"A glass of Bacchus's Wine."
"You're a…Viera?"
Fran glared at the barman, her patient pushed to its limits by the amount of times she had heard the same statement or question repeated. "Is that a problem?"
"N-no…Not at all." He passed her a drink which she paid for and went to skulk at a table in the corner of the bar. Travelling through Ivalice had taught Fran at least one thing: a Viera was a rare sight. Her years of journeying had brought her back to a large city: the Imperial City of Archades. Most of the places she had visited were the same; strange machinary, tall man-made buildings, genetically created food, noisy large airships that ruined the sky. So it resembled nothing new or exciting, and Fran often found herself hunting in the nearby uplands whenever she arrived in this city; it was the only option to distance herself from power-hungry, curious Humes.
Jote was right. If Fran had known what it was like, she would have stayed within the village and treasured every repetitive day as if it were a blessing. This world full of change and random events scared her; uncertainty filled every orifice with dominant cruelty. She would give anything to go back, to see her beloved sisters each day and hold them in tight embrace. Each night the scenario of being forgiven for leaving the village had entered her mind and seemed a possibility. But Jote's burning red eyes when she had left reminded her there was no going back; she was stuck in Ivalice.
Alone.
Fran had found little Viera in this world, and those who she did meet wanted nothing but peace in a new land. Fran didn't want this; she wanted excitement. She wanted to travel to different places in the snap of a finger, she wanted to fight new opponents, and she wanted to find somewhere new to call home. She wanted a friend. Everyone she had met was taken aback by her species; a Viera was usually cold-hearted who stuck to their own business and cared not for Humes. Well, maybe Fran didn't especially like Humes; the ones she had met seemed rude and disrespectful.
Taking out a world map and placing it on the table, Fran decided to quickly move on to somewhere which was likely to not have as many Humes. Golmore Jungle was too close to Eruyt Village, and full of dangerous predators. Ozmore Plains was devoid of any interaction with intelligent beings; Fran couldn't cope talking to herself. She had no way to get to Bhujerba; it was a city in the sky and airship tickets weren't cheap. The problem was that she didn't want entire solitude; Fran desired to go somewhere she could move around without being stared at. Of course, this seemed rather difficult at the moment. Perhaps she would go to live amongst the Garif at Jahara; they seemed pleasant and seemed to respect her as an equal rather than an outsider. As she traced the route along from Jahara to Archades, her finger stopped at a large city which she had not noticed before: Rabanastre. It was still quite far away, but she would definitely stop there for a rest at least. And supposing it was comfortable, Fran would be able to call it her new home.
Putting away the map and leaning back in her chair, she gingerly picked up the neat glass with long slender fingers to take a sip, still disappointed in what Ivalice had to offer her. But this is where she had to find a new home; there was no going back. Fran's only wish was to find someone she could travel to Rabanastre with; walking the lonely solitude road allowed her to rethink on past joyous occasions within Eruyt Village.
"Is anyone sat here?"
Without looking up at the intruder, Fran continued to stare at the floor infront of the bar, annoyed she had been taken from her deep thoughts. "No, but you are not invited to sit there."
"Being rude now, are we? No wonder you're sat by yourself." His voice had a rich upper-class tone to it which seemed to come from his chest rather than his throat; it was powerful yet light and soothing. "You give a bad first impression," he continued to tease.
"I did not ask for your opinion on my mannerisms," Fran answered curtly, taking another sip from her drink. "Now, leave."
The stranger didn't budge, but continued to stand near the opposite chair from the Viera as if waiting for her to give in. "Come now," he smiled, his elbow leaning on the table with his chin resting in his hand so to face her more. "I've heard a story of a brave Viera warrior hunting in the Tchita Uplands. Their description seems to match you; beautiful, graceful, slim, waves of pure white hair-"
"Flattery does not work on me, Hume," Fran snapped, glaring at the interferer, but her stare softened when she looked into his deep brown eyes and she blushed slightly; he was quite handsome for a Hume. Light brown hair graced the top of his head standing on end in a rebellious fashion while the start of a couple of sideburns curved augustly down the sides of his face. Ear piercings seemed to add to his rebel status as they framed each perfect ear like a painting, while soft touchable lips curved at one side in a fanciable smirk. The only factor slightly spoiling his image was the shallow dents around the eyes; a sure indicator of many sleepless nights. Embarrased that she thought a Hume was attrative, Fran tore her eyes from his to continue to stare at the floor while taking a gulp of wine.
