And so we return again for the second installation of the best thing to happen to Ivalice since Balthier's birth. Wait. That's not right. It's the opposite of that. The worst thing to happen since Balthier's birth.
I'm gonna aim for bi-weekly updates, but don't hold me to it, as there's still quite a bit of oohing and aahing that goes on before chapters get up. Anyways.
Pirates of Ivalice - Chapter 2
A Pirate always disposes of the evidence.
"The Galbana...? Vaan?" said Balthier crossly, chewing on the words like they had a bad taste. "Are you quite sure?" he demanded, and Fran nodded silently.
"The little..." he growled, climbing higher and then suddenly shutting off the engines down one side of the Strahl. "This cannot do," he carried on. "Chased half way across the Dalmascan skies by a loudmouthed pain in the unmentionable I taught to fly in the first sodding place." He slammed all of his weight into the controls, throwing the Strahl into a tight hairpin turn, almost spinning on the spot.
"He's learned well from you," Fran remarked, as Balthier watched Vaan and Penelo waving cheerfully from their globed cockpit with what could only be described as inconsolable irritation.
"The boy behaves like a damn puppy," he muttered, "chasing around after us merely because we run. That, or he's become the dog of his Queen now," he added, making a vulgar Arcadian gesture with one of his hands in the direction of the ship.
"It makes you the cat, either way" his partner pointed out slyly, allowing herself a smirk at his expense. "They want us to land."
"Oh they do?" Balthier retorted too sarcastically to be taken seriously. "Well then we must land," he continued, while very notably failing to do anything of the sort. "Trouble and misfortune forever be heaped upon the man who ever defied Vaan ratskin," he spat the name out like a bone.
"Penelo wears a new gown," Fran interjected before he could gain too much steam, and watched her partner perking up instantly; she knew him far too well to be ignorant of his vices.
"Oh... is that so?" he questioned with a sham of innocence. "She's... how old now?"
"Twenty Hume years," answered Fran, narrowing her eyes as she peered across the distance between ships. "I can see her navel from here." Without another word, Balthier started to prepare the Strahl for landing. Twenty was more than old enough for a girl such a Penelo to know better than to play around with men like him, and just young enough for her to be tempted into it anyway.
"If only I had your eyesight, Fran," he lamented playfully as they came in close to land.
"I dread to think," she taunted, rising from her seat and strolling over to the landing hatch. She released the disembarking equipment as soon as they touched down, but Balthier hopped to his feet and made his way over to the scattered bodies of Fran's most recent victims.
"You go on ahead," he said, fluttering his fingers towards the door as he began to gather up the birds. "Go meet our dear companions." He rolled his eyes. "I'll be along soon enough."
Feeling it better to leave him to his own devices, Fran strode down the landing hatch of the Strahl and breathed deeply from the fresh air of the Highwaste; the desert was particularly unpleasant on her senses, so returning to lusher climates was a great relief.
Vaan and Penelo's ship was more poorly equipped to rough terrain, so it took a great while longer to find purchase on the rocky outcrops of the Mosphoran cliffs. So Fran settled down on a nearby boulder and waited, wiling away the time by trying to guess at the new smells coming from inside the Strahl. They were accompanied by a number of metallic rattles and clangs, which she assumed to be from their – or his – rather extensive collection of cooking utensils.
"Hi Fran!" Penelo's voice rang out from a little way away, and the Viera turned to see the girl herself bounding along a sparsely-used path towards her, as bright as ever. "How're you doing?"
"Well," she replied amiably, but didn't care to elaborate.
"Great. So, uh... how's business?" inquired Penelo cautiously.
"Hm. Luck ill-abuses us," Fran said icily, her speech punctuated by a series of more frantic rattling sounds and metallic clashes from inside the Strahl, which invariably drew Penelo's attention towards the missing half of the famous partnership, even in his absence. "We do not profit as well as our time before the falling of the Bahamut... but... get by."
"Oh," said Penelo respectfully, trying to resist the instinctive tug of her eyes down to the mottling of scars that wound around the Viera's legs, at the mention of the most loaded and loathed word in her and Balthier's vocabulary.
