighed, reloading the weapon.
As they walked past a floating fish creature, the sky pirate glanced down a sideway, pausing as the sight registered in his mind. He made a confused noise, pointing. Vaan looked over and made a pleased sound. "Oh, a chest!" He jogged over to out of place chest, opening it easily. "Hm, a potion."
Balthier arched an eyebrow in question. "You're not surprised to find a chest down here? In a sewer? I can get in a city or the more well-traveled paths, but…this is a sewer."
"Why would I be surprised?" Vaan asked confusedly, storing the potion in his pouch. "There are plenty of these all around. Most of the time, they just have a few coins, but I found a dagger, once."
Fran shook her head, her long silver hair rustling in the damp air. "Perhap tis best to not question our luck, lest fortune frown on us." She commented as they walked.
Balthier shook his head, sighing. "It's still in a sewer." He grumbled.
Conversation died as they continued their journey, the only sounds being the sloshing of water and the occasional grunt as Vaan swung his heavier sword, getting used to the weight. They came across a few more chest, containing a small amount of coin and potions.
"I think we're about halfway." Vaan spoke up as they came to a set of stairs leading down to a water-logged platform.
The sounds of steel meeting steel and shouting voices made them look up, seeing a woman and a short catwalk surrounded by Imperials. "Now we have her!" One called as they approached her with weapons drawn, right before the woman struck with her sword, cutting through his stomach and sending him falling to the platform below.
"Who would be next?!" She shouted challengingly.
"Close ranks! Bring her down!" The leader ordered, making her back up cautiously.
Balthier darted past his companions, standing below the woman. He whistled sharply, gaining her attention. "Jump!" He called, holding his arms out. "Quickly now!"
The woman looked between him and the squad, weighing her chances before turning and jumping from the ledge, her grey eyes meeting his blue for a single long second, before she landed in his arms. He set her down as the clanking of armored footsteps rang out. "She's not alone!" An Imperial shouted.
The pirate set the ash-blonde woman down, drawing his sword. "Our ranks grow by the hour." Fran lamented, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow.
"At least we have one more to shoulder the burden." Balthier replied cheerfully, switching his sword to his left hand, drawing his rifle with his right and firing off a shot. A soldier cried in pain as the round punched through his shoulder, before an arrow from the viera that slipped under his helm silenced him.
Four Imperials were left, leaving the numbers equal. The pirate charged at them with Vaan behind him, ducking under a slash from a soldier and responding with his own. Their blades met, and Balthier's sheared through the other, to the surprise of both opponents. He recovered first, impaling the soldier through the chest, marveling as the blade slipped out of the corpse with ease.
"What a blade!" Balthier laughed.
One of the soldiers slipped past the melee and made a beeline for Fran, figuring her lean, willowy stature would make her an easier target to engage; an assumption that was immediately proven false when the viera stepped forward and planted a long leg in his chest, denting the metal and sending him to the ground, where her partner finished him off.
Vaan and another Imperial circled each other warily, the older man stepping forward to attack. The thief nimbly ducked around, opening a gash in his stomach. The Imperial stumbled back with a grunt, reaching into his belt to grab a potion. "Oh no you don't!" Vaan cried dashed forward, slapping a sloppy swing aside and slashing the soldier's throat open. Blood poured from the wound as the soldier slowly collapsed to the ground.
The ash-blonde woman had summarily dealt with her opponent, blocking his strike with her shield and stabbing him the stomach, bringing it down on the back of helmet followed by her blade.
Balthier let the flowing water wash the blood from his sword before approaching the pensive woman, who was staring out into the depths of the waterway. "Are you hurt at all?" He asked carefully.
She turned her grey eyes on him, blinking as she took in his features. "I am not. Thank you." She said honestly, though she seemed confused.
"Good. I am Balthier, this is my companion Fran, and he is Vaan." Balthier introduced with a short bow. "And you are?"
"Amalia." She replied shortly, though not unkindly.
"A pleasure, Amalia." The pirate returned, subtly eyeing the woman, trying to decided if what she was wearing was conservative or not. In Rabanastren fashion, it bared much of her creamy skin in the dull lighting of the waterway. She wore some sort of jacket that had a wide collar on the back and wrapped around most of her torso, baring her shoulders and the top of her breasts, with detached sleeves that puffed out around the elbow with light metal bracers. She had something like a gorget around her neck, though it didn't cover her throat entirely, wearing lightly armored boots that reached her thighs and some sort of skirt and shorts combo that was pink with a blue belt.
It showed as much as it covered, without being inappropriate. He gave up on trying to determine the state and simply labeled it as 'interesting'.