"It doesn't?" he smirked, taunting her slightly again. He slided into the chair opposite and rested both arms on the table, fingers interlaced. "That is a shame. Now I have to rely on my intelligence and wit."
"What is it that you want?" the Viera asked almost submissively, still not daring to look up at him.
The Hume watched her with sense of unbridled interest and curiosity. "I simply wanted to meet the Viera who was described as a great warrior on the Tchita Uplands. I must say I'm quite impressed; the Imperial Guards are usually quite annoyed when they witness a fighter better than themselves. Then again," he smiled flirtatiously as Fran looked up with a sense of gathered dignity. His eyes flashed brightly, despite the poor lighting. "If they're not exaggerating, your beauty is a fine match for your skill."
"And how did you hear of my hunting?" Fran asked, giving into the urge of being secretly quite proud of being referred to as attractive. Even if it was from a Hume.
The man hesitated; his eyes looked down to his hands briefly before glancing back up at the Viera, the smirk once again styled on his face. "I over-heard them talking; a loud rowdy bunch, they are. And before that, my…father used to tell me the story of an alluring wayward Viera hunting alone when I was quite young." The Hume had tried to avoid saying the word 'father' and when he spoke the word, it was barely audible amongst the thick gossip-filled air of the bar.
"I see," Fran replied, not knowing which turn the conversation would take nor in which direction it would move. She wanted to know what the Hume really wanted, or if he was just an admirer but she daren't ask because of the uncertainty of what the response would be.
"Well, would you look at the time," he stated suddenly, looking over towards the bar in desperation; his behaviour became quite peculiar as he became as nervous as a Giza Plain Rabbit. "It was nice meeting you. I hope our paths cross again," he said as he stood up carefully from the table, almost as if trying not to attract attention. Fran actually felt a twinge of disappointment which her face showed little sign of. "In fact, how about you meet me tonight at the airship docks? Say about, midnight?" The Hume bowed, took her hand and kissed her long slender fingers lightly with formality.
"But I don't even know your name," Fran protested, blushing slightly from the gentleman-like attention.
The Hume gently released her hand before standing up straight, looking royally magnificent. After one last look towards the bar, his eyes met the Viera's and he replied: "The name's Balthier."
And then he was gone, as quickly as he appeared like a mysterious ghost in the darkening night.
Fran looked around, almost expecting him to come back any minute. Though she held a slight discontempt for Humes, Balthier was strangely different; namely he had the courage to speak to an unknown wandering Viera, and had acted as though he were actually genuinely interested in what Fran had to say, even if it were very little at that time. However, he had seemed a bit egotistical – talking to Fran as if he knew he were handsome – and a bit young, which probably explained his eagerness to talk to someone from a species he had not met before. There was one thing she could not doubt: Balthier had honestly wanted to talk to Fran more which was why he had asked her to meet him. As soon as he had proposed the idea, Fran had agreed she would go to the airship docks; she had nothing to lose and a friend to gain.
Suddenly, men in iron-clad armor burst through the doors of the bar with a clanking noise, and bearing the Archadian symbol; two long dragons intertwined. Everyone was disturbed from their thoughts or drinks, including Fran who scowled at the interuption; she was never going to be able to think today without being interfered. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she leaned back with one long arm slung over the back of the chair, hanging limply. The soldiers moved around the bar quickly, asking each person if they had seen someone who had escaped yesterday from the Archadian Castle; Fran could hear every word, yet she listened intently when it was her turn to be questioned.
"We're searching for Imperial Judge Ffamran Mid Bunansa, have you seen him?" a surly soldier demanded rather than asked.
Fran sighed lethargically, staring around the rim of her glass which was now half full. "Under arrest, is he?" she asked, with the intention of sounding the least bit interested.
"No; he left the castle yesterday and never returned. Dr. Cid has become quite anxious of his whereabouts-"
"Perhaps he does not want to be found," Fran interrupted, looking questioningly at the Imperial Soldiers. Their faces were covered by large metal helmets and their eyes were barely visable; they looked rather inhuman, like an entirely different species.
"What matter is it to you, Viera?" he snarled, becoming quite infuriated at her lack of co-operation and being cut-off mid-sentence. "Have you seen him or not?"
Sipping her Bacchus's Wine, Fran glanced sideways at the several soldiers. "I do not even know what he looks like." Become exasperated, the Imperial soldiers moved onto another table leaving Fran within her own solitude once more.