"He seems the same as always to me. I mean," she added hastily, "not that I'd know better than you would, or anything." Fran's scars were easy enough to see, and she'd never concealed the truth; freely providing answers should they be asked of her.
Balthier, however, couldn't have the events of the Bahamut dragged out of him for love nor money; something serious had happened – that much had been betrayed over the passing years in accidental comments and mysterious allusions – but he seemed more likely to enlist in the Arcadian army than tell another soul, bar the one that already knew, exactly what had become of him in that accident.
Either the pirate's ears had been burning, or he had impeccable timing, because in the next few moments he called out to the pair them from the belly of the Strahl, though the precise words were lost to the tinny echoes of the ship. He appeared soon after, carrying a dish with what Penelo supposed to be their lunch in it.
"Hark, do I hear idle tongues clucking?" he remarked when he drew closer, and at last issued a proper greeting to the fresh face.
"Penelo, my dear," he said with unmistakable pleasure. "You become a greater temptation every time I lay eyes on you." As if to emphasise the point, he eyed her – new gown and all – fastidiously.
"Heya, Balthier," she replied dutifully, glossing straight over his compliment as if she'd not noticed it at all. Though the faint colour to her face told otherwise.
"Hey," a nasal Dalmascan voice bit harshly on the assembled group's ears, as Vaan trudged up and lolled over the nearest boulder, a somewhat petulant atmosphere accompanying him. He could have been in a bad mood through no fault of their own, but more likely he'd overheard Balthier's flirtation and was intending to be sullen about it – which was the far more entertaining option, as far as Balthier was concerned.
"Ahh, Vaan," he purred. "A pirate needs no reason to pursue beauty, but if we did it all the time then I'd be chasing the Galbana sun-up to sun-down." He flashed Penelo another velvet look, and she sighed almost impatiently.
"What's your business?" Fran spoke up bluntly, moving on swiftly before the men started to clash fists rather than words – regrettably not the first time it had happened.
"Ahh, now there's a fine question," Balthier said calculatingly. "For what reason would two busy pirates such as yourselves chase us up to Bujurban altitudes and down through the sand dunes? I presume its not just to stare crossly at me while I compliment your co-pilot, Vaan, but I could be wrong," he taunted, offering Penelo another winning smile for good measure.
"What? I'm not–" Vaan blurted, then struggled as his mind tried to catch up with his mouth. "I mean... she's not– we're not–"
"Vaan!" Penelo yelled suddenly, interrupting before her partner started to blabber entirely unnecessary details about their lives to the worst possible person to blab anything to. In the end, Balthier's piercing laugh interrupted them both.
"So it's like that, hmm?" he remarked teasingly. "I wonder if I might not stand a better chance than I thought." He looked over again as Penelo fidgeted and scuffed the toes of her shoes in the dirt.
"Balthier, wouldja stop it," she groaned; more than acquainted with Balthier's habit of charming females just because he could, Penelo would fall for it as much as she'd willingly fall down all the stairs of the Pharos at Ridorana. Although, the strangest quirk was that it wasn't restricted to Humes, or even Viera – she had once watched him charm a lady Seeq for a full hour simply because he was bored.
"I know what you're like," she pointed out dryly; he was always like this at first when they crossed paths.
"Ohh, but you enjoy it anyway," replied Balthier warmly, and the tiny reflection of his smile on her face confirmed the guilty truth. "Vaan knows it too," he added perkily.
"Look, Balthier!" Vaan snapped suddenly. During the conversation, his hand had been slowly creeping across to his dagger, and was just about to close around the handle, but the moment his fingers brushed the weapon he heard the familiar creak of Fran's bow. It was drawn tight, an arrow already loaded, and he didn't dare move. At this range, there'd be no getting up if she hit him, and there wasn't a single one of them who doubted she would, if she had to.
"Thank you, Fran," said Balthier graciously. "I knew there was a reason you're the only woman in my life."
"Was that not because I tolerate you?" she mocked. It was perhaps the most accurate answer anyone could contrive towards the reason their partnership worked so well.