"There were others with me…" She offered, looking into the waterway.
Must've been the ones we found earlier. Balthier thought grimly as Fran answered. "I'm sorry."
Amalia bowed her head, her voice distraught. "No…" She murmured sadly.
As if in response, the magicite in Vaan's pouch began to glow. The thief withdrew it, staring at the stone in confusion, drawing the attention of the others. "Interesting…" Balthier muttered, and Vaan shot him a glare.
"Don't get any ideas, it's mine." He declared, pointing at the pirate.
"Night's not over yet, Vaan." Balthier replied glibly, smiling mischievously.
Amalia's eyes darted from the magicite in the thief's hand to the man himself, her eyes narrowing in accusation. "You stole that?" She asked, affronted.
"Yeah!" Vaan replied cheerfully, and going by the tone of his voice, he was happy someone besides the two pirates had noticed.
Balthier shook his head, restraining a chuckle. That was not a surprised and impressed voice, Vaan, but shocked and insulted. He was young, he'd learn yet. Amalia gave the thief an exasperated look.
"Are you finished?" Fran asked blandly, her hands on her hips. "We have yet escape these sewers. Conversation can wait. When the guards don't report in, they will come looking for us."
"That would imply that they aren't already." Balthier added dryly, stiffening as a familiar click echoed, almost covered by the moving water. His eyes darted to Fran, her left ear twitching towards Amalia. Nodding slightly, he gripped the hilt of his sword and dashed towards the blonde woman, pushing her aside and swinging his sword at seemingly empty air.
Up on the catwalk, the Imperial in light armor, his rifle set on his shoulder, gasped as his breastplate was rent by an invisible slash. Fran took aim and let loose an arrow, the barbed tip impaling the soldier through heart by the opening in his armor. The soldier teetered on the ledge, before falling forward and landing on the platform face-first, his gun clattering beside him.
"As I said." Balthier said easily, stroking his goatee before moving to the down bodies. "Telekinesis is very useful."
"You should come with us!" Vaan eagerly offered Amalia. "Better than wandering down here by yourself."
She sniffed disdainfully, striding past him. "Very well." She agreed grudgingly, before glancing at the sky pirate. "What are you doing?"
Balthier looked up at her, in the middle of looting the bodies. "What does it look like?" He answered. "Can I correctly assume that you don't know how to use a gun, Vaan?"
The blond thief shook his head. "No, I've never learned. I feel more comfortable with a blade."
The sky pirate grunted in acknowledgement, tossing the Imperial's rifle to Amalia, followed by a pouch full of ammo. "Use that for now, Amalia. Vaan and I can handle the up close, and there's no need to put all of us in danger at once, is there?"
The ashen-haired woman huffed but nodded, sheathing her sword and tying the ammo to her belt. "Very well. But do not think you can order me around." She replied grumpily.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess." Balthier shot back dryly, sighing and standing. "Nothing you would use here, Fran. Sorry."
The viera shook her head ruefully, her ears twitching. "Relegated to the back, I see."
As they began to walk once more, Amalia spoke up. "While the situation requires that I accept such help as I find it, even from thieves. I will accompany you until we find my companions, but no longer than that."
"So be it." Balthier replied easily, pausing as they came across another chest. He cracked it open, finding and taking the potion within. "Still not used to that."
The group, now one larger, continued on their way, disposing of the vermin that attacked them easily while also pausing to loot whatever chests they found. In one, they found an oaken staff, which Fran snatched up happily, Balthier sheathing his sword and drawing his gun to join Amalia in the ranged department. Only he could tell the viera was happy, though, as the rabbit-eared women were subdued by nature, and only one who spent a long time around them could tell how they felt.
"You would let your companion take the blows?" The ashen-haired woman asked, arching a brow disdainfully.
"Don't let Fran's looks fool you." He replied in good humor, as the viera used her staff to smack a rat out of sight. "She's stronger than I."
After what felt like an hour of walking up and down stairs, through ankle-high water and damp stone, they came upon a well-lit platform. "The exit's just over there!" Vaan called, relief in his voice. "Not far to go."
An uncomfortable prickle sat on the back of Balthier's neck, and judging by the way the others drew closer, they felt it as well. A thick bubbling sound began to echo through the waterway as three squat forms oozed over the side of the platform. They were monsters made of sickly-green sludge, with bubble-like blue eyes set in caramel colored slime.
The trio of slimes oozed towards them, and as they backed up, drawing closer together, the feeling of something overhead caused all four to slowly look up at the stone ceiling, spotting another slime. This one was twice the size of the others, dropping behind them to encircle the group with a loud plop.
Balthier took aim and fired, the bullet striking the Flan with seemingly no effect. Storing his rifle and drawing his sword, he licked his lips. "What a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into." He muttered, slashing at the creature in front of him.
It gurgled in what might have been pain, sliding forward as multiple little arms formed around its midsection, slamming them into the pirate. He gasped in pain, feeling bruises forming on his ribs. He could only pick away at it with his sword, jumping back when it attacked.
A quick glance at his companions revealed that they were in the same boat, though Vaan was looking more battered than Amalia or Fran, breathing heavily while grabbing at his ribs.
Balthier reached into his pouch, his fingers closing around the round glass of a potion bottle. "Vaan!" He called, throwing the bottle at the thief.
As it sailed through the air, the magic inside sensed it was being used and the glass faded, the healing liquid within splashing on Vaan and suffusing him with a pleasant green glow. The blond sighed in relief as his pain was relieved.
Balthier paid for his moment of kindness, as the slime used his distraction to batter his feet out from under him, knocking him to the floor. The slime lunged at him, intending to engulf and suffocate him in its semi-liquid body.
Rolling away, irritation burning in his chest, the pirate snarled and waved his hand in a short, sharp pattern before throwing it out, a tongue of flame shooting from his palm. "Back!" He shouted angrily.
The fire scorched the flan, which gurgled and screeched in pain. Balthier arched an eyebrow in interest, a smirk curling his lips. "The creatures are vulnerable to fire!" He called, his hand already in the motions of another Fire spell.
The flan recoiled, allowing him to slice through it with his sword, watching as it wobbled for a moment before collapsing on itself and expiring in a puddle of sludge. He allowed himself to smile, then turned to join Vaan with his own flan.
Amalia and Fran used their own Fire spells to great effect, the viera's enemy dying quickly while she joined the Resistance fighter in facing the large creature. Balthier and Vaan made short work of his flan, moving to join the ladies in surrounding the fat one.
The older beings released gouts of flame every so often, burning the flan as the thief slashed at it with his sword, until it bubbled and frothed furiously, attempting to flee before dying and sliding over the ledge, leaving a trail of puddles along the ground.
The group leaned on their knees, panting from the effort but smiling in success. Vaan laughed openly, sitting on the ground. "I hate those things!" He admitted, stretching his arms over his head. "But man, that was kind of fun."
"Ah, the rush of combat." Balthier chuckled in agreement, folding his hand and sending a gently floating orb at the thief as Fran did the same to Amalia, and she did the same to him. "You're getting pretty handy with that blade, Vaan."
The blond thief shrugged, grinning. "I'm a fast learner. I could use a shield, though." He frowned for a second, wiggling his fingers. "Speaking of…" He slowly folded his hand, creating a flickering Cure spell that floated to Fran.
The sky pirate kicked his boot through the sludge left by a flan, dislodging a small, slime-covered buckler. "You're in luck." He said with a smile, picking the shield up carefully and tapping it against the ground to dislodge the remains.
Vaan made a face as he picked the buckler up, but strapped it to his arm nonetheless. "I have to admit," Amalia started, "You fight well, for thieves."
"We aim to impress." Balthier shot back, standing up and sighing. "Well, our journey is nearly over, at least."
They picked through the piles of slime, retrieving a dagger, a pair of potions and a pouch ammo, no doubt from some poor soul who fell victim to the flans. Continuing through their fatigue, the group eventually made it across the way, nearing the exit. Before they entered a large metal gate, they stopped at a large blue crystal that floated above the ground, sparkles occasionally floating off of it. As Vaan reached out and touched it, similar sparkles flared to life around the party, refreshing them.
"Dead useful, those things are. Too bad they can't be moved." Otherwise he would store one on his ship.
The gate swung open easily and closed behind them with a loud clang, and they had barely taken a dozen steps before fog began to fill the room. The heat spiked and Amalia sighed. "Oh, what now?" She asked unhappily.
"Uh oh." Vaan blanched with fear, his pale blue eyes darting around the room. "We just had to be here tonight…"
"What?" Balthier asked in concern, while cursing in his mind.
"Firemane." The thief stated, gulping and gripping his sword.
Fran stiffened, her ears twitching minutely. "An Elemental." She murmured. "A Fire one."
"Oh, great."
An angry ball of fire zipped through the air, floating in front of them shortly before exploding into its true shape; that of a large horse, made entirely out of raging fire. It whinned in rage before charging at them, its hooves leaving a flaming trail behind it.