"So, Vaan," he began ominously. "How keeps your Queen? I'm sure her leash is wonderfully comfortable, but it must choke a bit when she pulls upon it so."
"I dunno what you're talking about," Vaan growled, his hand on his weapon and Fran's still on him.
"Then what's new?" he scoffed. "Don't take me or my partner for a fool. Her Highness could not send the military after us – so who does she send? Her privateers of course."
"What?" Penelo sounded genuinely baffled, which was a little ruinous to the general atmosphere. "Guys, just... calm down. Vaan, wouldja let go of the dagger," she said more forcefully, and reluctantly he obeyed.
"Okay, so now there's no need for the bow, right Fran?" she pleaded, and after looking over to Balthier, who nodded acquiescence, the Viera lowered her weapon also.
"A thrilling little tea-party we're having here," remarked Balthier uninterestedly, picking a cut of meat out of the dish he held and chewing on it thoughtfully. "My, I've outdone myself," he exclaimed, holding the dish out to Penelo. "Would you care to try some?"
"Uh... sure I would," she replied woodenly, making a conscious effort to be relaxed, in the hope that it might help to diffuse the tension. However, once she took the first bite, the falseness faded from her performance.
"Wow... that's actually pretty good," she mumbled through a half-full mouth, taking a second piece just before Balthier extended his arm in Vaan's direction.
"Vaan," he invited. "Could we not all use a little goodwill in these treacherous times?" The boy eyed the dish suspiciously, but his stomach got the better of his willpower and he took a piece. Or three.
"So, tell me," he attempted once more, now that his company's appetites had been placated. "Exactly what is the urgency of your 'business' with myself and Fran? If the princess wanted to see me so desperately she could have just invited me to her little shindig in the first place," he said, not lacking the appropriate bitterness.
"She's Queen now," Vaan mumbled lamely through his mouthful, reaching for the dish so often that Balthier simply handed the whole thing to him. "And she..."
"It's not about Ashe," Penelo interrupted. "I've got a message from your old ruler."
"I take it you mean boy Solidor," he replied without missing a beat. While he was certainly on better terms with Larsa than Ashe, they both technically wanted the both he and Fran in a prison somewhere. However, Larsa didn't like to trivialise himself with what he called 'details', thankfully, so they were mostly left alone in Arcadia.
"Yeah, I mean Larsa. He says it's a bit too sensitive for a letter," explained Penelo, "just that he has a small job, and he'll pay you well for it."
"We don't bark for the Empire," Balthier stated coolly, and then cast a sidelong glance at Vaan that unequivocally said 'woof woof'.
"It's not like that," insisted Penelo. "He only means it as a one off, a favour to him. Plus, Fran said you don't make as good gil as you used to, so it's not like you couldn't use the money, what with the way things are for you at the port."
Balthier gave his partner a barbarically cold look, instead of their traditional arrangement of having it the other way around. It was part of his upbringing to think that discussing your own finances was at the height of impropriety, but mostly he didn't want Vaan to think he was losing his touch – even if perhaps they had been unlucky of recent.
"I'm sure there'll be big gil in it," she said persuasively. "You know how rich they are in Arcades."
"Uh... I was just wondering... but why aren't we doing it then, Penelo?" Vaan asked suddenly, although his words were somewhat muffled by his great mouthfuls of food; however, instantly Balthier's attention was sprung.
"Oh, so you haven't even shared word of this with your partner?" he queried, and Penelo gave him an unappreciative look; she didn't need Balthier stirring up trouble with her and Vaan any more than his mere presence already did.
"Well, it's got nothing to do with you," she told Vaan awkwardly. "Larsa specifically wants Balthier, so I didn't see the point in saying anything."
"Tsk, secrets, secrets," the pirate in question tutted approvingly. "Well, I'll admit you have piqued my curiosity, so I'll bite as a personal favour." He turned to his partner. "Fran, how does a trip to Arcades suit you?"
"I am not averse. We have to head North already," she pointed out.