"Scatter!" Amalia shouted as they dived out of the way.
Her oaken pole would be less than helpful here, so Fran backed away and retrieved her bow, an arrow piercing Firemane's flank. It appeared to hurt the creature a bit, though the shaft immediately caught fire.
"Bring it into the water!" Vaan called desperately, hacking at the Fire Elemental while backing away, splashing into the water around the area.
Amalia, seeing it focusing on the thief, attacked it from behind, slicing at its legs and dancing away when it kicked at her. Balthier took aim, firing a shot into Firemane's side, reloading the gun before jumping into the fray, an arrow zipping over his head.
Firemane, being surrounded, neighed in rage and bucked it's head, rearing back on its rear legs and bringing them down, releasing a wave of fire. Balthier covered his face and grit his teeth in pain as the heat washed over him. Due to having pulled the Elemental into the water, the attack wasn't as potent as it could be; that didn't mean it was harmless.
The sky pirate shook his head to clear the heat, feeling gentle coolness infusing his body as Fran sent a Cure at him. He tossed a potion at Amalia and Vaan, both blondes feeling the effects of the attack. Grabbing his gun, Balthier whistled sharply and shouted, "Toasty!"
Drawn by the echoing shout, Firemane turned to face the pirate, only to receive a bullet in the eye. It screamed in pain, rearing back on its legs, allowing Amalia and Vaan open attacks at its belly.
He holstered his gun and sprinted at the Elemental, slashing it across the snout and the neck as another arrow buried itself in Firemane's other eye.
It began to flicker, stumbling away from the group, whinnying in pain and anger before bursting into the orb of fire it had appeared as. It floated uncertainly in the air for a second, before diving at Amalia.
The ashen-haired woman prepared her shield, only for Balthier to step in front of her his hand grasping the weapon on his thigh. Pulling it, he fired a single, thunderous shot that echoed throughout the whole waterway, the orb of fire bursting into embers that faded quickly. A pair of items slid along the ground, stopping at Balthier's boots with a quiet clink.
The weapon resembled a gun, much smaller but with aura of power around it. It was platinum colored, with a barrel over a foot long, inscribed with a word along the length in curling script. It was graceful and deadly, like a work of art with only one purpose: the death of whatever was in its sights.
"Huh." He bent down and picked the items up, finding them to be a bracelet of some sort, made of dark metal and inset with glowing red stones, and the other was a bigger stone, round and smooth. glowing brightly with inner fire. "Well, to the victor goes the spoils, I guess."
He pocketed the items, turning to find Amalia staring at him, nonplussed. "You…saved me." She stated, sounding confused.
"Nonsense." He waved it off easily, giving her a winning smile. "You could've handled it just fine. I'm the leading man, it's my job to be all heroic."
She narrowed her eyes on him, unsure of how to respond. Unluckily, she didn't get to respond, as a cultured voice rang out from above. "Stand where you are!"
Vaan frowned as he found the voice to be familiar, before paling as he realized two things. One, that a large amount of Imperials had cornered them, the multitude of crossbows fixed on them leaving them with nowhere to go. Second, that voice was familiar because it belonged to the new Consul.
Said Consul peered at them seriously from behind the line of soldiers, his mouth set in a grim line, his green, gold and white outfit standing out among the dank surroundings and grey-clad soldiers.
Amalia growled softly and made to step forward, gripping her sword, but Balthier reached out and grabbed her hand quickly. "Now is not the time, Princess." He whispered urgently.
She clenched her hand around his, swiveling to look at the Imperial Soldiers with bare swords surrounding them. She shook slightly, before releasing a quiet, defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping minutely, knowing she was defeated.
Balthier gently squeezed her hand for comfort, before releasing it and dropping his weapons to the floor, his companions doing the same.
They were caught.
…
They were clapped in thick, heavy manacles and paraded up into the Lowtown of Rabanastre, where a crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings. They muttered openly about the quartet, wondering if they were the reason for the explosions last night, knowing they were thieves.
Amalia balked at the thought. "They think I'm a common thief." She whispered in disbelief.
"Better than a common Assassin." Balthier whispered back, looking completely at ease despite the lack weapons and free movement. His companion was standing calmly as well.
"How can you be so calm?" She muttered curiously.
He shrugged carefully, rolling his shoulders. "It's not the first time I've been clapped in irons, Princess." He noticed a soldier approaching. "Don't worry about a thing, Amalia. Our paths will cross again, I know it."
She looked at him in question, before the soldier pushed her. "Move along." He ordered sharply.
Amalia realized what Balthier meant as she was led away, leaving the trio of thieves behind. "These people have done nothing, release them!" She tried to order, but was swiftly ignored.
"What are you doing?" Vaan asked incredulously. Balthier knew she was trying to get them off the hook, but it wouldn't work. Not that he couldn't give her credit for trying.
Amalia was led away, Vayne Solidor glancing at them before following.
A commotion was roused a girlish voice cried out, "Wait!" Their eyes turned to see a young woman with light blonde hair struggling with a soldier, trying to get to them. "He didn't know what he was doing! You have to let him go, you have to!"
Vaan gasped in surprise. "Penelo!" He called, drawing the young woman's attention. "That dinner will have to wait. Sorry." He said with a sheepish look.
She looked at him with tearful eyes. "I told you…" She whispered sadly.
"That's enough!" The Imperial Commander barked, sharply elbowing Vaan in the back of the head.
The thief cried out and stumbled, Fran's strong being the only thing from stopping him meeting the ground, though he was knocked insensate by the blow.
"Leave him alone!" Penelo cried desperately, shoving the two soldiers away with surprising strength, darting through the armored figures to reach Vaan, until Balthier stepped in front of her.
"Hold onto this, would you?" He held out his red and blue ring, a charming smirk on his face. "Just until I bring Vaan back to you."
Penelo, too shocked to protest, took the ring with trembling hands as an Imperial grabbed Balthier by the arm, roughly pulling him away. He glanced back at the young woman, feeling empathy for the loss she must have been feeling.
"You really meant that," Fran commented quietly. "To have given her that ring."
He nodded tightly, allowing to be led into a bar-lined carriage. He sat quietly on the uncomfortable wooden bench, his mind awhirl. As Balthier or Saul, trouble seems drawn to me like a stalker. Saul sighed. How unfortunate.
…
…
…
A/N: I didn't want to write this. I didn't. I was in the middle of writing chapter eight of Dare To Wander, so if it reads similarly, that's why.
This story might as well be called 'Aaaaaaaaargggh!' to accurately describe how I feel, or in a less eloquent term, just FUCK!
So, here's what happened: Tuesday after class, I was trawling for a good story to read, and since there weren't any in my usual fandoms (Harry Potter and Naruto), I decided to turn my eye elsewhere. Since I played Final Fantasy XII before, I looked there and ended up finding a really good story there. It featured Balthier and Penelo as the pairing, which I had never thought of before, but the author pulled it off really, really well. So well that I read the whole story, finishing it Wednesday morning, and an idea started burning in my mind. This story.
I figured it would fade after a while, because I really didn't want to make another story after swearing to not start another story until I finished any of my current ones. So I went to bed figuring it would fade when I woke up.
It fucking didn't. It was more detailed in my mind, and for the rest of the week, until I started writing on Friday, it dominated my fucking brain and still fucking does. I really had no choice but to write it out to try and relieve the pressure, and it's barely worked.
So, yeah. Fuck.
Sigh, anyway, details: I'm just going to come out and say it, since some will figure it out with the title and the fact that Saul is calling himself Balthier while Balthier isn't around: Balthier, here, is dead, and has been for awhile. How it happened and why Saul still uses his name will remain a mystery until I reveal it, which might be sooner than later given the domination this story has in my mind. But just know that it is something that gives Saul nightmares.
Spells: The wiki says spells are verbal, but I never heard anyone say anything when casting spells in the game, so instead, they just fold and wave a hand various ways to cast spells. They have to buy spells from the vendor first, in the form of Spellstones that can teach them how to cast, and that can be passed around.
I don't know what the pairings could be right now. I'll figure it out eventually.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. There might a bunch of chapters coming for this soon, since my mind and this story in the 'just fuck already!' stage, where it's the only thing I can focus on.
Review, why don't you? Let me know what you think. Since Saul is Balthier and Saul is not a placid sort and is actually the protagonist of the story, things will be different, especially how he reacts to situations and deals with people. Essentially, it's a mix of myself and Balthier. Which has a reason.
Stay Awesome.
~Soleneus
P.S.: Most of my current stories are original characters or self-inserts (in a fashion), with the Hero series, Dare To Wander and The Life With Monster Girls being one or the other. I wonder if I'm reaching some sort of plateau where it's the only thing I write? Maybe it means I'm about ready to seriously work on my original stuff? I hope so.
I had chapters planned for every story, but those are going to be put on hold till I can shake the grasp this story has on my mind. Seriously, I'm probably going to start on the second chapter after I publish this. I won't leave me alone.
Stay Awesome Some More, because apparently I won't be.
~still Soleneus