"Excellent!" he said with a clap of his hands. "Then it is settled. To Arcades!" He broke away for a moment to glance at the rather unpleasant stain on his shirt. "I will have to see a tailor before then," he remarked. "Can't exactly hold audience with an Emperor with a soiled shirt, and all my best have been sacrificed to a greater cause."
"Really? That's great! Larsa will be so pleased," Penelo gushed, while Vaan looked up bemusedly from a dish of bones that appeared to have been almost licked clean, chewing gluttonously on the very last morsel out of half his mouth.
"Um... thanks for the food, too," she added awkwardly; pirates were meant to be selfish to a certain extent – as Balthier himself so often insisted – but Vaan's stomach took it to the next level.
"T'was nothing," Balthier scoffed. "With a delicacy like dove, you hardly need to season it at all, and it boasts such a rich flavour." The sound of a half-eaten wing hitting the plate punctuated the silence that followed.
"...What did you say?" asked Vaan, his mouth still hanging open mid-chew.
"Why, Dalmascan desert-lily dove," Balthier repeated with glee. "We were ever-so fortunate to come across a flock of them, weren't we Fran?"
"Yes," she agreed with a sly shadow of a smile. "Flew into our cockpit, did they not?"
"Quite right, it was a terrible state of affairs," Balthier chuckled. "That's how my poor shirts were ruined. Fine dining is always a worthy cause, though, so I cannot-"
"Now wait a damn minute!" Vaan yelled, throwing down the whole dish and taking a threatening step towards Balthier. "I'm gonna-"
"It was enchanting to hold your acquaintance as always, Penelo," Balthier bade, as he began quickly backing away from her and her enraged companion. "I will send young Larsa your good wishes." Then, just as Vaan tried to lunge at him, he jumped out of the way and followed after Fran in a sprint back to the Strahl.
"I told you they're working for her," he panted to his partner after they had pulled up the landing hatch and locked it shut, Vaan beating on it angrily from outside. "Hear that racket?"
"Half right," replied Fran as they made their way up to the cockpit with a little more leisure. "He carries favours for her – must have thought the birds still alive, so planned to bide his time before seizing them from us."
"In a way, he did get them back," Balthier pointed out with a smirk. "They're just not much good to anyone in his stomach." They took their places in the Strahl, and soon the engines hummed reassuringly beneath their seats.
"So you think only he plays fetch for Ashelia?" he theorised thoughtfully, ignoring the clatter of stones being thrown at the windows by a furious Hume on the ground below.
"She is an agent for Emperor Solidor, no doubt," answered Fran. "A dangerous match between the two of them. We could walk straight into a trap come Arcades."
"You need not tell me," he replied knowingly. "I am well aware of the potential dangers of strolling into the stronghold of all Arcadia and asking the most powerful adolescent in Ivalice for a cup of tea. But," he added with a dash of hope, "if he wanted us caught it would not be hard, considering the size of their skyforce. Seems an awful lot of trouble to go to."
"True. He hunts us not thus far," she conceded. "He may truly desire only our labour, rather than our heads."
"Now, Fran," tutted her partner. "Most of them desire our heads. It's merely a matter of whether they want to collect."
They had long-passed the Galbana, which had – entirely intentionally – been forced to land a great deal further away from its occupants than the Strahl, and therefore was long in their dust before it even started to take off. Perhaps they would give chase, but that would most likely depend on whether Vaan felt like telling his employer that he had eaten the very thing she'd sent him in pursuit of.
"The young lad has some reason for inviting our audience, that much is sure," mused Balthier as they flew on. "The only question is why – and only one way to find out. Plot a course for Arcades, Fran," he instructed with a tinge of resignation.
"She said he asks for you," Fran reminded him as she pored over the navigational panels, charting their course with practised ease. "Perhaps your ties to that city are of importance to him."
"I sincerely hope not," he replied sourly. "You know how I hate old friends."
End of Chapter 2
Huzzah! And so comes the next part of the story. Hope it was enjoyable to your readings. If so, leave a review!
Special thanks to Sylla, Mint, and Jebus Creiss, who've done me a big favour by picking up on mistakes in the last chapter. I can spell Mosphoran correctly now!